|
That’s hardly
a number to brag about, but then it really doesn’t tell
the whole story, does it? Think about how many minor incidents
get caught up in the statistics…how many carpal tunnel
syndromes and stressed emotions get wrapped into the mix.
But then there are those people confined to beds or riding
around in wheelchairs, unable to engage in all the activities
most of us take for granted. Does it balance out: the nickel-dime
statistic enhancers vs. the serious stuff? You bet it doesn’t.
Even if the numbers were 10:1 or 100:1, the situation would
be disgraceful–but that isn’t the issue, and we
all know it. Indeed, we all know people whose options and
opportunities for a rich and rewarding life have been sliced,
smashed, severed, eviscerated, or in some cases blown into
oblivion by circumstances that in all too many cases were
not only avoidable but stupidly so.
Who’s Responsible
for Safety?
It’s a question
we all need to ask because it’s the first step in firmly
planting ourselves into the equation. Safety can be many things
with a multitude of faces, but while at its core it’s
an individual mindset, it must be accepted by all who share
a set of risks in common for it to be effective.
I don’t know
about you, but I somehow managed to stumble all the way through
my teenage years with absolutely no appreciation for the people
I put at risk by some of my bonehead actions, much less the
number of bullets that somehow missed me in all my ignorance.
In fact, it wasn’t until I arrived at flight school in
Pensacola, FL, that I became acquainted with the subject of
safety–and my possible involvement in it.
"This is the
person responsible for your safety," the sign stenciled
on my bathroom mirror said. In fact, the slogan was stenciled
on nearly every mirror on the base, often accompanied by indelicate
pictures of mangled limbs and bloody stumps emblazoned with
such soul-stirring comments as "Propellers: Sharpest
Blades Ever Honed" or "Flightline Surgery Performed
Without Anesthetics." Best of all was the cartoon showing
the bits and pieces of body emerging from the tailpipe of
a plane, captioned bluntly, "Complacency Kills."
They were the beginning of an immersion treatment in the concept
of safety as complete and overwhelming as performed by any
cult on the planet.
Naval Aviation’s
accident rate for carrier aircraft at the time (1958) was
1.5: one-and-a-half destroyed aircraft for every 1,000 hours
of flight time. Even I could do the math on something that
said that for every 667 flight hours (something that took
less than two years to accomplish), the odds were that I would
destroy an aircraft with a fairly good chance of losing my
life in the bargain. By the ’70s, the Navy’s aircraft
accident rate had been reduced by a full order of magnitude
to 1.3 per 10,000 hours of flight time, and today even that
rate has been more than halved again. Sure the aircraft are
more reliable, the systems more capable, the carriers better
designed and arranged for safe operations, but those are not
so much causes as effects of a culture change that emerged
principally in the ’60s decade and grows stronger every
day.
What Does This
Have to Do With Construction?
Actually a lot,
though many of the connections are just beginning to emerge.
For one thing, the reporting element is far better today than
even a decade ago, so it’s difficult to accurately compare
today’s data with yesteryear’s. For another, there’s
been a significant change in the work force in many areas,
including size, background, language, and fundamental skills
requirements. Certainly we’ve come a long way in designing
safer and more ergonomically sound equipment and reducing
the number and insidiousness of work-site hazards. Without
doubt, we have more and better warning signage, our people
are better equipped and clothed, and we provide better basic
safety training than ever before…but are we winning
the battle?
The answer to this
lies less in statistics and the reports you make out to satisfy
others than in the evidence of your own senses. Safety is
a matter of corporate culture, I think, rather than any objective
rating base, and you–no matter where you sit in the chain
of command–have to ask yourself, "How does my commitment
to safety measure up to my responsibility?"
The construction
industry has gone to a lot of expense and effort to hold state
and federal safety and regulatory agencies at bay despite
its less than stellar record. But not only is this is bound
to change, the impetus for the change is more likely to be
the result of private initiatives than regulatory mandates.
Already a number of large companies–GM, Ford, and Chrysler
to name a few pioneers–will not do business with contractors
and subs with Efficiency Modification Ratings (EMRs) of greater
than 1.0. (EMR is a comparison between all organizations in
a particular business. Less than 1.0 is better than average,
greater than 1.0 is worse.) So what does this mean to you?
It means that these companies have found that it’s not
worth the increased liability to deal with contractors on
the backside of the safety curve–a sound business decision
that is gaining momentum even as you read this. The implications
are short and sweet: Maintain a lower (better) than 1.0 EMR,
or expect to find yourself bidding on fewer and fewer jobs.
Sooner or later state and federal agencies are going to catch
on and join the parade as well and things are going to get
really tight in a hurry.
Once you understand
that, by definition, one half of all the people in your field
will always fall below the 1.0 cutoff point, you might wonder
how your company will survive–and that’s the best
starting point I can imagine for asking yourself again, "How
does my commitment to safety measure up to my responsibility?"
Send
John an Email
|
