Kids
Behaving Badly
What motivates your crew to fall in line?
By Nick Brunacini
Reprinted by permission from BShifter.com
One
of the joys of my life is traveling with my dad and
getting to hang out with firefighters all across
this fabulous country of ours (and parts of Canada,
too!). The Fire Chief is still very innocent when
it comes to any electronic device that doesn't reshape
wood and steel or compress air, so my brother or
I will often tag along on his teaching adventures
to make images appear out of computers. A few months
ago, the two of us presented a leadership program
on the West Coast. The only downside of our modern
travel adventures is the few bad apples who work
for the TSA; they can easily set me off. On more
than one occasion, I have been so traumatized by
the behind the screen cock-and-ball fondling that
I've blurted out derogatory statements during some
of our out-of-town training sessions. During my latest
tirade, I told an A-shift paramedic that his small
elbow and knee joints made his arm and leg musculature
appear much larger than it actually is. I wish to
take this moment to apologize for these tasteless
comments. In hindsight, the IAFC may have been right
when they called me a "callous and insensitive
Neanderthal who must be stopped."
During our recent leadership fiesta, I was sitting off to the side in rapt
amazement while Big Al carried on with the crowd of highly enlightened fire-service
professionals. A group of 75 firefighters were engaged in an active customer-service
dialogue. The Fire Chief was making the point that all leadership must be based
on our core mission. He gently took all of our brains by their little hands
and led us on a journey. "I've read hundreds of books on leadership. I
left most of them on airplanes after struggling through the first 100 pages.
Maybe the people who clean airplanes can make more sense out of them than I
could. One day it occurred to me that all this leadership material doesn't
become relevant, or make a bit of sense, until you can attach it to something
tangible. The only tangible thing we do in the fire service is deliver service
to our customers. When I finally figured out everything must be based on the
customer-service relationship, it framed the entire role of leadership for
me."
More than a dozen people clamored to all talk at the same time. Positive energy,
love and rainbows were exploding throughout the auditorium.
"We are nothing without our customers!"
"There isn't anything we wouldn't do for our customers!"
'We must rewrite all of our procedures around five-star customer service!"
'All of our management practices must address how they effect customers service!"
It was a real dawning of the Age of Aquarius moment.
The group was very enlightened (to say the least). I sat and observed without
saying much as the group ignited and glowed, high on the hope of a better tomorrow.
I couldn't help myself anymore and floated a turd into the punchbowl. "All
this new-age crap is really sweet, but how do you manage and lead a subordinate
who just doesn't buy into all of this?" This caused an awkward silence
for a second, then the crowd reacted like angry protestors. I remember an attractive,
athletic, blonde, female officer responding: "We simply should not hire
people who do not buy into the concept of high-quality customer service. They
have no place in today’s fire service." This was followed with a
dozen like-minded people scolding me for suggesting that a member of the fire
service might not buy into the concept of quality customer service.
I have the innate ability to appear that I am following along with a conversation
when actually my mind is somewhere else. While the crowd of hummingbirds attacked
me, I floated 10 years back in time. All the love, leadership and serving our
fellow man talk transported me to an event that would have frightened and incapacitated
most of the people in the room. I have had buildings fall down around me, seen
people cut in half and have had bosses threaten my employment, and none of
these experiences tested me like this singular event. It opened my eyes to
the very nature and depravity of humans like nothing before or since. The true
nature of leadership lay at the core of this phenomenon.
My wife and I have three daughters. The first two daughters were normal little
human girls. Our final daughter looked like a regular baby girl. After spending
the briefest period of time with this beautiful child, it became apparent that
the soul of a Viking warlord was trapped inside her. One afternoon grandma
came by to take our Little Angel out for a day of female bonding. When it came
time for granny and her granddaughter to go, the Sven the Destroyer inside
her decided she wasn't going anywhere. Granny made the mistake of believing
that a mature and experienced woman could make a small child fall in and march
straight. I made the suggestion that granny shouldn't tempt fate and save the
day out for another time. This earned me a look that said, "I've been
dealing with kids a lot longer than you, Mr. Stupid Man. A 1 1⁄2-year-old
child will not set any agenda of mine." She had the good manners to simply
tell me, "We'll be fine." I smiled and said, "Have fun."
Granny picked up the child and got as far as the front door before the first
signs of demonic possession set in. Writhing of epileptic proportions and speaking
in tongues did not scare nor deter granny. The old woman gripped her granddaughter
tighter, gritted her teeth and pressed on. The battling duo had made it halfway
to the parking lot when my Little Angel positioned herself where she could
kick her grandmother right between the eyes. This knocked one of the lenses
out of granny’s sunglasses, took both combatants to the ground and allowed
our Sweet Cherub a temporary escape. Granny quickly shook it off, rounded up
her little charge, stuffed her in the vehicle and went on with their day. During
this period of our lives, we lived in an apartment where we had lots of anonymous
neighbors. One of the neighbors who watched this scene was concerned that they
had just witnessed a child abduction and called the police. Granny hadn't made
it a mile down the road when a police department patrol car pulled her over
and demanded an explanation. This pales in comparison to what my Little Cupcake
did to me several months later.
