u​Groundhog Day reminds me of the classic 1993 movie starring Bill Murray as the arrogant Pittsburgh weatherman who felt he was too important to cover the Groundhog Day Celebration in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. He showed his disdain by being rude to everyone around him, including the local townspeople. He couldn’t wait to file his story and get out of there.  Problem is, he is gets stuck in a time “loop” where he keeps waking up and repeating Groundhog Day over and over. Because no one else knows they are in the time loop, there are no consequences for his actions, so he becomes even more rude, has a drinking binge and endangers others by reckless driving.  But the “loop” eventually leads him to depression because no matter what he does, nothing matters. He eventually begins to find ingenious ways to commit suicide, such as stealing Punxsutawney Phil and driving off a cliff, or electrocuting himself by dropping a toaster in a bathtub.   
 
“Just another Groundhog Day” soon entered the American lexicon for meaningless endeavors that had no end in sight.
 
Are your employees stuck in Groundhog Day? They might be if their job seems to have no meaning or goes unnoticed by management. As a leader, you are the critical element in keeping them from living in a repetitive time warp where they come to work every day but their efforts have no purpose. Use team reviews to keep your team informed of their performance through meaningful metrics that define the quantity and quality of their work and connect them to the larger mission.  Continually reiterate their importance as individuals through one-on-one interaction.
 
Imagine how depressing it is to work in a job that has no recognition, no importance, and no consequences…just another Groundhog Day. One could say that Bill Murray was behaving as an Actively Disengaged employee.
 
Here is the Takeaway:  Employees living in Groundhog Day are miserable. As a Leader, it is up to you to ensure they know their work is important. Your team does not have to live in Groundhog Day.

​Cold and flu season are here in addition to COVID, so it’s only a matter of time before we need to reach for a Kleenex tissue. We will not stop and think that this world-wide remedy came about by accident as opposed to design.
After World War I, Kimberly Clark was looking for a new use for its filter paper that had been used in gas masks. After several false starts and lots of refining, in 1924 they marketed the paper as Kleenex Cleansing Tissue, a disposable replacement for cloth towels that, at the time, were used to remove cold cream lady’s faces. It was placed on the beauty products aisle along with lipstick and eyeliner. It was enjoying moderate success.
Bu shortly thereafter, Kimberly Clark’s head researcher got hay fever, and started using the tissues as a disposable handkerchief, something that didn’t exist at the time.
He wondered…
In 1932, in response to this discovery, the company changed its advertising strategy, adding the phrase, “The handkerchief you can throw away.” Sales doubled, and now Kleenex is now synonymous with disposable tissues and today most kids haven’t heard of a handkerchief unless the word comes up in a spelling bee.
Here’s the takeaway: Sometimes a better solution may only require a new way of looking at things. The answer may be right under your nose.
Source: Kimberly-Clark.com; Brand History
 

As I headed out the door to take on the dreaded task of raking our front yard, our four-year-old granddaughter, Thea, who was visiting at the time, said, “Can I help, Grandpa?” The answer was “yes,” of course, and soon she had her shoes and jacket on and bounded down the steps.

As we gathered the leaf blower, tarp, and rakes, she was excited to have a rake just her size. I had, of course, planned it that way, having purchased the rake earlier in the week.

Soon we were focused on our task.

But not for long.

“Grandpa if we jumped in this pile, it would be fun!”

And so we did; and it was fun.

Then she laughed and threw clumps of leaves at me, so I threw some back at her, and soon I was chasing her about the front yard with the blower, and she was running and waving her arms and her pigtails were flying and soon we had to stop and rest.    

Somehow, we loaded most of the leaves onto the tarp and into the back of the truck, but it was an unorderly process that took a lot longer than it should have.

Soon it was time for her to leave. As my wife drove her away, I waved goodbye and surveyed the yard. Small, messy piles of leaves were scattered about. The tarp was rolled up in a ball. My rake was leaning against a tree, hers laying on the ground. The back of the truck was surrounded by a horseshoe-shaped pile of leaves.  It was quiet.

I still had a lot of work to do.

Along the way we both learned a few things: leaves don’t always fly in the direction you throw them, it’s fun to stomp down leaves in the truck but more fun to watch them flutter to the ground.

And hearing the unbridled squeals of a four-year-old is more important than any task at hand.

And for that, I am glad.

