"So what is the best way to have a motivated staff?" asked Natalie in earnest.  

"Well, since you ask," I said, "there are lots of ways that you can improve the motivation of your staff, but honestly there are really only two ways to have a motivated staff."

I have been a successful senior leader for over 20 years and I have learned much about motivating staff and team building.  Natalie, my director of respiratory therapy was wide-eyed.  She nodded trying to coax the answer from my lips.  Natalie was a very motivated employee.  She worked hard, was forever trying to improve her departmental performance, and was genuinely a happy person.  She was a joy to work with.  "Well," I said savoring the moment, "The first way is to hire motivated people.  It wasn't rocket science."

Her eyebrows pulled together.  "Hire motivated people?" she questioned aloud a bit incredulous.

 "Yes," I affirmed. "Honestly, I believe that people are motivated or they are not.  Sure you can help by holding people accountable, encouraging, acting as a coach, and any number of often written about motivational techniques, but if you want a motivated staff, simply hire it.  You know employees that you have that are motivated.  You barely have to pay attention to them.  They are doing their jobs, solving problems, and a lot of time engaging in other activities that help their department and ultimately the hospital."

"That's interesting," Natalie said nodding her head.  "By the way," she continued, "I forgot to ask you how you were doing.  I haven't seen you in a week or so, and I have missed our regular talks."

"I am sorry," I said apologetically.  "I have been engaged in an emergency department project.  I have been lax with some of my departments.  Are you having a problem?"

"Not really,” she said. "In fact I have discovered that I have some employees that are not properly trained in use of the EEG machine.  As you can guess, we have not been as efficient as we could have been.  I re-trained the staff that needed it, and our numbers are already starting to improve.  It's really been an amazing process.  I have one or two people that don't seem to get it; that's why I asked you about motivating staff.  They just don't seem to get it," she repeated

I nodded in understanding.  "Sometimes it can take longer for some."

"Yeah, I guess," she answered.  "But you said there were two ways to have a motivated staff.  The first was to hire motivated people and I guess I am a little late for that."

I nodded again.

"But you said there was two ways to have a motivated staff.  I get that the first way is to hire motivated people, but what is the second way?"

"Get rid of unmotivated people," I answered.

"A bit harsh, don't you think?"

"Maybe," I said, "but you asked me what the best ways were to have a motivated staff.  I answered.  It is up to you what to do with the information." I smiled broadly at her.

"Great," she laughed.  "I think I will try and work with them a bit more."

"It's up to you.  Let me know if I can be of any help with that," I said.  "I will be happy to discuss other means of holding people accountable and supporting them."

"Thanks," Natalie answered.

"Have a great day," I said and moved on down the hallway.

Thanks for reading,

J. Pullman

JPullmanleadership would like to welcome Cecelia Pullman to our blog site.  Cecelia was kind enough to write a poem for our reading pleasure.  As an aside, she is my daughter and very soon to be 10 years old.  I hope you enjoy.

The Sheep

I am a sheep.
Getting hot from growing wool with every birthday.
Getting cold from losing wool like time on the clock.
I am graceful, dancing with joy.
Humble and quiet as a mouse.
My Brother is a pig living in filth.
My Sister is a bull getting angrier and angrier fighting off me and my brother.
My Mom is a cow and my Dad is an ox,
Living nice and tidy.
Helping me clean up my grades and helping me grow.
I need love to survive and I'm getting it.
I am a graceful, humble sheep.
That's what I am.

Cecelia Pullman
Tweet

The dust swirled across the prairie as I pulled back the hammer on my Henry repeating rifle.  From my position on the ridge, Buck was probably a half mile way on horseback.  Maybe one in a thousand people could make this shot stationary on the ground, but I was not the one.  On the back of my horse, Probably, I would be lucky to have the shot go in Buck's direction. 

Buck knew I was no sharp shooter and it showed in how carefree he was riding in the open.  From my spot, the notorious, Buck-shoot-the-eyelashes-off-a-lizard-at-a-hundred-paces...Redd...Reas...ah, heck, I don't even know Buck's last name.  Anyway, from my spot it looked like he was not even awake.  He was leaned way back in his saddle, his shoulders were slumped, and his hat was down over his eyes.  Just like Buck to be relaxed when he knew I would be gunning for him.

You see, Buck and I were friends at one point.  Not like buddy-buddy, but sort of like "Hey, lets rob a bank together and split the take kind of friends."  After we actually did rob a bank and split our take, two hundred and thirteen dollars we had a fight over the one odd dollar. After a long discussion, Buck got the dollar because he said he was bigger than me and needed more money to feed himself and now I was mad.

