Read the case "For Better or Worse."As Bill's superior, what short run course of action will you take? What policies or procedures might decrease the probability of similar occurrences in the future? Does your agency bear some responsibility for Bill Evans's misfortune? Do you

Case: For Better or Worse

Practically everyone in the executive staff at the Philadelphia regional office of a national voluntary agency is shocked by the news. Bill Evans, an acknowledged contender for the assistant director's position, has sent in his letter of resignation. It arrived, without warning, by registered mail on Monday, February 7. By Wednesday, Bill has not dropped by the office to explain. His personal effects are still scattered throughout his desk, his galoshes lie at the foot of his clothes tree, and the huge greeting card he received from his staff on his 40th birthday is still gaily decorating his credenza.

You are Bill's superior, away on an extended business trip when his certified letter of resignation arrives. Your secretary has your standing order to open certified letters that arrive in your absence. Somehow, the word about the resignation gets around. Your secretary is finally able to contact you at 9 A.M. on Tuesday. She tells you the news and apologizes for "the word already being out." You do some quick backtracking on Wednesday, February 9, when you return from the business trip.

The formal record provides some clues about Bill's action of February 7. This was his fifth assignment for the agency. His family had made their fourth long-distance move about seven months before when he moved to the Philadelphia office. He was in the Atlanta area for five years previously and received two solid promotions there. He has come a long way, and many have predicted he could go much higher if he wished.

A few discreet inquiries among Bill's close acquaintances in the agency provide some illuminating details. His wife and four children-ages 17, 15, 13, and almost 7-were settled deeply into their suburban community outside Atlanta and reacted poorly to the news of another possible move. Bill looked forward to his promotion but experienced very mixed feelings about leaving Atlanta. He was coach of a Little League team there, his membership in the local Catholic Church was fulfilling, and he was a Big Brother to a local black youth-a relationship he wanted to maintain. Perhaps most important, his Atlanta job permitted him to spend more time with his wife and family. The Evanses lived close to Bill's office, so he spent little time commuting. In addition, no one was very concerned when Bill left work early on those days when his wife wanted him around the house.

After a considerable period of indecision, the promotion and promise of still bigger things became compelling. The Evans family left Atlanta for Philadelphia. Things quickly went from bad to worse for the Evanses. Their youngest, a son, had the most immediate reaction. He began to experience nightmares just before leaving for Philadelphia in August. The nightmares continued for several months and intensified enough to make the boy's first full year at school a major trial for him. The nightmares became less of a problem over time, but his adjustment to school was difficult and his academic progress remained unsatisfactory. He was placed in the slowest reading group in his new school, although he had done above-average schoolwork in Atlanta.

The two oldest children, girls aged 17 and 15, also seemed to react strongly to the move. Their relationship with their mother had been uneven for several years, but suddenly it turned tempestuous. Changing high schools seemed a major factor, and both girls resented not being able to graduate with "their class." The older girl also left behind a steady boyfriend, the captain of his high school basketball team.

Bill often became the pawn in the blustery encounters between the girls and his wife. Both his daughters and his wife competitively sought to gain his good favors, and even when he succeeded in not committing himself to one side or the other, tears and pouting tended to follow. Bill felt caught in the middle. Bill's wife, Arlene, experienced the greatest adjustment problems. At first, the excitement of buying a new, and more expensive, house kept her going. But that experience soon palled. The Evanses went in over their head for the brick house they finally settled on within commuting distance of Bill's office. It was much less house than they had owned in Atlanta, and more costly. Bill also had a 40-minute commute each way. Consequently, he would have been around the house less even if his new job had not required a lot more of his time. His new job demanded a lot of time to begin with and stayed that way. New responsibilities were continually added to his job just as he mastered the old. Moreover, Arlene, his wife, had trouble "fitting in." The families in their new neighborhood tend to be younger. Many of the wives are college-educated and their husbands seem to make more money than Bill, or at least they live like it. Arlene is older than most of her neighbors and feels somewhat "dowdy" in comparison to the other wives. She finished high school but could not envision four years in college. She is what her Atlanta neighbors called a "good old country girl," with all the simpler virtues. Arlene first grieved for awhile about the loss of her very satisfying neighborhood relationships in Atlanta, then aggressively sought to establish herself in her new neighborhood. Her efforts were personally unsatisfactory, although it seemed to Bill that their neighbors accepted and even liked his wife. The reasons Arlene marshaled as underlying her dissatisfaction were numerous. She considered her new neighbors aloof and distant; Arlene did not care for bridge, "the" local game, and her new neighbors sometimes poked fun at her southern accent and that of her children. Over time, an increasingly deeper depression set in.

Arlene had barely been a social drinker in Atlanta, but soon after moving to Philadelphia, her cocktail hour began to start progressively earlier and to end later. There have been several stormy encounters between Bill and his wife over the past few months about what he calls her "drinking habit." Her standard retort has been, "You have your new job; I have my new pleasure." Matters came to a crescendo on Friday, February 4. A small dinner party had been arranged for that evening, with the Evanses for the first time planning to entertain two of Bill's close work associates and their spouses. About 3:30 that afternoon, however, Bill called home to tell his wife that he probably would be late getting home and to ask her to entertain the guests until he arrived.

"Don't hurry," she replied. "There's no dinner party tonight. Call it off. Your daughter has run away. I just found her note." Bill sensed a slurring of his wife's speech that suggested her cocktail hour had already begun. Bill was still gathering details from his wife as he penciled a note to his secretary to cancel the dinner engagement. Their oldest girl, he learned, had skipped school that day, apparently to fly back to Atlanta for the big basketball game at her former high school.

The note she had left behind was vague, but it was reasonable to surmise where she had gone and why. Bill asked his wife to call some of their old Atlanta friends to see if they knew anything. Arlene replied: "Never! Not my friends!" then hung up abruptly. Bill hurried through the work that kept him late that day, agitated but still controlled. His anger at his wife was growing, as was his concern about his daughter. His drive home was a little reckless. When Bill arrived home, he found his wife in the living room, lolling on the sofa, obviously well into her "new pleasure." Two of the children were in their bedrooms, sobbing softly. Before the weekend was over, Bill had his letter of resignation in the mail.