I wrote a couple of posts while I was in the field at the Early Cretaceous Dinosaur Track Site. Here is one of them.
***
Fieldwork is a challenging beast: long hours, grueling
terrain, black flies, heavy loads to carry, black flies, long distance hikes,
black flies...the black flies are particularly bad this year. Yes, Dear
Readers, I’m writing a blog post while still in the field.
We’ve just started our field season in earnest. Our goal for
this summer is to expose and document as much of a large-scale dinosaur track site as possible. Although a footprint site,
our first week has been fairly typical of most dinosaur excavations: we have to
remove a lot of overburden in the form of plants, soil, and a few thin
sandstone and silt layers. This means digging, sweeping, and bucket carrying.
This type of work gives my brain a chance to flit around,
and my thoughts settled on various field assistants and volunteers we’ve worked
with, or have heard tell of from colleagues (many, many stories - field workers
talk to one another a great deal). My thoughts particularly settled on the
personality traits that keep popping up like that damned poplar growing on our
nice Early Cretaceous track surface (sorry - I really hate plants right now).
These are the types of behaviors that we really could do without when we’re out
in the field. For every crew of really great students, field
assistants, and volunteers, there’s the crew that contains...that person.
That person is one
who, by their behaviors*, reduces efficiency, increases stress, and trashes the
morale of you and the rest of your crew. No amount of correction seems to
diminish these behaviors. In fact, it makes it worse. All one can seem to do is
to ride out the storm of their negative behavior. Every field season comes to
an end.
*NOTE: This list
does not include sexual harassment and assault, bullying, intimidation, or
abuse. That shit also happens in the field far too often.
The following list is a composite of various stories I have
heard or witnessed over the years, or, in one embarrassing instance, remember
doing myself (prepare to be shamed, Past Me).
The Lily Dipper
Lily dipping is a canoeing term: that one person who looks
like they are paddling for all their worth, but they are really just performing
a mime show and not contributing to moving the canoe forward. As a result, the
rest of the canoe paddlers have to paddle more to make up for the Lily Dipper.
There are Lily Dippers in field work as well. I remember one
year when we had a month’s worth of overburden removal work ahead of us (no
mechanical equipment could be used on this particular site). When we
interviewed field assistants, we were brutally up front about what was ahead of
them: pick axes, shovels, buckets, wheelbarrows, blazing heat, 14 hour long
days. They enthusiastically said they were no strangers to this work, and were ready to pitch in.
Perhaps they really, really thought they were ready for this kind of work. Perhaps they really, really thought they could make it work even if they weren’t prepared for it. Perhaps, deep down, they thought they were above this kind of hands-on labor. I do not know. Regardless of their motives and intentions, they simply could not or would not do the work. Breaks were purposely prolonged. Twenty minute hikes to the site were extended to hour long snail crawls. Each shovel full was performed with maudlin drama. Everything...was...just...so...hard. They never complained, but their actions spoke volumes. Thankfully, when we had a chat with them, they admitted that they were not prepared for this work and transferred to other positions.
Lily Dippers are the quiet morale killers. Everyone knows
who is working and who is not. Everyone also knows who is consuming resources while
not working. Those who are working will resent the Lily Dipper because they now
have an increased workload. It’s almost easier for crew morale to have a person
leave mid-season than to have one who doesn't work.
The Woe-Is-Me
I’ll be the first one to admit that field work life is
difficult, both physically and emotionally. While we are in the field, we are in
the field, full stop. The field season doesn’t care if you are having a bad day
(especially if your field time/budget is short), and everyone has a bad day
from time to time. I get it. However, for some people being in the field is so emotionally challenging that their issues
become your issues. Regardless of the reasons for said
challenges, the result is a crew member who is visibly and vocally miserable. The Woe-Is-Me can be broken down into sub-categories:
- The Black Hole of Praise: Remember when
you told that crew member that they did a good job on excavating that unicorn
saddle? Well, you didn’t praise them enough, you heartless person. In fact, you
couldn’t praise them enough, because they need constant praise, day in, day
out. A simple “Good job”, “Thanks, it looks great”, or “Excellent work” will go
unheard, even if you and everyone around you remembers you praising the Black
Hole. The Black Hole will then complain to others that their efforts are
ignored or unappreciated. When you finally hear about it (and you will, but
likely from a third party), you’ll be confused as hell because you’ll remember
telling the Black Hole that you thought they did a good job. As one PI told me
“It’s like they expect me to launch a parade every time they do their job.”
