Chapter 24 – Traditions and Changes
Wednesday, December 1
NCIS was alive with the spirit of the December holidays. Abby headed a merry band of decorators, festooning the building with garlands and strips of artificial greenery; baubles and red bows added here and there. The red, green, silver and gold was surprisingly harmonious against the orange walls. Vance let the gaiety go pretty much unchecked. It had been a difficult year for NCIS, and the employees deserved some cheer. He did draw the line at letting Abby encircle the pictures on the "Most Wanted" wall with tinsel, afraid that visitors would get the wrong idea.
But other than that, the holidays held sway. Each area had a Christmas tree. Each had a different color scheme or at least a different style of decoration. The one in Vance's office had blue lights and blue and silver balls…sedate and tasteful. The one in the squad room was like the agents: lights blinking in strange patterns, and a hodgepodge collection of ornaments collected over a long time. Around the base of the tree, a toy train carrying "presents" puffed circles around mechanical ice skaters on a reflective, ice-covered lake. NCIS employees, Vance decided, were just kids at heart.
Menorahs also perched here and there. Then there were the poinsettias: a glorious splash of red, pink and white, all over the building, courtesy Vance. He'd bought enough of these cheery, small plants for there to be one for everyone who wanted them.
On each floor was also a collection box for the Marines' Toys for Tots drive. No one should ever forget that in this month of celebrations, there were plenty who were doing without. Little children would be remembered, due to others' generosity. From his office, Vance sometimes turned on the camera that was near the first floor collection box to see if people were dropping off toys. They were. Often, it was the same people, over and over, who accounted for the greatest number of donations. Vance labored at identifying some of them: Lynette Koehler; age 50, never married, no children, loved doing things for kids, preferably anonymously. Analis Torres, 23, who had grown up in a home where giving was valued over receiving. Ward Tyson, 61, father of seven, a beneficiary of the Toys for Tots drive as a child in a poor household in the 1950s, and now a generous supporter for all of his adult life.
Abby had further decorated her lab into overdrive, with colors, lights, and every bit of kitsch imaginable. There must be a few hundred Santa figurines, along with reindeer, snowmen, and Grinches. Snowflakes of all sizes and materials hung everywhere, making one feel almost cold entering the lab. Metallic Christmas music pounded the senses…how had she managed to get or make a mix of Lady Gaga and Susan Boyle both singing "Peace on Earth/The Little Drummer Boy" with the famous Big Crosby and David Bowie duet from 1977? It was stunning…and somehow, very wonderful. Only Abby could make that happen. She offered visitors hot cider to drink. It was a nice touch in the land of snowflakes inside.
Outside, December came into DC with clouds and chilly temperatures, but no snow…yet.
It was the first night of Hanukkah. Vance joined several employees in mid-afternoon for the turning on of the large electric menorah near the building's entrance. He recited along with them.
Baruch ata Adonai elohanu melech ha olam, asher kiddishanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Hanukkah. (Blessed are you our God, Ruler of the world, who makes us holy through your mitzvoth, and commands us to kindle the Hanukkah lights.)
Baruch ata Adonai elohanu melech ha olam, she asa nisim l'avoteinu, bayamim ha-hem, bazman ha zeh. (Blessed are you our God, Ruler of the world, who worked miracles for our ancestors in days long ago at this season).
Baruch ata Adonai, elohanu melech ha olam, sheheheyanu, v'kiyimanu, v'higiyanu, lazman ha zeh. (Blessed are you our God, Ruler of the world, who has given us life, sustained us, and has brought us to this season.)
And he wondered: Why is it only in December that our thoughts turn toward thanks and self-assessment? Why can't we do this the rest of the year?
I guess I have a long way to go toward being the person I want to be.
Thursday, December 2
Tony's words from a few weeks ago came back to Vance as he tried instead to concentrate on next Monday's annual awards ceremony. Leslie had taken a lot of the detail work for the ceremony out of Vance's hands. The awardees had all been notified, and nearly all were eager to participate. Bowing to fiscal realities and technological advances, NCIS was no longer flying in honorees for the ceremony. People who were not local to HQ would instead participate by video conferencing. It was good, but not as "special" as the old way had been. A shame, but the past was the past.
The awards ceremony, Vance knew, meant more to the HQ employees than the people in other locations, simply because they could witness it live (and have two hours away from their desks to do so). This year, NCIS hoped to grow interest in it by video'ing the ceremony and posting it on the agency's internal website.
Tim would lead the video team. He'd accepted the position offer without comment, just a mild nod, according to Gibbs. No award for him this year…nor for Ziva, either. Tim had put Ziva on his video team. Maybe it would be better for them than just sitting on the sidelines.
What a mess. Vance realized that Tony's in-your-face actions had been deliberate; not just a faint chance to bring up Tim and Ziva's marks (very unlikely to happen), but also to force Vance to bring his own down. Tony, the clown, the selfish "fatherless" child, the hedonistic frat boy, really empathized with his teammates so much that he couldn't bear to see them victimized by their own agency, to which they'd given so much. Some sacrifices just shouldn't be allowed to happen. Tony's daring breaking of the rules brought him down to their award-less level.