Back in those days I owned a white 1990 Cadillac Coupe de Ville with a blue
carriage roof. I thought it was a sweet ride despite the fact that my wife
told me I looked like a gay pimp in it. The car seat in the back didn't fit
the car's personality. One day, my Little Jujube and I were running errands.
We had made our first stop and were getting back into the car when my sweet
2-year-old went nuts. Despite baby's protest, I picked her up and stuffed her
into her car seat and drove off. Being the dutiful parent, I had my Sweet Baby's
car seat located in the backseat of the car, directly behind the driver’s
seat. As I pulled out of the parking lot and drove down the road, my Little
Hell Bitch did non-stop leg kicks into the back of my seat. After 2 miles and
more than 100 double leg kicks to the back of my seat, I tried to reach directly
behind me in an effort to remove my Little Boo from her car seat to throw her
out the window of my speeding gay cruiser.
Having
your seat back jack-hammered by a pissed-off 2-year-old is not a pleasant
experience. But
I quickly forgot my rage when I was hit in
the side of the
head with a hard object. I turned around and was immediately rewarded with
a blow to my face with the backseat window’s trim panel. Little Love
Muffin had torn the interior of the car apart and was using it to hurt her
daddy. I played tug-of-war with baby’s new bludgeon toy for a good
half mile. After being kicked, hit, scratched and bitten, I determined there
was
no way I could get my hands on the fruit of my loins, so I pulled into a
grocery store parking lot. I stopped the car, threw it into park, twisted
around in
my seat and made short work of removing my angry passenger. I put her out
my open window and gingerly set her down on the ground. Her scream produced
a
5-degree rise in temperature. I let her finish her tirade then told her, "You
can’t do this to me anymore. I'm your father and love you but I'm sick
and tired of this evil shit. Sorry honey, but you have to live in this parking
lot for the rest of your life." She took a step backward, straightened
her arms by her sides, clenched her fists and inhaled all the air in the
world as her eyes rolled back in her head. I was filled with a combination
of pure
dread and absolute fright as I drove off.
My Sugar Princess actually levitated several feet off the ground as
I drove in large circles around her. I wanted to drive as far away
as I
could but my
daughter was producing an energy force that had pulled my car into her
gravitational field. Shopping carts, homeless people and other parking
lot litter was blown
into the air and formed a tornado of hapless debris around my Evil Little
Mistress of the Universe. In the middle of her emotional super nova,
Miss Cupcake pooped
her Huggy, causing entire trailer parks of mullet-wearing white trash spontaneous
bloody noses. This is when I gave up all hope and became completely liberated.
It wasn't that I quit caring. In that moment I finally realized there wasn't
a god damned thing I could do about it. The only thing I could change was
me; everything else was negotiable but ultimately out of my hands.
It continues
to be the strongest moment of clarity I've ever experienced.
In that instant, all the violence stopped. I was sitting in a parked
American luxury car starring at the world’s most beautiful 2-year-old.
I asked her if she wanted ice cream. She smiled and nodded her head.
I opened the door
and leaned forward. She climbed into the back of the car, got in her car
seat and buckled herself up. Nothing will make a 2-year-old more grateful
or submissive
than a clean diaper and an ice cream sundae.
These are the images that possessed my thoughts as the group of enlightened
California fire-service professionals harped at me about requiring the
members of the department to willingly join in on the forced march
toward customer-service
nirvana. I came out of my trance a stronger person. When the group finally
took a collective breath, everyone had an expectant stare directed toward
me. I looked over at my father. His look said, “Things were going to well.
You just had to grab the wheel and run us over the cliff. Life was so much
easier when I could do all of this with a slide projector.” I made
crazy eyes at Big Daddy before turning to the stirred-up crowd of earth people
and
confronted them with the real world. One occupied by B shifters with large
elbow and knee joints and hair-covered backs whose idea of high-quality service
delivery had more to do with restraining themselves from physically assaulting
the customers.
"I agree with everything we've been talking about for the last few hours.
The leadership problem officers face has nothing to do with the highly motivated
workers we've been talking about. But how do you train your officers to deal
with the pricks in your organization? Those select few members who can’t
get along and refuse to go away. The idiots who leave a wake of pissed-off
people. The vast majority of our citizens complaints come from rude and unprofessional
behavior."
The Nordic goddess officer said, “As a boss, you cannot tolerate this
type of behavior from the workforce. It must be stopped immediately.”
"I agree. The members shouldn't be rude. How do you make them stop?"
"They must be disciplined until they understand the behavior will not be
tolerated."
"That’s swell. How do you do that?"
"When one of our members has a complaint filed against them, it must be
investigated. If the complaint has merit, the member must be punished."