Unfortunately, if you do launch a Rose Bowl Parade for every action of the
Black Hole, the rest of your crew is going to notice. They may know why you’re
doing it (because they will have heard the complaining) but hearing
the Black Hole suck up exorbitant amounts of praise will wear on them.
- The Line-Reader: This is the polar
opposite of the Black Hole of Praise. Everything that comes out of your mouth
will be taken as a slight, insult, or outright declaration of the Line-Reader’s
(self-perceived) incompetence. They will read in-between the lines of whatever
you say and find meaning that only they can see.
Let’s say
you’re moving a heavy load, like shifting a big footprint slab onto helicopter
webbing so that you can airlift the slab out of a canyon. You’re going to be
giving directions to anyone helping you muscle the slab in to place. Those
directions will be short and simple: “over there, grab that end, lift it
higher, more left”...and, if you need someone out of the way, the all-famous
“Move!” You don’t have time to say “Excuse me please, but you are standing in
the way of where I need to go, and this slab is awful heavy. Could you please
move?” By the time you say that, the slab has slipped and crushed three of your
fingers. I’ve been “Move!”d more times than I can count, and have done the
same. The joyfulness always returns after the heavy lifting is done. When
you’re under a load, it’s all business.
However,
the Line-Reader will take your simple “Move!” as a negative comment on their
skills and value. The same goes for if you give a new person to your crew a
specific job so that they can get experience with said job. Heck, until I learned how to mix plaster properly, that was the only job I was given. Unfortunately, the Line-Reader will interpret
it as you getting them out of the way so you can talk about them behind their
back (yes, I’ve heard of this specific scenario). The examples are countless.
You’ll have your other crew telling you that Line-Reader is saying some rather odd things, and you will be as confused as they.
- The Hard-O-Meter: The previous two
Woe-Is-Me types are confusing to me. This one, however, chaps my ass. Field
work is hard work. It’s not a day at the spa. It’s not a pleasure camping trip
where you hike a groomed trail during the day and roast marshmallows at night.
It is a steep hiking, pick ax and shovel swinging, bog slogging, dirt scraping,
specimen packing, bug swatting hard work day, with marshmallow roasting at
night if the mosquitoes and black flies don’t drive you screaming into your
tent.
What I don’t need to hear (and neither does any field PI) is
a constant description of exactly how hard the work is. Removing overburden
with a pick ax is hard? Shoveling rubble is hard? Clearing dirt, plants, and
rock off of a footprint surface is hard? No shit: field work is hard. See
everyone else working? They know it’s hard too. See the PI working alongside
the crew? Not only do they know how hard the work is, they can compare it to all of the other hard work they have completed during the previous 10+
summers.
One summer during our dinosaur excavation we had a
Hard-O-Meter. It was too hot. The rock was too hard. We were working the crew
too hard (this one borders on the Malcontent, see below). We started too early. We worked
too late. They were sure the work was so hard and so unfair that legal action
could be taken. To spare my sanity (and that of the rest of the crew) I took
the Hard-O-Meter off site one day to collect some modern bird footprint samples. Did
that stop the Hard-O-Meter from pointing out all of the difficulties? Guess.
- The Begrudger: I’ll deal with all of
the Woe-Is-Me traits at once before I want to deal with The Begrudger. The
Begrudger is convinced that they are on the receiving end of Fate’s poopy
stick, because they don’t see your success or fortune as a combination of hard
work and luck. They see it as you had all of your success handed to you for a
myriad of reasons (none of which have anything to do with work and luck, and
none of which are complimentary to you). The Begrudger is closely connected to
the Insta-Expert (see below), because clearly the Begrudger’s obvious skills
and talent were purposely overlooked to give you (or your crew members) the unfair
advantage.
