Of all professions, HR is among the most sensitive about language. That is why this magazine is not called “Outsourcing” but instead relies on an immensely cleverer trick: a catchy three-letter acronym. But where did this trendy new word “transformation” come from? And why do HR people prefer it?

by Harry Feinberg, Jay Whitehead

It was in 2004 in Brussels, at the Conrad Hotel on Avenue Louise. That was when and where we first witnessed a European HR executive actually committing career suicide out of fear of the word “outsourcing.” The mere memory still gives us chills.

The scene of that first “big O”-inspired ritual self-slaying was the HRO World Europe Conference at the Conrad. It was just about 12:30, immediately before the lunch break on the conference’s first day. The 350 delegates had just finished enjoying a scintillating question-and-answer session with one of Europe’s most experienced HRO clients. Just then, one of the delegates, a VP of HR at a large multinational firm—let’s call him Dagmar (not his real name or real nationality)—stood up and called for attention. The delegates politely turned their attention to his high-pitched, plaintiff whine.

Obviously agitated, the silver-haired Dagmar stammered and stuttered his way through a fear-fueled four-minute tirade. He protested the presence of providers in the room with HR leaders—imagine, vendors and practitioners actually talking! He complained bitterly about the dishonor that HRO did to the almighty HR profession—oh, the horror of HR leaders actually being accountable for getting something done! And he lambasted the conference organizers (co-chairs Jay Whitehead and Andrew Kris in particular) for having fanned the HRO frenzy. Apparently, in our enthusiasm for the HRO mega-trend, we had committed the ultimate crime: lowered the hard-won prestige of human resources.

Many of the assembled delegates, clearly entertained by their colleague’s open panic, started giggling at about the four-minute mark. It was then that Kris, accurately sensing that Dagmar’s energy was waning, took the stage and coolly interrupted the oh-so-uncomfortable delegate.

“Since this topic seems to be a bit scary for you, we offer to refund your conference admission fees,” Kris said. His well-timed offer rendered Dagmar mercifully, speechless. Then Kris invited the assembled throng to sit down to a well-earned lunch, which all except Dagmar accepted happily.

At the 10-person lunch tables, our Dagmar found himself at a table of one. A few months after the conference, we heard through the grapevine that Dagmar was no longer with his firm. We fantasized that his fear of HRO had derailed him.

Fast-forward to 2005. On the North American continent, the HRO frenzy continues unabated. And everyone is using the three-letter acronym. Companies’ names include it. Executives’ business cards list it in their titles. Virtually every CEO in the US and Canada uses the term. HRO has gone mainstream.

But in Europe, the word war is being fought differently, with a decidedly passive-aggressive panache. Today, when we speak of HRO in Manchester or Toulouse or Utrecht or Gent, we don’t use the three-letter acronym. We say “HR transformation.” Somehow, that meaning-neutral phrase keeps European HR executives from getting so nervous that they throw themselves out a conference room window. “HR transformation” is so calming that it has become positively cool, boardroom chic.

So now, when you read cover stories in HRO Europe, such as this issue’s feature on Unilever, and you see the words “HR transformation,” you know that what we are really saying is “HRO,” but we want to avoid ruffling the delicate sensibilities of our HR readers.

We apologize, dear reader, for falling for this linguistic cop-out. We hate ourselves when we bend to pressure from the culture police. But after all, we are just publishers, struggling to hold up a mirror to the market. And after many years covering the HR world, we have learned that sometimes what we see in the market mirror is less than perfect, or less than perfectly honest.