Gruntled Employees

Sugarcoated terminations

This might sound obvious, but when you’re firing an employee, you need to tell the truth.

Actually, that’s only half right. Well, closer to two thirds.

Anyone who’s ever watched Law and Order or been in a courtroom knows by heart the oath that witnesses take before testifying:

Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?

I do.

Makes sense. It really breaks down this way:

1. You’ll tell the truth
2. You won’t leave anything out, and
3. You won’t add any lies.

For a witness in a court proceeding where the goal is to get justice, this three-part standard for testimony is the best way to do it.

But the workplace is not a court of law. (Yeah, I heard you say “duh.”) The goal isn’t necessarily justice. Instead, the goal is to run a workplace the right way and to avoid unnecessary and costly litigation.

Firing an employee is a high-risk situation. When you do it, you should follow only the first and third prongs of the testimonial oath:

• You’ll tell the truth
• You won’t add any lies.

What you say could come back to haunt you and the company in a lawsuit, so make sure that everything you say is the truth. Otherwise, if it can be shown that you lied at this point, it’s not hard for a judge or jury to think that you or the company lied at other points. Cases are won and lost on credibility, more than they are on laws and lawyering.

But forget about the “whole truth” part (the “you won’t leave anything out” part). You have no obligation to tell the fired employee absolutely everything, and you almost certainly shouldn’t. For example, you might fire somebody because their performance is bad and because, frankly, you just don’t like them. In the termination meeting, you should leave out the “frankly, I just don’t like you” part.

Managers and HR professionals understandably want to take the edge off these high-stress meetings. There is a desire to sugarcoat the termination a bit, to relieve the tension and perhaps allow the employee to save some face on the way out. That’s fine.

But resist the temptation to say anything that’s not true. It’s not worth it. Instead, sugarcoat the termination by leaving out the part of the truth that might be incendiary and hurtful. A terminated employee is entitled to know why he or she is being fired, but not every single reason.

Keep the whole truth to yourself.

The wrong question

Too often, when managers and HR professionals get employee requests for special treatment, accommodations, or departures from policy, they ask themselves the wrong question:

• What if another employee finds out, and then asks for the same special treatment, or accuses us of not treating everyone equally?

This question is common, understandable, and well meaning. HR pros and good managers know that different treatment (or as the lawyers say, disparate treatment, which means "Look at me: I went to law school and learned how to talk different. I mean, disparate. D'oh!") can potentially lead to discrimination lawsuits. The problem is that when you treat people uniformly, you end up treating them uniformly badly.

So this is the wrong question to ask.

The right question to ask is this:

• If I was requesting this special treatment in the same situation, would I think I deserved it?

If your being-honest-with-yourself answer is yes, then you should try to find a way to grant the request. Of course, don't discriminate (there are, like, laws against doing that). But don't disgruntle one employee just because other employees might not get the same treatment.

You'll end up with the wrong answer.

Does your company need a smartphone policy?

Are your employees twittering during meetings? Texting during conference calls? Checking Facebook on their iPhones during training?

As more employees carry and use iPhones and BlackBerrys, some employers are fretting about an increase in impolite smartphone usage. A few days ago, The New York Times had a fine article by Alex Williams called "Mind Your BlackBerry or Mind Your Manners." In it, Alex cites questionable smartphone behavior in different workplace settings. Some companies have taken to policies banning BlackBerrys during work meetings. But more companies are facing up to the reality of the omnipresent smartphone: "Despite resistance, the etiquette debate seems to be tilting in the favor of smartphone use, many executives said."

What do you think? In this space, we've usually advocated a policy-lite approach that involves treating employees as grown-ups who have judgment. See, for example:

• “A two-word corporate blogging policy”
• “The world’s shortest employee handbook,” and
• "A twitterable Twitter policy."

Is it time for an iPhone policy? (At my firm, the only BlackBerry policy is "No BlackBerrys." It's very similar to our Windows policy.)

I want to hear from you, managers, HR pros, in-house lawyers: Does your company need a smartphone policy? Leave your thoughts in the comments, or send me an @message or direct message on Twitter: @jayshep.

And while you're at it, take this quick, single-question poll.

Nickel-and-diming your employees

Lucy works as a salesperson for a machine-parts company in the Pacific Northwest. She has to travel a lot to make sales calls; often out of state. Because she's on the road so much, she has to eat out all the time. She's not crazy about this, because she finds it difficult to eat healthily at fast-food and quick-service restaurants.

