Chapter 11

MONDAY, JULY 6

Maybe I should have mentioned earlier: Coldwater County employees work a four-day week and a nine-hour day. A thirty-six hour week was considered full time. This had come about during the most recent Wall Street Depression, when the County had to cut its payroll. Rather than lay people off, Pat Alcivar had suggested the thirty-six hour alternative. Everyone’s paycheck was reduced ten percent. As a further consolation to the employees, and to save some money on utilities, the County also went to a four day week, Monday through Thursday.

That was all before Greta and I moved here.

When I went about my management-by-walking around Monday morning, Lydia Grossman, who was working with the Js at a round table in their office, said, “No one’s mentioned it yet, and maybe no one has thought about it--”

“They probably don’t even know about it,” Janine Josephson interjected. “I bet even the great and powerful Director doesn’t know.”

“The Wizard of Oz,” I said, in regard to Janine having borrowed from the line, “‘The Great and Powerful Oz’, as that character describes himself. And I do so know. But just to be sure we’re all on the same page here, what are we talking about?”

“The fact that Developing Abilities is open for business from oh-eight-hundred to eighteen-hundred, Monday through Friday, and from oh-nine-hundred until twelve hundred on Saturdays,” Lydia said.

“Oh. I guess I knew that but had forgotten. That’s a, uh, fifty-three hour week. Do their employees work a fifty-three hour week?”

“No. They work a forty hour week.”

I shrugged. “We’re open twenty-four-seven, three-sixty-five.”

“How do you figure?” Janine asked.

“The crisis line, you dummy,” Jesse Josephson said.

“Obscure, Jess, but the line, ‘To get even, you dummy,’ is from the Paul Newman, Sally Field picture, Absence of Malice.

“Would you guys knock that off,” Lydia demanded. Then to me, she said, “So you don’t think that would be a problem for our thirty-six hour week?”

“I’ve been of a mind since I got here that we should be open on Fridays. We’d simply stagger our days. Some staff works Monday to Thursday, others work Tuesday through Friday. But it’s like a pizza: there are different ways to cut it up, even to include a few hours on Saturday. Mental Health’s Community Maintenance crew has been covering weekends and holidays for a couple years now.”

“The CMP crew works weekends and holidays?” Jesse said, in obvious surprise.

“Only a couple techs and-or case managers are on each day, and it’s only for the hours needed. We’d realized that we’d been leaving our most vulnerable people to their own devices on days that were traditionally for socializing, especially holidays like, well, pretty much most of them. So we decided to do something about it.”

“We decided?” jeered Lydia. “The way I heard it, you decided.”

“I talked everyone into it, okay? I put my name in the rotation and promised that I’d always take Christmas Day for one of my turns. I also promised that, if we found it too onerous, we’d quit doing it. So staff ended up working three or four hours on weekend days, with the rota lasting a bit more than six weeks. It turned out not to be a big deal.”

“What about the extra hours?” Janine asked.

“They have to be taken off the following week. It usually amounts to a day.”

“What do they do on weekends?”

“Mostly collect the folks in the vans and then run social activities: movie matinees on the big video screen in the bakery, picnics in the mountains, cook outs in the park, sight-seeing, fishing, kite flying, making snow men, even shoveling snow from their own sidewalks. There was a group that went to the parade and then another to the fireworks on Friday, with a simple picnic of ham sandwiches, potato chips, and lemonade in the afternoon. But the Fourth of July is busier than most days. Sundays there’s a church van and then a brunch in the bakery. Plus they check up on folks who may not be doing so well.”

“You should do a pot luck,” Janine said.

“Yeah, I tried that. Fortunately, I brought enough hot dogs and buns for everybody. One of the clients brought a Mason jar half filled with water, another brought a box of cake mix, and a third brought a box of breakfast cereal. Of those who brought more appropriate fare, most only brought enough for themselves. I realized that the term, pot luck, had several layers of commonly understood meaning that are not so well understood by people with confused thinking, under heavy sedation, and living on SSI. So we learned a lesson: be more specific and offer some realistic alternatives.”g

Lydia persisted, “So you don’t see the difference in hours as a problem?”

