What happens when the kittens escape their box

"Morale is one of the most elusive concepts a leader has to deal with, and it is one that can easily lead a leader astray. It is usually mixed up with the debate as to the better way to run a company … as a 'taut ship' or as a 'happy ship.' My experience and observation tell me that a taut ship, with high standards, fairly administered, is always the happiest."
— Louis B. Lundborg

"A commander must train his subordinate commanders, and his own staff, to work on a set of verbal orders. Those who cannot be trusted to act on clear and concise verbal orders, but want everything in writing, are useless."
— Viscount Montgomery of Alamein

The story you are about to read describes an incident in which company officers from my department failed to "keep the kittens in the box." What does that mean? Keeping the kittens in the box takes many forms. First, it’s about making sure people understand what’s acceptable and what isn’t acceptable as a supervisor. Second, it’s about understanding, and maybe even agreeing with someone’s position, but being wise enough in the ways and protocols of the organization to stop your subordinates from hurting themselves. Finally, it’s about using a mistake as a learning tool. The company officers involved in this story failed to do these things, and as a result, cost one firefighter his acting assignment, created discontent among members of the organization, raised questions without answers and created a gap between the ranks. There are lots of lessons to learn here, so pay attention, young Jedi.

First, let me acknowledge that I don’t know every detail of the event, because it involved a personnel issue that occurred just as I was retiring. But in talking to many of the parties involved, I’ve pieced together enough information to determine that company officers failed to keep the kittens in the box on more than one occasion — and the cascading effects ultimately cost someone their job. (Note: I’ve changed the names of those involved to protect both the innocent and the guilty.)

GOING AWOL
Our story begins with the annual EMT recertification process. As the department had done for almost 18 years, it issued notices through the chain of command and directly to individual firefighters about the required EMT two-day refresher course. As fate would have it, five of our intrepid members did not show up for the training. In essence, they were not at their assigned work location when they were supposed to be, and were, for all intents and purposes, absent without leave (AWOL). One of the requirements of the job: Show up at the right place, at the right time, in the right uniform. It’s really not that hard.

The first question you should ask (if you’ve been paying attention to previous articles I’ve written): "Is this a system problem, or did these folks simply not show up because they didn’t plan it, mark it and follow through?" Good question, because you don’t want to hammer individuals for an organizational misstep. In this case, however, notices were sent to both the chain of command and the individuals, as they had been in the past, but the firefighters just failed to show up. Officers determined the members had opened the e-mail notifying them of the training, the memos were sent properly and the training was listed where and when it should have been. The system did what it’s supposed to do.

The next question you should ask: "Does the fire department have a policy that deals with AWOL firefighters?" As luck would have it, it does. The policy is clear and precise, outlining the consequences firefighters will face if they don’t show up on time at the right location. Of course, mitigating circumstances, such as illness or an emergency, might exist, which is something departments should consider. But in this case, none of the firefighters had such an excuse. Punishment for a first offense (going AWOL) involves issuing each firefighter a written reprimand. So to be consistent, every member in question should face the same consequences (as long as this incident was everyone’s first offense). Note: A written reprimand isn’t going to ruin your career — hell, I received three of them. You do your time, and in 16 months, you request to have it stricken from your record. Everyone makes mistakes.

Here’s where the kittens first began to crawl from the box. Unfortunately, the frontline officers involved didn’t interpret the breach in policy as clearly as the policy did. Instead of simply addressing it at their level as the policy required (Rule No. 1: Solve the problem at the lowest level possible), the officers thought of every reason why the members shouldn’t face consequences for their actions: "Gosh, they didn’t mean to not show up," or "I think if we let this go, they’ll learn from it and won’t do it again."

Such a reaction on the part of the officers reflects a mentality that’s permeated the fire service for hundreds of years: "Take care of our members at any cost, even when they are wrong." No officer likes to discipline members. Hell, I didn’t like to discipline anyone, but if you take an officer’s job, you can lay good money on the likelihood that you’re going to have to discipline someone at some point. Eventually someone under your supervision is going to make the wrong choice, and adult choices have adult consequences. Right here is the first opportunity to keep the kittens in the box. Failure to follow the policy and execute the proper discipline lets the kittens out, and now they are wandering around the living room and dining room, moving freely about the house. Keep them in the box, and you protect the kittens with minimum impact.

BUT WAIT, IT GETS WORSE …
The story doesn’t end there. Because the frontline officers didn’t follow proper procedure, the issue gets kicked upstairs to the battalion and division levels, which is never good. As a result, those in charge take a more global look at the issue, specifically at two aspects of the situation. First, does the policy apply, and were these members really AWOL? So now, officers two levels up are dealing with a basic supervisory issue. Second, in order to be consistent, if the battalion- and division-level officers believe the firefighters did violate policy, everyone should get the exact same discipline — a written reprimand.

