Grant’s Blog

Looking though the window of my air conditioned rental car a few years back, I couldn’t help but feel for the Florida city worker operating a weed-whacker. In the heat of the mid-day sun, the poor schmuck was wearing a full face shield, elbow-length gloves and leg protectors.

I knew why this guy was overdressed. His superiors required him to work “safely” by wearing mandatory personal protective equipment, PPE.

I knew this because I was the superintendent of a municipal wastewater treatment plant that had, under a predecessor, received bad press for multiple safety violations. One year into my tenure, upper management delivered a three volume Safety Manual. A number of the new policies were quite good. These I enthusiastically enacted. Some of the policies were questionable; but not worth battling over.

Although I never did buy the argument, I required everybody to wear hard hats whenever anywhere except in the administration building or lab. Some of the policies were idiotic; much like the Florida weed-whacker PPE.

In a 75 page memo, I listed my concerns and asked a host of implementation questions. My comments were not well received. You see, the purpose of the “safety” manual was to reduce municipal liability. I’m all for that. But, I don’t like the idea of putting the liability on yours truly, as was the intention. It didn’t take long for me to find greener grass elsewhere. Before leaving that job, we celebrated the first ever year without a lost time accident.

From this experience I learned a lesson. Two, actually.

One. I learned that – for me, anyway – I spend less time and energy getting people to work the way I want them to when I spend more of my time removing obstacles to desired behavior than creating rules prohibiting undesired behavior. I still write policies, but as few as possible. In my advancing age I find myself ever more committed to the “keep it simple, stupid” idea. KISS may be a lame cliché, but it’s a valid one that merits more attention in the workplace.

Two. I learned that I am so resistant to directives that I am almost unemployable. Fortunately, I have found a way around this: I own the company. Lucky for me. Maybe someday you’ll hire us to do something of value for you. Until then…

Thanks for reading.

Grant

Day in and day out, the facilities we operate and maintain perform for us. Sewage is converted into clean water. On occasion, however, municipal wastewater treatment facilities provide a larger community service. They provide entertainment.

One Christmas I received a panic telephone call on my cell phone. One of my operators brought his pistol to work. He was waiving it at another operator and saying “bang, bang.” I finished Christmas dinner and excused myself. I explained that I had to make a quick visit to the treatment plant. On hearing why I had to leave Christmas dinner in such a rush, my well bred mother-in-law inquired of me, “don’t you have people who can do this for you?” Fortunately, the event was over blown. All lived to tell the tale.

A dozen years ago when I was Superintendent of the Cranston, Rhode Island municipal wastewater treatment plant, a Providence radio station spent the day on site, broadcasting live. It was Halloween. They put a DJ in one of the tunnels. He made up all kinds of nonsense about spiders, rats, and what-have-you. We loved the notoriety.

Some years later, an operator at a Connecticut facility I was associated with came up with what he thought was a sure fire way to get noticed by the “Survivor” television producers – jumping into a primary clarifier wearing only a swimming suit. Bob was incensed when the Superintendent refused his request. Being a spoil sport, I sided with Dave: Not on our watch!

On my first day of work, while being introduced to my staff at a regional wastewater treatment facility, my new boss had someone close the shade behind me. Only after leaving the meeting did I realize that the shade had been closed so that I wouldn’t see trucked-in sludge overflowing the incinerator feed tank. A few weeks later, while making my introductory walkabout with a State inspector (viewing one process upset after another), we saw blackest, vilest cloud of smoke spew out of the sludge incinerator. Feeling about 6-inches tall, I expressed a commitment to make things better. With the help of an excellent staff, three years later, we were awarded the “best in state” award.

Thanks for reading.

Grant