Anger has no expiration date

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Tales from the archive

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Ken had worked at the paper mill since he was 17. Back then he had a strong back and a strong will. Now he was middle-aged and his back “hurt like Hell,” but he used his strong will to hide it from others.

 

He had been president of the union for two years when we met. He won the spot by promising to play hardball with the plant’s new owners – a private equity firm from NYC.

 

When you sit down with Ken for the first time, you notice how much power is packed into his fire hydrant frame. He is a quirky mix of muscular arms and beer belly. His energy seems like it is trying to escape from his body anywhere it can.

 

Mostly, though it comes out his mouth. Ken is angry. When you ask him why, he starts with a personal story about a supervisor that had treated him poorly, made fun of him and singled him out to work extra hours just so he would miss his daughter’s first prom and his son’s state championship hockey game.

 

As Ken told the story, his face became red and the veins in his neck bulged. He looked as if he was going to have a stroke. During his story, Ken kept referring to his supervisor as Pete, which was odd because I knew his supervisor’s name was George. As he continued, it was clear that his children were past college age. So, I politely interrupted him, “Ken, when did you switch from Pete’s team to George’s team?”

 

Ken gave me a puzzled look. Pete had died almost 10 years ago. Ken was still holding the anger inside him and applying it to anyone in management. “Pete, George, does it really matter?” Ken replied. “They’ve all sold their souls for a bigger paycheck.”

 

His approach to everything that happened at the plant was filtered through this unprocessed anger. No one in management wanted to deal with him; most of the employees didn’t want to get in yet another fight with Ken. The chance of the two sides reaching a contract agreement seemed infinitesimal. Without a contract the mill’s future was in doubt. Without the mill, the town’s future was at risk.

 

All this rested in the hands of a man who had not been given the tools or space to process his anger, acknowledge its impact and move forward with a sense of justice.



To move this person out of Reptilian, the plant manager sat down one-on-one and listened to the same story we had heard. The manager did not make excuses or attempt to explain the unexplainable. He repeated back the story and asked the union steward to correct him if he made a mistake. The point wasn’t to make the steward feel better, but to feel heard.

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This simple step went a long way to improving union/management conversations and ended with the first contract in 17 years.