Going without to keep firms going
Fretful workers adjust to furloughs
GREENFIELD - The factory's machines are silent, its workers at home, anxiously waiting.
Three weeks ago, all but five of the 80 employees at the more than century-old metal-cutting plant on Sanderson Street were placed on unpaid furlough, tentatively for six weeks. They realize the business of making tools to create screw threads is shrinking as manufacturing in the United States declines, but never before has the company,
"You don't want it to fall apart on your watch," said Lorin Bradshaw, 54,who has worked at the plant for more than three decades. Bradshaw said he is unhappy about being furloughed but "it keeps [the company] from laying a lot of people off."
Businesses and government agencies nationwide are increasingly using unpaid leaves to cut costs and ride out the recession, according to Paul Shafer, a principal at the human resources company
While manufacturers have traditionally used unpaid time off to adjust payrolls for seasonal declines in product demand, the practice has become widespread because of the slumping economy, according to Peter Doeringer, a professor of econom ics at Boston University.
In Massachusetts, for instance, managers and some other employees at WGBH television, radio, and multimedia will take weeklong furloughs this summer to save about $500,000, and workers at Gentle Giant Moving Co. in Somerville recently opted for a monthlong unpaid leave to avoid layoffs.
At the state level, Governor Deval Patrick has asked executive branch workers to take unpaid days off, and state senators have agreed to furloughs of three to five days to help narrow a budget gap.
Employers who resort to furloughs must balance the need to save money with the importance of maintaining employee morale and loyalty, said Fred Foulkes, a professor of organizational behavior at Boston University. For their part, employees have to decide how long they can afford to get by on reduced incomes before moving on. "I think you tolerate more in the current environment than you would in a stronger economy," Foulkes said.
In the case of Kennametal, executives decided to shutter the plant for six weeks "dependent on business conditions."
"When looking at our options, we always try to take those that will have the least long-term negative impact on our employees," Kennametal spokeswoman Christina Reitano wrote in an e-mail to the Globe.
Workers stopped getting paid on April 20. Most have been to a local career office to apply for unemployment, sign up for resume-writing classes, and figure out their next steps.
"Hopefully, in six weeks, I go back to work," said Jim Flynn, 42, who has worked more than half his life at the factory in this town about 100 miles west of Boston. He is spending his time off caring for his two young daughters while his wife works, looking into college courses, and playing an occasional round of golf. If the plant doesn't reopen soon, Flynn said, he might go to school to train for a new career, "then find another job in town."
But prepping for that possibility only takes up so many hours in days once filled with making screw-thread tools, at an average of $20 an hour. Unemployment pays Flynn and other furloughed employees about half that.
"My first thought was how are we going making the truck payment and the house payment?" Debra Coates said, recalling her reaction when her husband, Shawn, a longtime factory employee, told her about the furlough. "We've cut back on some of the luxury stuff like filling up the house with soda and cookies."
Even though it has become smaller over time, the brick factory, known by some as Plant No. 2, is still closely tied to Greenfield's identity, said town historian Peter S. Miller. It was once part of Greenfield Tap and Die, a metal-cutting operation formed from the consolidation of other shops in 1912. At its peak during World War II, the company was Greenfield's dominant employer, with almost 4,000 workers.
Losing the plant, Miller said, would not only mean fewer jobs but also the end of a historic chapter in the town of about 18,000, which has been associated with the metal-parts industry since 1872.
"There's nothing going to replace it," he said.
Greenfield Mayor Chris Forgey said she is concerned but optimistic about the factory's future, especially since Kennametal is furloughing workers rather than laying them off and shutting the plant down.
"I think everybody is holding their breath right now," Forgey said. "When the furlough was issued, it was for an indeterminate amount of time. And that poses the question in people's minds, 'Will it come back?' "
Kennametal employee Jim Kopec, 55, also wonders - and worries - about the future.
"If we get recalled, how stable is it?" said Kopec, who has worked at the Greenfield factory for about 14 years.
Reitano, the company spokeswoman, blamed the need for furloughs on a "global decline in industrial production" and significantly decreased demand for metal-cutting products.
"We realize these are challenging times and know that these measures will be a hardship for our employees and their families, so we do not come to these decisions lightly," she said.
Some Kennametal employees have been attending weekly support meetings set up by their union chapter to help them cope with being in an economic limbo.
"It's a networking place so we can get together if we have any problems," Mike Letourneau, 55, said at a recent meeting, during which participants chatted about unemployment filings and the poor global economy.
Marie McIntyre, a workplace psychologist in Atlanta, said such sessions are crucial.
"Work fulfills a lot of needs for people besides just money," she said. "You haven't just lost your paycheck. You've lost your sense of accomplishment, your relationships with other people, and for some people, your sense of purpose in the world. And so you need to try to replace some of those things."
Many employees say they have never even contemplated life without the Sanderson Street factory - until now.
"I expected to work another 15 years," Gary Wood, 54, a longtime employee.
"We've worked all our lives," co-worker Kopec added. "You can't just do nothing."
Erin Ailworth can be reached at eailworth@globe.com.