`Sugar Coated Delusions`

December 18, 2019

That’s Not My Job

Filed under: Main — rhycel @ 1:32 pm

That’s Not My Job
by: Author Unknown, Source Unknown

This’s a story about four people: Everybody, Somebody, Anybody and
Nobody.

There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that
Somebody would do it. Anybody could have done it but Nobody did it.
Somebody got angry about that, because it was Everybody’s job. Everybody
thought Anybody could do it but Nobody realised that Everybody wouldn’t
do it.

It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody
have done.

The Big Difference
by: Bill Greer, Chicken Soup for the Veteran’s Soul

The Boss drives his men, The Leader inspires them..
The Boss depends on authority, The Leader depends on goodwill..
The Boss evokes fear, The Leader radiates love..
The Boss says “I”, The Leader says “We”..
The Boss shows who is wrong, The Leader shows what is wrong..
The Boss knows how it is done, The Leader knows how to do it..
The Boss demands respect, The Leader commands respect..

Take a Stand
by: Denis Waitley, Chicken Soup for the Soul at Work

Jackie Robinson made history when he became the first black baseball
player to break into the major leagues by joining the Brooklyn Dodgers.
Branch Rickey, owner of the Dodgers at that time, told Robinson, “It’ll
be tough. You’re going to take abuse you never dreamed of. But if you’re
willing to try, I’ll back you all the way.”

And Rickey was right. Jackie was abused verbally (not to mention
physically by runners coming into second base). Racial slurs from the
crowd and members of his own team, as well as from opponents, were
standard fare.

One day, Robinson was having it particularly tough. He had booted two
ground balls, and the boos were cascading over the diamond. In full view
of thousands of spectators, Pee Wee Reese, the team captain and Dodger
shortstop, walked over and put his arm around Jackie right in the middle
of the game.

“That may have saved my career,” Robinson reflected later. “Pee Wee made
me feel that I Belonged.”

Be sure that the employees on your team feel that they belong.

Jessie’s Glove
by: Rick Phillips, Heart At Work

I do a lot of management training each year for the Circle K
Corporation, a national chain of convenience stores. Among the topics we
address in our seminars is the retention of quality employees – a real
challenge to managers when you consider the pay scale in the service
industry. During these discussions, I ask the participants,

“What has caused you to stay long enough to become a manager?” Some time
back a new manager took the question and slowly, with her voice almost
breaking, said, “It was a $19 baseball glove.”

Cynthia told the group that she originally took a Circle K clerk job as
an interim position while she looked for something better. On her second
or third day behind the counter, she received a phone call from her
nine-year old son, Jessie. He needed a baseball glove for Little League.
She explained that as a single mother, money was very tight, and her
first check would have to go for paying bills. Perhaps she could buy his
baseball glove with her second or third check.

When Cynthia arrived for work the next morning, Patricia, the store
manager, asked her to come to the small room in back of the store that
served as an office. Cynthia wondered if she had done something wrong or
left some part of her job incomplete from the day before. She was
concerned and confused.

Patricia handed her a box. “I overheard you talking to your son
yesterday,” she said, “and I know that it is hard to explain things to
kids. This is a baseball glove for Jessie because he may not understand
how important he is, even though you have to pay bills before you can
buy gloves. You know we can’t pay good people like you as much as we
would like to; but we do care, and I want you to know you are important
to us.”

The thoughtfulness, empathy and love of this convenience store manager
demonstrates vividly that people remember more how much an employer
cares than how much the employer pays. An important lesson for the price
of a Little League baseball glove.

Lesson from a Rainy Day
by: Grace, Source Unknown

August 26, 1999 is a day that many New Yorkers would probably like to
forget. However, this New Yorker will always remember that day because
that is the day that I learned what a powerful gift appreciation can
truly be.

On August 26, 1999, New York City experienced a torrential downpour. The
relentless rain caused the streets to flood. New York City’s subway
system came to a screeching halt as the subway stations were inundated
with water. Unfortunately, this happened during the morning rush hour.

Many people who were going to work were stranded and forced to go home.
Some battled with fellow New Yorkers to hail a cab or to get on a bus.
Still others braved the storm, walking miles to get to work.

I happened to be one of people on her way to work that morning. I went
from subway line to subway line only to find that most service had
stopped. After running around like crazy and making my way through
crowds of people, I finally found a subway line that was operating.
Unfortunately, there were so many people waiting to board the subway
that I could not even get down the stairs to the platform. Undaunted and
determined to get to work, I decided to take the train uptown several
stops and then switch back to the downtown train. It was a hassle, but
it paid off. However, the train got more packed at each stop. People
pushed and shoved. I was constantly hit with elbows and bags. Finally,
after what seemed like an eternity, the train reached my stop.

But the journey was not over yet. I would still have to walk several
blocks to get to my office. The rain had intensified, and no umbrella
was enough to withstand the forces of Mother Nature. When I finally got
to work, I was completely soaked and left a puddle of water everywhere I
sat. I was also exhausted and discouraged from my commute.

