Is there such a thing as too flexible? There’s the usual work-life balance—being able to work at home while waiting for the cable guy, or offices with summer hours that allow people to leave at noon on Friday. But what about companies that offer “unlimited vacation,” a notion that drives baby boomers (and anyone who’s ever had to work on an assembly line) insane? How about absconding to Europe and literally phoning in every day from a time zone that puts the individual on a completely different schedule? A soft-hearted manager may allow one person to arrive half an hour late every day due to child care arrangements, but suddenly people without children feel they deserve the same option. What’s fair?
Flexibility is both a mine field and a gold mine. At a time where the lines between work and leisure are constantly blurred, many of us are constantly tuned into work on some level regardless of our physical location. A majority of companies have flexible work arrangements, but most of these arrangements are informal.1 They often take the form of managers allowing people to work at home or come and go ad-hoc to accommodate the needs of their family. However, less than half of managers believe that those who telecommute regularly are as productive as in-office staff.2 And many companies don’t promote their flexibility program because it is hard to quantify into an official policy—especially if you can’t offer it to everyone.3 Let’s face it, some jobs are just more flexible than others. You can’t work at home if you’re a nurse, mail carrier, or a teacher (but shout-out to all the teachers who put in hours of work at home after the school day is over).
If you’re looking for the silver-bullet flexibility system, keep looking. Every business has its own unique culture, customer needs, and job requirements. Given this, you have to design a flexibility program that works for you, your employees, and your customers.
Ultimately, an organization’s willingness to be flexible boils down to trust. A culture of trust emanates from the top down and colors the whole workplace. Westwood Markets operates from a place of trust, unlike Super Cleaning Services. Which place would you rather work? Which do you think has a higher turnover?
Vignettes of Trust
Charles cracked open a cold one. It was another perfect summer Friday afternoon on Spring Lake. Gentle breeze, wisps of clouds, and the mesmerizing slosh of water against the boat’s hull. He had approximately six hours before Jim and Jennifer could get away from the office, round up the kids, and make it to the cottage for the weekend. He couldn’t understand why more employers didn’t value the three-day weekend, especially in the summer. Is anyone productive on a Friday afternoon when the weather is this nice? Cooping people up in a chilly office with tinted windows that don’t open is a form of torture. However, Charles knew that this summer schedule was practical only for certain staff members at Westwood Markets. A manager always had to be on site at the store locations, but those who worked at headquarters, like him, were allowed to work four ten-hour days during the week and take Fridays off. Some people divided their hours to get every other Friday off, and some took only a half day on Friday. Still, others took Monday off. The point is, people got to tailor their schedules to maximize the time they wanted to spend doing something else. And Charles wanted to spend his time on his boat, with his Irish Setter, Dexter, by his side. It was as good for the local economy in Spring Harbor as it was for Westwood Markets.
Terrell needed to see a dermatologist for the weird mole on his neck. He had booked an appointment three months out—the soonest he could get in. Then he got a phone call saying they had a cancellation and could he come in this afternoon? Heck yeah, he could! There was no way of knowing if the growth on his neck was harmless or something more sinister; if it was bad news, he wanted it yesterday.
As soon as he got off the phone, he made a beeline for Randy in Receiving. “I need a favor.”
Randy turned to Terrell in mock rage, responding way too loudly: “No more mani-pedis on company time, Williams. I’m not covering for you again.”
The guys on the loading dock erupted in laughter.
“Fine. If that’s the way you want it, Myers, you can take someone else to see Taylor Swift.”
Their bromance was fodder for all sorts of workplace shenanigans.
“I got a last minute doctor’s appointment to check out this thing on my neck.”
Randy caught a glimpse of the offending mole. “Dude!”
“Can you cover for me at 2:00 p.m.?”
“Get out of here before I catch the plague.”
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
“You owe me two, but who’s counting?”
