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Full Download PDF of Nursing Leadership and Management, 1st Canadian Edition PowerPoints All Chapter
Full Download PDF of Nursing Leadership and Management, 1st Canadian Edition PowerPoints All Chapter
Full Download PDF of Nursing Leadership and Management, 1st Canadian Edition PowerPoints All Chapter
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Copyright © 2015 Pearson Canada Inc. 3- 1
Chapter Overview
• Power and politics—differing perspectives on use in
organizations
• Power relationships in the workplace—sources of power
of actors in units/departments
• Positive and negative perceptions of power and politics
in workplace
• Organizational structures that empower employees
• Power
– Negative perceptions
• Dominance over others
• Hold-over from pre-democratic periods where
leader was cruel tyrant
• Social inequality, abuse and rule by elites
• Westerners showed a negative association
between power and cooperation.
• Differing cultural views of power may lead to
differing psychological and behavioural
consequences in the workplace.
Copyright © 2015 Pearson Canada Inc. 3-9
LO #3: Debate the positive and negative
perceptions of power and politics in the
workplace
• Power
– Positive perceptions
• Contributes to order and effectiveness
• Westerners showed positive association between
power and reward
• Politics
– Positive perceptions
• The constructive reconciliation of competing
causes-by which diverse interests and views can
be sorted out in a just way.
• Politics
– Negative perceptions
• Competing interests and goals, jockeying for a
favourable position, or approval of one over
another
• When politics becomes dominant force in
organization, it affects legitimate power.
• Politics
– Negative perceptions (cont’d)
• “A domain of activity in which participants attempt
to influence organizational decisions and activities
in ways that are not sanctioned by either the formal
authority system of the organization, its accepted
ideology or certified expertise”
• Political strategies
– Ways in which people develop and use power
to their advantage to influence a decision
and/or achieve goals
– Actors in political process consider their own
sources of power and that of others to
develop strategies
• Political strategies
– Push strategies
• Threaten or force others to change behaviour
through assertiveness, sanctions, or blocking
through non-cooperation
– Pull strategies
• Positive motivation to influence behaviour through
recognition, benefits, or the satisfaction of needs
and goals
• Political strategies
– Persuasion strategies
• Appeal to logical reasoning or convincing others
about behaviour in relation to goals
– Preventive strategies
• Designed to prevent an issue from arising and may
involve focusing attention elsewhere, avoiding a
topic, or leaving it off an agenda
• Political strategies
– Preparatory strategies
• Aimed at preparing the ground or creating the
conditions favourable to other strategies and range
from the way in which someone dresses to create
an impression, to ordering the agenda in a
favourable way, to simply pouring on the charm
• Political games
– Patterns of behaviours engaged in by political
actors who attempt to achieve their own ends,
rather than the overall good of the whole
organization
– “Game” is used because the pattern reflects a
set of rules that may or may not be explicit
– Involves positions and moves by the players
who set out with similar bases of power as
they seek to “win”
Copyright © 2015 Pearson Canada Inc. 3 - 24
LO #7: Identify the types of situations in health
care organizations that give rise to use of power
and politics
• It is likely that you will engage in the
exercise of power and politics.
• Certain conditions and events that are
more apt to give rise to political behaviour.
Yelling wildly through the night, the other Palo Verde riders came
pounding over the sand. Sandy Larch, who, with Mrs. Hallard, had
been investigating the extent of Broome’s injuries, straightened up.
“Where’s Westcott?” he shouted. “Any of you seen the black
hound? Wing Chang said he had something to do with this business.”
Broome gave a sort of howl, whether of pain or of protest, no one
heeded, no one cared. The new-comers crowded around the foreman.
“Where is he?” They demanded, excitedly, “Which way’d ’e go?”
“Search me,” was Sandy’s reply. “He must a’ drifted before I come
up. All I know is Wing Chang said he was one o’ the devils after
Gard.”
Hickey, who had been taken with the others, roused from his
drunken slumber at the sound of Westcott’s name.
“He ain’t here,” he muttered, “Weshcott’s in Sylvania, takin’ care of
’s health. Thash where he ish.”
The cowboys were off before he had finished, and as no one
noticed him, he slumbered again.
“What will they do with him?” whispered Helen. She had drawn
away from Gard when the others appeared, but he still held her
hand.
“Nothing, dear,” he replied. “They won’t find him. He’s safe at
Sylvania. I only wish you were as far away from here as he is.”
“She will be in a shake,” Sandy Larch called, overhearing him. “An’
so’ll you be, too.”
Sandy had assured himself that bad whiskey and rage were more
responsible for Broome’s groans than the bullet which had shattered
his collar-bone, and ploughed his shoulder. The fellow’s howls and
oaths had been silenced by a kick, and no longer made night hideous.
“Sago,” Sandy said, turning to one of his cowboys, “I reckon you ’n’
Manuel’s equal to the care o’ these citizens. They kin all sit their
horses, I guess, an’ you two kin ride herd on ’em, into Sylvania. I’d
gather in their guns, if ’t was me doin’ it, on’ leave ’em with fatty
Harkins till mornin’. I dare say they’ll be some peacabler by then.”
The foreman had already eased Broome’s shoulder, crudely
enough, by means of an arm-sling, improvised from the riata that the
fellow had meant to use for Gard.
“He’ll do till he gits to Sylvania,” he said, with an indifference that
was not feigned, “Mebby there’ll be somebody there to tend to ’im.”
And he left the would-be lynchers to the tender mercies of their
captors.