Her company appears to understand that she and her fellow salespeople have no choice but to eat out frequently. So it allows them to expense their meals on the road. But like too many companies, this one doesn't trust Lucy or her coworkers. It's apparently concerned that they will run up obscene meal expenses at luxury restaurants (at airports and rest areas — right!). So it came up with a policy.

Under this company's meal policy, Lucy and her colleagues can expense meals under the following restrictions:

1. they have to be traveling for work
2. they have to be 75 miles from home, and
3. they can't spend more than $17.50 per meal.

OK, now the first restriction makes sense: this is supposed to ameliorate the hassles of eating while traveling on company business.

The second restriction also seems to make sense; the company's not interested in feeding its people while they're at home. But there's an unforeseen consequence here. Much of Lucy's travel is by airplane, and she often has to leave her home early in the morning to catch her flight, making it difficult to make breakfast at home before she leaves. Ideally, she would check in at the terminal and go through airport security, and then grab some breakfast before her flight takes off. But the airport is just 22 miles from her house, so the meal policy doesn't cover her breakfast. If she wants coffee and a muffin at the airport, it's on her nickel.

The last restriction also seems to make sense, setting a spending limit to avoid excessive meal expenses. And $17.50 is probably enough to get breakfast or lunch at most quick-service places, and dinner at a fast-food joint. But the problems arise with how the policy is enforced.

To get her lunch paid for, Lucy has to charge the meal on her company-issued credit card, and then fax or scan her itemized receipt to an accounting gnome at the home office. More than once, she has received admonishing emails or phone calls from these gnomes about nonconforming meals expenses. These, not surprisingly, displease her.

Another unintended consequence: Lucy and her fellow salespeople are self-interested, like most human beings, and they are smart. They quickly learn how to game the system, and find ways to charge meals under "The Price is Right" rules: they come as close as possible to $17.50 without going over. So the company often ends up paying more for meals than it would have if it hadn't set the $17.50 limit.

But the biggest and most damaging unintended consequence is that Lucy and her colleagues resent the meal restrictions. It is an irritant to them, especially when they are waking up at five in the morning to board a crowded commuter flight to go and sell the company's machine parts. While it's impossible to measure, I'd bet you breakfast at an airport terminal that the amount they lose in forgone sales stemming from employee malaise dramatically outweighs any money the company saves on meal expenses.

Employers: resist the urge to have policies like these. Treat your employees like adults. If they spend unreasonable amounts on meals or other expenses, talk to them about it. If it's a persistent problem with a particular employee who's taking advantage of the company, fire that employee. But don't assume that all your employees are trying to bilk the company for an extra airport donut.

Notes: As you might imagine, I don't want Lucy to get fired, so I have changed some of the identifying information. But the story is true … Also, I'm no fan of nickel-and-diming, whether it's employers doing it to their employees, or lawyers doing it to their clients.

Thanks

Gruntled Employees started 33 months ago with a post criticizing Radio Shack for firing employees by email ("Radio Shack Deletes 400 Workers, Common Sense"). A couple of days ago, our 122nd post castigated a law firm who fired people by voicemail ("Please leave your layoff message after the beep"). How far we've come.

During those 33 months, many people have visited the blog. Today, we enjoyed our 100,000th visit. To be sure, there are blogs out there who get 100,000 visits a day. Nevertheless, I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for reading and for contributing to the discussion, both here and at our sister blog on client value and service, The Client Revolution.

Thank you.

— Jay

"Please leave your layoff message after the beep"

The always-excellent Carolyn Elefant has this post, "U.K. Lawyers Get the Message: 1-800-U-R-Fired," over at one of my favorite blawgs, Legal Blog Watch. Carolyn reports (citing a Daily Mail story) on how 14 trainee solicitors (which is British for "baby lawyers") were laid off by Freshfields in London. Freshfields sounds like an organic supermarket chain, but is actually the fourth-largest law firm in the world and a member of Britain's "Magic Circle" (which sounds like a Harry Potter sequel, but isn't).

Like most major law firms, Freshfields has had to trim its staff in response to the worldwide economic crisis. What makes them different is the way they did it: by leaving the unlucky 14 a voicemail. Not only that, but instead of partners doing the deed, they staffed it out to HR.

