I did not set out to have opinions about how to forge a superhero weapon. Yet here we are… I got invited to do a short “Lunch and Unlearn” with @ATDCore4 (thanks Bianca Woods!) where the point is to share the weird, oddly specific things you pick up working in L&D. 4 minutes, light-hearted, not “transformational,” just “please entertain us while we eat carbs.”
So of course, of everything I’ve worked on, my brain went,
“Yes. Forging… where things catch fire if you get it wrong!”
That’s the thing about instructional design no one warns you about. Your job description says “creates learning experiences.” Reality says:
One month you’re elbow-deep in clinical procedures and the next you’re diagramming software workflows. Then you blink and somehow you’re casually discussing what happens to metal under extreme heat and pressure.
My professional passport has been stamped by people in scrubs, people in hoodies, people in blazers, and people in flame-retardant coveralls. I’ve built learning for folks handling data, dollars, decisions, and very real danger. Somewhere along the way, my brain quietly became an odd alloy of HR, payments, process, and “please don’t melt the equipment.”
This little talk was supposed to be a joke about that.
Instead, it turned into a mirror.
Because underneath the comedy of “I accidentally know way too much about industrial forging now,” there’s a very real pattern: L&D is where other people’s expertise goes to get translated into human language.
The SME worries about tolerances, safety margins, patient outcomes, transaction approvals, or heat treat curves.
We worry about the human who is exhausted on a Wednesday, half-listening, and still needs to not break anything.
We learn just enough about their world to spot the moments that matter:
-The one decision that prevents a bad day from becoming career-ending.
-The keystroke that keeps a transaction from falling into the void.
-The small behavior shift that saves time, money, or (occasionally) limbs.
And we obsess over how to turn those into something memorable, repeatable, and less boring. And I wouldn’t trade it for another career. Because saying yes to these wild, niche projects is how we stay sharp.
-Every new domain forces us to unlearn lazy explanations.
-Every new SME forces us to ask better questions.
-Every new “can you just create a quick training on…” forces us to build something that can stand up under real heat and pressure.
So while my Lunch and Unlearn talk might sound like a comedy bit, it’s really a thank-you note to this bizarre career where curiosity is survival.
NOW I’M CURIOUS ABOUT YOU! What’s the strangest, most oddly specific thing you now know entirely too much about because of your work in L&D, HR, or whatever corner of the business you live in?
Drop it in the comments and let’s build a feed-length museum of accidental expertise. I’ll bring the forged chaos. You bring your weird.
