GRIN AND BEAR IT: FUN AT WORK

I had lunch today at one of those delightfully tacky restaurants. Things were a little bit slow at this place, which I’ll just call Joe Schmoe’s.  I think there were, at most, four tables occupied.  How happy the wait staff seemed each time another one of those tables filled up!  Whenever the door opened, all of the restaurant staff would yell on cue “Welcome to Joe Schmoe’s!”  But oh, how quickly their enthusiasm wore away as the minutes passed.  A couple of times, I heard a rather sad voice from the kitchen echo in a quieter tone, “Welcome to hell!” immediately after the ceremonial greeting.

Our server brought us our soft drinks and recommended some Schmoe specials.  As we were shouting out our orders to her over a B-52’s song blaring from the speakers overhead, the deejay/bartender’s voice broke in with the announcement, “Awwwwwwwwwright, wait staff, this is your one-song warning for the Macarena!  Get yourself out on the floor and get ready to shake your booty!”

Our poor server’s perky smile fell into a frown and she shook her head with disgust. A couple of minutes later, she and four other servers were standing in the middle of the restaurant delivering a zombie-like performance of the Macarena dance.  I was embarrassed for them, and relieved when the song finished.  I thought the worst of it was behind us, but then all the servers were rallied back to the dance floor for an equally depressing performance of the Electric Slide just after dessert arrived.  It was beyond tragic.  I realized today that there are few things more painful than “forced fun” at work. 

I found myself thinking back to a special children’s event at the hospital where I used to work.  I wore a teddy bear costume for an audience of first-graders who came to visit the facility to learn about patient care.  It was a creative, entertaining way for kids to learn about what happens in a health care facility, and hopefully take some of the fear out of a trip to the hospital.  After children witness a giant bear getting an X-ray or stitches, they quickly see that it’s not so bad.  Had we left it at that, it would have been a perfect, fun day for all.

 But at some point, a Polaroid camera came out of hiding, and teachers wanted their first graders to get a class picture with the giant bear.  “Won’t it be fun to get our pictures taken with the bear?”  I heard someone say.  This involved me, in bear costume, sitting down on a bench while dozens of children piled around me, grabbing, kicking, and squeezing every body part that they could get their hands on.  One little boy decided that he wanted to give me a hug, and when he wrapped his arms around me, he gasped in complete surprise.  “Hey everyone!” He cried out to his classmates, “This bear is a girl!  It’s got boobs!” 

Being the curious, delightful children that they were, they couldn’t just take his word for it.  They had to feel for themselves.   I vaguely remember a teacher’s voice frantically crying out, “Boys and girls!  Get your hands off of that bear’s boobs!”  But little good it did.  I went toppling off the bench onto my backside, where I was left completely defenseless as first graders piled on top of me and continued their hands-on assessment of the bear’s gender.   It took a couple of minutes for the teachers to restore order, but to my relief, a “no touching” rule was quickly imposed and we finished the photo shoot without further incident.

Oh, but the fun didn’t end there.  “Hey,” one of my colleagues said, “wouldn’t it be fun to take the bear up onto the floors and greet patients?  It would probably cheer them up!”  So up we went onto the patient care units.  Through the mesh eyes of the bear head, I remember seeing a lot of confused stares from people in wheelchairs and hospital beds.  One of them, a feisty elderly lady, had a particularly strong reaction when I poked my head in the door of her room to wave to her.  “I rebuke you!”  She yelled at me. “In the name of Jesus, get the hell out!”

It was a bad day to be a giant bear in a hospital.   After being kicked, squeezed, fondled, and rebuked, I was ready to get the costume off and go home.  The big lesson that I took away from that experience is that everyone has a different idea of what ‘fun’ is.  Humor is like personality and communication in that we each have our own styles and preferences.  I’ve tried to be sensitive about humor at work since that time, and not impose my idea of fun onto other people.   

I have a dear friend named John Furnell who works as an educator at a healthcare system in South Carolina.  I think John may have figured out the perfect formula for fun at work.  He’s outgoing and fearless, a master of improv and a natural comedian.  He has a deep understanding of the seriousness of health care, and recognizes that health care professionals deal with overwhelming stress.  He knows that good-natured, respectful humor can help lighten that load, so he goes to work every day on a mission to bring smiles and laughter to his colleagues.  John doesn’t mind being goofy for a laugh.  He’ll dress up as his alter ego, “Dr. J,” and completes the look with a doctor’s coat, crazy wig and thick glasses.  Then he’ll walk around and greet co-workers, while telling jokes and freely dispensing bizarre diagnoses after he listens to their heads with a stethoscope, or checks the blood pressure in their ankles.  He gives out as treatment boxes of candy, to include Chuckles, Smarties, and Goobers.  (His nametag, in fact, declares that he is a Board Certified Gooberologist).   It’s amazing to see the heartfelt smiles and laughs that follow.  On the rare occasion that Dr. J runs across a “patient” that doesn’t seem interested in playing along, he conveniently gets a call on his cell phone.  Then he loudly begs to be excused to talk to his lawyer about the malpractice claims piling up against him.  It’s a beautiful thing to watch him in action. 

Few people would be comfortable dressing up in costume and making rounds in a health care organization for the sake of good humor, which is why John doesn’t ask it of anyone else.  He’s the kind of person who would be the first to jump up and do the Macarena or the Electric Slide, but would never drag you onto the dance floor with him if it wasn’t your idea of a good time.  Humor is his gift, and it is the good medicine that he dispenses with respect and compassion, when and where needed.

How do you have fun at work?  Share your stories!  I can bearly wait to read them.