When I first moved into HR, I genuinely thought I’d escaped years of answering questions that had absolutely nothing to do with my job. Hospitality had already prepared me for the fact that if you wear a name badge, people assume you know everything. Where the nearest toilet is. Why the air conditioning isn’t working. What time breakfast finishes. Whether it’s going to rain tomorrow. Apparently, once you’re wearing a uniform, you’re no longer an employee. You’re Google with legs.
So, when I started working in HR, I naively believed life would be different. People would contact me with HR questions. Contracts. Holidays. Payroll. Policies. You know… HR things.
I was adorable.
It usually starts exactly as you’d expect.
“Hi Nikos, I can’t access my payroll account.”
Perfect. That’s my department.
I help them reset their password, explain the process, make sure everything works and receive a lovely email saying,
“Thank you so much for your help.”
Job done.
Or so I think.
Five minutes later, before I’ve even had the chance to archive the email, another message appears.
“Hi Nikos. It’s asking me to use an authenticator.”
Fair enough. I explain that multi-factor authentication adds an extra layer of security, protects personal information and has become standard practice for systems containing sensitive employee data. Nice, polite, professional. I even explain how the authenticator works because I know technology isn’t everyone’s favourite subject.
A few minutes later…
“I know how authenticators work. My question is why.”
Now, this is the moment where two conversations begin.
The first one takes place entirely inside my head.
“Because you’re trying to access a website containing your salary, your tax details, your home address and enough personal information to steal your identity. That’s why. The website is trying to protect you in ways that you clearly don’t seem interested in protecting yourself.”
The second conversation is the one that actually gets sent.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience this may cause. Should you continue experiencing difficulties logging in, please contact the IT team, who will be happy to assist further.”
Kind regards,
Nikos.
Backspace is probably the greatest invention in modern communication.
The funny thing is, once you’ve solved one problem, something extraordinary happens. People mentally transfer you into a completely different department. You helped them with payroll, therefore you now know everything involving electricity, passwords, printers, Wi-Fi, Microsoft Teams and, quite possibly, satellites.
The emails become increasingly ambitious.
“My Outlook isn’t syncing.”
“My printer won’t print.”
“My Teams camera isn’t working.”
“My laptop says it needs updating.”
“My mouse stopped moving.”
At some point I start wondering whether they’re emailing HR or simply working alphabetically through the company directory until someone replies.
Hospitality prepared me well for this. Guests would ask why the restaurant was full, and whether I could recommend somewhere nice to visit that wasn’t too busy, wasn’t too expensive, served amazing food and was within walking distance. Apparently, saying “I don’t know” would have violated some unwritten customer service law, so you always tried to help.
HR isn’t much different.
People don’t really contact departments.
They contact people.
If you’ve helped them once, you’ve become their person.
There’s actually something quite flattering about that. It means they trust you. The downside is that trust has absolutely no respect for organisational charts.
Somewhere along the way, you’ve accidentally become Payroll, IT, Facilities, Customer Support and occasionally Emotional Support.
I’ve lost count of the number of conversations that began with an HR question and somehow ended with me explaining how to clear browser cookies. I can honestly say that when I chose a career in Human Resources, I never imagined I’d spend part of my day discussing why someone’s referee is not replying to the reference request. With that specific someone…
The skill nobody tells you about when you work in HR isn’t knowing employment law or company policies. It’s mastering the art of politely redirecting people without making them feel like you’re sending them away.
You can’t simply write, “This has absolutely nothing to do with me.”
Instead, you become an expert in phrases like, “The IT team will be best placed to assist you,” which is corporate English for, “Please stop asking me why your monitor has gone black.”
Of course, every now and then, I catch myself doing exactly the same thing. I’ll message someone from Finance with a quick question, then think, “While I’ve got you…” Suddenly I’m asking about expenses, invoices, budgets and whether they know who approves something that almost certainly has nothing to do with them. It turns out we’re all guilty of assuming that if someone solved one problem, they probably know the answer to the next one as well.
Maybe that’s just human nature. We don’t remember departments. We remember people who were helpful.
Still, every time I see an email beginning with, “While I have you…”, I instinctively reach for my coffee before opening it. Experience has taught me that whatever comes next is unlikely to have anything to do with HR.
Then again, perhaps tomorrow someone really will email me asking about annual leave.
Although, knowing my luck, they’ll probably finish with, “One last thing… my printer’s making a strange noise.”
At this point, I wouldn’t even be surprised if they asked me to fix the office microwave.
I’d probably know who to contact.
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