#DO NOT WORK RECEPTION AT A NURSING HOME ON A MONDAY DURING THE AFTERNOON. IT IS SO SUCK

[cephalomon]

I HAVE WORK TOMORROW

AND IT'S A MONDAY AFTERNOON SHIFT

[britishassistant]

But I Like One Piece (13)

There’s a lot of adults outside the compound.

There’s Ino’s dad, who’s fussing over her a lot, and Chouji’s dad, who waves at her, and a guy with spiky hair and a white chevron on his nose who leaps down from the roofs with Kiba, Akamaru and Sakura under his arms, placing them down before leaping away again.

Bigger Shikamaru then makes a face and pulls the hand on her back away to reveal spots of blood. “What happened here?”

“A trap got set off.” She says. “It was gonna hurt Chouji, so me and Ino got in the way.”

Bigger Shikamaru glances at her suspiciously. “Right. And how did this trap get set off?”

She decides discretion is the better part of valor and shrugs, wincing at the movement. “Lots of tripwires. Hard to tell.”

Bigger Shikamaru gives a slow nod, like he doesn’t quite believe her. “Uh huh. And why were there so many tripwires?”

“Because Uchiha’s scared.” She says, looking the man dead in the eye. “He’s really, really scared of that man coming back to finish the job. And he has no one to look after him, so he’s trying to protect himself. And us. By fighting us to make us stronger, or something. He didn’t explain it well.”

Bigger Shikamaru appears inscrutable during her tirade, but he looks away when she keeps staring pointedly at him, with another muttered “Troublesome.”

The click of a camera shutter has her looking over to see Lee taking pictures of the spiky haired guy and another guy with floppy hair, who are posing dramatically for photos. Kiba’s attempting to photobomb them with little success as Shikamaru watches.

“Right.” Bigger Shikamaru hitches her higher on his hip, raising his voice. “Chouza, can you get the rest of them home? Inoichi and I need to get these two to the hospital.”

Lee insists on coming along with them.

Once they realize what’s going on, Sakura and Chouji beg to come along too. It sort of snowballs from there, so they end up with a gaggle of children and Ino, Shikamaru, and Chouji’s dads causing a bit of a stir when they all enter the hospital’s reception area.

She sees the same nice doctor from when she bit her lip last time, with the blond hair and pink eyes.

The nurse is nowhere to be seen.

She tells the nice doctor she didn’t bite her lip at all, even when it really hurt, while he’s doing something with the green glow to her shoulders that makes them stop hurting.

He pats her head and gives her a lollipop, and then gives extra ones to Kiba, Hinata, Shino, and Sakura with a wink and vague compliments to the mysterious medical experts for their good work.

Kiba doesn’t stop grinning for the rest of the afternoon, Shino’s insects buzz gently which she thinks means he’s happy, and even Hinata seems quietly pleased.

Chouji’s dad walks her, Lee and Sakura home after they get the confirmation that Ino’s going to be fine, while Shikamaru’s dad takes Hinata, Kiba, Shino, and Uchiha.

Sakura’s quiet and subdued the whole way home, lollipop in her cheek, rubbing her fingers together every so often. She gives a weak little “bye” when they drop her off at her house.

Okaa-san looks particularly harried when she opens the door and takes note of the newly-healed marks on her back and the state of her blood-stained and dusty dress.

Her mother sends her upstairs to have a wash and get changed while Chouji’s dad has a talk with her and Otou-san.

By the time she comes back down, Chouji’s dad has gone home and her parents are sitting around the dinner table as Lee shows them his photos.

“Mayu-chan.” Otou-san says, holding up a picture of her and Ino crouched over Chouji with silver streaks soaring past them like deadly shooting stars. “Not that we aren’t proud of you for looking after your friends, but could you work a little harder to avoid getting hurt too please?”

“I’ll try, Otou-san.” She choruses guiltily.

It seems like what happened has become the talk of the village by dinner time.

Though she could be biased because that happens to be the time Gai-sensei bursts in, babbling on about explosions and grievous wounds and youth and her being sick on Anko’s shoes.

This earns her another week-long cooking ban, on the grounds that it might be a bug and not evil chakra that made her throw up.