It was neither the first time nor the last time that Westwood Market’s flexible policies saved Terrell’s work-life balance from tipping over. Randy, the meat department manager, and Terrell, the warehouse manager, had been crossed-trained and could fill in for each other in a pinch. Company policy allowed each of them to cover for the other for a total of ten hours per week, without either having to use their time off. Best of all, the paperwork was a breeze. It was a simple line item on their timesheet. Companywide, it was a boon. The percentage of parents with young children who relied on it at least once a year topped 95 percent. There was no real downside. Good employees always figure out how to get their work done. Cross-training was also a great tool for expanding people’s skill sets and helping them identify with other departments, like a secret weapon of empathy that covertly built team spirit without the painful group activities.
Westwood’s annual holiday party was at the state university’s indoor botanical gardens. The pathways were lined in fairy lights, and the humid air formed a cozy virtual blanket that protected the guests from the arctic elements outside. A string quartet played mildly familiar classical music while strolling servers offered shrimp pot stickers. The Westwood crew enjoyed the opportunity to dress up and introduce their spouses to the coworkers they talked so much about at home.
Bill looked forward to the event all year. He enjoyed seeing the Westwood workforce in an unfamiliar environment, under flattering lighting, without having to corner a single person about deadlines or meetings. As the Westwood CEO, people could be guarded around him; the holiday party eased some of that tension and allowed him to get to know people a little better. He wasn’t the most outgoing person in the world, but he genuinely enjoyed chatting with everyone. He strived to put a human face on the impersonal world of business.
He approached a group from Accounting.
“You’ve outdone yourself this year, Bill,” Sal said.
“My cousin got married here last year. I fell in love with the place.”
“These pot stickers are amazing,” Sharon said.
“Hey Tabitha,” Bill said. “How old are your kids now?”
“Beatrice is six and Alex is four.”
“How’s Beatrice’s speech therapy going?”
“It’s really helping. It’s a godsend being able to work from home on Thursdays.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Her therapist is all the way out in Elmdale. It takes forty-five minutes to get here. Brendan works nights, so he needs to get his sleep and can’t take her.”
“Is that why you’re solo tonight?”
“Bingo.”
“Tell him I said hi.”
Bill excused himself and went in search of more spinach dip. He knew via her manager that Tabitha’s schedule was working out well for the department. Overall, Westwood’s Work Flex program had dramatically decreased unscheduled absences and even lowered the turnover rate. Providing options for people to manage their lives is just good business.
The Work Flex program thrived on trust. Bill had thought about the issue so much he considered writing a book. He even had a title: Trust Discussed. His system boiled down to a combination of modeling good communication techniques and making all corporate decisions transparent. This was simultaneously obvious and counterintuitive. All Westwood managers received communications training, whether they worked in a store or at headquarters, and this complemented the Work Flex program. Managers are trusted to make the best decisions for their teams, and employees are trusted to make the best decisions for themselves. Work Flex was bolstered by two-way communication, working more often than not. When it didn’t work, the six-month written agreements between employee and manager were not renewed.
Jamie was hired at Westwood after the department store he worked at went extinct. He was the son of a shop rat and a hair stylist and had grown up with an us-vs.-them mindset when it came to work and bosses. Yet, after less than a year as a stock clerk, he began taking business classes at the community college with the goal of eventually moving into management. His father accused him of being a traitor to his blue-collar roots, but Jamie tried to explain that it wasn’t like that. Westwood actually seemed interested in helping him develop his skills. The department store hours were 9:00–5:00 p.m. or 2:00–10:00 p.m., with two fifteen-minute breaks and a thirty-minute lunch break—all of which required punching in and out. The only exceptions were when the supervisor called and made him work extra hours because someone didn’t show up. Which was just about always.
