So, this whole ‘anfer’ business, right? It wasn’t some official project name you’d find on a chart. Nope. ‘Anfer’ was more like this… this heavy blanket of a problem that everyone kinda knew was there, but no one really wanted to touch. We sort of started calling it ‘anfer’ under our breath because trying to deal with it just made you feel, well, angry and frankly, futile.
I got roped into it one Tuesday. My manager, bless his cotton socks, just casually dropped it in a meeting. ‘Hey, can you take a look at the ‘anfer’ situation?’ he said. Like he was asking me to check the weather. ‘Anfer,’ at that point, was this ridiculously complicated internal approval process that everyone hated. It was slow, clunky, and nobody truly understood why it was the way it was.
My Brilliant Plan to Tackle Anfer
I thought, okay, a bit of a challenge, but I can do this. I’ll map it out, find the bottlenecks, suggest some improvements. Easy peasy. So, my first step was to try and get the existing documentation. You know, flowcharts, procedure manuals, anything. What I got was a link to an old shared drive folder with files last updated six years ago. Some weren’t even relevant anymore. It was like an archaeological dig for outdated corporate nonsense.
Then I decided to talk to people. Surely, the folks using ‘anfer’ daily would have insights. Oh, they had insights, alright. Mostly complaints.
- “It takes three weeks for a simple request!”
- “I have to get seven signatures, and one guy is always on vacation.”
- “Why do we even need this step? It makes no sense.”
- “Last time I tried to ask, they told me ‘that’s just how it’s done’.”
I spent a good two weeks just trying to understand the ‘as-is’ process. Drew big diagrams, color-coded everything. It looked like a conspiracy theorist’s bedroom wall. The more I dug, the more I realized ‘anfer’ wasn’t just a bad process; it was a monument to years of quick fixes, band-aid solutions, and departments not talking to each other. Each little tweak over the years, probably made with good intentions, had just added another layer of complexity. It was a beast.
The Big Realization
I remember this one particular form, part of ‘anfer’. It had a field, ‘Authorization Code Delta-7’. No one knew what Delta-7 meant. Not the users, not their supervisors, not even the IT guys who supposedly supported the system it fed into. It had been there for years. People just typed ‘N/A’ or ‘000’ into it. It was completely useless, but it was part_of_the_process. Removing it would apparently require a committee meeting and three levels of sign-off.
That’s when it really hit me. Fixing ‘anfer’ wasn’t about making a smarter flowchart. It was about trying to change a culture that was terrified of rocking the boat, even if the boat was clearly sinking. My ‘brilliant plan’ was dead in the water before it even started. I could suggest changes, sure, but who would champion them? Who would take responsibility for untangling this mess when it was easier to just keep doing the ‘anfer’ dance?
I wrote up a report, of course. Full of recommendations, potential quick wins, long-term strategic changes. Sent it off. And then… silence. Weeks went by. I’d follow up, get vague responses. “Oh, we’re reviewing it.” “Interesting points.” “We need to socialize this.”
Eventually, ‘anfer’ just faded from my to-do list, replaced by other urgent fires. But here’s the kicker: ‘anfer’ is still there. I hear the same grumbles in the hallways. The same frustrated sighs. Nothing changed. And just last month, I saw an internal job posting. They’re looking for someone to lead a ‘Process Re-engineering Initiative,’ focusing on… you guessed it, the very same approval system. I just had to chuckle. Good luck to the next poor soul who tries to tackle ‘anfer’. They’re gonna need it.