Even Iruka-sensei brings it up at Ichiraku’s the following night.

“I heard you had an eventful day yesterday.” He says politely while they’re waiting for their noodles. He seems a bit more at ease now Naruto and Lee aren’t there.

“Yeah.” She sighs, tracing the woodgrain with her finger. “It’s just—ugh.”

Iruka-sensei is nice, so he doesn’t chuckle at her little exclamation of disgust and waits for her to explain herself.

“It’s just—” She throws her hands up at not knowing what it “just” is and decides to start over from what she does know. “Uchiha is not a bad person. He’s dumb and awkward and— whatever, but he’s not bad. He’s just scared. And alone. And everyone thinks he knows what he’s doing because the teacher keeps saying he’s a prodigy and that he’s the best at everything—but he has no shi–blooming clue.”

Iruka-sensei nods seriously, brows furrowing, so she continues. “But he doesn’t know that he doesn’t—or he thinks that since everyone’s calling him a prodigy that he’s supposed to. So when he got scared about the man who murdered his clan coming back because of the thieves, he tried to protect himself with the wires and traps, because there’s no adults who’ll defend him. And then he tried to have everyone over to defend us too, because he’s not a bad person, he’s just kinda dumb and paranoid, y’know?”

“I...think I do know, yes.” Iruka-sensei says slowly, like he’s realizing something.

“Yeah—and before me and Naruto went over and cleaned his kitchen, his kitchen was a tip, because he had no idea what to do with all this food people were giving him!” She turns to Teuchi-sama. “I mean, he was just eating white rice and uncooked tomatoes everyday! It was like when I met Naruto, except he had all this food when Naruto had nothing, but he didn’t know what to do with it, so it was all rotting and going to waste!”

Teuchi-sama winces.

“That must’ve stunk something awful!” Ayame-sama chirps.

“Sanji as my witness it did.” She groans, covering her face while Otou-san carefully pats her back.

“Nobody was feeding Naruto?” Iruka-sensei interrupts, brows drawn down.

“Not from what we could see.” Okaa-san replies, daintily sipping at her water. “He’d be chased out of the market. I think Ichiraku’s was the only place he could get a square meal, until Mayu-chan started feeding him.”

Teuchi-sama nods. “He was our favorite customer. Still is, in fact.”

“Mayu with her little lunchboxes.” Otou-sama smiles nostalgically. “Up at the crack of dawn, carrying around those sheets of paper with what he liked and didn’t like on them.”

She squirms, cheeks heating up. “I didn’t know him then.” She complains. “But he was hungry. I couldn’t leave him hungry.”

Teuchi-sama nods approvingly as he slides a bowl of miso ramen in front of her.

Iruka-sensei is quiet while he eats.

“What did you tell him.” Uchiha growls at lunch on Monday.

She blinks in confusion, about to bite into her onigiri. “What did I tell who?”

Uchiha looks pained, his grilled sandwich leaking tomato juice and pesto in his grip.

“The Hokage,” He grits out. “Has determined that I am not suited to living on my own because of something one of you said. So I now have this chunin living in my house and leaving his stupid porn everywhere.”

She winces. “But I haven’t seen the Hokage all weekend. He was with Naruto, and Naruto wasn’t with us.”

“We did hear the explosion.” Naruto pipes up unhelpfully. “It really freaked his mask guys out—we thought the village was under attack or something when we heard it, believe it!”

Sasuke glares at them all, taking a mutinous bite of his sandwich.

“Mayu.” Shikamaru says. “Do you know what my dad does?”

She frowns as she swallows and takes another bite. “Tactician?”

Shikamaru’s smile is slow and spiteful. “He’s the Jounin Squad Leader of Konoha. Second only to the Hokage himself.”

She stops chewing.

Oh. Oh.

Whoops.

Uchiha looks between the two of them, growing redder and redder with each passing second.

“TRAITORS!!!” He howls finally, and flings himself across the table at Shikamaru.

They all get detention again.

She’s really not sure how long the teacher expects to keep justifying things with “you’re friends and supposed to control each other” when he’s the authority figure here.

Though maybe her telling him this wasn’t the best idea.

“Well, you weren’t wrong.” Chouji says loyally.