Westwood was downright civilized by comparison. To start, the store was fully staffed and people tended to show up on time, cutting down on early morning phone calls from frantic supervisors. Regular shifts were 7:00 a.m.–3:00 p.m. and 3:00–11:00 p.m. But people had leeway with their schedules as long as at least one stock clerk was available first thing in the morning and night. Jamie usually showed up around 6:45 a.m. He liked being the first one there, turning on the lights and easing into the day before the place sprang to life. Thermos of coffee, a bagel, and a little bit of paperwork. Sometimes he snuck a day-old doughnut from the bakery department.
This routine was sometimes disrupted by transportation woes, whereby either Jamie or his brother needed a ride, resulting in getting to work late or having to leave early. Unlike his supervisors at the defunct department store, Westwood managers were pretty relaxed as long as they knew where you were and when you were coming back. Their trust won Jamie over and he began to appreciate the company. Even more, it made him want to rise through the ranks. His supervisor at the department store had been a sour stereotype with bad breath and a chip on her shoulder. Terrell, Jamie’s manager at Westwood, did hilarious impressions of the store’s weirder customers and had great attention to detail. Jamie admired him and could see the benefits of climbing the corporate ladder. In fact, Jamie and the rest of the clerks had so much fun in the warehouse that sometimes it didn’t seem like work at all. But they hit their goals, moved their inventory, and got stuff done. In fact, Terrell only occasionally scolded people, and it was always because they deserved it. Jamie respected him enormously.
The dermatologist lopped off the mole on Terrell’s neck and sent it out for a biopsy. Turns out it was precancerous, requiring a couple follow-up visits which further impacted his work schedule in the following weeks. Randy was happy to help him out—he’d gone through a similar health scare in his own family recently and understood the urgency. Terrell appreciated that he wasn’t forced to burn through his vacation time for something that was not fun at all. As a thank-you, Terrell offered to detail Randy’s truck for free on his day off. He didn’t have to do it, but he was a firm believer in good karma.
Suspicious Minds
It was 9:05 a.m. and Greg hoped that when the elevator doors slid open Terry would be somewhere else—getting coffee, pounding his fists on the copy machine, berating a night supervisor at the warehouse—anywhere other than sitting at his desk in this fishbowl of an office. But the doors whirred open to reveal Terry in all his glory presiding over the comings and goings of every staff member of Super Cleaning Services. Greg could feel Terry’s 1,000-watt stare burn a hole in the back of his skull as he made his way down the hall to his desk. Five minutes! At any other company it would be within an acceptable margin of error.
“It’s Monday, Greg,” Terry called after him.
Greg took a deep breath and turned around. “Traffic. Won’t happen again.”
As soon as Greg got to his office, he slammed his backpack down. That power-hungry idiot needs to back off.
Swirling beneath Greg’s anger was a basic question: Why was Terry even in the office? The guy owned a 5,000-square-foot, French Tudor mansion on Lake Atwood Boulevard with a forty-foot cabin cruiser docked in a backyard boathouse. He didn’t need a day job. The four other silent partners rarely showed their faces in the office; what did Terry have to prove? From what Greg could tell, Terry just liked being a boss, or rather, being bossy.
Jared passed by Greg’s open door, coughing due to bronchitis, again. Janet, making her way back to reception with a plate of apple slices, turned away from him in a valiant effort to protect herself. Super Cleaning Services gave people only one sick day per year.
Janet deposited the possibly contaminated plate of apple slices at her desk and walked over to Terry’s open door, knocking lightly enough to arouse his attention but not hard enough to trigger an outburst.
“What?” He didn’t look up.
“My mother has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow at 1:00 p.m. I’ll need to take a couple hours off.”
“Who’s going to answer the phones?”
“The junior salespeople can take turns.”
“They don’t know how to transfer to voicemail and stuff.”
“I could set the phone to the general voicemail message until I get back.”
“You’re supposed to be here during business hours.”
“It’s her gallbladder. She’s 85.”
“Use your sick time. Or call her an Uber.”
