Sandwiched tightly between Top Brass and the
teaming masses sits a wild-eyed individual madly singing a
safety tune. He's the most misunderstood, maligned and
unsung person in all the world of business. He's the
proverbial "SAFETY PROFESSIONAL".
This fellow's a little bit of all strata's....a member of
none. To the employee or worker he's a tool of management;
to management, he's just another employee.
He finds his job interesting. He speaks for management from
the "Ivory Tower" and then runs out to the Production Area,
Warehouse or Work Site to hear how it sounds. He must keep
his head in the "brass' board room", his feet in the
muck.... a difficult position to keep from falling on his
butt.
He has the curiosity of a cat....the tenacity of a mother in
law...the determination of a taxi driver...the nervous
system of a race car driver...the digestive capacity of a
goat...the simplicity of a jackass...the diplomacy of a
wayward husband...the hide of a rhinoceros...the speed of a
rocket and the good humour of an idiot.
He has the busiest, shrewdest, plottingest, worryingest,
most thoroughly washed brain of any human. His mail basket
is always full, his desk is a constant mess and his calendar
looks like cave drawings. Nobody has been given the
run-around as often, has been passed so many bucks, is left
holding so many bags, and has cut his way through so much
red tape.
The SAFETY PROFESSIONAL keeps the coffee plantations,
aspirin plants, liquor distilleries and the midnight oil
companies in business. He must tread lightly over mountains
of eggs, knowing where to tread and, more importantly, when
and where NOT to tread. You'll find him
everywhere...shouting loudly over the din of a bunch of
roaring engines, whispering softly in the hallowed precincts
of thick-carpeted offices.
Whenever there is an accident, the SAFETY PROFESSIONAL is
often called in to explain why and how it happened. He's
expected pull rabbits out of nonexistent hats; when the job
is thankless, he gets it. He must engender interests in good
housekeeping to people who live in garage sale clutter
...promote wider responsibility to people who have a narrow
focus ... preach safety to people who think they don't need
it. He must listen to the phrase, 'that's always the way
we've done it," until he vomits.
Despite all the careful planning he is usually found
dangling on a deadline...he's the original cat on the hot
tin roof...in the middle of a muddle and of course LATE. The
master of understatement, he must make fire protection sound
as essential as religion and an accident cost sound like the
national debt.
He's suppose to be a "specialist" who can breath new life
into committees and meetings... leadership into
management... cooperation into supervisory personnel...
responsibility into employees/workers. He must inspire
without propaganda... propagandize without being obvious. He
parks his 1980's jalopy between the boss' new Mercedes and
the janitor's SUV. When he's clever, it goes
unnoticed...when he stubs his toe, the world is there to see
and mock it.
To him a headache is normal; he'd have ulcers if he could
afford them. He has more critics than Harry Truman. He meets
more people who think they know more about safety than the
company has conveyor hooks.
He can never be right. When he simplifies, he's pandering.
When he gets a little technical, he's over their head. Half
the people wonder what he does... the other half know what
he does but think he's doing it wrong! When an idea turns
out lousy and after the blame has been thoroughly kicked
between the employee/worker, foreman and supervisor, it
winds up in his lap.
More people bend his ear than anybody else's. Everybody
thinks he always has time to stop and listen to a
joke...hear a gripe...attend a meeting... serve on a
committee. He does, and winds up taking most of his work
home.
He has no peer in the realm of praise, propaganda and
procrastination. He knows he's right; only the world thinks
he's wrong. If he has an idea, it was stolen. However, a
stolen idea is research! Where else do you think the
background material for this sad tale of woe about a Safety
Professional originated?