A few weekends ago my bride and I drove two hours to Chesterfield to see our grandson, Bryce, play in a t-ball game. We sat on the hot, metal bleachers with our daughter and son-in-law and the other parents waiting for Bryce’s turn at bat. When he moved to the on deck circle, we positioned ourselves behind home plate, and cheered him on, making sure that he heard his name and our voices at the critical time.
 
Bryce didn’t let us down. He hit the ball, (without needing the T this time), and made it all the way around the bases to score a run. As he strutted from home plate to the dugout, we made sure that he saw us. He tipped his hat and smiled, just like a pro. We later headed home, knowing that our investment in the four hour round trip was worth it for us, and especially Bryce.
 
Did our cheering help him make contact with the ball and score a run? Maybe so. Scientists tell us that applause and recognition cause a brief rush of serotonin throughout the body. Sometimes called “the happy chemical,” serotonin is associated with feelings of security and belonging. It gives us confidence, maybe even a little courage. This is why we cheer our teams at athletic events, and why important milestones like recitals and graduations are done before a public audience. It would feel “empty” to receive your diploma in the mail or to run 26.2 miles on a lonely stretch of road and have no one cheer for you at the finish line. Take away the serotonin rush, and the effort doesn’t seem worth it.
 
Employees need to feel needed, and they need to know that what they do is important. Recognition provides that confirmation, especially if it’s done in front of their co-workers.
 
Here’s the takeaway: Give your employees a rush of serotonin as often as you can. Celebrate victories by calling them up in front of their peers, and giving them a chance to tip their hat.

​Think about it for a moment. Does your spouse know your boss’s name? Most likely, because most of us talk about some aspect of work when we get home, and it is impossible to do so without mentioning the boss.
 
As your team’s boss, you set the tone for the day. It is you who issues a task, and establishes the goals and expectations for work. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed? It affects your team. Withhold anticipated praise? You are perceived as ungrateful or uncaring. Because of your position, everything you do is amplified and contagious, and more than likely, mentioned at home. So much, in fact, that most of the spouses of your crew probably know facts about you that you never even thought of, such as your age, your personality and even some of your physical attributes.
 
Although many of us don’t want to admit it, we long for the blessing of our boss, and it is in his or her eyes that we search for approval, acceptance, and validation. In short, as the boss, you are a Significant Other in the lives of your team. Your feedback is critical, even if the employee doesn’t act like it.
 
Here is the takeaway: Everything you do counts. Be a leader. Monitor your behavior and how it affects your team. 
 
And make sure that if there’s an adjective that precedes your name during the dinner-table discussion, it is one that can be said in front of the kids.

My wife and I recently purchased one of those robot vacuum cleaners called a Roomba. You put it in its docking station and program it to vacuum your house during selected times of the day.  As it vacuums, it memorizes the layout of your home. All you do is empty the dust receptacle.

As we unpacked the Roomba, my wife said, “We need to give him a name, after all, he’s a robot.” Before I could challenge her as to why a vacuum cleaner should be called a “him,” she snickered, “Let’s call him Eddie,” who I immediately recognized as the first name of my worst-ever boss. Being in the military at the time, I wasn’t allowed to address him with such familiarity, which gives me even more pleasure today.

“Eddie,” as we both refer to him now, belittled his subordinates on a daily basis.  No transgression, no matter how insignificant, was overlooked by his scornful expressions and personal attacks.  We were all barely competent in his eyes, so we required daily scolding for our ineptitude. His ego required constant stroking or he would explode in a rage. “Don’t you know that I’m in charge?” he would bellow. “Why can’t you do this like I want it?” He constantly threatened us with career-ending phone calls and derogatory performance evaluations.

To make matters worse, the assignment required extensive overnight travel as a team, so we were together for extended periods; sharing meals, cars, and accommodations, and walking on egg shells.  As his second in command, I was always catering to his needs, and working to repair the psychological damage he was wreaking on our team and their families.

Words cannot describe the joy we all shared when he was reassigned. I prepared the required farewell speech, later delivering it to a near empty room.

Today, my wife and I take great pleasure in seeing “Eddie” scurry around our floor, cleaning up cracker crumbs and dust bunnies and the other flotsam and jetsam of our daily life...and he better do it right.

Here is the take away:  Treat your team with respect, or you might be reincarnated as a dirt-sucking robot.