Stephen O'Connor, SPHR, is senior director of Professional Search Services for the MHA Service Corporation, Lansing, and can be e-mailed at soconnor@mha.org

Staff Matters Newsletter November/December 1996
NEW EMPLOYEE ORIENTATION:
Be Nice to the New Kid
By Steve O'Connor

The scariest thing I have ever anticipated was the birth of our first child. But I was prepared. Hadn't I gone to all the expectant parents classes and taken copious notes about centimeter dilation, timing contractions and that whole, weird false labor thing? Hadn't I practiced rubbing that tennis ball into the small of her back until my forearm cramped? And hadn't I practiced the "hee-hee-hoo's" until lighted-headed?

It was February of 1980. We'd been up all night tracking the dilation on it's slow climb to the "big 10." We arrived at the hospital in plenty of time and settled-in for the wait. After about five hours all hell broke loose. They wheeled Mary to the delivery room on a dead run and the nurse threw me some scrubs as she gestured toward the changing room. What!?! What do I do now? I hadn't practiced a "hurry-up" emergency clothes change. I dashed to the changing room and pulled on the green scrubs. The last garment was the mouth mask. In those days I wore glasses. Anybody who has ever worn a mouth mask knows there's a proper way to don this thing if you wear glasses. You put the mask on first and then your spectacles. If you do it the other way, the first time you exhale your lenses will fog. Needless to say, I left my glasses on, strapped on the mask, whipped open the door and sprinted down the hallway. I exhaled, my glasses immediately fogged-up, and I was temporarily blinded.

It was about this time I spotted the hazy outline of the laundry basket. I hit that basket at full speed just above the kneecaps. It knocked me off my feet, in classic Dick VanDyke form. Lying flat on my back, I took off my glasses and stared into the face of the nurse who was bent over me. Her expression seemed more of puzzlement than concern. She had to lead me by the hand to the delivery room. As I waved my glasses back and forth over my head, trying to get them to de-fog, I'm convinced the onlookers thought she was taking me to the psyche ward for evaluation.

If being prepared is a function of good planning, it is also a product of watching what is happening around you. In his book, Effective Succession Planning: Ensuring Leadership Continuity and Building Talent From Within, William J. Rothwell reminds us that a systematic succession planning program can head off problems. Rothwell, says that such a plan should encompass these five steps:

  1. Clarify program roles. Although most organizations outline responsibilities in job descriptions, few are sufficiently detailed to clarify how job incumbents should carry out their duties or interact with others.
  2. Formulate a mission statement. It should explain why the program exists in the first place, what outcomes are desired, why those outcomes are valued, what products or services will be offered, and who will be served by the program.
  3. Write policies and procedures. The mission statement, crises, problems or specific issues of importance should provide clues about what to include.
  4. Identify target groups. Direct attention to three specific areas: successors for top management, front-line supervisory positions, and unique, tough-to-fill technical or professional positions.
  5. Set program priorities. Initial priorities should be established to address the organization's most pressing problems. Subsequent priorities should be established to reflect a long-term plan for systematic succession planning.

However, the best planning won't prevent problems if you don't listen to the instructions. Remember, mask first, glasses second.