I was preparing for maternity leave from a small company for which I had worked since it opened. I reported to the Executive Director of the organization (whom I will designate as Phil) and was the person responsible for much of the institutional history, organization, and leadership communication. My leave would last almost a full quarter, hopefully longer, so I could be with my baby. Since my staff were already at full capacity, Phil agreed to hire someone to fill in for me while I was gone. He even generously hired the new employee two months before I was scheduled to leave so I would have ample time to train them.
Human Resources (HR) helped me find and hire the perfect person. I really couldn’t have asked for a better individual to fill in for me— and maybe even replace me permanently if I decided to leave full-time employment for my family. The new employee, called Marcy in this story, also had a background in accounting, an area that needed additional support. She was hired with the expectation of working with me 80 percent of the time and 20 percent with another supervisor.
A note here on the chain of command since it can be confusing. I reported to Phil, the Executive Director, so Marcy would be under his supervision for 80 percent of her time. Marcy would also report to Cecil (fictitious name), who did double duty as both the HR Manager and Accounting Manager, for the other 20 percent of her time. Cecil also reported to Phil.
I did not have a good relationship with Cecil. She didn’t seem to like me, no matter what I did or how hard I tried to cooperate with her. Her dual supervisory responsibility for accounting and HR made everything more difficult. But Marcy had worked with Cecil before, at a previous company, and they were already friends. I felt like a new kid on my own block.
Training Marcy was somewhat stressful. Because of the dual-reporting relationship in such a small organization, I was required to interact with Cecil more than usual. I felt as if I was walking on eggshells with her. Marcy picked up on the tension, even though I made it a point to avoid criticizing Cecil—not just because they were friends, but because Cecil was a member of the management team and Marcy’s other supervisor. I felt it important for them to have their own good working relationship moving forward.
About a month before my maternity leave was scheduled to begin, Cecil unexpectedly turned in her two weeks’ notice. What had been a steady-paced training process became a frenzied battle of fluctuating and competing priorities for Marcy’s time.
The Monday afternoon of Cecil’s last week, Marcy came into my office and timidly asked, “Can we talk for a few minutes?”
“Sure,” I said, putting aside what I was working on and gesturing for her to sit down.
“I have some questions about what my job will be when Cecil leaves. And questions about whether these different responsibilities will mean an increase in pay.”
“As far as I know, your job responsibilities won’t be changing,” I responded, a little surprised by her question. “But I can discuss this with Phil. Maybe there’s something I don’t know.”
For the rest of that week, when I had time, I continued to have brief conversations with Phil, Marcy, and Cecil, trying to get us all on the same page regarding what Marcy’s job and pay were going to be moving forward. Finally, late Friday afternoon Marcy, Phil, and I met and talked it out—Cecil didn’t attend this meeting because it was her last day on the job. I felt all the questions had been verbally cleared up, but still sensed that Marcy seemed confused and uncertain. Unfortunately, she left immediately after the meeting, so I didn’t get a chance to process with her.
Marcy’s seeming uneasiness weighed so heavily on my mind, I did something out of the norm—I called her on my way home. It was 7:00 or 8:00 p.m., already well into a weekend evening. I almost talked myself out of it several times.
My internal conversation went like this: I mean, really, we’ve been talking about these issues nearly every day for the entire week, yet it still doesn’t feel resolved. What is one nervous phone call from me, on her personal time, going to accomplish?
Maybe I should wait until I see her again on Monday, I continued in my self-talk. But somehow, I feel that in waiting, I’ll miss this window of opportunity. I need to try to figure out what she found so unclear—while it’s fresh on both our minds. I really feel like something more is going on here. I need to understand where she’s coming from.
So I made the phone call.
I didn’t really know what to say when I called, so I just started with something general: “Hey, Marcy. I’m sorry to bother you at home, but I wanted to call and follow up after our meeting. It felt like some things were still unclear or unresolved.”
“I don’t mind. In fact, I appreciate your call.” Marcy didn’t hesitate, getting right to the point. “I just don’t understand why I’m not getting an increase in pay when I’ll be doing your work full-time when you leave and the accounting work, too.”
I was surprised because we had never discussed this arrangement. “But you won’t be doing my work full time when I go on leave. You’ll be spending 80 percent of your time on what I trained you for and the other 20 percent of your time on accounting work.”
“That’s not what Cecil told me when I was hired,” she said. “And then when I ran into her just before our meeting this afternoon, she gave me new information different from that.”
“Really? What did Cecil tell you?”
“When I was first interviewed for the job, she said I would be working on the 80/20 time split until you went on maternity leave. Then after you left, I would be 100 percent filling in for you, and she would take over the accounting responsibilities again. So after Cecil resigned but you kept talking about the split of responsibilities in the same way, I was confused. Today, she said that since no one was replacing her, it looked like I’d have to continue doing the accounting stuff in addition to doing all your work.”
Eureka! I finally understood the disconnect. Marcy had been misinformed about her job since the initial interview. Phil and I had the same expectations for the new employee, but Cecil had conveyed a different impression to Marcy. This misunderstanding caused an upset that might have lost us a valuable employee and irretrievable months of training time.
At this point, all I could do was tell Marcy that what she’d been told by Cecil had never been the plan and apologize for the misinformation leading to some pretty gut-clenching conversations.
“I’m so sorry you were misinformed by Cecil,” I told Marcy. “And I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to have a longer and more in-depth conversation with you about this when you first came to me earlier in the week. Instead, you endured some uncomfortable conversations because I didn’t fully understand what had happened.”
“I didn’t want to bring it up anymore during the meetings this week because I was afraid of what people would think of me,” she confided. “And I’m really nervous that Phil or some of the other managers already think I don’t want to do this job, or that I can’t do it. I can do it and I’m willing to do it, but it just didn’t seem fair, given the circumstances.”
I was quick to reassure her. “Marcy, no one questioned your capability to do the work. We wouldn’t have hired you otherwise. Yes, some things changed along the way, but the plan for what you’ll be doing is the same as it was in the beginning. And you’ve shown time and again that you’re willing to do the work. Based on what you just told me, I have a much better understanding of your concerns. I’ll call Phil right now to explain everything. It’s too important to leave until Monday. When I do, I’ll remind him how committed and willing you are.”
The call ended with both of us on the same page. I felt relieved, as if we’d achieved a major accomplishment—because we had.
I was so glad I’d spent time trying to form a meaningful relationship with Marcy throughout the months of training . . . and pleased that we had built enough trust between us to make it possible for her to come to me and initiate this rather difficult conversation. I was glad, too, that I’d stayed attuned to her uneasiness and taken the risk of calling her at home. It took the Friday night phone call to break through to a new level of confidence and understanding.
Ashley Ochoa is a Licensed Master of Social Work in Houston, Texas. She earned her BSW from Brigham Young University–Idaho in 2009 and MSW from the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work (GCSW) in 2011. At the GCSW, Ashley took Dr. Latting’s leadership course and was introduced to the Conscious Change skills. The skills became a natural part of her work that evolved into management opportunities. Ashley’s work has primarily been with policies and organizations in the field of recovery from alcohol and other drugs. She was also a policy analyst with law enforcement and the Texas Legislative Session in 2011.
In 2018, Ashley started teaching policy courses as an adjunct with the University of Houston GCSW and found a special place in her heart for teaching students on their social work journey. Ashley has served as a Practicum Instructor for over twenty-five interns. The Conscious Change skills have positively impacted Ashley’s professional and personal relationships, and she seeks to strengthen them in herself and those around her.
