Mr Cellophane

My kids are talented. Obviously.

All throughout their childhoods, there were marked opportunities for greatness and future renown. Now, I know that every parent thinks this, but they’re wrong. My kids were the best (says every parent). My son was destined for MLB, my eldest daughter was going to be the next Matisse, and my youngest daughter was Broadway-bound. Look, I had great expectations.

When Cass, my youngest, was cast as one of the Cell Block girls in the musical Chicago (yes, a high school production), I knew that my dreams were underway. And when she belted those numbers while doing the inverted spread eagle on a chair, I thought, here we go! Alas, she had other plans for her future (Selfish!).

But there was this young man in the role of Amos Hart singing “Mr. Cellophane” who poured himself into that singular star-power moment from the show. His unassuming demeanor resonated with the lyrics he sang. I believed that everyone could look right through him and walk right by him, as the song goes. He owned the role.

Too often, we have people in our organizations who have similar roles. They are easily overlooked without a word spoken in protest. We count on their quiet fortitude and non-complaining demeanor. We say they are just grateful for the work and don’t want to rock the boat. And while that may be true for some, we honestly have no idea…that is, until they resign.

The shock and the betrayal we feel. How could they do this to us? Why would they do this to us? They were such good workers, and we told them every so often, maybe. That seemed to be enough, right? I mean, our attention is normally given to the loud mouths and troublemakers, so we don’t really have time to coddle everyone, especially the quiet ones. The ones that you chose not to engage or recognize.

Don’t let Mr. Cellophane fool you. He’s a hard worker. He shows up on time and is consistent in his work. He is dependable as the day is long. He is Joe, Melanie, Diego and Shawna. He is every employee whose name you are struggling to recall. You know that person who’s been here for five years? Yes, that one.

We need those people. That is not to say, however, that the right response to those coming to mind is to promote them to management. Stop with the singular career ladder. Not every person, in some ways especially a Mr. Cellophane, wants to manage others. There are alternative career ladders that can be activated. We forget this sometimes.

Deepen your interest in those who have made an investment of consistency and “meets expectations” through the years. They have a place within our organizations, and we ought to recognize them. Check in with those who don’t lobby for your time. Encourage coaching conversations focused on process improvement and innovation. Ask specific questions; open-ended questions might foster quick one-word answers from Mr. Cellophane. Seek to know and to understand.

Perhaps the worst thing that an employee could share about their experience is from the song itself:

"A human being's made of more than air

With all that bulk, you're bound to see him there

Unless that human being next to you

Is unimpressive, undistinguished, you know who."

Let’s not wait for the resignation for us to pay attention to the reliable workers in our companies. Don’t walk by another employee that you haven’t checked in with in months, years, ever.