I Could Never Do Your Job

The other day I was reminded of a time years ago when I was visiting my parents in St. Louis. I had just wrapped up a pretty grim trip to one of the larger offices I supported as a regional HR director and I just wanted to have a beer and grill a steak with my dad. I needed to decompress from a 3 ½ hour drive across Missouri after having laid off seven people in the same work group.  In one day.  By myself.  It doesn’t matter that I had a manager witness each meeting – I don’ t let them talk much if at all in those meetings – I trust the manager, but I don’t trust their mouths – but that’s a different topic for a later discussion. For all intents and purposes I did it by myself.  Being a witness to one of the worst days in a person’s life is no fun, but then the witness doesn’t deliver the blow: Today is your last day with the firm. I never take such assignments lightly. Each time, for every person - I try to prepare for the emotional, physical and cultural reactions. Bracing for whatever recoil may come from ending an employee’s relationship with their employer.  So as I’m sharing this story with my dad, he’s listening intently to me as I give short bios of the people I had cut loose, explaining to him the process I follow, the loose ends I try to tie-up for the people and for the firm, hoping for a soft landing for everyone. As I reach for my second can of PBR (Pop’s brand – He was hip with his beer), Pop says to me in a dead-serious tone: “Buddy (we shared the same first name, but he called me Buddy from birth), I could never do your job.”  On the surface, my dad saying that is not so unusual – you might be thinking, yeah, me too! But where my dad’s comment gets deep – and sort of darkly comedic is when you know what he did for a living: My dad was a funeral director and embalmer for 50 years. Now, I grew up around that business and I can tell you, funeral directors and especially embalmers deal with some heavy, heavy situations. But my dad really made me think with that comment. My first reaction was pretty predictable: “What the Hell, Pop? At least my people have some choices left!” More importantly, I started to understand parallels between our chosen fields. When things go bad in the people business, HR professionals are the ones managers and employees lean on (or should lean on) to maintain dignity for all and begin healing. Throughout my youth I had seen my dad fill a similar role as a funeral director. Helping people on the worst days of their life, losing a treasured relationship and helping that process along by exhibiting care, respect and dignity.

Now I can hear some of my HR counterparts out there clinching their jaws and getting creeped out, maybe even pissed that I am comparing our profession to that of an undertaker – but remember – both are noble careers that offer the opportunity for the right individual to provide a valuable, high-impact service to a marketplace in need. And both disciplines like to work with people……some are just more animated than others.

 To a lot of managers and business owners, the most dreaded deed they’ve ever done or will do is terminate an employee.  I get it….it is not fun. So would you rather be a funeral director?