All things in the old West didn't need to make sense, and a man's life could be worth as little as a dollar.  I was willing to kill Buck, a friend as described for a dollar, but how?  I was no marksman, Buck was moving, off in the distance, and I was on the back of my horse, Probably.  I had to think.  If I shot and missed, Buck would certainly respond and shoot me.  Anyone worth his salt would do the same. 

Come to think of it, Buck could be awake, spying on me and preparing to shoot.  Even with a pistol at a half mile, I was sure as dead.  All this for a dollar?  Buck's life might be worth a dollar, but I felt mine was worth more.  The West was wide and expansive, surely two criminal friends could live and never cross paths, but maybe not.  I think I have family back East, and the West was not that big anymore..  Maybe I'll go there.
The End

Thanks for reading,

J. Pullman

My memories of every Christmas are all the same. They always begin with a conversation:

"Do you think he came, Aim?" I asked weakly with my hands around my mouth to direct the question only to her.

My sister and I allowed our whispered conversation to grow in volume as our assurance that Mom and Dad were up grew.

She bared her teeth, her head shaking a nod. "I think he has come, Chum." She used my childhood nickname that I hope never to outgrow.

Christmas eve was the one-day a year that my sister, five years my senior, stayed in my room. Her room was downstairs and Santa might not come if she were up and using the bathroom. Come to think of it, Christmas was the one-day a year that she and I were allies for a common cause. We hoped Santa knew that all the other days a year were simply an act to enrage our parents.

"Mom," I coughed into my hand hoping to arouse her. "Dad," was quickly coughed after incase he happened to be up first.  Then giggles butter-flied out of my stomach. What had Santa brought this year? My body shook as if I were wagging my tail.

"I don't know, Dad. Do you think he came?" It was my Mother talking to my father behind their closed bedroom door.

I looked at my sister, my eyebrows propped up by my cheeks. My hands clasped together to anchor the convulsions of excitement.

"Amy! They're up." My feet pounded the floor in preparation for the sprint downstairs.

"Oh, Chum, I am so excited," she echoed my excitement.

Their door opened. Dad was in front, rubbing his hands for warmth and to spur our fire with Mom peering over his shoulder happy to see our enthusiasm. This was our cue to enter the chutes and prepare for the gun. We took our positions at the top of the stairs waiting to be released onto the track and the winner's circle that held the trophies provided by Santa.

"Now," my Mother said, "Let your Father go down and see if everything is all right before you two go down."

Dad descended the stairs. Could he walk any slower?

"I think he's been here," Dad would say after rounding the banister and entering the living room.

"Oh, Santa," my Sister and I wailed in unison.

"Okay," Dad would say preparing the start. "You can come down now."

And my sister and I would tear down the stairs to the joys of Christmas.

Thanks for reading,

J. Pullman

Search the web for:

The reporter for Health Care Leadership positioned her recording device in front of me.  "You are okay with me recording this conversation?" She asked with a deceptively sweet smile.

"Of course," I answered.  "You did say you wanted to interview me when you called.  It's probably easier and more accurate than writing it done shorthand, eh?"  Sometimes I am clever when I get interviewed, but I was not starting off well.

She laughed politely. "Yes, I imagine it is," she said looking up at me. "Though I don't really know shorthand."

There was a red light on her recorder, so I opted not to respond.

"Okay," she said as if to an audience, "We are here today with J. Pullman.  He is a leader in health care with over 20 years of experience.  His background is rehabilitation, but he pursued hospital administration after surviving Hurricane Katrina and migrating North.  Is that correct?"

I felt as if I had my shirt off and let my shoulders fall.  The reporter, I think her name was Nancy, had apparently done a little background check on me and had come prepared for this entirely fictitious interview that will demonstrate the value of admitting mistakes as a piece of career advice.  I nodded to her.

"I am sorry," she said.  "I am recording this and I can't pick up head nods or shakes.  Would you mind answering aloud?"

I cleared my throat, "No, I don't mind, and yes, your history of me is true."

"Good," she said narrowing her eyes.  "What is the biggest mistake you have made in your career?"

I guess we were done with the small talk. I did not have to search long to find her answer. "I once had a manager that worked for me in a rehabilitation hospital that was part of a system that had lots of facilities.  His name was David." I scrunched my face sorry that I had divulged his real first name, "David Winner," I lied about his last name.  "Anyway, David was an extraordinary person and manager.  When he worked for me, his department had the outstanding patient, physician, and employee satisfaction numbers."

Nancy touched her upper lip with her tongue.