She wanted to punch him. She had used her single sick day to take her daughter to the doctor when she had strep throat two weeks ago. And it was only February. “I can come in early or stay late later this week to make up the time.”
“Business hours are 9:00 a.m. until 5:00 p.m. That’s when you need to be here.”
Janet was taking care of her children and her mother single-handedly. “Yes, Terry. I know. I’ll do my best.”
She slinked back to her desk, contemplating shoving an apple slice up his nose. She was resigned to doing what she had to do, which was take her mother to the doctor; she would just be sneaky about it. She was the one who processed the time sheets each week, so Terry would never know how she accounted for her time. He talked a big game, but in the end he wasn’t a detail guy.
She ate her apple and tried to get through her emails, but she couldn’t concentrate. She went to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. The sink was full of dirty mugs. She turned to Craig, who was standing nearby scrolling through his texts while waiting for the toaster to pop.
“Why can’t you guys clean up your own mess? I’m not your mother,” she snapped. Craig’s head jerked up.
She tossed her plate in the sink and stomped off, forgetting the coffee.
That’s so Janet, Craig thought. Spreading her bad mood around the office like a virus. He’d been at Super Cleaning Services for five months, which was about four months too long. If he stayed longer than that, he risked becoming a hollow-eyed, soulless zombie like Greg. Disheveled and on his way to a serious drinking problem.
Terry sauntered in to the kitchenette, which was Craig’s cue to get back to his desk and look busy. But he was too slow.
“What’s up, Craig?” Terry asked. Even when he was trying to be friendly he sounded accusatory.
Craig was watching a video of a kitten attacking a birdcage occupied by an insult-hurling cockatiel. “Reading about office vacancy rates in the city, getting some new ideas for strategy.”
Terry tipped his coffee cup to him. “Keep it up.”
Craig rolled his eyes. Terry stuck his nose in everybody’s business because he didn’t have anything else to do. Every outside sales meeting was met with a barrage of questions: where, who, how long, how much? The lack of trust coupled with the lack of vacation time made Super Cleaning Services a perfect storm of dysfunction.
Back in his office, Terry put his feet up on his desk and grabbed the phone. “Janet, get me Craig’s spreadsheet. I want to see what he’s been up to.”
“It’s on the network, but I’ll email it if you can’t find it.” She hung up.
He would need to have a talk with her. She was not the friendly face of customer service they needed at Super Cleaning Services. Next, he put in an order for lunch delivery, checked his online stock portfolio, and booked a tee time for his trip to Hilton Head.
Craig’s spreadsheet popped up in his inbox, and his mouth puckered into a pout. These abysmal numbers couldn’t be right. He picked up the phone again. “Janet—is Craig’s spreadsheet updated?”
“How would I know?”
That attitude again. “This should be accurate through last Friday.”
“You’ll have to ask Craig.”
He slammed the phone down. It was so hard to get people to do their jobs! He turned back to his computer, opened his calendar, and booked two meetings—one to put Craig on notice, and one to talk to Janet about her attitude.
Terry and Gil met up at the club for their monthly meeting. The other three silent partners were in Florida. Single malt Scotch arrived on command, and they placed twin orders for prime rib. Terry loved the club. A lot of the people he’d grown up with had abandoned its mahogany and leather grandeur in favor of what—he wasn’t exactly sure. But he adored its genteel warmth and commitment to tradition. Gil, who spent half the year in Scottsdale, was just as dedicated to the club, enjoying a swim in the ancient basement pool three times a week.
“I don’t like the numbers,” Terry said. “We’re not seeing the growth we expected, and turnover is way too high.”
Gil perused the report and nodded. He took off his glasses and tapped them against the table. “What do you think the issue is?”
Terry sighed. “I hate to say it, but we’ve got a real attitude issue.”
Gil looked thoughtful.
“It’s these young guys in sales,” Terry said. “They run around like secret agents, failing to report basic information or let me know where they are. I don’t get it. Then there’s the receptionist. She’s got the worst attitude of all.”