What's British for power tool?

Apparently, Magic Circle firms respond to bad press the same way their American cousins do: by defending the indefensible. The Mail story quoted a firm flack:

It was not ideal from our perspective but we were trying to get the information out as soon as possible. We did not want to take the chance of them hearing first from someone else.

To be fair, Freshfields gave the laid-off lawyers a severance to soften the blow. How much? you might ask. Well, the firm spokesperson wanted to be discreet:

Those people that we have not retained received an ex-gratia payment. We feel it would not be appropriate to confirm the exact amount.

Of course, of course. And it's not like that word would get out. A secret's a secret, old chap. Oh, wait. What's this? The Internet? Bloody hell!

Turns out the firm gave severance payments of a whopping £700.

Apparently, "ex-gratia" is British for cheap.

This cowardly method for firing people is in danger of becoming a trend. Last year, the Chicago Sun-Times fired people over the phone. Recently, the Boston Globe reported on a local social-media-software company revealing layoffs via Twitter and blogs. And Gruntled Employees' very first post, nearly three years ago, was on firing by email: "Radio Shack Deletes 400 Workers, Common Sense."

File this under "Just because you can, doesn't mean you should." Employers: don't fire people by phone, email, voicemail, Twitter, or blogs.

Be a person. And fire in person.

Employers' Rx for swine flu? Eliminate sick days

You may have noticed that you can't spell pandemic without P-A-N-I-C.

Today, the World Health Organization raised its pandemic flu alert to DEFCON 3. Or something. Actually, it's called "Phase 6," WHO's highest pandemic alert and the first called since 1968. (Reuters story here.) Obviously, this is a serious illness worldwide. But to put it in perspective, regular seasonal flu kills about 500,000 people a year worldwide, and 36,000 in the US. By contrast, swine flu has killed 175 worldwide, and 57 in the US.

This isn't the first time that a novel-sounding disease has gotten undue press attention: recall the coverage of SARS in 2003 and avian flu in 2004–06. Both had deaths numbering in the hundreds worldwide, and no American deaths.

But the current swine-flu pandemic has employers concerned. Many employment lawyers have added to the hysteria by flacking doom-filled seminars on emergency preparedness and other pandemic responses.

My response? Get rid of sick days.

Now before you go all "What you talkin' about, Willis?" on me, let me explain.

Having a set number of paid sick days is a nice idea in principle, but it often has the unintended consequence of encouraging sick employees to come into work. Employees who have used up their paid sick days feel pressure to return to the office. Other employees who are hoarding their paid sick days to use up during Spring Training or something also turn into host monkeys when they should have stayed home.

(A few months ago, I talked about a similar syndrome involving so-called "Iron Man" or perfect-attendance awards. See "The Iron Man Award Integrity Act of 2009.")

My solution involves treating employees like adults, a recurring theme on this blog. If employees are sick, send them home. Tell them to stay home until they get better. You'd rather have them play the role of Absent Employees instead of Patients Zero. That's how our firm handles sick time.

Some employers and HR folks (the ones who don't Get It) will whinge: "But what if they take advantage of us and abuse the privilege?"

What if indeed. If you have an employee who would sink so low as to feign illness to steal pay from you, then that person should quickly become an ex-employee. Malingerers tend to be easy to find, and they'll quickly give you reason to axe them. (Natch, do it carefully to avoid the classic bogus disability-discrimination claim.)

As for your grown-up employees, tell them to wash their hands frequently, cover their coughs and sneezes, and stay the hell away from work when they're ill. And pay them.

• • •

A few weeks ago, Legal Talk Network interviewed me on a program with the all-too-sexy title, "Compliance in Pandemic Planning." (I pushed for something with "hamthrax," but was overruled. Too soon?) Paul Boynton, LTN's excellent In-House Legal host, did a great job framing the issues around how in-house counsel should approach pandemics. You can check it out here.

How Twitter will kill annual performance reviews

My daughters go to elementary school in Newton, Massachusetts. The principal — who is, sad to say, retiring this year — is a brilliant, caring, dynamic educator named Christine Moynihan. One of our favorite things about her — and there are many — is that from time to time, she makes schoolwide announcements over the loudspeakers in which she awards chidren “Wows.”

What is a "Wow"?

