Spirit of Service Story #3: Then You Switch Hands

The Background: 

The Cumberland District was part of the Western Maryland Division of The Chesapeake & Potomac Telephone Company of Maryland, “C&P.” It covered Maryland’s two western-most counties, Allegany and Garrett. These counties are bounded on the north by the Mason-Dixon Line and Pennsylvania, on the south and west by the North Branch of the Potomac River and West Virginia , and on the east by Sideling Hill. Its 1,100 square miles are a mountainous and sparsely populated part of Maryland. Today, the population is about 100,000, a population density of about 91 compared to 611 for all of Maryland.

In the mid-1970’s, I was a twenty-something 2nd level network operations manager working in the Cumberland District. We had a troublesome digital microwave radio system that connected Cumberland to Hagerstown. All connections from Customers in the Cumberland District to the rest of the world were carried by this microwave system and an old cable built before World War II. The microwave route had 5 hops with towers, antennas, and repeaters on four mountains between Cumberland and Hagerstown: Dan’s Rock, Martin’s Mountain, Sideling Hill, and Fairview Mountain.

Dan’s Rock’s elevation is 2,985 feet. It was a desolate place, very rocky with only a little vegetation beaten-up by seemingly perpetual strong winds. It did afford spectacular views of the valley below. The only structures on Dan’s Rock were a handful of antenna towers and huts housing mobile radio and microwave systems.

The Story:

One bitterly cold winter night at about 3:00am the phone rang at our home. It was a relatively young and inexperienced technician, Ted R., calling from Dan’s Rock. He explained to a groggy me that his boss (who reported to me) wasn’t answering the phone and he needed help. The Cumberland - Hagerstown microwave system had failed, and the fault was at Dan’s Rock. He was unable to access the hut housing the microwave equipment because the padlock securing the gate in the chain-link fence surrounding the hut was frozen solid. He didn’t know what to do.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I thought for a minute and had an idea. I told Ted I would be there in about 45 minutes.

After dressing for a cold night, I kissed wife Bunny good-bye and went to my basement workbench and retrieved my handyman propane blowtorch. (For the life of me, I can’t remember why I even had one. I am a terrible handyman and take no joy in inevitably screwing up even the simplest projects.) I started up my 1971 Volkswagen Karmann Ghia convertible, probably waking up the neighbors with its failed muffler, and headed for Dan’s Rock.

When I got to the top of Dan’s Rock, it was so windy I had trouble opening the car door. I huddled with Ted in his van. Our plan: unfreeze the padlock by heating it and the key with the blowtorch. If that failed, we would just have to cut a hole in the fence.

I got out of the van and tried to light the blowtorch, but it was too windy. So, I lit it in my car. The plan worked and we got into the hut.

By now it was already about 4:30am, so I decided to stay and try to help Ted troubleshoot and fix the damned thing. After an hour or so, fix it Ted did, finding and replacing a failed circuit pack.

As we were wrapping up, Joe K. arrived. Joe was a grizzled veteran tech, probably all of 50 at the time. He was one of the best technicians on my team and the most experienced and expert on the microwave system. I don’t know how Joe learned that “his” system was in trouble and a couple of novices, Ted and I, were messing with it. He was equally surprised and pleased that we had fixed it and had not made a bad situation worse.

Then the teaching moment began. It was disguised as a ritualistic and obligatory “busting” of “Ted-the-kid” by “Joe-the-vet.” Joe asked Ted why I, the big boss, was there. Good Lord, that was a humiliating affront to craftsmen and union members everywhere. Ted explained the frozen lock problem. Joe said he had dealt with frozen locks many times and never had to use a blowtorch … or a boss.

Ted made the mistake of asking Joe what his technique was: Hot coffee from your thermos? WD40? Cut the lock? “No,” said Joe and he proceeded to explain and demonstrate his technique. “First, you take off your gloves. You put one bare hand inside your trousers and warm it by cradling your privates. You grasp the lock with your other bare hand. After the bare hand around the lock gets so cold you can’t stand it anymore, then you switch hands. Keep repeating until the key works.” 

Ted’s eyes were as big as pies as he listened to this crazy person. Finally, he proclaimed, “That’s nuts, there’s no way I’ll ever do that.” Joe replied, “Yeah and that’s why it will always take you an hour and half longer to restore service – lack of commitment.”

As Joe and I walk away, heading for breakfast at a now-open diner, I look at him and say, “Really?” Joe looks at me and nods yes.

The Lessons: 

In my experience, most people have an extraordinary sense of proprietorship. They care for the assets their companies have entrusted to them as if they were their own. They take pride in their professionalism and the quality of their work. They teach the next generation, the technical part of the job, the administrivia, and, most important, the values.

To my mind, the erosion of employee loyalty to organizations is partly the result of organizations not seeing … or valuing … this often “invisible” proprietorship. They don’t recognize the value of this proprietorship in their decisions. As companies have increasingly treated employees as expendable, so have employees treated their employers as expendable. Not good for anyone: communities, employees, Customers, or shareowners.

So, when balancing the needs of the business and the needs of your people, Return your employees’ loyalty to your Customers and the business with your loyalty and your company’s loyalty to them.

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 Reed Harrison, Founder & President, Antietam Strategy Partners, Inc., April 19, 2020