Here’s an example that still makes me shake my head. I
worked with a Begrudger on an excavation. They were working in their section,
and were getting rather despondent that they weren’t finding anything in their
grid square. So they complained until they were moved to a new square. Someone
had to work that square, so another person moved in. Almost immediately the new
person on the square uncovered a theropod tooth. The Begrudger actually had the
nerve to be snotty about the find, as though it were some great conspiracy against them that they didn't find the specimen.
Yeah.
The Insta-Expert
I have a confession, my friends - I once suffered from
Insta-Expert Syndrome. The Insta-Expert is usually young, ambitious, and eager
to make a good impression. Unfortunately, their actions do the exact opposite.
The Insta-Expert knows everything. EVERYTHING. They are a font of information,
especially information on how they would do things were they in charge. Some Insta-Experts will actually try to be in charge. In one case I heard of the One Insta-Expert told other crew members that the PI shouldn't be in charge because the PI had "only" just received their doctorate. How could they possibly know anything, amirite?
A
sample conversation with the Insta-Expert:
I-E: I see you’re milking the Unicorn X way.
You: Yes I am.
I-E: I think you should try milking the Unicorn Y way. I was
talking with Dr. Big Name and that was how he does it.
You: We tried Y, and Y doesn’t work well out here. X is the
field tested method.
I-E: You really should give Y a try. I’ll bet you weren’t
doing it correctly. I’ll show you.
You: (Trying very hard not to roll eyes)...
All the explaining of your methods in a thorough and complete way eventually runs dry (or you run out of time, or you can’t
risk having your data/specimen/fellow crew members damaged.) You have to give
the Insta-Expert the command: do it this way. This is bound to cause Insta-
Expert to feel quite put out. They do not care that you already have years of
experience working in your field. They do not care that you know your field
site inside and out. All they care about is letting everyone know that they
have all of the answers. Insta-Expert can also be found in combination with The
Woe-Is-Me and the Malcontent.
Here’s my story of Insta-Expert shame. I was doing an
internship on an excavation, and I was damned sure I was ready for the Big
Leagues of excavating. I’d already had a week of experience and I was 19 - of
course I was ready to take charge! [If anyone ever builds a time machine, can I
rent time on it to go back in time and smack Past Me?] So I loudly (and rather
annoyingly) stated (ad nauseum) that I was ready to work on the important part
of the quarry. I was a frightful pain. The only way the pit boss could shut me
up was to put me in an important part of the quarry (or at least what they told
me was important. I would have lied to Past Me to shut Past Me up).
In a typical 80s movie, I would have entered an excavation
montage that ended with me uncovering a tyrannosaur skull. That did not happen.
I broke the first piece I worked on. Needless to say, that was an important
moment for me. It highlighted exactly how much I didn’t know, and that my job
at that time was to listen and learn. Unfortunately, I and many field PIs do
not have the time or resources to create teachable moments for Insta-Experts.
You can only hope they lose this trait as they get more experience.
The Volun-Dictator
I will preface this section by saying that 99.99% of the
volunteers I’ve had the pleasure to work with are a joy. They are gold. They
are happy to be elbow deep in overburden, drenched in freezing alpine rain, and
helping us find fossils. I’ve often had to remind volunteers to take regular
breaks so they don’t push it too hard. Many volunteers I wish I had the budget
to hire. Our invaluable head technician started out as a volunteer.
Then there is the Volun-Dictator. This individual “helps” by
trying to take charge. They will take the initiative on items without first
asking what needs to be done (and simultaneously ignoring what they’ve been
told are the main tasks). They will issue orders to your staff and students.
They may try to “run” your camp. They will rearrange equipment without you
knowing, leaving you and your staff having to undo the mess they made. They
will try to take fossils home with them. They will give you demands and
ultimatums. All of these examples and more I have heard from colleagues (and
some I have experienced) regarding that one Volun-Dictator.
