Webster’s dictionary doesn’t have a definition for the phrase
HR Violation. Just because it doesn’t
exist in Webster’s doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. This I know to be true, because I’ve committed
them. Lots of them. So, like any inquisitive person, when
Webster’s doesn’t have what I’m looking for, I turn to the next best source of
online information (no, not Wikipedia), the Urban Dictionary. The Urban Dictionary defines an HR Violation
as ‘breaking the policies set in place by
the Human Resources department…a synonym for saying something rude, crude, or
politically incorrect.’
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| The Urban Dictionary...a resource par excellence |
Just to be clear, my HR violations are always of the spoken
or written variety. I’m not gropey, and
as I’ve mentioned before, I’ve never felt the need to reach out and grab a butt
or a boob. I do, occasionally, (or some
may say frequently) forget to engage the part of my brain that filters out the
garbage before it exits my mouth. My big
mouth has helped me find my way into trouble of the HR variety on a number of
occasions. I’m not one of those managers
who resists or dislikes HR. Really…some
of my very best friends are HR people. I
just don’t always think before I blurt.
Or hit send.
One of my earliest HR violations that I remember didn’t
start out that way (although, I guess they never do). I worked in Ottawa for a national hotel chain
famous for its chateau style properties.
I started my career there working the night shift, and I had a co-worker
who was also my supervisor two nights a week.
She was a wretched thing, just angry at life. She strutted about the hotel like a big nasty
peacock. She never smiled, and she was
completely unpleasant. Excellent
qualities in a guest-facing position.
But, we were unionized, and she was there for the long haul.
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| Ever seen a bitchy peacock? I have. |
One of the day managers had quit, and as I have been known
to do over the years, I wrote her a good bye poem in the style of ‘Twas the
Night Before Christmas’. It was a
private note, wishing her good luck, but also taking shots at some of the things
that nobody liked about the hotel. I
wrote it and hit send, then went for my break.
No harm, no foul. I returned,
finished my shift, and went home to bed.
About noon, my phone rang, rousing me from a delightful
sleep. At the other end was my
boss. “What the hell were you thinking?”
he bellowed. “What the hell are you
talking about?” I bellowed back. As it
turned out, the angry peacock went through my email when I was away on my
break, found this poem, and forwarded it to the general manager, HR director,
and director of operations. When that
power trio read my poem, they were slightly miffed (even though there was
really nothing of any substance in it), and suspended me immediately. I was to appear at a hearing at 9am the next
morning.
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| My manager wondered WTF I was doing |
I arrived at the hotel and was met my by shop steward who
proclaimed that he was going to represent me in this hearing. We walked in, and the HR director read me the
riot act about disrespecting the hotel and its employees and asked me if there
was anything I wanted to say before she fired me. My shop steward, Norma Rae’s stupid cousin,
Norman, flew into his rant about big brother, and how dare they read my
personal email blah blah blah. Even at
this early stage of my working life, I was pretty sure that I was wrong, and
that Stormin’ Norman was gonna get me axed, so I promptly fired him, threw
myself on the mercy of the angry HR director, and begged for forgiveness. A work of art resulting in a 2 shift
suspension and a promise not to use the hotel as my poetic muse ever
again. Turns out that slagging the hotel
was a big HR violation. Who knew? (Smart people, that’s who knew.)
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| Unlike Sally Field as Norma Rae, I didn't like my union rep, I really didn't. |
Oddly, there were no repercussions for the angry
peacock. In fact, it emboldened her for
more nastiness in the future. (Stay
tuned for more about her). I did learn,
however, to log out.
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| Words to live by |
I started a new job a couple of years ago. I was in a meeting with the President of the
company, the CFO, and one of my direct reports, a Director. We were talking about a big project that was
going to have a big impact on the number of staff and the locations in which we
operated. This was really my first
meeting with this group of people.
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| My first meeting...the smiles didn't last long |
The Director and I disagree on how this whole story played
out, but here’s how I see it. We were in
a slightly heated discussion about this project, and we were trying to figure out
an appropriate solution. He recommended
a solution that I wasn’t wild about, because to me, it felt like we passing the
buck on the problem. I remember clearly
saying, “We just have to grow a pair and deal with it.” Of course, he heard, “You just have to grow a
pair and deal with it.” We’re both
pretty firm on how we remember it, but the reality is, that in the first
meeting this guy had with his new boss, the boss basically told him to man-up. Not the usual suave way I start a new job,
that’s for sure.
Now this did not land me in trouble with HR, but a few days
later, I was doing some Christmas shopping, and I ran into him and his lovely
wife in the mall. He introduced me, and
because I had recently invited him to grow a set of gonads, (or at least that’s
what he thinks) it was a slightly awkward interaction. It was clear that he had also told his wife
about this conversation because she was obviously ready to go all Tammy Wynette
on my ass for slagging her husband.
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| Click Here to hear Tammy Wynette's most famous song, Stand By Your Man |
The good news is that we got beyond that, and 10 months
later he repaid the favour by firing an inadvertent (or so he says) political scud
missile right into me in a meeting with the President that promptly earned him
the nickname, Scudly. I left that job
shortly after, and he remains one of my closest friends. And I no longer think his wife wants me
dead. At least I don’t think she does.
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| Scudly got his revenge |
I worked in Saskatoon for many years. I had a team there that I simply adored. We worked well together, and we were really
close knit. We had some really excellent
times there. Because of the closeness of
the group, I got a way with saying a whole lot of things that would otherwise
have landed me in some serious hot water.
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| Saskatoon...birthplace of my daughters and still my favourite city |
I remember one day in a meeting, one of ladies on the team
excused herself to go to the washroom for about the fourth time. Without even thinking (notice the common
thread that weaves through all my HR violations), I stopped talking and in a
completely inappropriate way, I said, “What’s going on…all these trips to the
bathroom…what are you, pregnant?” What
in the hell was I thinking?
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| If you pee a lot, you must be pregnant. Right? |
She froze, then blushed, then went completely crimson. A couple of embarrassed giggles from the
group, but mainly crickets. Turns out
she was just about 3 months pregnant, hadn’t shared the news, and I had just outted
her. Publically. I think she and I managed to recover from
that one, but I’ve never, ever said anything like that again. To anybody. Ever.
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| Still can't believe those words fell outta my mouth |
If you’ve ever seen the episode of the office where Toby
shows Michael the bankers boxes full of HR violations and complaints, you’ll
know the fear that I live in everyday…that someday, somewhere, I’m going to walk
into a boardroom full of bankers boxes with files full of my own HR
violations. Maybe they’ll be waiting
when I show up at the pearly gates.
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| One day it's all gonna catch up with me |