The division chiefs (myself included) reviewed the situation and came to the conclusion that our members were AWOL, and as a result, we had to administer consistent discipline. (The continual message we got from our members: Be consistent. Treat everyone the same.) Why we had to come to this conclusion is another story altogether; it should have been reached long before the question got to us. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to get the facts, review them and make an adult decision based on policy, not emotions.

OK, are you with me so far? Because the story gets even better, and yes, you can bet that someone did not do what they were asked to do. Let’s review the situation: We have members who made poor choices and frontline officers who did not want to do what was necessary to correct the situation according to policy. We have a problem that’s been kicked upstairs to the division and battalion levels. And the division chiefs have concluded that yes, these folks were AWOL, and discipline is appropriate.

So here we go again. The division chiefs direct the battalion chiefs to direct the captains to issue written reprimands to the members who failed to show up where and when they were supposed to. As you can imagine, this caused quite a stir, because the company officers didn’t want to do anything in the first place. They did not agree with the decision, and as a result, there were some heated conversations between captains, battalions and divisions. Such conversations are to be expected, but ultimately, they’re pointless, unless some new information is provided that changes the situation. Remember: Once a disciplinary decision has been made, you don’t have to like it, you just have to do it.

Employees can seek remedy if they feel unjustly disciplined by following a grievance procedure, which is there to protect them. It’s the company officer’s job to ensure members are familiar with it and know how to use it. Remember: Discipline is never personal. It’s part of policy and strictly business.

COMPLICATING CHARACTERS
Enter Captain Smertz from the hazmat team. He’s an acting captain due for promotion, and he’s an excellent employee, a fine firefighter and an excellent instructor with no prior history of problems; he’s a quality guy. It just so happens he’s the acting supervisor of one of the members who did not show up, and he was ordered to write the reprimand, with which he still does not agree.

 Captain Smertz writes the reprimand, but he adds at the end — in writing, mind you — that he "does not agree with this action." Now, here’s the rule as an officer: You can disagree, you can discuss, you can even argue behind closed doors with the senior people in the chain of command, but don’t ever put in writing on an official reprimand or any other disciplinary statement that you, the officer, do not agree with it. Instead, officers should voice such concerns in the proper location with the proper people.

Captain Smertz’s actions sent the message that he wasn’t willing to do his job. As an officer, you can tell your employee behind closed doors that you don’t agree with a disciplinary action, if you’re so inclined. And in the same breath, you can blame someone else for forcing you to do your duty. Neither action reflects very well on you as an officer, but they are options. You can also advise the employee of their rights to protest the reprimand; you can even help them fill out the paperwork. But you do not countermand a disciplinary action in writing at the same time you give it.

Because of their affinity for their members, frontline officers — especially when they haven’t been trained effectively — make the kind of mistake Captain Smertz made. I’ve made it, others have made it, and it always has the same outcome, which is why we rely on our battalion chiefs to act as older, wiser, more experienced filters between officers and the chief. Battalion chiefs are supposed to protect us from ourselves when we do something that will cost us, regardless of who’s right or wrong.

Now enter Battalion Chief Snodgrass, an individual who did the exact opposite of protecting his officers. Snodgrass did not see Captain Smertz’s statement and say to him, "Smertz, I know what you’re saying, and I cannot say I disagree with you, but the decision has been made. You cannot send this paperwork up with that comment on it. Take it off.” Instead he said, "I agree with you; leave it on” (or at least his actions indicated as much). Here we have a second opportunity for someone to keep the kittens in the box, as well as to use the situation as a learning experience for Captain Smertz, but no, that didn’t happen. Instead, the kittens have climbed out of the box and have run out of the room, out the front door and into the yard. Unfortunately, it’s not the owner of the kittens who’s in jeopardy — t’s the kittens themselves.

AN UNHAPPY ENDING
By failing to teach Smertz what he should and shouldn’t do, and what he can and can’t get away with, Snodgrass failed to act as a protective filter for his captain. Although he may have thought to himself, "I am supporting my officer by allowing him to voice his concern in writing,” what he was really doing was throwing the kitten into the street. And Snodgrass won’t be the one who pays for that action in the long run: Captain Smertz will.

To make matters worse, Snodgrass, or some other senior officer, failed to follow the disciplinary process and take the reprimand up through the chain of command. As a result, the issue went right by the division chief (a third opportunity to herd the cats) and landed square on the fire chief’s desk. After he finished having a mini-transcendental ischemic attack, the chief asked the deputy chief, "What the hell is an officer doing writing this?” And as we say in the business, the toilet flushed.