Ashley Westcott was mounting his hired horse in front of the hotel,
when a stranger, on a hard-ridden, pacing buckskin, stopped beside
the rail.
“Say, friend,” he drawled, catching sight of the lawyer, “Your name
happen to be Westcott?”
“Is that any of your business?” snapped the owner of the name.
“Not a bit,” was the calm reply, “an’ I don’t care a damn. It only
happened I was rounded-up, awhile back, by a parcel of fellers ’t said
they was from the Palo Verde. They’d mistook me fer you, an’ you
sure have some enthusiastic friends. They’re a whoopin’ it up yet, I
guess, ’lowin’ they’re seekin’ your society.”
“Who were they?” Westcott asked.
“I didn’t exchange no cards with the gents,” the stranger replied,
grinning. “’Twas enough fer me to know they was friends o’ yourn’.
An’ seein’ you now, to realize your lovely disposition, I don’t know ’s
I wonder at the warmth o’ the feelin’ they showed fer you. They may
be yer dearest friends,” he went on, more seriously, “an’ you may be
goin’ to meet ’em this minute, but what I sot out to say was, that if a
party o’ my dearest friends was lookin’ fer me in the tone o’ voice
them fellers was exhibitin’ I’d either stay where I was, if I thought it
was a good place, er I’d git on my nag an’ I’d drift, mighty lively.”
“Bah!” was Westcott’s reply, as he got into the saddle. “I don’t
know why anyone should be hunting for me, and I’m not afraid of
them if they are. People generally know where to find me if they have
business with me.... Thank you, though,” he muttered, recollecting
himself.
“You’re sure welcome,” the stranger said, turning away, as the
lawyer rode down the street.
“You’re sure good an’ welcome,” he added, to himself, “to all ’ts
likely comin’ to you.”
Gard and Helen were married late in January. Gard’s patience, and
hard-won philosophy, seemed wholly to desert him at the thought of
longer delay.
“One would think,” Helen laughed, as he pleaded with her to set an
earlier day, “that you were afraid I might vanish.”
“I am,” answered Gard. “I always have been, from the minute I saw
you come around the corner of the house that morning, with your
tray and grape-fruit, I’ve been expecting I’d wake up some day and
find that this part of the dream isn’t true.”
Helen’s cheek lingered against the hand which he put out as if to
reassure himself of her presence.
“It is true,” she said, softly, “truer than the other parts, the hard,
cruel parts. They are the things that have vanished, dear.”
“I guess you’re right,” was Gard’s reply. “They were the dream, and
this is the waking-up; the blessed waking-up.”
“Do you know,” he suddenly said, “it was the longest kind of a time
—up in the mountain—before I got over being afraid, just before I’d
open my eyes in the morning?”
“Afraid?”
“Yes. That I might see—might not see—the open.”
“Yes, dear?”
Helen spoke quietly, though it seemed to her as if her suffocating
heart beats must betray to him what she was feeling. Gard had told
her of his escape from the cloudburst; all the incidents of his
Robinson Crusoe life, as she called it, of the coming of the camel; of
that wonderful journey to the glade; of the glade itself; but this he
had never spoken of. She had thought of it as a door in his heart yet
closed against her. Now it was opening, to admit her to his chamber
of sorrow.
“I don’t know what kept me alive through those other years,” he
continued. “Sometimes it seems to me there wasn’t much there
worth keeping alive. There wasn’t much got away but a rack of bones,
held together by hate.”
Helen’s hands stole out and found both his as he went on.
“I thought I’d got to get out,” he seemed as if thinking aloud, “I
thought I’d got to get out some day, just to kill Westcott. Then when I
did get away, I hadn’t anything left but the longing to crawl off
somewhere and die. I’m not sorry about that now, though often, in
the mountain, I raged, to think I couldn’t have killed him that night.
Then I learned better. But I feel mighty thankful now, that I never
hurt him.”
“You would never have hurt him,” Helen murmured.
“There were times when I would if I could have got to him,” Gard
replied, “but I got over my hate. Somehow, that kind of thing can’t
live in big, clean places like that I drifted to. The desert’s a hard
place, my girl. It don’t look lovely as this when you’re fighting for life
in it. It’s fierce as a tiger, but there ain’t any hate in it. That’s only in
men, but it’s deadlier than anything the desert’s got.”
“There’s got to be desert, I guess. There was a man in the
surveyor’s gang I was with once, years ago, always said that. He said
you take away the desert and some of the glorious climates on this
slope would all be gone.”
“I’m talking a lot”; he interrupted himself with half a laugh, “but
just once, this thing’s got to be looked at; because it was so black, and
I can’t let you think I wasn’t black with it. It took that, I guess, along
with the rest of it all, to make me see things the way I do now; but I
ain’t asking pity for it. It was a desert place, sure enough, but now it’s
over. I guess I learned some things worth while. Then when I got out
on the big desert, dear, I found God there, same’s I’d believed when I
was a boy, back on the prairie. I shouldn’t wonder if He’d been there
in the jail, too. That’s the truth of it.”
The girl leaned quickly, and gathered both his hands to her lips,
love, thankfulness, and pride in his manhood, all struggling for
expression. Stout old Chaucer’s brave words came to her mind, and
she said them aloud, with lips yet trembling with tenderness.
“And truth thee shall deliver, it is no drede.”
“That sounds like one of your old poets,” he said, “and I guess he
may have been in the desert and learned. ‘There is no drede’,” he
repeated, thoughtfully. “I suppose he means no fear. That’s right.”
He was looking into Helen’s eyes, his two hands closing over hers.