"As a result," I continued, "The facility was extraordinarily busy and by all measures successful.  I wanted to reward David for his efforts, so talked with the regional people and worked to find him a chance for promotion.  Well, it didn't take too long, and I soon found him a CEO role at a small facility.  I thought it was a perfect fit for him."

Nancy nodded in understanding.

"Anyway, after I had secured the position, I told David about it, but he didn't want it.  He said that he was happy where he was and did not want to go.  At the time, I was sort of disappointed in him, so I told him he couldn't work for me anymore.  I gave him three months to find a job.  I supported him the whole time and even gave him recommendations, but I never relented and after three months, he was gone."  I looked Nancy in the eyes.

Her eyebrows elevated slightly, otherwise her expression remained unchanged.

"I am sorry that I let my ego and pride stand in the way of changing my mind.  I should have kept David where he was.  The facility never regained itself after he left."  I searched the floor with my eyes.

Nancy broke the silence, "That's the biggest mistake you ever made?"  There was a hint at surprise in her voice.

"Yes," I said.  "It is the biggest mistake because I made a decision based on an unhealthy emotion.  I also hurt David, though I am sure that he recovered and lived an even happier existence.  And finally, it was the worst mistake I made because I hurt all the people in the community that would have benefited from receiving care from the department David managed.  I hurt them and they did not even know it.  I guess you could say that I am hurting them still."

Nancy swallowed hard.  "But you admit it so freely today.  What changed in you?  It seems like you would have kept him if faced with the same decision today?"

"Yes, I would," I said without hesitation.  "I am able to admit it today, because as long as I did not admit it, I had to live with the demons of my choice.  When I finally gave in and admitted to myself that it was a mistake, I was able to forgive myself.  Only then did I recover."

"Do you know where David is now?" Nancy asked.

"No, no I don't, but I hope he has forgiven me," I said. 

"I imagine he has," Nancy said as condolence.

"I hope so," I answered.  "It is important to forgive yourself so that you can move forward."

This is just a bit of career advice from a guy who was made his share of mistakes.

Thanks for reading,

J. Pullman

"I often pontificate about leadership," I said hoping that Kyle and Dawn would not know that I had just stolen a word I heard Bill O'Reilly use a number of times the evening before on a cable show.

"Pontificate? Aren't you the educated one?" said Dawn.

My face burned. "Well, I like to show that my advanced education was not a total waste," I said happy that she had not gotten my source.

Kyle laughed with us. Then she said (yes, Kyle is a woman), "He gets it from watching that show on FOX. Trying to impress us little people."

"I did steal it from there," I said, "but I had never used it before. I wanted to try it out. Thanks for being so understanding. I won't be using that word again." I smiled broadly to let them know that I was not hurt.

They sat back in unison, crossed their arms and their body language asked me to continue.

I have been a senior leader in health care for more than 20 years. During that time health care has never ceased to change and I have found that sharing feelings, concerns, and hopes is a great way to deal with change management.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interupted," I said showing my peacock feathers in an animated way to keep the mood light, "I like to talk about leadership."

They both smiled without showing their teeth.

"I find it especially helpful in the hospital setting," I said undeterred by their toothless grins. "You see health care is constantly changing...at least it has during my 20-plus years, and I have always reacted the same way anytime any big initiative or regulatory change has been imposed." I searched their eyes to be sure that I had their attention. I did but I let the silence linger a bit before closing, "I paniced and went running about yelling that the sky was falling.

They both laughed.

"You laugh, but I am serious. I was, and continue to be, a total panic when these changes are imposed," I said.

Kyle spoke first, "You don't ever show it."

Dawn nodded.

"That's because as I have learned to do my initial panic dance privately. I get all my anxiety out behind closed doors."

They looked questioningly at one another.

"It's true," I continued. "I bounce of the walls at first, but then after I let the information sink in, I realize that it won't be so bad."

They nodded to one another and me.

"So, now that I have told you how I feel, why don't you tell me how you feel."

And they did. As a leader, when dealing with change management, it is often a good idea to share some personal thoughts and fears of your own first. Every sharing moment does not have to be one defined by courage. This creates an environment where others will be more likely to share their input too. Getting things out in the open can help a team transition through change more effectively. Remember that sometimes as a leader you simply need to direct the conversation, and this can be done by sharing relevent thoughts and feelings. This article took a look at a benign issue, but the larger the issue, the more important sharing of yourself becomes.

I hope that you found this article helpful and maybe a little entertaining. If you did, then please comment to me and share it with others. I love to get feedback and engage in dialogue.

Thanks for reading,

J. Pullman