“Thank you Chouji.” She replies.

“Still a dumb thing to say.” Naruto adds.

She places her hand over his mouth. “Sssh.”

He licks it again.

While they’re wrestling, she hears Sakura ask Uchiha, “Are you gonna be okay, Sasuke-kun?”

Uchiha snorts. “I’ll be fine. I just have to convince the Hokage that I’m strong enough to live on my own. And to do that, I need to get rid of the trespasser in my home.”

“...How are you gonna do that?” Ino asks, sounding a lot more wary than she has in previous Uchiha conversations.

He grunts in a way that conveys indecision, or maybe constipation.

“What if you pranked him?” Naruto suggests from where she’s almost managed to force her spit-contaminated arm to touch his cheek. “I know some pretty good ones that the jerks in the market never saw coming!”

Uchiha pauses.

His lips curl into a slow, cruel smirk.

She’s not privy to all the details, because Naruto is sworn to solemn secrecy by the prankster’s code.

What she does know is that the chunin who leaves his porn everywhere is subjected to potent itching powder in every fabric item he attempts to use, and somehow becomes convinced that the ghosts of the Uchiha clan would curse his family with pimply skin for every generation thereafter if he did not vacate the premises immediately.

Sasuke’s victorious mood is dampened when the Hokage apparently sends a new chunin to live with him the very next day.

This chunin apparently has a bad habit of talking down to children, no matter whether they’re the last remnants of their clan or not, and abusing his new position to bring home “friends”.

Uchiha takes this as a declaration of war.

He ends up mobbed by every cat from here to Kusagakure thanks to a potent mixture of valerian, catnip, and a secret ingredient that Uchiha refuses to divulge which was mixed into his shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in small enough increments to be unnoticeable until it was too late.

The Hokage sends a jounin.

Kiba ends up recruited to the cause.

The jounin somehow ends up ingesting enough laxatives to put a small monkey out of commission, and then has his all-black ensemble and glasses forcibly dyed many colors thanks to the liberal application of industrial-strength paint.

The Hokage sends Anko.

The ensuing carnage results in the statue of the Niidaime losing its nose and has Uchiha lying low for three weeks, alternating between hiding in her and Sakura’s houses and Naruto’s apartment.

A few days before their finals, Uchiha comes in looking oddly...defeated.

“The Hokage and the Council say that unless I accept the next caretaker they provide for me, I’m going to go into the Orphanage and the Uchiha lands will be forfeit.”

Hinata covers her mouth with her hands. Ino and Kiba sit there, silent and slack-jawed. Chouji pushes away his food and Shikamaru actually sits up. Shino’s insects stop buzzing altogether.

“They can’t do that, can they?” Naruto says, looking around for confirmation. “I mean, that’s your home, right? It’s yours.”

“But Sasuke-kun’s technically a ward of state and has to do what they say.” Sakura says slowly. “Until he becomes a genin or comes of age as a civilian.”

“And that’s eighteen or something, right?” She adds with a heavy heart.

Uchiha puts his head down on the table.

“Hey, that’s rough man.” Kiba says, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Akamaru strides down the table and settles himself next to Uchiha’s head, gently licking his cheek until the boy turns and buries his hand in the puppy’s soft fur.

“Did they say who it’ll be?” She asks gently, pushing her BLT over to him.

He shakes his head slowly, lifting the sandwich and taking a bite. “The Hokage only said they’ll be there to greet me after school.”

“Well, whoever they are, they can’t be worse than Anko, right?” Ino says, trying to be upbeat.

Everybody at the table shudders.

They stand with him in solidarity at the end of the Academy day.

The other parents and children look at them strangely, a group of clan kids and a few civilians bunched together around the last Uchiha like a protective barrier, but no one comes forward to try and take him.

It isn’t until the last of them are leaving that someone arrives.

Iruka-sensei comes out of the Academy building, carrying a suitcase.

“Ah, Ketsugi-chan, Lee-kun, Uzumaki-kun!” He says, smiling brightly. “How are you doing?”

“We are well, thank you Iruka-sensei!” Lee says. “We are waiting with Uchiha-kun for his new guardian!”