A “Wow” is a short description (maybe three or four sentences) of something a pupil did to earn the Wow (yes, it's self-referential; get over it). Examples include working extra hard on a particular project, helping a classmate during a difficult situation, or showing unusual courtesy or friendliness or determination. Dr. Moynihan says the Wow winner’s name and describes what he or she did to earn the Wow. That's it. It’s short, it’s public, it’s concrete, it’s earned — and it makes the kids feel great.

Compare this to the workplace. In the workplace, we don't have Wows. We have annual performance reviews.

I hate annual performance reviews. As an employer, I hate writing them. They take a lot of work, and they often feel artificial. As an employee (back in the day), I used to hate getting them. They never seemed like they appreciated the employee that I was, and instead focused on fitting me into little boxes. And as an employment lawyer (defending employers), I hate reading them. Too often, I read the annual performance evaluations of employees who were fired for poor performance, only to find no written record of the employee’s suckiness. And you can imagine how that looks to a judge or hearing officer — an unbroken string of “Satisfactory” marks. Swell.

Why do performance reviews bite? For a number of reasons: They’re hard to write. We want to be fair and accurate, but we don’t want to sound like a machine. And for some reason, criticisms seem worse in writing than when spoken, mainly because the written word has no facial expressions or nonverbal cues to soften the blows. Plus we know that written criticisms can fester and grow inside a personnel file, and we know that employees generally have a right to read their personnel files. So we tend to pull our punches, and leave out details of poor performance — details we may regret not having in some future litigation defense.

All in all, I think many managers miss the point of performance reviews. If the goal is to get the employee to continue to perform well or to start to perform better, then why are waiting a year to do that? Why are we using a hyperformalized, bureaucratic form to convey these feelings? And if the point of the review is to correct behavior, doesn't this seem like a funny way to do it?

We need a better way.

I propose that we replace formal annual performance evaluations with a workplace equivalent of the Wow.

Enter Twitter.

One of the great beauties of Twitter — and I believe one of the reasons it has been so transformatively successful — is its 140-character limitation on messages ("tweets"). In fact, I don’t see it as a limitation (in a negative sense) at all. In many ways, knowing that you have only 140 characters to get your meaning across is very liberating. It forces you to eliminate everything unnecessary. It forces you to choose your words very carefully. It forces you to edit. It may take a little more time to write something that short than it would take to write something a little longer, but that’s OK.

So tweets are limited in length, just like the three- or four-sentence Wows at my daughters’ school, only shorter. Come to think of it, this isn’t really a novel idea. It was in fact the central premise of Ken Blanchard’s 1981 classic management guide, The One Minute Manager.

Tweets are also public. Like the Wows being broadcast over the school PA system, a Twitter message is broadcast over the internet to anyone who happens to be following you, plus anyone who happens to be searching for something you’ve written about. Once you’ve pressed the “update” button, your tweet is out there for the world to see.

And finally, it’s unique and free form. There are no boxes or multiple-choice answers or “satisfactory/unsatisfactory/NA” responses to contend with. It’s difficult to cut and paste from previous forms. The writer actually has to put thought into the tweet.

So I propose replacing the annual performance review with a twitterable evaluation — a “twevaluation,” since the Twitterverse loves neologisms. Some guidelines:

• First and foremost, if you haven't already, sign up on Twitter.
• Identify the employee and give the Wow. If the employee’s already on Twitter, use their Twitter name with the @ symbol.
• Use the hashtag #twevaluation at the end of the tweet. That makes it easier for people to find them. Don’t know what a hashtag is? Look here.
• Keep it to 140 characters, including the name and the hashtag. But remember, Twitter isn't text messaging. Most Twitterers use actual English words, not SMS abbreviations like "c u l8er." Very simple space savers (like "&") are OK.
• Don’t use a twevaluation to say something bad about an employee. Trust me as someone who defends companies in employee lawsuits: you don’t gain anything by publicly dissing an employee. Save it for a direct message. Better yet (much better yet), be a person and do it in person.
• And remember: follow your company’s Twitter policy. Don’t have one? Here’s our Twitterable (exactly 140 characters long) policy.
• I'll start. Follow me at @jayshep and read my #twevaluations as they come in. Or search Twitter for #twevaluations.
• Then contribute your own. You don't have to give every employee one. Start with a couple, and add them when your employees earn them. It's not about keeping score; it's about recognizing good performance and encouraging more of it.