EVS LIVES MATTER

The Executive Director role in EVS stands vacant. A new person will eventually step in — whether as an interim or permanent hire. And whenever leadership changes, people naturally start hoping maybe this time things will be different. Maybe this person will listen. Maybe this person will fix what has been broken. Maybe this person will finally see what workers have been dealing with all along. Maybe. But let’s be honest with ourselves. No new department head arrives untouched by the structure above them.

Supervisors, shift managers, associate directors, division heads, departmental directors, even an executive director — none of them operate in a vacuum. They exist inside a long hierarchy of power, pressure, politics, metrics, budgets, strategic plans, and executive priorities that shape what they can do, what they focus on, and sometimes what they are willing to see.

Meanwhile, we see something entirely different.We see the work as it actually happens. We see the chaos. We see the micromanagement. We see the overcomplicated processes. We see the pointless extra steps. We see the daily confusion. We see the decline of what was once a flawed but somewhat functioning workflow. We see the constant distractions pulling people away from the real purpose of the work. And that purpose matters. The hospital does not run because of org charts and leadership bios. It runs because people do the work.

The housekeepers cleaning patient areas. The techs taking images. The staff transporting patients. The people in procedural areas. The people feeding patients. The workers turning over rooms, maintaining the environment, supporting care, and keeping the place moving. That is not background labor. That is the operation. That is patient care in practice. Without the workforce, what do they really have? That is the part institutions love to forget.

And when workers get angry — after years of being dismissed, overworked, stereotyped, or talked down to — that anger gets used against them. They catch us at our worst moment, slap a label on us, and throw us in a bucket. “There go those EVS Workers again. They’re always angry. They’re difficult. They’re dramatic. They complain about everything”. And just like that, the stereotype becomes a shield. A way to avoid hearing what is actually being said. So the goal now is bigger than just speaking up. The goal is to speak up in a way that cannot be casually dismissed.

Learning how to meet power on its own playing field without losing ourselves in the process has never been our strong suit. Spend enough time in EVS and you’ll understand that the outrage is 100% justified. But uncontrolled outrage without action is a tantrum. It is strategy that makes change possible. It means developing the kind of political acumen that forces people to take us seriously — not because we suddenly became less angry, but because we became more disciplined. That starts with one important shift: Stop bringing only frustration. Start bringing patterns.

A single complaint is easy to brush aside. A repeated pattern is not.“This is unfair” can be ignored. “This has happened six times this month on the same shift under the same circumstances, and here is how it affected workflow” lands differently. That is where ordinary workers build power. Not by needing fancy titles. Not by speaking corporate. Not by pretending everything is fine. By being able to clearly say: This is what is happening. This is who it affects. This is why it matters. This is what needs to change.

That is not beyond the average EVS Employee’s skill set. That is absolutely within reach. In fact, that may be one of the most important skills workers can build right now. If you want people above you to hear the grievance, do not walk in with twenty scattered frustrations and years of rage spilling out in every direction. Walk in with one or two clear issues, examples that show the pattern, and a practical ask.

Keep a simple log. Nothing fancy. Date. Shift. What happened. Who was affected. What the impact was. That alone can transform “they’re just complaining again” into “they are documenting an operational problem.”

When you speak, stay calm on purpose. Not because they deserve softness, but because composure is power. People in authority often expect frontline workers to come in hot. They are prepared for emotion. They are prepared for venting. They are prepared to write you off as unstable, hostile, or impossible to please. What they are less prepared for is somebody who looks them dead in the face and says:“This is a recurring issue.” “This is affecting our ability to do the work.” “This is creating confusion and preventable problems.” “We are asking for this to be addressed in a structured way.” That kind of composure is not weakness. It is control. It keeps the focus on the issue instead of handing them an excuse to make the conversation about your tone. And let’s be clear: being composed does not mean being passive. It means refusing to let them drag you into a version of yourself they already planned to dismiss.

It also means workers have to stop turning on each other. Every time we get pulled into petty, gossipy, side beef, or “how come she got this and I didn’t,” we help bury the real issue under noise. That is exactly how systems stay protected. Keep workers divided, reactive, and focused on each other long enough, and the bigger pattern never gets the attention it deserves. Solidarity is not just a slogan. It is a strategy.

If leadership is changing, then this is the time to organize, compare notes, identify recurring concerns, and decide which issues actually matter enough to bring forward. Not every irritation deserves escalation. But the ones that affect dignity, staffing, workflow, fairness, safety, retention, and the ability to do the work properly absolutely do.

And when those issues are raised, they should be raised as shared concerns whenever possible. Not: “I’m mad.”But: “We keep seeing the same problem.” “This is affecting staff across shifts.” “This is creating unnecessary burden.” “This is taking time away from core duties.” “This is not helping patient care.” “This is not sustainable.”That is how workers stop sounding “difficult” and start sounding undeniable. Becaus

Realistically, workers should not have to translate their humanity into polished executive language just to matter. But if that is what it takes to get through the filter, then learn the language and use it better than they do. Call the chaos what it is. Call the inefficiency what it is. Call the disrespect what it is. But do it with enough structure, enough consistency, and enough self-command that the people hearing it have a harder time pretending not to understand. That is political acumen. Not sucking up. Not becoming fake. Not letting go of your anger. Using your anger with precision.

Maybe that is the real challenge in moments like this. Not waiting for the next leader to come save everybody. Not pinning all our hopes on one new face in one office, but by becoming so clear, so organized, and so grounded in the truth of the work that whoever steps into leadership has no choice but to reckon with what is actually happening below them. Because yes, leadership matters. But workers matter more.

This place runs because people show up and do the work. It runs because rooms get cleaned. Patients get moved. Meals get served. Equipment gets used. Procedures get done. Spaces stay functional. Care keeps moving. That is not small. That is not replaceable. That is not something to look down on. That is the engine.

So how do we get heard? We get heard by being organized. We get heard by bringing patterns, not just pain. We get heard by staying composed enough to protect our credibility. We get heard by refusing to be baited into stereotypes. We get heard by standing together long enough for the truth to become impossible to dismiss. Because the minute workers realize their value and learn how to present it with discipline, the whole game changes.

They can keep the titles. We keep the place running.