“Most likely not, but it would depend. For one thing, I definitely think we should be open on Fridays. And I think we need to either have some opportunity for work-a-day people to come in without missing work. So either a few hours on Saturday or a weekday evening could be useful. We’re all helping professionals and it only makes sense to provide the help when it’s needed, not when it’s just convenient for us. But that doesn’t have to be oppressive. We should all talk about it, and I mean everybody, and then decide what’s best for the people we serve within the limits of what we can tolerate.”

“‘What we can tolerate’?” Jesse said. “What do you mean?”

“Jess, I’ve always believed that both the customer and the employee were equally important to a business. For an operating business, one doesn’t exist without the other. As a consequence, both must be served by the business. But it must be done within an economic reality if the business is to continue to exist.” I shrugged, coming to a realization. “So I guess I’m saying the business itself is just as important as the customers and the employees.”

Jesse observed, “But aren’t those three, uh, entities, in competition with one another, each looking to gain the maximum benefit?”

I nodded. “The way things are run in most places, yes they do compete. But the fact is, they are actually dependent on one another. In practical terms, they are a three-member partnership in an operating economy. Why it’s the common wisdom that they should be struggling against one another is beyond me.”

He said, “So, when you say ‘as much as we can tolerate,’ you’re saying we may have to compromise our convenience, but not to a point we can’t live with it and still, uhm, be happy in your work.”

“Bridge on the River Kwai,” I muttered toward him, then said, louder, “Pretty much. I think we need to improve our services stance, but we need to do it in a way that keeps the job from going sour.”

Lydia asked, “Then you don’t think we’d have to operate the same hours as Developing Abilities?”

“I wouldn’t think so, though it may not be a bad idea. Besides, I doubt they operate everything for those hours. The wood shop doesn’t operate on weekends, does it?”

Jessie said, “No.”

Janine said, ‘Most of their business office is only open during the week, I’m pretty sure.”

I added, “In any case, we couldn’t ask people to work more hours unless we could pay them, so I think we’d continue to operate on a thirty-six hour week. The question remains: which specific thirty-six hours?”

Janine suggested, “That may not be the same for every program.”

Jesse observed, “As demonstrated by the fact that Mental Health’s Community Maintenance crew have pretty much been working three-sixty-five for years while the rest of us have been working a four-day week.”

“Don’t forget, crisis service is twenty-four-seven,” I added. “But it’s an on-call rota job. There might be other off-hour services we could provide on-call, though I can’t think of any.”

“How about having the bakery on-call?” Lydia wise-cracked.

“So like we’d all be on on rotation to be called to come in and cook something?” Jesse asked, tongue-in-cheek. Jesse was a notoriously bad cook; Janine claimed she wouldn’t even allow him to butter her toast.

Lydia replied, “No. I was thinking more along the lines of Sue Takahashi covering it all the time.” Sue’s reputation as a cook had been growing since the discovery of her talent with the lasagna. Sue Takahashi, of course, was a client of the CMP and could, in no ethical way, be made responsible for even the smallest part of Lydia’s facetious suggestion.

By way of an exit line, I said, “Well, now we have entered the realm of the ridiculous. My work here is done.”

“And done well, oh great and powerful Director,” Janine said, as I left their office.

(Monday, July 6)

TUESDAY, JULY 7

Louise invited us for lunch. Emily had appointments and couldn’t take the extra time. Greta and I signed out until fourteen hundred. We’d burn off some comp time to make up the long lunch break.

Louise served a chicken salad on a leaf of iceberg lettuce and generously garnished with avocado slices and quartered cherry tomatoes from their garden. Tate, however, was at a Chamber of Commerce lunch in Foughbury.

“That reporter, Alvi, cornered Tate at the after-service coffee at the Bible Hope church, the church the Durkees attend. It was our next stop after you called. I was standing next to Tate when Alvi approached us.”

“What did he ask?”

“He showed Tate a printed copy of the email. Tate looked at it and then asked Alvi where he got it. Alvi gave him that protected-source excuse and asked Tate what he thought of the sentiments expressed in the email.”

