What Teamsters Taught Me About Dignity

One year out of college, I was hired as a management trainee for a large American trucking company. I did not know what I was getting into it. I was told it was a union environment but had little knowledge of what that meant.

My formal training lasted a couple of weeks. It consisted of self-study of a thick, dense, and very drab manual covering all aspects of the LTL (less than truckload) business, company culture, and policies. It concluded with a week-long indoctrination at the company headquarters.

But the real lessons on how to be a manager came from on-the-job training. Here’s what I learned:

1.     Earn respect by being tough.

2.     Fear and dominance motivate hard work.

3.     Weakness fosters laziness. 

4.     Yell often and inconsistently, preferably while looking at productivity reports.

I was assigned to manage the outbound dock on the 5 pm to 5 am shift. I never fully grasped the purpose of the pre-shift meeting. Everyone huddles together while the manager explains the workload. It’s always too much work in too little time, with a heroic effort needed to slay the productivity goals and win the day. Same routine every shift.

I was new to management but not new to the workforce. I had dabbled in over a dozen jobs working my way through college. One thing I discovered about myself is that I hate the status quo and will question everything. I was once fired from a construction company temp office job for petitioning for the office workers to be able to wear pants. This was still a thing in the early 90s. I was banned from the Albertson’s PA system for creating my own deli fried chicken special jingles that customers loved. I swear they did. And Domino’s Pizza never did reply to the safety concerns I submitted about their 30-minute delivery guarantee that ended shortly after my summer break stint as a delivery driver.

My first time leading the pre-shift meeting, twelve men towered over my 5’3” frame, looking at me to start the ritual. Time paused while I scanned their faces—restless, bored, distraught, tired, signs of other personal baggage not to be unpacked today. I wondered about their lives and how they came to be here on this filthy dock while their families were likely home preparing for dinner and their seats empty.

“Happy Tuesday,” I beamed with my Pollyanna disposition. “I am excited to be your new manager, and before we get to work, I have a new policy to announce. There have been too many people lining up in front of the bathrooms. To make it more efficient, you must get a bathroom pass before leaving the work area.” I hold up two pieces of wood, one marked with the number 1 and the other marked with a 2.

“What? No way. You’ve got to be kidding.” Resentment, eye-rolling. I held strong.

“If you need to go #1, take the #1 pass. I expect this pass will be available more quickly. If you need to go #2, you must wait for pass #2. It is imperative that you use the pass corresponding to your specific bodily function.”

At this point, resentment turned to anger. I could smell the burgeoning rage.

I caught eyes with one person who would turn out to be my favorite person at the terminal, a friendly face who gave me comfort and hope when I needed it most. Arle, who rode a Harley and had a beard so long that it hit the top of his overhauls. There was a twinkle in his brown eyes as he looked back at me and declared, “Today is a happy Tuesday, Tuesday, April 1st,” as he let out a loud chuckle that soon spread.

My time on the outbound dock was pleasant as long as upper management left us alone. The men and I reached an unspoken agreement. We each did our jobs, and in between, we followed the golden rule. For the small price of respect, fairness, and the occasional joke, they taught me how things really worked. Together we achieved the highest average productivity numbers while implementing several safety improvements.

When the route planner got promoted, I was “asked” to take over his job. It required superb organizational skills and systems savvy to effectively route every piece of incoming freight to be delivered daily in the Portland metro area. It also required working with the most senior Teamsters at the terminal, the truck drivers, who many of my peers viewed as an intimidating clique.

I was scheduled to ride with each driver to learn the routes. I was unprepared for some of the drivers' resistance and downright nastiness. One guy refused to talk to me the entire day. They did not know me, and I did not know them. I was starting over.

Dale was the fourth driver I rode with. He gave me an opportunity that changed my trajectory. With a sly but welcoming smile, he tossed me a pair of work gloves and said, “let’s get to work.” The dude planned ahead; they were women’s gloves.

A willingness to get dirty, move some boxes, and bend a few rules changed how the rest of the drivers saw me and helped me garner trust. They did not always like the route I planned for them, but they knew I was open to their feedback and input on how to do it differently next time.

The workweeks were grueling, 60+ hours on average. One Sunday, I finished my work and was preparing to leave after a mere 8 hours when the shift manager confronted me. Arch was in his early 60s with deep forehead lines and a dragging of his feet as if weighted down like an anchored boat. I caught a whiff of his foul mood before hearing his anger. He waved his finger toward my face and yelled, “your shift is not over,” ordering me to go do something for two more hours.

Intimidation is brutal to turn off and on. It becomes your de facto way of dealing with people.

I was tired and lacked the energy to filter my thoughts. “F. U. Arch.  I’m not taking this,” as I stepped around him and left. The benefit of youth; having little to lose and a lot to gain.

The next day, nothing happened. I was not fired, nor did I receive an apology—just business as usual and the same toxic environment. I lasted six more months before finally leaving for good.

Here are the real learnings I carried with me:

1.     Earn trust by being respectful.

2.     Listening and recognition lead to intrinsic motivation.

3.     Lead with empathy and value others. 

4.     Make authentic connections often and consistently, preferably while laughing together.

Twenty-five years later, I reflect on these core leadership lessons while reading “Leading with Dignity: How to Create a Culture That Brings Out the Best in People” by Donna Hicks Ph.D.  She writes,” every talk I give about dignity, I always start with this quotation by the futurist John Naisbitt. He has summed up in one line the conclusion that I have come to after more than a decade of research into why a feeling of worth is so important to people.”

“The most exciting breakthroughs of the twenty-first century will not occur because of technology, but because of an expanding concept of what it means to be human.” -John Naisbitt.