It's amazing how the little things mean so much, stan.
By Elaine Quayle, BLR Editor
Just MY E-pinion
We may think that small tokens of appreciation don't matter to workers, but here's the story of a boss's congratulatory letter that was treasured for 50 years.
My mother put only her most valuable things in her white leather jewelry box. And since her jewelry collection was meager, she used the drawer in the box to hold pictures, newspaper clippings, and other important memorabilia.
After she died, as I was going through the drawer, I came across an ecru vellum envelope with my father's name handwritten in script across the front. When I took the letter out, the first thing I noticed was the indentations made in the translucent paper by the punctuation marks, hit hard by the keys of a typewriter. Then I noticed the dark blue embossing on the top: William S. Simpson, General Manager, Raybestos Division, Raybestos-Manhattan. It was a letter from my father's employer that my mother had kept for more than 50 years!
This letter came to mind when I was editing BLR's update of the Encyclopedia of Prewritten Personnel Letters (see below for info), which includes sample letters of congratulations. And that is exactly what this letter was.
Dear George:
Congratulations on winning the Men's Industrial Horseshoe Championship. Raybestos is proud of the record set by our team and hopes that you enjoyed being a part of this activity. In recognition of your victory, we have arranged to give you an award, which we trust will serve as a reminder of your accomplishment.
Sincerely,
Bill Simpson (signed in ink)
It may have been the "Bill" that prompted my parents to save this letter; he was always referred to as "Mr. Simpson" out of respect for his position and the esteem the workers held him in. Or it may have been because the company was "proud" of my father's "accomplishment."
Raybestos-Manhattan in Stratford, Connecticut, was a "family-friendly" company long before the term was coined. My father, uncle, and several other relatives worked there making brake linings. I had seen Mr. Simpson several times at the annual children's Christmas Party, where there were goodies, clowns, and presents in a giant pile for a child to select from. And his face was on the monthly factory newsletter, along with the bowling scores, births, birthdays, and results of the safety incentive program. I had even spoken to Mr. Simpson when he attended the wake of my father, who was a 30-year employee.
I recently thought of this letter again when I read in our newsletter Best Practices in HR an interview with Judith M. Barwick, Ph.D., about what she has named the "Psychological Recession" in American's workplace, which is causing low productivity, employee apathy, and high turnover. "When people are perceived as a cost and not a resource, when they are treated as a liability and not an asset, when no one seems to know or care that they are there, [employees] don't work well, and they don't stay," says Barwick.
This statement made me wonder if, in our current workplace culture, a worker would have anything meaningful from an employer (and I don't think a printout of a generic email would count) to save in a jewelry box for 50 years. Would your employees? Are your employees a part of the psychological recession, or are they made to feel, like my father was, that they are important to the company no matter what their job?