“Tate handed the email back to Alvi and said, ‘Everybody knows Gary Mazur is a smart-ass. He has a style of humor that would do stand-up at a funeral. But the guy’s cracker-jack smart and he’s an excellent people manager. And he’s my best friend. That email was just his way of using what he thinks of as humor to jolly me past the pre-race jitters by slapping me with a worst-case scenario. And it worked. It helped put things in perspective and, by the next day, I was my usual cheerful self.

“‘But you’d better be aware that intercepting emails is a federal crime under the Wiretap Act and the Electronic Communications Privacy Act. Your protected source may have committed a federal crime in bringing that to you. I’m assuming you were not part of a conspiracy to the actual interception, but you need to be careful before you use it. And though you may not be involved in the crime, you may be pushing the boundaries of the same ethics that prevents you from revealing your source. Selective ethics are no ethics at all.

“‘Have you any other questions?’”

“But, by then, the guy looked more like he wanted to run home to his mommy. He thanked Tate, then went to his car and drove off.”

Greta had been busy on her phone screen. “I don’t see anything recent under Alvi’s by-line or anything recent about our sheriff’s race. The most recent article was over a week ago, about the friends becoming rivals, and the argument over the concern that the homicide rate has increased. It cites Tate’s rebuttal that the rate has been so low that it doesn’t take much to cause what looks like a large but not significant increase.’”

I said, “Tate really laid it on him about the federal crimes. Instead of his mommy, Alvi may have gone crying to his editor.”

Greta was looking at her screen. “Here’s an article on the website workplaceprivacyreport dot com. It mentions a federal district court case and suggests that what Alvi was doing may have actually been in violation of the Electronic Communications Privacy Act, which tightened some of the strictures in the Wiretap Act.” She looked up at us. “Maybe that’s why there’s no article. They can’t print anything about that email without breaking the law.”

Louise said, “We received a FedEx envelope this morning. It contained an invitation to a debate with John. It was from the pastor of John’s church, who offered the church as the venue and himself as moderator.”

“What?” Greta exclaimed. “That sounds more like a trap. Tell them you’ll do it if Gary can be the moderator.”

Louise laughed. “I can just see it. Gary wouldn’t let either of them get a word in edgewise while he stood up there cracking wise. That would be perfect.”

“And I’d only charge scale,” I snarked. As an afterthought, I added, “But maybe use the high school as the venue and the debate team coach as the moderator. They took the Three-A state championship last year. He might even make it a demonstration project for his team.”

Greta asked, “Do you want a debate?”

“I think we do. John’s a smart man, but Tate has a much broader perspective.

“John was great at his assigned duties and the people he supervised, but he didn’t really appreciate the concept of a county sheriff in terms of prevention, or coordination with other agencies, or how the sheriff can effect the economy, or contribute to the general morale of the citizenry. John’s main focus in the campaign, so far, is just law enforcement.

“In fact, John never saw the purpose of warning tickets. He always wanted to issue citations. The usual practice, even with the state police, is to shave five or even ten miles off the radar gun reading when writing the citation. Not John. He’d reduce it no more than two miles per hour, and that was just in case of calibration errors if he was challenged in court. He feels that the penalty had to be as unpleasant and troublesome as possible.”

Then she shook her head, looking off to her right. “Remarkably, he had only one soft spot: drunk drivers, which I consider the worst of common driving offenses.” She turned back toward us. “But John would drive the man or woman home if he knew them, and if he didn’t, he’s take their keys after the driver made arrangements for someone to come get him. They could pick up their keys at the office the next day. Women he’d offer to drive home.

“If they were kids, though, he’d throw the book at ‘em.”

“Wasn’t he worried that some woman would claim he molested her while driving her home?” Greta queried.

“He’d make sure the interior camera was on and, of course, his body cam was on. The time stamp bore witness to his actions.”

“Driving under the influence seems a strange offense to go easy on,” I commented.

“Tate thought so, too. He asked John about it, but John just double-talked around it, saying alcoholism was an illness and people shouldn’t be punished for something they couldn’t help.”

“Then why lean on the kids?”

“He said because kids weren’t supposed to be drinking at all. I’m sure it all made sense in his particular logic structure, and Tate didn’t feel like it was a sufficient matter for discipline. He did require John to send him an email about every DUI stop he made in which he didn’t issue a ticket.”