Volun-Dictators are especially bad for crew morale because
the crew doesn’t feel like they can correct or counter the bad behavior. Why? Because
the person is a volunteer, and this particular breed of volunteer will act as
though they are the highest authority on a site. The Volun-Dictator has heard
everyone say how valuable volunteers are, and takes this praise - earned by the
excellent volunteers - as an excuse to throw their weight around. This will
cause grumbling, especially if the crew feels like the Volun-Dictator is given
leave to do whatever they want. In fact, the Volun-Dictator will complain to
you (or your supervisors) that Crew Member is disrespecting ALL of the
volunteers if Crew Member disagrees with or corrects the Volun-Dictator,
and will usually demand the person be punished. You as Team Leader will also be
given the “how dare you disrespect the volunteers” speech if you redirect their
actions. Also, Volun-Dictators tend to drive away the good volunteers: no one
wants to voluntarily work with a chore of a person. I’ve had several volunteers
say they will not come out if they know Person X is going to be there because this is how they feel when working with that person:
The Malcontent
This personality type can often be found in tandem with any
of the above mentioned traits. I’ve most often seen it/heard of it seen in
conjunction with The Insta-Expert, The Woe-Is-Me, or the Volun-Dictator. The
Malcontent is not happy unless they are stirring up active discontent among the
crew. They will usually pick a seemingly insignificant topic to start their
stirring of the poop pot. Here’s a sample conversation:
Mal: You need to go into town for special groceries for me.
I can only drink Organic Golden Moose Sweat.
You: I’m sorry, but that’s a 6 hour round trip on crappy
roads. We weren’t told ahead of time that you needed golden moose sweat, and
our next resupply is in a week. We did tell you to bring in anything special
you might need for yourself. Feel free to have as much of Uncle Buck’s Olde
Timey Moose Sweat as you like - we have several cans.
Mal: That is unacceptable. How dare you tell me ahead of
time to bring in any personal special items and then refuse to run errands for
me during the field season. I AM SPARTICUS!
Replace Golden Moose Sweat with internet/cell phone access, demands
to use field vehicles for personal errands, hard work, mosquitoes, sun, rain,
wind, bears, no plumbing, no outhouse...you get the idea.
After that, the whisper campaign starts, where the
Malcontent will find people on the crew who they think will sympathize with
their plight. They try to act as the champions and saviors for the poor,
mistreated crew. They act passive-aggressively towards you in relation to their
faux cause. They will tell anyone who will listen how poorly you run your field
work. Crew who only hear the Malcontent’s side of events (which is usually the
case, because PIs usually don’t gossip about conversations they’ve had with
other crew members) can also start to grumble on behalf of the Malcontent. When
you do squash the Golden Moose Sweat Rebellion, the ire will redirect itself to
you, personally.
There is no easy way to remove a Malcontent. The best
solution to the Malcontent is prevention: try to work with the person before
the field season begins, or check their references thoroughly. Be warned:
oftentimes Malcontents receive high praise from former supervisors because the
supervisor wants to make damned sure the Malcontent won’t work with them again the
following season. This is the field version of Promoting the Problem. Field
PIs: don’t do this, please.
If you do find yourself saddled with a Malcontent
mid-season, it’s best to quell their behavior early before it infects the rest
of the crew. This may involve ejecting the person from your crew as soon as
possible. Be prepared to shoulder the expense of removing the Malcontent. In
the words of the famous credit card company: “A Malcontent-free crew is
priceless. For everything else, there’s the Credit Card.”
The only way I can think of to deal with these behavioral traits
is two-fold: make sure you have the list of activities ready (and in
hard copy), as well as a Code of Field Conduct package that crew/volunteers must read and
sign before heading out into the field with you. If they develop these traits while in the field, the only way you can find out if they actually want to be there is to ask them. This doesn't guarantee they will be straightforward with you: they may have their own motivation for sticking it out that you might be unaware of. If they insist that they want to be there, yet continue with the negative behavior, you may have to decide whether it is worth waiting it out until the end of their field shift. Each situation is different.
Thanks to interactions with Woe-Is-Mes, Volun-Dictators, and Malcontents, I now have a Volunteer/Staff Expectations Agreement Form that
anyone going into the field with us must read and sign before they are
field-side. Most people read the list and laugh: they can’t imagine anyone
acting in such a way as to make this form a reality.
I understand.
