When I became the Director of Public Safety at Saint Michael’s College, I was taking over the role from a well-respected leader who had held the job for 25 years. He had established deep connections with his staff, about 15 people, and had a loyal following. I knew coming in that there would be a level of concern about the type of leader that would replace him, and how I would treat those same employees. That is the natural concern, and I had a plan to help ease their minds. I set up all staff meetings (and supplied the food), visited different offices and shifts regularly, rode along with officers and dispatchers, and kept an open-door policy among other things. This all worked well, except for one employee.
Paul, we’ll call him, wasn’t able to attend any of those meetings, or even work, because he went out on temporary disability at the same time I was coming onboard. Paul was a long-time employee, and a good one, who occasionally went through rough spells that were often related to stress or similar issues, or physical injury. Whether the change of the leadership at the department was any part of this episode, I don’t know, but the week I showed up to work he wound up in the walk-in clinic and all of his shifts had to be covered. So, while I was having breakfast with his coworkers, and sharing stories about the crazy things we had seen, he was alone in a hospital bed, waiting to find out what would happen with him next.
The retiring director, who graciously stayed on for two months to help train me, took me to visit Paul that first week. We chatted for a bit and wished him a speedy recovery. On the way out, my guide gave me a bit of Paul’s backstory and history with the department. It was clear that this was a person who required a bit more hands-on care to be successful.
Paul was out for several months, navigating the issues that had manifested. During that time, I visited him in the hospital, at home, checked in by phone and even did welfare checks when we hadn’t touched base in a bit. When it was time for him to come back, we set up an on-ramp to get him back into the swing of things and catch up with the changes that had occurred while he was out.
During the next few years Paul was a great officer. He was empathetic with the students, professional with the staff, onboard with the mission and conscientious of the regulations. Through it all he needed to be managed and led a little differently than others in the department in certain ways. Through my time talking with him at the beginning, and the trust we established, I was able to see how his challenging upbringing and family history played a role in those needs. He needed to be seen a bit deeper than others, but when he was, he paid it forward in spades.
We all have a need to be seen. Whether it’s a new boss or a new role, or whether we’ve all been there 10 years, we look for affirmation, validation or at least acknowledgement on an emotional level. When we are seen and heard as a person we can accomplish many more positive things and be resilient with many more negative things. This human connection grounds us.
Last winter I went for a hike in southern New Hampshire. It was a beautiful day and I was coming off the peak having eaten my sandwich in the warm noon sun; I was feeling pretty good. Just a few steps into my descent I heard a couple of dogs bark as they were coming up the trail. Being both a dog lover and slightly wary because of incidents in the past, I stepped to the side of the trail lowered my hands and paused as the dogs ran up the hill. One dog greeted me with a quick sniff and wag of the tail before running off. The second moved in much quicker and nipped my forearm before running away.
As their owner came up the hill I let him know that his dog had just bitten me. I received a faint, “Sorry” as he walked by, and nothing more. He continued walking up the hill without looking at me or expressing any concern.
The bite wasn’t the issue for me. I had a jacket on and both that and my skin were intact. But as I descended the hill my happy mood was temporarily replaced with a black cloud because I was frustrated with his lack of empathy. He had ignored not just his dog’s actions, but the effect it had on me. That’s what bothered me. He didn’t see me for my humanity in that moment. Last month I hiked the same trail and could visualize him and his dogs walking up the trail when I reached that same spot. I also had a momentary flash of the frustration of not being seen once again.
Paul worked for me for a couple more years. Eventually he wasn’t able to do the work and moved on, but he remained loyal and friendly even after he left. The time I invested in him, like the previous director had, was well spent both for furthering the mission of our department, and for caring for another human being. We were a place of caring and trust for him, and he spent years being a place of care and trust for our students and staff.
Maya Angelou said, “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
Make them feel seen.
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