There was no way out of this, sadly. Vance believed in the regs, for the most part, and it was his job to uphold them. Yet, Tony was right: it wasn't fair.
They say that Life isn't fair. But this wasn't faceless, impersonal Life pulling the strings. The regulations were made by living, breathing, identifiable people. People who were not prophets, but rather civil servants, holding jobs at a particular point in time. People who would eventually retire or move onto other jobs. People who would be replaced by workers with perhaps other ideas, should the occasion arise to question the original determinations.
Just because the regs at this moment stipulated how productivity was measured for performance reviews didn't mean that the regs couldn't be changed for the future years…
Vance started typing an email as fast as he could; his fingers flying over the keyboard. It was addressed to his head of Human Resources and the three deputies, carbon copied to the SECNAV.
Regarding: Performance Reviews and Subsequent Awards
Our current ranking of "points" for productively unfairly weighs in favor of people who take less leave time than others do. If on, say, a work year of X days an employee is absent for Y days, under current rules they are measured against the productivity of an employee who has been present all X days.
A reply came back a minute later from one of the deputies.
We seek to reward people with good attendance over people who take time off.
And then another deputy.
But what about a person who is out sick or injured through no fault of their own? Maybe an on-the-job injury? I think that may be what the Director is getting at. Is it fair to count against them the number of days that they can't work and therefore have no productivity?
Vance cheered (and was glad his correspondents couldn't hear him). Now if only the others would see it her way…
The head of HR weighed in.
I can be convinced of this, but how do you make things equitable?
Kel Paulsen, busy SECNAV, also happened to be on his email then.
Use a percentage system. If a person is incapacitated for work on Y out of X days, then extrapolate what their productivity would have been on the missing days using their performance on their on-duty days. Make this effective only for days with medical leave. If you want, further restrict it to work-related injuries.
It was perfect, or as near to it as they'd likely get.
I like that, Mr. Secretary, said the HR head.
Brilliant! said a deputy.
I'm doubtful about it covering any medical leave. Would we allow it for someone who breaks a leg riding a dirt bike on his own time? Or someone who as elective cosmetic surgery? Restrict it to on-the-job injuries, though, and you'd have my full support, said another deputy.
What she said! Lol, said the third deputy.
Vance typed, That's wonderful. Thank you, Kel. Thanks, Tom, Nadine, Ash and Paul. I think we have a plan.
The HR head said, If we get the wording determined by the 31st, we can put it into effect January 1.
Make it so, Number One, said the SECNAV, an old Star Trek: The Next Generation fan.
Thanks for your time, everyone, said Vance, and got up to stretch. It didn't help Ziva and Tim this year, but it would help someone next year. Sometimes, that was the best that one could hope for.
He already found himself looking forward to the implementation. Maybe it was time to look at the performance review setup in its entirety. Yes. He could put together a study group after the first of the year, and have them go off and study it, and come up with a report by June 30. That would do.
Maybe he should make it July 7, in case the Tour de Vance bicycle race and picnic was scheduled a little later in 2011 than it had been in 2010. Some of the employees had also floated (heh!) the idea of an NCIS day at a water park, in addition to Tour de Vance. That would be fun. Summer would bear on, autumn would come again, and they'd be back in performance reviews again…although the productivity issue would be better.
Vance was eager to see these things come to pass: the fun events, like the picnic; and the enriching ones, like the awards coming out of the performance reviews.
And if the budget was slow in coming again, they'd get by, somehow. If necessary, Vance would go speak before the Senate committee again. They didn't scare him anymore.
And so he realized something: He was also no longer afraid of the start of a blank new year, as he had been way back in early January 2010. No years were truly blank. There was always a clue of what might be coming, if one knew where to look.
Monday, December 6
The awards ceremony ended with a great round of applause. Vance looked out on the sea of smiling faces of the awardees and other attendees. There had been happy tears and laughter, high-fives and lots of handshakes. As usual, Gibbs had been awarded the coveted Special Agent of the Year award. As usual, he went into hiding when it was announced and Tony had accepted it on his behalf.
Before the ceremony, Vance had called Tim and Ziva into his office for a few private words. "Had things been different," Vance said, "you two would be getting an award and a bonus this year. You know that, don't you?"
Tim's eye twitched as he said, "Well…we might have guessed that. But our performance reviews…"
"Looked like crap. I know. You gave to the agency, and it was unwilling to give back. Believe me, I was powerless to change things on your behalf, even though you were in a pickle. I'm sorry."
Ziva lowered her eyes. "We…would not ask you to break agency regulations for us, Director."
"I appreciate that. But you won't have to, after this year. We're writing new regs to prevent this sort of thing from happening again."
Now Ziva's eyes twinkled as she met Vance's. "You are writing regulations that will prevent us from getting shot?"
"As close as we can come to that," Vance smiled.