All morning, they streamed in and out of what resembled three furniture showrooms, examining the tables, chairs, sofas and general decor.
Alison Kirkland plopped onto a couch and surveyed the scene. Rising, she said, “I do really like this.”
Like the others, Kirkland was not a shopper, per se. Instead of pulling out a credit card, they scribbled their impressions on paper and stuffed it in a makeshift ballot box. Then they headed down the hall to resume their work duties in the Alpharetta office building of LeasePlan USA, a provider and manager of commercial fleet vehicles.
Some conference and meeting rooms are under consideration for remodeling. Employees were invited to offer input on the plan, as they are for almost all management decisions.
“I mean, who does that?” Carolyn Edwards, a 21-year LeasePlan veteran, asked rhetorically. Other employers, she added, “would just go out and buy it” without welcoming suggestions from those who would actually use the furniture.
Such is the underlying philosophy at LeasePlan under gregarious, irreverent CEO/president Mike Pitcher. He solicits ideas, several of which ultimately are implemented, on a wide range of areas that cover perks and benefits, social activities and philanthropic involvement.
“Put the inmates in charge of the asylum,” said Pitcher, colorfully describing an approach that helped LeasePlan earn recognition as the premier workplace among mid-sized entrants (150-499 employees) in the Workplace Dynamics survey for the second time in three years.
LeasePlan already was trending in the direction of heavy employee engagement when Pitcher took charge five years ago. He stayed — and accelerated — the course, explaining, “I’ve been at places before where work is tough. It was always heads down.”
An outsider dropping in on LeasePlan’s workday is prone to head-spinning. While casual-apparel days are common elsewhere, its employees — known as “team members” in LeasePlan lingo — indulge in jeans-optional Mondays and Fridays. Only on Wednesdays are they expected to dress up.
An entire month of denim was once observed. “Somebody wanted a jeans’ year,” Pitcher said. It became the rare rejected proposal.
No telling when a Ping-Pong or miniature golf tournament will break out. Thanksgiving means one thing: bowling in the parking lot, with frozen turkeys instead of balls scattering the pins.
“Let them choose,” Pitcher said, “as long as the results of their work are what you are looking for.”
Pitcher could not recall an activity that has been tried and abandoned, though he did admit that the Friday football tailgate last fall, for which workers wore their favorite teams’ jerseys, stretched too deep into the afternoon and might have to be whistled sooner to a halt.
Health and charity are driving forces around much of the hubbub. Both components are so embedded in the culture that they are marshaled by committees — Fun At Work and LeasePlan Cares.
Some workers engage in Weight Watchers, which, naturally, involves yet another competition — LeasePlan’s version of “Biggest Loser.” Lunchtime speakers impart advice on fitness and nutrition.
Participation often requires a donation that is designated for any of numerous charities. In the annual month-long campaign to raise awareness for prostate issues, male employees sprout mustaches. What began as a solo act has blossomed to as many as 25 hairy upper lips, with $11,000 raised in the past three years.
Contributions come in doses small and large. When a children’s shelter was in sudden need of a permanent vehicle, Pitcher answered with a gift bus that he valued at $50,000.
The company can afford it. In 2010, LeasePlan set out to accomplish what Pitcher dubbed the Triple Crown — meeting specified goals for employee and customer satisfaction, plus financial return for the owners of the private firm.
The timeline called for the strategic plan to be met by 2015. The Triple Crown finish line arrived early, all three goals being met last year. It prompted Pitcher to record a video in which he walks down hallways and into offices, rapping about a reward he promised after downing “too many Jager bombs:” a $1,500 bonus for each employee, regardless of length of tenure, plus a party.
Dubbed “Prom Night,” the bash took place at the World of Coca-Cola. Celebrants were greeted there with another humorous video that featured employees at work lip-synching to Miley Cyrus’ “Party In The U.S.A.” while clad in costumes and masks hauled to their offices.
Pitcher acknowledged that traditionalists on the payroll might take a dim view of such frivolity. “LeasePlan is not for everyone,” he said. During job screenings, management assesses candidates based partly on if they will fit in.
Even the more conventional employees likely feel grateful for the generous benefits, notably profit-sharing and all-expenses-paid medical coverage for those with at least 10 years of experience. On-the-clock job training is encouraged, and appreciative workers averaged 36 hours last year.
To businesses that might wonder if LeasePlan goes overboard, Pitcher has this comeback: “We get back from employees more than we give.”
In many ways, the company is mainstream. It claims to operate on four philosophical pillars, chiefly respect. Not just for clients, but for each other.
Pitcher cited a departed employee who sought to be rehired. His track record was impressive but he was judged disrespectful to colleagues. He was not brought back.
Back in one of the three impromptu furniture showrooms, employees were overwhelmingly giving a thumbs-up to the proposed office makeover. One suggested cubbyholes for storing yoga mats. It was unclear if she were kidding or serious.
Later, Pitcher proposed that beanbags be hauled out for future meetings on Fridays. He was not joking.
“They always are trying to get our feedback,” employee Kirkland said.
Jesse McWhorter was collecting forms with evaluations of the furniture, part of his side duties as a Fun At Work committee member.
“LeasePlan is a killer place,” he said, “making sure the employees think this is a second home to them.”
In each room, workers fetched a card from a deck of playing cards. At a come-one, come-all lunch that day, as Pitcher stood and expressed thanks for the written comments, two playing cards were flashed on a projector screen. Each employee matched the “community” cards with their own three to form a poker hand.
The winner — with a full house — was given a free weekend stay at Lake Lanier Islands Resort. The lucky recipient was a recent hire. “She’s been here, like, four hours,” Pitcher joked.
As lunch adjourned, the boss delivered a few high-fives and a friendly reminder for the afternoon ahead: “Let’s go make some money.”
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