"When your department receives a citizen complaint, can you guess which
one of your members generated that complaint?"
"It doesn't come as a shock. Most of our conduct complaints are generated
by the same few people."
"Is it fair to say that if the same members continue to get complaints that
your resolution process isn't working?'
A guy sitting in the back shouted, "How do you handle the complaints
you get on your companies?"
I shared the following story: "I had a Captain working for me who was
a world-class prick. This guy was angry at the world. Over the course of five
or six months, he generated three citizen complaints and a complaint from a
member of the department. The first two complaints I followed up on were filed
by customers best described as clinically insane. One of them was a conspiracy
theorist and the other one was a career criminal. Both complaints were so far
out of whack there really wasn't much you could do with them. The third complaint
was valid and so was the internal grievance. This gave me the opportunity to
have a chat with Mr. Meanie. We sat down and argued for the first part of our
get-together. He accurately pointed out that he was technically competent in
the nuts and bolts part of his job. He just no longer had the patience to deal
with all the "idiots and scumbags" who called 911. I agreed with
him on both counts: He was competent and had no patience. I reminded him he
was accumulating almost a complaint a month. Each one of these complaints pissed
off half a dozen different people, ranging from the customer all the way to
my boss, and I had to spend an average of three hours on each one of his human
misadventures. I told him the complaints had to stop. He looked at me and with
all sincerity said, "I've been here more than 20 years. What’s
the worst thing that can happen to me if I get another complaint? I'll still
show
up to work and get paid."
This is where I got to say, "You're absolutely right. I am not so
naive to think I can fix all the things that are wrong with you. I also
know that
when I get another sustained complaint on you or your company I will spend
an extra 30 minutes to write you up. After the second or third time this
happens, someone will have to suspend you. I figure with an eight-hour
investment on
my part, I may be able to get you demoted. Life would be a lot simpler for
all of us if you just stopped getting complaints. Every time you open your
mouth, you piss someone off. If you stopped talking to the customers, you
would probably stop getting complaints."
I was shocked when he told me the not talking idea had a lot of merit
and he would give it a try. I left our meeting slightly more confused
than I had started,
but at least I got to put the cards on the table. I felt I had fulfilled
my leadership responsibility to the organization. A week later I received
another
citizen complaint directed toward Captain Grumpy's crew. I called the complainant
to get the details. She told me it was her intention to file a complaint
against the police department for spraying her husband with pepper
spray. Over the
next hour, I found out the lady had dual citizenship (the United States
and Germany). Her mother had been a secretary in the diplomatic core
and her
father was an officer in the Air force. She hated her across-the-street
neighbors
and she liked to play bridge. Her favorite singer was Tony Bennett. I asked
her if she was happy with the service the fire department provided. She
told me, "The firemen were very nice. I'm sorry they sent you my police complaint
on accident. Please let them know they were very helpful in our time of need."
I exonerated the complaint, once again fulfilling my responsibilities to
all involved parties. During the next four years that I was Captain Asshole's
boss,
he never got another complaint and as far as I know he never uttered a
single word to a customer.
The guy in the back was having none of it. "You didn't fix the problem!
All you did was make it worse by forbidding him to ever speak again."
"I'm going to have to disagree with you," I said. "My problem
with him centered on citizen complaints. After our meeting, I never got another
citizen complaint on him again. I fixed my problem."
"You didn't fix the organizational problem," he continued. "I
was an officer in the military, and if I had this problem I would have…"
I stopped the guy mid sentence and reminded him that the military can
imprison and execute its troublemakers. I was just a lowly Battalion
Chief trying to
get through the day.
The guy in the back was now standing and speaking loudly. The well-behaved
audience had dissolved into a dozen or so independent talk groups trying
to shout over one another. I had turned them into B-shifters. Finally
the Fire
Chief stood up and declared break time. The time-out allowed the group
to find its center, restoring the harmony and free love that I interrupted.
I spent
the rest of the afternoon nodding like one of the soldiers of Islam that
stand behind Louis Farrakhan when he makes his speeches. All I needed
were
some dark
shades and a bow tie.
Sometimes we overestimate our personal power. Other times we confuse
any use of our power as good leadership. People follow other people
because they want
to. There are a million different ways to lead because there are a million
different motivations that cause people to fall into line. Money, power,
being included, continued employment, good dental benefits and ice
cream are just
a few of the things we will trade for our compliance. Captain Asshole traded
letting the public know exactly how he felt for his own future peace and
status quo. My 2-year-old daughter taught me that you shouldn't get
too caught up
in the things you can’t fix. Sometimes it’s all you can do to get
out of the way and not make things worse. If you feel like it’s your
inalienable right to control the world and people around you, you’d
better buy a helmet and look forward to your daily ass-kicking.
--------------
Nick
Brunacini is a 27 year veteran of the fire service.
He has had articles published in a variety or publications.
He currently serves as a fire department shift commander.
Read more of his articles at http://www.bshifter.com