Iruka-sensei’s eyes soften and he kneels down. “So you’re Sasuke-kun, huh? My name is Umino Iruka. It’s nice to meet you.”

Uchiha averts his eyes and stares stubbornly at the floor.

“I don’t want you in my house.” He says. “But the Hokage says if I don’t I have to go to the Orphanage.”

Iruka-sensei winces. “I heard about that. Do you want me to stay in one of the branch houses then? I just cancelled my apartment contract with my landlord, but I’m sure if I begged hard enough, she’d let me stay there for longer until we sort out what you’re comfortable with.”

Uchiha peers at him suspiciously. “...Okay. Do that.”

Suddenly Iruka-sensei’s stomach gurgles.

He blushes. “Ah, do you mind if we get some food first? There’s a pretty good ramen place I know.”

“Ichiraku’s?” Naruto bursts in eagerly.

“We’re not feeding you.” Uchiha says dismissively, ignoring Naruto’s cry of betrayal.

He begins to stride off down the path, only to turn when the teacher doesn’t follow. “Well? It’s annoying if you’re hungry.”

Iruka-sensei’s mouth quirks into a smile.

Somehow, she thinks as the teacher and boy disappear down the path, discussing one of the pranks that befell his hapless predecessor, this might turn out alright.

It’ll certainly be better than Anko.

[ancientbrit]

