It’s funny how life works out. Picture this: 1977, Brisbane’s Education Department, in what’s now the Treasury Casino. There I was, a former school rebel who’d been asked to leave not once but twice for challenging authority, now sitting in Personnel Section’s hallowed halls.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. At primary school, they’d suggested I might want to find another school. Then in Year 12, my questioning nature nearly saw me out the door again. Yet here I was, working in a system so hierarchical it made those school days look positively anarchic!

My workspace was something that would make today’s graduates gasp in disbelief. No sleek computers, no ergonomic chairs – just old wooden desks that had probably been there since Federation. Our high-tech equipment? Paper. Lots and lots of paper.

My main task was processing teacher probation confirmations. Each morning, I’d meticulously work through stacks of paperwork, confirming whether new teachers had made it through their probationary period. Every appointment needed multiple signatures, paper trails, and careful filing in those imposing metal cabinets that lined the walls.

When I tell my younger colleagues about this now, they just laugh and tap their tablets. “But why didn’t you just use the automated system?” they ask. I have to remind them that our most sophisticated piece of technology was the tea lady’s trolley!

What tickles me most is that the building where I once shuffled papers is now the Treasury Casino. Sometimes I walk past and think about how those rooms, once filled with the gentle rustle of paperwork and the click-clack of typewriters, now echo with the sound of poker chips and jackpot bells.

It’s a perfect metaphor for how far we’ve come in HR – from rigid processes to fluid systems, from challenging authority to embracing change. And here I am, that same authority-questioning kid, having spent a career helping organisations become more human-centered and less hierarchical.

Funny how things turn out, isn’t it?