I said, “I wonder if his brother is a heavy drinker.”

“Nick?” Louise said. “You bet. It’s one of the reasons he left the county. Nick felt that Sheriff Michelsen had his officers watching him particularly. And he was right. Moreover, his drunk driving all but came to a halt with Michelsen breathing down his neck. No one but Evelyn was sad to see Nick leave. That was before John and Wanda moved here.”

After a moment, Louise added, “The other thing about John and his citation writing is his concern ... uh, not so much concern as maybe his, ah... preoccupation -- yes, his preoccupation with the revenue that the traffic fines bring in. The fines are split equally between the sheriff’s office, the county general fund, and the state. Like most sheriffs, Tate uses the money to buy new patrol vehicles and traffic control equipment, like radar guns and breathalyzers. That’s how John ended up driving the Tahoe, the newest cruiser.”

I shrugged. “There’s really nothing you can say he’s done wrong,” I commented, “but it adds up to somebody I’d rather not have in charge. That business about the DUIs really bothers me. Drunk driving is a plague in this country.”

“Tate’s afraid John will get worse, if the legislature passes the so-called two-strikes law, in which you’re jailed on your second offense.”

Greta said, “I’ve written our delegation, urging that they vote for it; we all have. But I think it should really be a one-strike law. Drunk driving should not be tolerated.”

Louise said, “Having the law and enforcing it are two different things. Tate is concerned about how John would deal with it.”

“Couldn’t he make that point in a debate?” Greta suggested.

“Tate says he’d just double-talk his way out of it. Besides which, there are a surprising number of people who are not in favor of the two-strike law and many of them owe John favors for not being ticketed for DUI. Even if they don’t vote for him, they’ll contribute to his campaign, so he knows they’re grateful.”

“Grateful? More like intimidated,” I said. “But is Tate’s campaign hurting for money?”

“Not according to Tate. He hates those safety-orange signs you ordered, but he agrees that they’re more memorable than the typical red and blue on white signs, and, since they stand out so much, we need fewer of them. And the caption, ‘Let’s re-elect Tate Plummer Sheriff,’ is simple and sounds like the bandwagon is inviting people to get aboard. He doesn’t think we need more signs and neither of us have any good idea where else we might buy ad space, I mean the most effective ad space. Ordinarily, I would have said the newspaper, but newspaper circulation is way down.”

“Do you know what John is doing?”

“He bought space on two billboards. I called the company to check on prices; it’s costing them just over five thousand dollars.”

“Whoa!” I said.

Greta said, “That twenty-foot shipping container we put behind the shop cost us twenty-five hundred dollars, including delivery and set-up. I’ve seen people use full-size trailers as advertising signs. If Tate knows a farmer or some business on Route forty-seven, north of the intersection with Limekiln Road, you could offer to give them the container if they’d just set it out by the highway until the election. Then buy a couple eight-by-twenty vinyl signs. Everyone traveling out of Leaufroide into the rest of the county would see them, and see the other side on the way back.”

Greta got busy working her phone screen for a few seconds, then she said, “Here’s an outfit that will do it for a buck-sixty a square foot, if you have your own artwork.”

I’d called up my calculator app. “That’s two-fifty-six a side or five-twelve for two signs.”

Greta said, “There’s a twenty percent discount for two, but grommets are extra.” She looked up, “I figure we’d hang it ourselves.”

Louise said, “We have a manual grommet press and about a thousand grommet sets. A grommet every foot would be around fifty-six or so.”

“Sounds like a job for Tate,” I said.

Then Greta concluded, “Anyway, for about half of what John’s paying, Tate could have a two-sided, eight-by-twenty billboard and some farmer would end up with a heavy-duty shed.” Shipping containers are notably sturdy, with much thicker walls than typical do-it-yourself shed panels. Trans-oceanic shipping sees containers stacked nine high, fully loaded.

“Actually, we’ve been thinking about buying one of those for the garden equipment,” Louise said.

“Buy two. Maybe there’s a discount.”

(Tuesday, July 7)

WEDNESDAY, JULY 8

On Wednesday, I had lunch with Margaret Deveaux.