Natter #3 24th June 2020

So, on  Saturday morning, I took part of my breakfast (yogurt) from our backup  fridge in the garage, but when I put the first spoonful in my mouth I noticed that it was warm. Strange that. So I checked the fridge and found that everything in it was warm. The freezer contents - weren't.This was a disaster as I had been to QFC a couple of days previously buying frozen and fresh foods including four half gallons of milk. Jean had been out the day after for the first time in 12 weeks and part of her haul was more milk and ice cream.I imagine that the excitement of being out again at last and back to her old stamping grounds overcame memory. So here we were rushing around trying to save what we could by rearranging everything in the kitchen fridge and then trying to close the door.The old fridge was possibly down on refrigerant and I was a bit annoyed for a brief moment until I remembered when we bought it. It was when we lived at the 'old house' way back in 1970 and it was already a year old when we got it! My word - 50 years old. I should have remembered as it's color is 'Harvest Gold' which hasn't been seen on store shelves in donkeys ages. I tend not to date things by color though, as modern colors mean little to me - 'Taupe' for instance means less than nothing. My lexicon runs in terms of the spectrum. But forgetting it's date made me think back to those 'Old House days' and what we were about then. Those days and other old days that preceded that time.  My memory of 'then' is perfectly clear  - it seems just like it was yesterday even though I know how long ago it actually was. So many friends and relatives who are no longer around to share those times with, One of the things that have remained constant is our phone number. Of course, then we had an exchange name -  Adams 2, which has now been transmuted to numbers - 232, and I think doing this has lost the feeling of romance that it seemed to have for me. When I was a kid many of our dairy and grocery items were delivered to the door by horse-drawn carts - very few people or businesses had a sufficiently high priority during the war to have a petrol ration. Mum had joined the "Co-op" for convenience and of course, there was the benefit of a bonus payout at year's end. I loved these horses and would meet them outside and feed them apples, carrots and whatever else I had to hand. Still firmly in my mind is the Co-op number I had to recite to the driver when we had milk or groceries delivered - 157376.Being horses they would leave proof of their passage along the road and my Dad would pay me a shilling per bucket full of 'Golden Apples' as my Dad referred to this natural function It seemed like it was too demeaning a job for a full-grown adult  and using his term was sort of distancing himself from the unpleasantness.It used to embarrass me a bit too, but you couldn't argue with the reward. it was all grist to the mill, and it did do the roses a power of good. In 1956, I had been out of the RAF for a year and had also just recently returned home from a  very long sojourn in hospital, and my Dad was persuaded, against his will, to have a phone installed. Phones were not then usual to find in most houses and my Dad's reluctance was based on the very real belief that his company could too easily find him at inconvenient times. I told him that it was an absolute necessity in that day and age and so at last it was installed. Our phone number was Fairlands 4725 and as I said, I remember the old exchanges with affection. Others in our neighborhood were Derwent and Vigilant and my favorite Aunt had the best I always felt - Silverthorn - lovely. The Fairlands exchange was essential to me as when I was discharged from the hospital I had left behind a lovely German nurse with whom I had developed special feelings.When I had become sufficiently fit to allow me to leave the hospital and walk around the grounds, I used to collect any outgoing mail from other patients who were still confined to bed and take it some distance up the road, through the snow to a mailbox. Just to make sure I would be okay, Irmgard, for such was her name, would accompany me and we would find a need to indulge in long hugs and exchange lip locks - just to keep the cold at bay you understand? Shared bodily warmth is a great way to defeat the weather! Later, returning to the hospital, which had been a big old private house standing in its own grounds, we would split up at the circular drive with a last goodnight kiss. Irmgard would go round to the kitchen door and I would go the other way to the front door. Knowing that our companion runs were our secret, I was surprised to find the youngish Matron just inside the door. With a twinkle in her eye, she asked if it was cold out and I acknowledged that it was. She told me that I should be careful that I didn't get chapped lips, but then added that lipstick was a sovereign remedy - and departed with a grin. So much for secrecy! Irmgard's phone exchange name at the hospital was Coombe Wood - not exactly what might be termed 'romantic' but association made it so. Our association was quite intense and a forthcoming proposal, whilst welcomed, was at that time impossible for Irmgard to accept. Her sister was soon to marry, another Englishman and they would be returning to England to live after their honeymoon. She would not leave her parents alone just like that. She had been sent to England for a couple of years to improve her English and was soon to return home to Bad Canstatt, just outside Stuttgart. As I was about to return to my studies we were parted and unlikely to meet again any time soon. So our contacts were limited to letters and very rare and expensive phone calls and so the Canstatt exchange also lives brightly in my memory. Unfortunately, long-distance relations tend to strain circumstances and over time our contacts became less and less,     Sometime later I reached a point where I was able to take a trip to the Continent. I wrote to Irmgard to tell her that at last I was able to come over to see her, not being really sure of my reception as I hadn't written for ages.Within days I had a reply and although she was totally delighted that I was coming she told me that she had become engaged. I couldn't really blame her as I had been very lax, but she wanted me to come and meet her family when I arrived. She was really very good and took me all over the city and ended at her parents' home in the evening to a party for her sister and new husband, just returned from their honeymoon on Lake Constance. It was a really nice evening and I got on very well with her parents, but of course, I didn't like her fiance at all! After all this, although I had been given her brother-in-law's name and address back home I was never able to contact him. I would love to have kept up to know how her life proceeded. I still have her framed portrait photograph she sent me when she had first returned home, inscribed "Zur stehten Erinnerung" Deine Irmgard. I have been occupying some of my evenings on the computer lately sorting and printing out the Natters that Jo & Tom and Janet have been good enough to get to me. As they all seem to have been listed well out of order I am busy trying to see what I have and what might yet still be missing. The job has been compounded by the difficulty I have experienced in opening the Flash Drive. Sometimes it allows me to zip along, opening files, but then will stop and nothing will work. Next day I try again and I am off to the races again. But I am getting there slowly and tonight (Monday) I completed taking off hardcopies, Now I can sort through, putting them in chronological order and see what I shall see. Much more later, but there seems to be nothing before 2012 so I guess that was when I started. As I mentioned last Natter I have been attacking Lily of the Valley and I am almost finished - at least with what was visible. Along the way, I have also removed Sword ferns, Cedar seedlings five feet high and Jasmine. The Jasmine was an insignificant rooted cutting, from where I have no recollection. It had been placed in a pot on the ground and had been overgrown by all sorts of stuff and over the last year had gone nuts. It was to be used at the Plant Sale and now there are five separate plants threatening to strangle you on the approach to the greenhouse so of course, they have to go. The final gap in my deer-proof fencing was completed a week ago but I forgot to mention it to the deer and my hostas have now been browsed off on three separate occasions. As soon as it looks like there might be leaves on Empress Wu that might be reaching terminal size, they disappear and I am beginning to think that I will have to curtail totally growing the items they obviously consider their personal snack bar. 'Doesn't really leave much selection but at least, so far, my cardiocrinums don't feature on their menu. 'Have to be grateful for small mercies I suppose. One good thing has come out of this. My neighbor (ex MG Jill) who has allowed me to use three raised beds to grow veg, has been getting worried that I might fall from the area where the raised beds live - on a raised part of the garden with a six-foot-high rock wall as it's western boundary. She sees me stepping back to admire my work and then bailing out over the edge. So she is having a large bed prepared at the bottom of the wall, which will be enclosed by a deer-proof cage. It will also benefit from the heat held by the rock wall - all sorts of interesting possibilities there. She is a good friend. So next year we might actually be able to eat something we have grown. 'Haven't been able to do that for the last four years now, except for Onions and Garlic! Got started on removing existing plants today and I think it was the hardest day's work I have done for ages.I had to have a nap in the afternoon, but I couldn't tell whether that was because I had two early start days or the sheer grind of lifting heavy plants.You have likely realised that I am just stumbling along here so I will finish and get to bed.

