As an ombuds, I talk every day with people who are stressed by work. I am also aware that there are numerous self-care resources, and numerous official exhortations to use said resources. And yet I continue to talk with people who are stressed out about work. Some comments I’ve heard have got me thinking that thinking about workplace stress differently might make our efforts at minimizing it more effective.
Let me bracket all of what I’m about to say by admitting that it’s not a theory, just an observation, is rooted entirely in anecdote and personal observation, is being thrown together after a review of exactly zero percent of the literature, and lacks even a hint of empiricism. In other words, I’m just thinking out loud on paper on screen here.
Now, we all know that workplace stress is a problem, particularly for those whose daily work might subject them to unpleasant interactions or difficult experiences. The systems in place to help us process stress seem optimized to handle a certain kind of stress, that resulting from stress we face head-on as part of the job and other stressors accumulated from the work itself. And this is how most of us think of workplace stress: it’s the consequence of the daily grind, the difficult students, the impossible customers, the never-ending workload. That is the stress that’s right in front of us, the one that we don’t mind venting about after work (or even during it). And it’s the one that we are usually encouraged to address and de-stress.
But there’s another kind of stress: the stress that comes not from those in front of us when we work, but from those standing next to—and behind—us.
An example: your work in a call center often deals with rude, profane, and abusive callers. That’s not pleasant, but as time has gone on, you have learned to deal with it. At this point, you even find some gallows humor in the worst of the worst. One shift, after you’ve been hung up on by a particularly irate caller, you are feeling a little stressed, but nothing too bad. Then you find out that all your co-workers are going out after work, and they haven’t invited you. Or they’re gossiping about your social life. Or your supervisor has blamed you for the failure of a policy that they drafted.
You get the point: we develop a certain tolerance, a thicker skin, for the stress coming right at us, but the stress that hits us from the side can shatter us.
Inspired by a comment one of my students made (and for many good things I think about these days, that’s the inspiration), I am shambling towards an engineering analogy. I know almost nothing about engineering, but I did look at this page to fill in some blanks. My apologies in advance for any misunderstandings I may have about materials science and physical stressors, but I think this language might best explain what I am trying to say.
Imagine a cylinder—could be a load-bearing column, or your favorite femur—that is engineered to handle compressive stress—forces pushing down on it. Designed to support a building, or the weight of your body smashing down as you run, these structures are used to this kind of stress, and, if constructed and maintained properly, should bear it well. But adding in shear stress—forces acting from the sides rather than the top or bottom—can cause collapse or a fracture.
In other words, these structures are engineered (or evolve) to tolerate high levels of compression stress but can buckle under shear stress. My analogy is that the front-facing aggravation we face every day is compression stress: it can be brutal, but we have developed ways to cope. We know where the problems are coming from and where to get support if they are too much. But the unexpected slights from peers, the put-downs from supervisors—these are shear stress that can smash even the most resilient person.
After a while, we expect to navigate difficult situations and problematic people when we’re working. We accept on some level that if the job was easy, they wouldn’t have to pay people to do it. And we can manage stress that we see in front of us. We don’t, however, expect the stress to come from those we aren’t facing off against. We expect them to support us, or at the very least not make our lives harder.
Not being used it, not being able to see it coming, makes workplace shear stress more problematic than all but the most acute forms of workplace compression stress. As I said at the start, this observation is based merely on what I’ve heard in my time as ombuds and isn’t the result of any formal study. While respecting the confines of confidentiality, I struggle with expressing just how much more painful those whom I speak with find shear stress from those who are supposed to support them. Yes, visitors raise issues about problems like workload, but there’s still a sense that this is all in the game. Those who have been blindsided, though, bring a sense of loss and confusion that seems hard to come back from.
For the third time, I will say that this is simply an observation. But I will try to push it just a little further (I only feel like I’m really working when my reach exceeds my grasp) by humbly suggesting one way that might mitigate shear stress.
It’s a simple formula: be there for those around you. Never blindside them. We can dress this up in words like accountability or inclusion (both critical elements of any thriving workplace), but it might just come down to treating those you work with respect and care.
If you’re at UNLV and want to talk about shear stress you’re facing—or anything else that you’re unhappy or unsure about—feel free to make an appointment. If you’re elsewhere and have some thoughts, I’d love to chat on Linked In or wherever you’re read this. I think that if we could help reduce shear workplace stress, life could be much better for many, many people.
So until next time, expect the unexpected, stay informed, and I’ll stay informal.
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