The 2020 HR
I’ll never forget the way my office carpet felt on my knees as I crawled on the ground unplugging every cord under my desk to bring home at midnight. I was crying with my office door shut and not one other soul on campus. The pandemic had finally reached my company and after advocating for weeks to have our employees work from home, we had the go ahead.
The day was a shit show. As the only headquarter based HR professional left on site I managed a day, at that time, I thought impossible. And at the end I was left crawling on the carpet under my desk, tears streaming down my face, unplugging my equipment. The tears not from fear but loneliness; because when you do HR right, you are lonely.
You are an island of calm reassurance, the steady giving tree with no reciprocation expectations, and that’s what we sign up for every day, every pandemic, every crisis.
It was the start of The 2020 HR.
Because that day turned out to be cake.
That day of handling employee fear, anger, partnering with IT and Facilities, global communications, looking hundreds of employees and leaders in the eyes and saying, “I’ll see you on a Teams video call tomorrow morning. You’re okay, we’re okay”, gently reminding employees not to pilfer supplies, ignoring my own family texts and calls, and finally getting my own work from home set up started was nothing compared to the next months HR collectively faced.
The 2020 HR has been a collective and silent trauma that isn’t being voiced for a multitude of reasons - we’re meant to bear business burdens, employees and leaders have never considered HR actual humans, we ourselves are afraid of our emotions (especially rage).
The 2020 HR has outperformed every single other department, and we can’t say it.
As the harmonizers, cheerleaders, and includers, The 2020 HR has lifted entire busses singlehandedly off of the crushed and frantic bodies of companies and been told to move right along to the next crisis without celebrating their own victory.
The 2020 HR has set down their notetaking, leaned closer to their computer screens, and looked deep into the eyes of minority employees as they weep for another murdered black man or woman in America; and then The 2020 HR is told to be politically neutral.
We’ve been told politics aren’t about people, which is horse-shit dressed up by SHRM and the C-Suite.
The 2020 HR pulls 80 hour weeks, gains weight, misses memories with their families, battles their own demons, and isn’t allowed to miss one email without fear of verbal abuse.
The 2020 HR has been so flexible they’ve broken, rebuilt, shattered, glued themselves together, and hasn’t uttered a word of that excruciating brokenness to a soul.
The 2020 HR has had business leaders, coworkers, and employees turn on them, undermine them, betray previous positive rapport, destroy purposeful culture, and had no ally to turn to.
The 2020 HR who’s own career goals have been put so far on the backburner it’s almost like they don’t exist anymore.
This 2020 HR that’s found themselves as candidates for the first time in decades has been scrutinized, demoralized, thrown aside, minimized, spit on, despite their heroic lifts. Accept less pay, accept any job, take anything regardless of how heroic you are.
All at the same pay.
All while silent.
All with mounting expectations and no additional FTEs.
This 2020 HR, the glorious ruins HR that stand in the darkest shadows of the most horrible year we have faced with tears and sleepless nights, red eyes and distraught families and financial struggles, The 2020 HR that gets up to chase dreams without sleeping, that code employee separations as “death” and then turn on a video call three minutes later, The 2020 HR that trudge through the bloodiest battlefield as the frontline taking bullet after bullet….
That 2020 HR…
They will see the sunrise again.
These warriors of this world who won’t be written about in the New York Times or Forbes or Time will collectively stand together, hand in hand, and watch the sunrise on their pain and their sacrifice and their herculean efforts.
Goosebumps will ripple on our skin and tears will pour from our faces, our knees might even be weak from this battle; we might look around and not see all the warriors we started with, but we will see this sunrise.
Whether you have to put your head down to shoulder through the darkest part of the night, or you need to pick your head up and suck oxygen into your Olympic Athlete lungs for another day of work, remember why you came.
You are HR. I am HR. The 2020 HR. Don’t you forget.
Now go do the damn thing, you 2020 HR.