Your fearless and weary leader.Gordon

[convergehrsolutions]

How HR Can Promote Flexibility in Blue-Collar Jobs

When Rachael Sobon, SHRM-CP, started her job as the first HR professional at CRP Industries 10 years ago, she quickly saw room for improvement.

Image source: https://boyle.house.gov/media-center/press-releases/boyle-and-veasey-form-blue-collar-caucus-congress

Sobon understood that the daily deadlines of a bustling warehouse required many of the Cranbury, N.J.-based company’s 180 workers to be onsite at certain hours.

There was no provision for taking just an hour or two off at a time, employees would often take a sick day to run errands or go to routine appointments. Many would use up their time off by summer, so when the holidays rolled around, they took leave without pay. "That hurts the business when we can’t schedule out the manpower," Sobon says.

Decades-old policies intended to ensure proper staffing levels were backfiring, Sobon says. So, with support of the company’s president, she introduced a paid-time-off policy that allows employees to take accrued leave in half-hour increments. "Whether they’re sick or going to a school play or the cable person is coming—it just gives them flexibility so they’re not stuck in a situation where they have to pretend they’re ill or make up a story," she explains.

Sobon also rolled out an option for employees to work a compressed, four-day schedule in the summer and take part in staggered work shifts starting between 6:30 and 9 a.m., depending on the requirements of the job. And because workers are cross-trained in all the warehouse positions, they can move from one role to another as needed.

Within a year of implementing the changes, "we basically stopped writing warning letters for attendance," Sobon says. "Fast-forward 10 years, and we have everything online—all of our warehouse employees use the app on their phone, so on a Saturday or Sunday if something comes up, they can put in a request through our system to say, ‘I’m going to be off a few hours on Monday morning,’ giving that manager a little bit of a heads-up."

Over the past decade, the drumbeat has been growing louder for more flexibility in the U.S. workplace. Driven by demand from Millennials—who now represent the largest generation in the labor force—many employers are offering a range of scheduling options to attract and retain top talent in a competitive employment market. According to the Families and Work Institute’s (FWI’s) 2014 National Study of Employers, more than 80 percent of employers with at least 50 workers allowed at least some employees to take paid time off for personal and family needs or to periodically change when they start and end the workday.

Yet experts say there’s a gap between companies’ stated policies and their willingness to embrace flexibility in practice, particularly for individuals in blue-collar occupations—jobs that often involve manual labor and tend to pay by the hour.

According to FWI president Ellen Galinsky, blue-collar workers are much less likely to have such flexibility—"which is sad," she says, "because [they] need it most." After all, working-class employees tend to be those who can least afford child care and are more likely to be balancing a second job or classes to advance in their careers. Some obstacles seem inevitable: Plumbers and electricians can’t ply their trades from home, for example, and certain roles will always need to be filled at fixed times—such as bus drivers during the morning rush hour.

HR professionals can lead their companies in rethinking long-held assumptions about the scheduling of blue-collar workers. Doing so can benefit both employees and the business. Generous policies aren’t in place for return on investment, but because it’s the right thing to do for people.

Allowing employees some degree of control over their schedules can also reduce unplanned absences, as the managers of Globe Firefighter Suits discovered nine years ago. That’s when the 430-employee manufacturer of emergency response uniforms gave its workers flexibility in their start times.