“How so?”
“She always needs to take time off. Sick mom, sick kids. I don’t know what her deal is.”
“Maybe she’s got a sick mom and sick kids.”
“She needs to show up when she’s supposed to. We’re a small operation.”
Gil put his glasses on again and paged through the report. “I notice that our numbers started trending downward two years ago. Around the time you replaced Nick as the General Manager.”
Terry sipped his Scotch. “What are you saying?”
“Just making an observation.”
“Look. We get these guys straight out of college and they don’t understand they need to pay their dues. They all want to take long weekends to go to music festivals and weddings. We need them in the field five days a week or we’re never going to get anywhere.”
“My niece just got married in Cancun,” Gil said. “I sent a nice present from the registry like a normal person. I don’t think they expected us to actually go to Mexico.”
“We’re under no legal obligation to offer any paid time off at all. And I resent people who ask for time off after they’ve just been hired. I much prefer granting vacation days as a reward for meeting sales goals. That’s just how the world works.”
Gil motioned for another round. “So how are we going to change these numbers?”
“Let’s raise quotas. We might have higher turnover short-term as the riffraff decide to go back to Burger Box, or wherever they came from. The ones who stay on board will need to buckle down. They won’t have time to cop an attitude.”
“What about the receptionist?”
Terry drummed his fingers on the tablecloth. “First chance I have, she’s out. But I have to do it right so it doesn’t come back and slap us in the face. We don’t need any EEOC trouble.”
The server appeared with prime rib and the conversation turned to the NFL draft.
“You’ll have to make it quick, Jared,” Janet said, sliding in to the diner’s back booth. “Soccer practice ends in forty-five minutes.”
“This won’t take long,” Jared said. “I’ve got a business proposition.”
Janet looked puzzled. “Is this some kind of mob thing?”
“I’m serious.”
“Then why ask me?”
“You’re the smartest person at Super Cleaning Services.”
Janet laughed. “That’s not saying much.”
Jared stirred creamer into his coffee. “The place is a disaster. I want to form my own company.”
“Your own company? Doing what?”
“Cleaning.”
“To compete with Super Cleaning Services?”
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”
“See, I knew you were smart. Super Cleaning Services was cobbled together from chewed gum and Q-tips; there’s no noncompete clause anywhere in the company documentation.”
“What kind of start-up money do you have?”
“An inheritance that should be enough.”
“If you’re looking to make money, real estate is safer.”
“Look, you want in or not?”
“I need to think about it.” She looked out the window at her car in the parking lot. A brown sedan with 150,000 miles and a cracked windshield.
“I’ve already drafted a business plan.”
Janet sipped her iced tea. “Freedom from Terry. That’s a pleasant thought.”
She thought about Jared’s offer on her drive to the park to pick up her son. By the time she arrived, she’d made up her mind. Sandwiched between taking care of her mother and her kids made this no time for taking risks. And yet, just knowing that Jared was going to make a move awakened something inside that continued to gnaw at her for the next couple of days. It was as if before her meeting with Jared, she wouldn’t give herself permission to entertain the thought of leaving. Now, the floodgates had opened. It made dealing with Terry easier, imagining giving her two weeks’ notice. The look on his face would be priceless. If Jared was smart, he’s poach Craig, too. He was doing just enough to get by at Super Cleaning Services, but she knew that if he put even minimal effort into his job, he’d be dynamite.
1. “Majority of U.S. Employers Support Workplace Flexibility,” WorldatWork, October 5, 2015, https://www.worldatwork.org/docs/worldatworkpressreleases/2015/majority-of-us-employers-support.html.
2. Jessica Howington, “80% of Companies Offer Flexible Work Options,” FlexJobs, October 27, 2015, https://www.flexjobs.com/blog/post/80-companies-offer-flexible-work-options/.
3. Howington.