So, what happened? The division chief had a mild stroke and transferred Captain Smertz to another station — leaving the station, the shift and many department members to wonder what happened. Morale shot down, a good employee — and a good hazmat technician — ended up at another station, the hazmat team lost an experienced member, many people were pissed off and only half the story floated around the city, so people made up the other half. In essence, all the kittens ran into the street and were hit by a tractor-trailer, an incident that could have been totally avoided long before they ever escaped their box.

LESSONS LEARNED
So what does this story teach us?

• Officer training is critical. The first step in keeping the kittens in the box is to define the box for them. You must teach your officers what is expected of them and what their duties are. Officers must be willing to evaluate and handle policy violations at the lowest level. Failure to do this — to make the adult choice — takes the situation out of their hands. They must be taught to ask questions when they are unsure, and when they incorrectly enforce or fail to enforce policy, the chain of command must use the situation to teach them.
• Battalion officers should teach and mentor company officers. The battalion chief should have instructed Smertz to remove his statement before he sent the paperwork up the chain of command. Agreeing with the acting officer in a show of solidarity, and allowing him to send up the paperwork with the offending statement, is tantamount to allowing the officer to execute himself. The battalion chief could have saved the acting officer from being penalized for making a bonehead mistake. (I’ve made plenty of bonehead mistakes in my career, including one similar to this, so I know it when I see it.) Instead, the battalion chief exercised poor judgment, and the acting officer became the sacrificial lamb. The battalion chief has to be smarter than this; they must know how to play the game. You might not agree with it, and you might even hate it, but supporting your troops means keeping them from hurting themselves.
• When possible, senior officers should give the offender a second chance. I’m not sure what parameters the division chief worked under. He may have received orders from above to transfer or reprimand Smertz, and chose the lesser of two evils, knowing a reprimand might jeopardize Smertz’s chances of being promoted. On the other hand, he may have made the decision himself, out of a show of power or determination to make a statement about his position. His decision may also have been based on Smertz’s past performance. The questions begging to be asked: Why did the division chief transfer the offender? Did he receive orders from higher up to do so, putting him in the same position as  Smertz? If so, I’m sure (I hope) he argued his point behind closed doors, but followed orders anyway. If not, why didn’t he use the experience as a learning tool? Wouldn’t it have been sufficient to give the officer and the battalion chief a good talking-to behind closed doors, laying down a firm set of expectations, followed by periodic refreshers of those expectations? He could have called both Smertz and Snodgrass into his office and told them that if they ever put him in this position again, he’d skin them alive. He could have then outlined his expectations of them, pointing out this was a mistake they should learn from, and sent them back to work. Was the division chief so enamored with his position that he set out to prove a point? Only the individuals involved know the answer to these questions, but what we do know is that any learning that took place by the individuals involved in this was done with great pain and at great expense.
• Officers should serve as filters. Officers must evaluate employees’ choices and the consequences of those choices. As an officer, you cannot support and defend actions that are, for lack of a better term, wrong. Your job is to teach members what’s right and wrong (like a parent) and to deal with problems at the lowest level. If you are a company officer or a battalion officer, or for that matter any officer, and you continually try to defend actions that aren’t defendable, you lose your credibility. Then, when your members really need you to stand by them, those higher in the chain of command disregard your opinion because you have a reputation for supporting everything your members do. When people make the wrong choice or are negligent in their actions, it’s your job to recognize it, own it and solve it.

NO PAIN, NO GAIN
Sometimes letting the kittens out of the box has consequences for members other than you. Your job is to set expectations, enforce policy fairly and honestly, stay in touch with your members and use every day as an opportunity for you and your members to learn.

Sometimes pain is a good teacher. I’ve been reprimanded and signed a few pieces of paper in my career and for the most part, I deserved them. I’ve also written some letters of reprimand that I didn’t totally agree with, but I did it.

Herding cats is tough work; it requires patience, experience, willingness to make the tough calls and a desire to teach — even when pain comes with the lesson. Remember: If you don’t keep the kittens in the box, it’s not always you who ends up hurt — it’s the kittens.

"If a man can accept a situation in a place of power with the thought that it’s only temporary, he comes out all right. But when he thinks that he is the cause of the power, that can be his ruination.”
— Harry S. Truman

Chase Sargent retired in December 2005 as a division chief/paramedic for the Virginia Beach (Va.) Fire Department after a 30-year fire-service career. He is recognized internationally as a consultant and instructor for fire, EMS and special ops teams—as well as owner/partner and president of Spec. Rescue International. A prior member of the NFPA 1670 Technical Rescue Standards Committee, he is well known for his straightforward, common sense approach to teaching new and seasoned company officers how to become effective leaders.
  
Chase now works as an independent contractor for the U.S. government and teaches at the bomb school in Sicorro, N.M., as well as the Blackwater Lodge. He maintains his certifications and connections by riding backward as a volunteer firefighter and paramedic.