By Phil La Duke
It can and has been said that a little of me goes a long and tedious way, and I suppose that’s true. I just wrapped up a 2300 word beast of an article for Health & Safety International, a collaborative effort on working at height. It’s the third article I’ve written for the publisher in just over a month and the whole ordeal has left me a bit beleaguered and not particularly interested in anything remotely connected to safety. I want to run through a crowded shopping mall snipping scissors in both hands or swing a bag of broken glass in a crowded room of hemophiliacs; in short I need a break from writing about safety for a while.
Entrepreneur provided me a nice outlet where I could let my hair down a bit and take the leash off. After 80 articles, over 70 of which were written in just 14 months, my editor either got tired of defending why he was publishing what could best be described as the lunatic rantings of a seriously deranged and dystopic freak or he himself just got plain sick of my articles. I went from three a week to barely two a month, not that I didn’t put in the work—I have somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 articles in the limbo of the Entrepreneur contributors page about half unread, and all of which highly unlikely to ever see print. Ostensibly the reason is that the water-heads and mouth breathers that read the book don’t read me in enough number to justify giving me space that earnest young writers with 5 Tips for Hiring Millenials; it’s a fair criticism. I don’t get a bunch of indignant safety drones frothing at the mouth over my business writing and writing is a numbers game.
So it’s within in this context and against that backdrop that I give you this weak’s (sic) blog post.
Stop killing their family and friends and bragging about how great a job you’re doing. An alarming number of these spoiled little crybabies actually think that getting their digits torn off by poorly guarded equipment is a bad thing. Hell when I was their ages you weren’t even considered a real worker if you could count higher than seven on both hands, and real men couldn’t count to 15 even when completely naked. Try telling these delicate porcelain dolls about how worker injuries are trending downward and your much-earned self-praise will fall on deaf ears (and not even deaf ears caused by years of exposure to high levels of industrial noise—their deafness is metaphoric.
Pretend that their Workers’ Comp claims are real. I know I will get push back on this, but the new hipster thing is to not fake injuries. These craft beer swilling, beard waxing, prima donnas think that their college educations mean that we don’t know that for the most part all injuries are fake. I once witnessed a man stage his own decapitation and apply for WC claiming he was disabled because he couldn’t wear a hardhat! Does he think we’re simple?!?!? If you want to keep these delicate flowers called millenials involved in worker safety you have to bite your tongue (which, for the record you better not claim as a job-related injury) if one of them gets hurt, and play a long even if the injured youth is clever enough to actually qualify for disability.
Allow for injury causes that aren’t the fault of millennial behavior. We’ve known for almost 100 years that over 85% of injuries are because some jackass did something stupid. We know this because a statistician and eugenics enthusiast said so, and he had it on good authority because he asked the injured workers’ supervisors. We know this even though he lost his (or took no) notes. We know this despite growing evidence that he never even left his office at the insurance agency, but especially we know this because the National Safety Council reaffirmed this sometime in the 1980s and our pantheon of safety heroes and gods grew fat of profits from Behavior Based Safety; somethings you just gotta take on faith. (Not the effectiveness and relative safeness of vaccines or the moon landing, of course, but SOMETHINGS). But the voice of entitlement rings out of the mouth of babes; they greet on about mechanical failures, process failures, about lightning strikes and acts of God. It’s as if they never even heard of Heinrich and his pyramid!
Do more than remind them not to die. I can’t tell you how many times my life has been saved because I saw a crayon poster slathered on the wall reminding me not to die. The wisdom of a child’s drawing begging daddy not to die at work is all but ignored by the young whelps in the workplace today. This spoiled, entitled, generation of special, special, snowflakes want their employers to do more to protect them than having safety BINGOs and pizza parties when they go a month without dying. By the way at what point did pizza become the currency of safety? Is it because pizza looks so gory? That makes some sense.
So there you have the secret to engaging these young workers: stop hurting them, don’t treat them like liars and thieves when they do get hurt, stop funding the retirement funds of the greedy behavioralist authors who slap a different label on 100 year old junk science and sell it to another generation of the lazy and foolish.