For purposes of our discussion, we agreed to the premise that our agencies would merge under one administration. Then I started going down the list of questions I’d accumulate, from my own thoughts and from the Health Center managers and staff.

After the third one, she said, “We don’t need to go through all those details. You guys are doing a good job, across the board. I wouldn’t have been able to say that a year ago. But since you got rid of the dead wood” -- I groaned at her literal graveyard humor--”it’s a different story. As long as you keep the same staff you have now, and maintain the same funding levels, then, as far as I’m concerned, you r teams can do it whatever way they think is best.

“Your preference to run Monday through Friday is a worth pursuing, but I can’t think of why anyone would have late or Saturday walk-in hours other than Public Health. For that matter, they’re always open Saturday mornings during August and September for school shots, so it wouldn’t be a new idea. Besides, all the nurses I’ve ever known have always been eager for ways to improve their work, as long as they see the work is significant. And Public Health is the cornerstone of healthcare, so they’re at the cutting edge.”

“I forgot about their pre-school inoculation clinics. The other programs don’t really have a walk-in service, but depend on appointments to make sure the right staff person is available. I know both Mental Health and Behavioral Health counselors will see individual clients or couples after hours, if requested, so maybe we’ve answered our own question. I’m not even sure Behavioral Health would have to cover Fridays, but I’d like to see Mental Health have at least the Community Maintenance Program active on Fridays.” I shook my head. “Again, I forgot that there are a couple work crews that go out on Fridays.”

“What about the bakery?” she asked. “Could you open it on Fridays?”

“Boy, I don’t know. When I was running Mental Health, the bulk of the bakery’s business was from Health Center staff, with about twenty-four percent from other county staff and eight percent from off-campus. I’d expect it’s still about the same, but I’d have to let Greta and Bill decide.”

Then I asked her, “What about the fact that we consider thirty-six hours as qualified full-time?”

“And why shouldn’t it be? You’re paying folks for the number of hours they work and you’re providing the maximum amount of benefits you can afford. Do you even have anyone, other than the CMP clients, who works less than a thirty-six hour week?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Those definitions are important for businesses trying to get by on part-time workers who do not qualify (she made air quotes with her fingers) for benefits; in other words, they see employees as a commodity rather than as a workforce.”

“What about interns and practicum students?”

“We call all education-related individuals interns. They are not employees, though; their purpose is to learn. Usually we award them a stipend equal to twenty-five percent of base technician hourly rate. We only accept those who have completed at least half their required credits toward their bachelor’s major.”

“Mostly juniors and seniors then.”

“Mostly graduate students and seniors, very few juniors.

“So you budget those stipends?”

“Correct.”

“What if you’ve already allocated the funds and someone applies?”

“It would depend.”

“Would you take them on without awarding a stipend?”

“We might, but the money wouldn’t be the deciding factor.”

We talked until a few minutes after 15:00.

(Wednesday, July 8)

THURSDAY, JULY 9

After I returned from my meeting with Margaret Deveaux on Wednesday, I had contacted each of the team managers and suggested that we begin the Management Team meeting at 12:00 and that I’d supply lunch from the bakery. The menu on Thursday featured stuffed bell peppers, another dish that Sue Takahashi had perfected. Remarkably, her version went a little lighter on the meat and used a bit more rice, but I liked them even better than the recipe I’d introduced two years before.

All of the team managers, of course, were curious about my meeting with Margaret, but, before getting into that, I asked them to give me a sense of their team members’ current thinking about the issue.

We went around the table; Greta (Community Mental Health, with a total of 19 staff positions) started off.

After the way we were kicked around, everyone wants to get away from the County. Hank (Hank Nolan, a case manager) said it was absurd to make people’s mental health care a political football. Doc B (Dr. Bartkowiak, a psychiatrist) was a subcontractor before the county consolidation, after which he became an employee. He said being with the County may seem more secure, but that’s probably illusory; when there’s no money, there’s no money. He also noted that being with the County allows more people to yank our chains. He pointed out that, after the consolidation, the County ended up cutting everyone’s wages anyway, an approach the NPO boards had been reluctant to do.