But how can you keep an assembly line moving if some people start at 6 a.m. and others don’t arrive until two hours later?

"That was our objection for 120 years: We were concerned that there’d be a bottleneck somewhere," says HR Manager Gayle Troy, who has worked at the Pittsfield, N.H.-based company for 31 years. "What we finally wrapped our brains around—and it was difficult to get there—is if a particular employee’s job is setting sleeves on fire suits and she comes in later than everybody else, she’ll come in to some work piled up at her workstation, but she’ll finish it by the end of the day. So it works."

So why haven’t more employers with blue-collar workers adopted such policies? In many cases, they simply haven’t needed to. Companies are generally most willing to integrate flexibility options for occupations where there is a labor shortage, according to the research of Ellen Kossek, a professor of management at Purdue University’s Krannert School of Management. Although there will always be a cost to hiring new employees, going the extra mile to retain workers becomes more important when there isn’t a long line of applicants ready to replace them. "That’s why you see more experimentation in nursing than construction—because of the shortage of workers in nursing," Kossek says.

HR professionals are in a good position to find flexible solutions that meet the needs of both employers and workers. A good place to start is by auditing your company’s scheduling practices, which can reveal startling gaps between written policies and reality. For example, when are schedules published for employees to view? How much do hours vary week to week? What percentage of workers want more hours, and what proportion work different hours and days each week? "Corporate people are often quite shocked to know how unstable and unpredictable the jobs are," Lambert says.

One reason for the disconnect between what’s on paper versus what’s being practiced is that companies typically put far more effort into writing policies than in implementing them. For example, Berg says most supervisors he has interviewed have received no training on how to manage issues related to work/life balance. As a result, they don’t know what options they can offer to employees in different situations.

By providing tools for implementing flexibility, HR can help managers deliver on the company’s good intentions, communicating to employees that the organization genuinely cares.

Clear communication starts during hiring. Managers are upfront about current business needs, and prospective employees share their needs and hopes. When you have that two-way conversation, "there’s not a lot of surprises after the fact," Alvarez says.

As workers’ lives change, managers keep the lines of communication open and work to accommodate employees’ scheduling needs as much as possible. "Maybe they’re a student in college, and one semester they have all morning classes and they ask their manager to work afternoons or evenings, and then next semester it flip-flops," Alvarez says. The supervisor is receptive to the request because she knows it’s coming from a good employee in whom the company has much invested.

From the interview, hiring process, and training all the way to employee policies, scheduling, and communication, your HR department can make or break your business. Having an understanding of your employee’s lives outside of work and adopting policies that benefit them, have shown to have a greater benefit for the business as a whole. When it comes to any of these HR responsibilities, you need people you can trust making the best decisions for everyone involved. Converge HR Solutions is a team of experts ready to partner with you, for any and all of your HR needs. To browse our services, visit http://convergehrsolutions.com/. Contact us directly at info@convergehrsolutions.com or 610-296-8550.

Article source: https://www.shrm.org/hr-today/news/hr-magazine/0417/Pages/how-hr-can-promote-flexibility-in-blue-collar-jobs.aspx?utm_source=SHRM%20PublishThis_TalentManagement_7.18.16%20(16)&utm_medium=email&utm_content=March%2022,%202017&SPMID=&SPJD=&SPED=&SPSEG=&restr_scanning=silver&spMailingID=28344598&spUserID=OTI1NTk1MDUyNzMS1&spJobID=1003157263&spReportId=MTAwMzE1NzI2MwS2

[molovesvintage]

I don’t get sick very often, but when you move to a new place and are still acclimating, or work with kids, or take public transportation, it’s not uncommon to get sick from time to time. Since all of the above currently applies to me, it was perhaps not so surprising that on Sunday night I found myself with a sore throat. “I hope I’m not getting sick!” I thought.

Famous last words.

Monday when I woke, I definitely felt sick. My throat was now REALLY sore, and accompanied by general tiredness and a slight fever. Classic flu symptoms. I stayed home that day.

Tuesday I definitely felt better and went back to work. Throat was still sore, and in the afternoon I was feverish again, but nothing cough drops and cold medicine couldn’t cure. Right???

