How do human resources departments decide to give up their own humanity? Does it happen overnight, I wonder, or is it more often a gradual decline into anonymity--a slippery slope that lands them in the muck without anyone's conscious intention?

Someone once told me that a frog can be boiled alive simply by placing it in a cold pan and turning up the heat very slowly. According to the story, a frog's nervous system can not detect the subtle changes in temperature, and it will remain placidly in the pot as it is gradually cooked to death.

I don't know whether this is true--and it is far too cruel an experiment to attempt--but certain human resources departments tend to bring these frogs to mind. I imagine the poor souls who work in these divisions sitting quietly in their cubicles as all forms of genuine human interaction are subtly removed from their job descriptions, one by one.

The idea behind these HR overhauls is usually expressed as a desire to "consolidate" or to "centralize" or to "maximize economies of scale"--all of which mean that the company wants to handle everything from the central office. But the central office is usually so far from the "line" that I have to wonder just what "expertise" anyone thinks they hold.

Now, I'm willing to accept that an HR department may hold specialized knowledge about employment law. Virtually everything about employment is regulated to one extent or another, from health benefits to harassment charges, and someone certainly has to keep on top of this ever-fluctuating "business environment." But other HR functions, such as hiring practices, make a lot less sense as centralized responsibilities.

It seems ludicrous to be reviewing electronic resumes in New Jersey, for example, to screen applicants for jobs in Colorado. First, people are not easily reducible to paper, which is all the central office will ever see. Second, the manager seeking to hire someone knows far more about the job than an HR executive two thousand miles away. And third, most of these jobs do not require a degree in rocket science. They do not require national searches, and they don't need to take two to three months to complete.

Why should a Colorado manager have to fill out eighteen forms and wait eight to twelve weeks for a computer and five HR staff members to sort through thousands of resumes, when a simple ad in the local paper and one afternoon of interviews could fill the spot just as effectively? I understand the need to protect against discrimination and nepotism in local hiring practices, but in legally covering their behinds, HR departments across the country have gone right off the deep end.

Human resources should be about making the corporate world a better place to work. They should be about finding creative ways to fund day care services and family leave for working parents. They should be about developing special programs to enhance such "quality of life" factors as health, education, and appreciation for diversity. And I'm not talking about "diversity training." I'm talking about cultural festivals, art exhibits, "bring your child to work" days, and a little room to express oneself in the cubicle which for some people chews up over one-half of their waking hours.

Human resources departments should be engaged in supporting employees in their own humanity. They should be about reinventing corporate culture to fit the whole human being, creating fun environments of creativity, innovation, job satisfaction, and personal encouragement. If that sounds too far-fetched, it's only because most HR departments have been trapped by their own "professional," impersonal, unfeeling culture for far too long. It's time they stuck their necks out of their proverbial ivory towers and took a good look around.

It shouldn't be so tough, really. After all, HR employees are people too. All they have to do is think about what kind of company they'd really love to work in--as opposed to the robotic, bureaucratic monstrosity they feel trapped in today--and then realize that the power to make those very changes lies in their own, wonderfully human hands.