Rink

had an acquaintance of mine tell me about a situation she ran into a couple of months back about a long day, a short weekend and a young manager. Sara had read this column before, and thought that by sharing her story, it might prevent someone else from traveling the same path. Sara's story in her words ... I've always believed that supervisors should never be friends with their employees. It's not our role. We provide direction, encouragement and, when nec- essary, discipline. It's what I expect from my boss, and what my staff has come to expect from me. I work at a college campus rink, where the supervisor role is often blurred. The majority of staff are students, and my sec- ond-in-command when I'm not at the rink is typically another student. It's like leaving the fox in charge of the hen house, I know, but it's the way it's always been done. It was a Friday and I had been at the rink since 5 a.m. The last Friday of the month is always a long day, but I had a special trip planned for the weekend and I wasn't going to let the 20 different reports I needed to produce for my month-end finances ruin it. I wrapped up my 14- hour day and headed out the door. I felt pretty good about the "older" staff I had scheduled for the weekend. It would hope- fully lighten my call load and allow me to take a much-needed weekend off. I was less than thrilled to have my cell phone ring literally 20 minutes after I had walked out the door. My "manager of the night," Megan, wanted to know what she should do since one of our drivers didn't show up for his shift. Fourteen hours of work, and now I needed to deal with this? I told Megan to call him up and tell him that if "he wasn't dead, to get his butt into work" and to keep calling him until she got him. I hung up without say- ing goodbye. I didn't get another call until Saturday afternoon. When I saw the rink's number on my caller ID, I thought about letting it go to voicemail, but figured whoever it was would just keep calling. I answered it with an annoyed, "What?" Megan. Again. With another no call, no show. Same driver. What should she do? I yelled. I actually yelled, and told her to figure it out, to call him up, tell him to get in to work, to stop calling me, to do her job, to just deal with it. And I hung up, again without saying goodbye. About five minutes after I unloaded on Megan, I got a call from the dean of the recreation department. He knew I was out of town, but wanted to make me aware that he had just gotten off the phone with one of my employee's parents. My no call, no show driver's younger sister had been killed in a car accident the night before. He would be out of classes, and work, for the foreseeable future. Megan quit the next day. So did a few of my other employees. I'm glad they did, because I don't think I could have faced them. I'm embarrassed about the way I acted, and I'm embarrassed about the way I had Megan act on my behalf. I won't ever have the chance to make this right, but going forward I promised myself to keep things in perspective. If one of my employees misses a shift, the mes- sage on their voicemail will be from me, asking them to call me when they get the chance, that I hope everything's all right. When my phone rings and it's the rink, even after a 14-hour day, I say hello. I make sure I'm pleasant and that I give good advice. I don't need to be their friend, but I don't want to be their enemy. ★ – John Monteleone STARrinks.com ■ Lessons learned at the rink this month. 54 R INK MAGAZ INE March/April 2012 the final cut I Assumptions... I won't ever have the chance to make this right, but going forward I promised myself to keep things in perspective. ISTOCKPHOTO.COM

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