My coworkers and I spent most of the day drying off. When 5:00 rolled
around, I was ready to go home. I was about to log off my computer when
I received an email from Garth, my Deputy Director. I opened the email
and found the following message:

I would like to thank all those associates who made the effort and
eventually reported to work. It is always reassuring, at times like
these, when employees so clearly demonstrate their dedication to their
jobs. Thank you.

As you can see, Garth’s email was short, but I learned more from that
brief message than I ever did from a textbook. The email taught me that
a few words of appreciation can make a big difference. The rainstorm and
the transit troubles had made me miserable and weary. But Garth’s words
immediately invigorated me and put a smile back on my face.

Garth’s actions also made me realize that words of appreciation not only
make you feel good but it also motivates and inspires you. After reading
his email, I felt that coming to work that day was an accomplishment
that I should be proud of. Suddenly getting drenched and the extremely
long commute did not seem so bad. As a matter of fact, his email made
the whole subway ordeal all worthwhile.

Sometimes we are so wrapped up in our lives that we forget the magical
power of appreciation. Garth had been caught in the rain like the rest
of us. He had to tend to his responsibilities. He also had to cope with
the numerous absences in the five areas that he manages. And he had to
take on his boss’ responsibilities, as she was unable to get to work.
Yet, he still found time to send an email thanking his employees for
their dedication and the extra effort they had made to get to work.
Garth taught me that I should never be too busy to show people my
appreciation and to acknowledge the positive things they do. This was
the most valuable lesson that anyone could ever give me. And for that, I
will always be grateful to Garth.

August 26, 1999 may have been one of the darkest days in New York City
history, but it was one of the brightest days in my life thanks to
Garth.

True Leader, A
by: Martin L. Johnson, Chicken Soup for the Soul at Work

A few years ago, Pioneer Hi-Bred International, where I was employed,
purchased Norand Corporation. Pioneer’s sales representatives in the
field used Norand hand-held terminals to upload daily sales information
and download new price and sales incentive information. Pioneer bought
so many of these hand-held terminals, the economics made the purchase of
Norand look interesting. Owning Norand also allowed Pioneer to explore
high-technology markets outside agriculture.

But after a few years, the emerging laptop PC technology made the
hand-held units obsolete. Pioneer sold Norand at a loss. Pioneer always
took a given percent of the annual profits to divide equally among all
employees, so our profit-sharing checks were lower than if Pioneer had
not purchased Norand. Additionally, my Pioneer stock was lower than it
had been before the purchase of Norand. I was not pleased.

The CEO of Pioneer, Tom Urban, made annual formal visits to each of the
Pioneer divisions to talk about the state of the business and to listen
to employees’ concerns. When he walked into the meeting room for his
first visit after the sale of Norand, he acknowledged the group, removed
his jacket and neatly folded it across the back of the chair. He
loosened his tie, undid his collar and rolled up his sleeves. The next
thing he said was the last thing I ever expected to hear a CEO say.

He said, “I made a mistake buying Norand and I am sorry. I am sorry your
profit-sharing was lower because of the purchase, and I am sorry your
stock was hurt by the purchase. I will continue to take risks, but I am
a bit smarter now, and I will work harder for you.” The room was quiet
for a moment before he asked for questions.

A great man and leader stood before us that day. As I sat listening to
him, I knew I could trust him, and that he deserved every bit of loyalty
I could give to him and to Pioneer. I also knew I could take risks in my
own job.

In the brief moment of silence before the questions started, I recall
thinking that I would follow him into any battle.

You’ll Get Exactly What You Expect
by: Bruce D. Zimmerman, Source Unknown

I remember a young lady who went to work for a company immediately after
graduating from college. She seemed extremely talented but unbelievably
timid.

She was assigned to a division-level marketing department where she
assisted in the production of advertising and collateral material. Her
supervisor associated her shyness with a lack of technical and
conceptual skills. As a result, she was never included in brainstorming
or planning sessions. The supervisor thought she was best suited to
simple graphics layout and paste-up.

Frustrated that her talents were squandered on simple tasks, she applied
to the corporate marketing department. The vice-president reviewed her
resume and transferred her without interviewing her at length. His
concept of the young lady was positive and assigned her to a series of
important, key projects. She performed magnificently.

A few months later, the original supervisor was in the vice-president’s
office admiring the new corporate ad campaign. The project consisted of
television and radio commercials, full-page ads for national
publications and complete press kits. The supervisor asked, “What kind
of a Madison Avenue rain-maker worked this kind of magic?” The VP
replied, “This was all completed by that young lady you sent me. That
was the best move I ever made!”

This is but one example of the dozens of cases I can document where
individuals were literally hobbled by low or incorrect expectations. In
many instances, the mind set of a co-worker or supervisor can restrict
an employee’s ability to become an excellent performer.

This cause-and-effect model applies to all aspects of our lives. The
neighbor’s young son asked if he could mow my yard. I told him I would
talk to his dad first. The father said, “I don’t think he can handle a
mower. I never let him near mine. Go ahead if you like.” I assured him I
would watch his son closely and be certain he could handle the equipment
safely.

The boy not only knew how to handle the mower, but did such a good job,
I asked him to help each week. His dad was amazed. “I never would have
guessed,” he said. “You should have given him a chance,” I suggested.

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