A Day in the Life

Last summer, I participated in a training, along with my husband, to become a foster parent. As part of the training, we were asked to watch a video from the 1970s, purporting to show viewers “A Day in the Life of a Social Worker.” The glimpse into someone else’s intensity of labor left a lasting impression. Amid the fuzzy, low-resolution and time capsule clothing, the video opened a window onto another’s daily pressures and demands, rhythms and tempos, tough calls and hard lines.

The social worker’s plate was full. The phone was constantly ringing. Someone in a crisis, calling about a child, everything feeling urgent and perilous. Five missed calls, and ten more quickly piling on. Home visits. Principals and parents. Adoptions. Courts. Every second, every minute, every hour filled. The display of calm amidst the frenzy was eye-opening.

The lasting impression of this video was two-fold:

1. The sheer impact of the shadowing – getting to see someone else’s workday unfold was fascinating. It made me wonder what assumptions I would have otherwise made about how her day was spent (especially if I was one of those callers seeking her help).


2. The new definition of urgency – there was no question but that each voicemail message was intended to relay an urgent message; each caller feeling he should be #1 on the return call list. As a viewer myself, I felt like the first call was truly emergent, only until I heard the second call; I was forced to redefine urgency in the moment.

That window-in provided a rare chance to set expectations – to better understand, even before the situation was upon me, that if I didn’t hear back from the social worker right away, it was because there was a more urgent need.

It’s a view we don’t often get. Instead we often make assumptions and feel a boatload of frustration. Why haven’t I heard back? Why don’t I have this yet? Why didn't he prioritize this?

In each of our own work lives, we have to make tough calls and leave some stuff until tomorrow, even when everyone wants it today. We are consistently forced to decide how urgent is urgent. And we end up being more empathetic leaders when we realize that everyone around us is doing the same. As you’re navigating your own plate this week, or while you're waiting on a return call from someone else, you might consider:

  • How are you defining urgency? What might you be able to communicate to others about your approach?

  • What assumptions are you making about other people’s work plates or prioritization efforts?

  • What might surprise you if you had a window into your team members’ work lives right now? How might they be surprised by a window into yours?

Answering those questions don't assure an about-face in perspective, or a magic bullet in prioritization. Still, they promise to offer another lens which might be just the view you needed.

Lauren Laitin