Wednesday night my throat felt like it was on fire and was so swollen that swallowing had become difficult, and I was still having fevers and chills. I braved the mirror and shined a flashlight at the back of my throat. It was nasty, complete with white patches on my red, angry tonsils. Uh-oh. It looked as though Thursday, my day off, would be spent having a grand adventure: my first hospital visit in Japan.

Lucky for me, there is a hospital in Nagoya, Serei or Holy Spirit Hospital, that employs translators and accepts walk-ins until 11:00 am, so Thursday morning I bundled up and took the half-hour subway ride there. Once inside, even in my sick, fever-induced state, I was ready for the kinds of struggle and confusion that usually occur when you need to get something important done in a place where you don’t speak the language, like visiting the bank or post office – but my entire hospital visit was simple, efficient, and easy, thanks in part to the orderly system of the hospital but mostly thanks to my awesome translator, who barely left my side the entire time I was there. He explained the procedures to me, helped me fill out paperwork, took me from various receptions desks to examination and treatment rooms and finally to the pay counter. He was awesome.

Serei, or Holy Spirit Hospital in Nagoya

I also really liked the doctor, a hardy, wizened woman who was all business. She looked in my throat, and her eyes widened. She said something to the effect of “That’s some nasty shit right there”, but more professionally and Japanese, and, like a seasoned general on a battlefield, swiftly came up with an aggressive plan of attack. She swabbed my throat, a procedure I’ve had before and which I recall as being one of the most painful things ever, but the Japanese doctor did it ever so gently. Not only was she aggressive and through, but she had a good bedside manner too! My favorite kind of doctor. She said she could give me a prescription for an oral antibiotic, but she’d rather administer antibiotics with an IV drip, if I had the time. They would work quicker this way. Whatever you want, doc, I’m in your hands! As she was writing some notes and prescriptions for my red file (the sacred file you must carry during all stages of your visit to Serei Hospital), she casually mentioned that if I’d waited much longer I would have been hospitalized. Great.

I didn’t know that antibiotics could be given with an IV, I’d always just assumed it was something you took in a pill. We just don’t seem to do it this way in the US. I was thrilled to be given this option, if the doctor deemed it best. But I have to admit, as I walked over to the main treatment room with my translator, I started to get a little nervous. I’d never had an IV before, and wasn’t really sure what it would feel like. Also, I have fainted before when getting blood drawn. What if I fainted again??? I guess I’d be laying down so no one would notice.

I was taken into the room and laid down on a hospital bed, where I was prepped and fussed over by a cute nurse with sparkly eyeshadow who kept laughing at me since it was my first time. She swabbed my arm, found a vein, and inserted the needle, apologizing in Japanese as she did so. She took a blood sample first, so the doctor could look at the bacteria levels in my blood and determine the cause of my illness, then hooked me up to the IV drip and let me lay there and nap for 30 minutes. I don’t know why I was so nervous, it wasn’t bad at all. At some point I must have gotten over my fear of needles.

My IV bag

My arm! Getting pumped full o’ drugs

After my IV drip/nap time, my translator returned and took me to pay. Japan is obsessed with automation, so it came as no surprise to me that payment was done via an automated machine. I had no idea how much it would cost, and was amazed that seeing the doctor, getting a throat swab, blood test, and antibiotics via IV only cost ¥4,350 (roughly $38) with my insurance. You can barely just see the doctor for that price in the US, even with insurance! Amazing. And my two prescriptions from the pharmacy were only ¥910 (around $8). I’m sold. Japanese healthcare, I love you.

I went back the next two days for two more rounds of antibiotics on the IV drip, and both times the experience was just as easy as the first, with my same translator leading me, but I never did get the cute laughing nurse again. And while Thursday I still felt like death the whole day, I improved dramatically with each subsequent hospital visit. That doctor really knows her stuff.

Thus, my battle with tonsillitis was won, and just in time too: I move to Kanazawa in less than a week and will begin a new chapter in my adventures in Japan!

Happy Travels,

Mo

Adventure Time: Visiting the Japanese Hospital I don't get sick very often, but when you move to a new place and are still acclimating, or work with kids, or take public transportation, it's not uncommon to get sick from time to time.