Leadership Soup

"Don't call me 'sir', I'm not a general anymore."

I'm not one to swoon over anyone in Hollywood, with one exception...Robert Redford.  I love his movies with no partiality to young Redford (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Three Days of the Condor), middle aged Redford (The Natural, Out of Africa) or the well aged Redford I saw this weekend in The Last Castle. Though over the years it hasn't hurt that he's not at all bad to look at, his appeal for me is mainly  linked to the characters he plays.  This is why I sat down to watch him in this flick again though I've seen several times before, but this go around I found a different spin to the story.

Redford plays an admired and decorated general who has been court martialed and sentenced to ten years in a military prison.  The warden, the guards and the inmates all recognize and immensely respect him, but he has accepted that his punishment is deserved, shuns the attention, and states that he will no longer be 'fighting anyone, for anything, anymore.'  However, it quickly becomes evident that he cannot help but get involved in the events at the prison; he starts by challenging the punishment of an inmate he befriended and soon leads an uprising targeting the overthrow of the warden for his cruel treatment of the prisoners. 

Like Redford's character, true leaders can't help themselves. 

True leaders find themselves drawn to battle.  It isn't about the title or the power or the prize because, more often than not, there are faster and easier ways to achieve those goals. 

In times of sticky politics, rampant self interest and seemingly insurmountable obstacles, the fire in the belly that brings you to lead is what keeps you coming back for more.  And here is how it looks...

Don't call me 'sir', I'm not a general anymore.
Redford's character chastised an inmate for respectfully calling him 'sir' even though his title had been taken away.  As it turned out, having the title of 'general' wasn't what made him behave like a general.  The energy and courage and desire to rise to the challenge doesn't start or end with a title or assigned authority.

Making mountains out of molehills.
Passion for doing what's right, for fighting even the small battles, and for finding satisfaction in forging the way to make it easier for those that come after you can often go unnoticed and unrecognized.  Finding satisfaction nonetheless is the sign of a true calling.

When the going gets tough on the road less traveled.
It's easy to avoid conflict and even easier to create it and run.  Not only does it take courage face adversity, but it takes a true leader to want to stick around and see it through.

Robert Redford gets to play the part and then move on to the next movie...this week ask yourself if you are playing the part of a leader or if you are a leader.  And can you help it?

A Matter of Marginal Utility

As I finished my fifth MBA class and continued my fight against thought atrophy, my near drowning in economic theory left my mind wandering (actually, more like running) from GDP, fiscal policy, and supply and demand.  My sincere apologies to Professor Platt for straying, but I found that some of the concepts applied to everyday life in ways that the textbooks most likely didn't intend.

'Marginal utility' is basically the measure of how much satisfaction, or how much use, you get out of having more and more of something.  In economics, it's about a consumer's demand for a product or a service as more is available (and as expected, there is even a formula)...but I started to suspect there is more to it than that.

There was this example about eating your favorite ice cream, and how, if given another one right after you finished the first, you'd enjoy it much less.  As I read on about 'diminishing' marginal utility and the fact that satisfaction and pleasure eventually decrease with availability, I wondered whether this could be the root to some of the boredom and apathy and unhappiness in our lives.

In our jobs and our daily activities and our relationships, there is a repetitiveness that can stagnate.  Remember the first few months of a new position at work or the first run outside after a long winter or getting to know someone new?  There is an excitement that seems to fade over time, or in the case of utility, diminishes as you get more.  Sure there are times when you should get a new job, find a different hobby, or end a relationship, but there are plenty more times when you should find freedom in the familiar and work hard to keep it fresh.  When it starts to feel like a chore, it's time to act.

As the routine of a job kicks in, when you think you've mastered it, recognize the opportunity the mastery offers to push the envelope and make major change...or maybe, you've only scratched the surface of the learning.  When you look at your running shoes and feel unmotivated, find a new running route.  If there doesn't seem like there is anything to talk about with your old friend or your spouse, celebrate and remember what brought you together and how there is so much more to learn about them.

Having more can make you a little lazy.  This works its way into all sorts of things. This week, make the effort to see the familar in a new way (or simply take a moment to appreciate it the way it is), and you may be surprised to find that you can't get too much of a good thing.

The Defensive Line

I've always been more interested in the positions that make up a football team and their role in the game than the actual game itself.  As glamorous as the offensive positions may be...quarterbacks and wide receivers and running backs and tight ends and their yardage and end zone dances...the defensive positions get my vote every time.  Linebackers and cornerbacks and safeties and defensive tackles...these players anticipate and react and do what it takes to hold back the offense.

So as I watched the Super Bowl last night, I wondered how 'being defensive' got such a bad rap. 

You know how these conversations go.  You know the feeling that rises from your belly that results in a protective comment (and often a recognizable tone) and the inevitable question, 'why are you being so defensive?'  There would be no defensive line without an offensive line.

The defense doesn't have the benefit of knowing the plan or the agenda, so the reactions are based on instinct, experience, and a knowledge of the other team and how they approach the game.  The offensive goal is to keep the defense guessing and break through before their plan is exposed.

This isn't to say that every conversation has an agenda or that a defensive stance taken, over things personal or professional, is always an appropriate or instigated response.  But covering an intentionally (or unintentionally) offensive approach by attacking the response it brings about is lacking self awareness.

I paid closer and closer attention to the players as I thought through how I enter a conversation (and, true to form, I have been known to play offense and defense with the best of them); it actually slowed the plays down for me.  I began to see that there was a place for everyone on that field and that their roles change depending on the circumstances.  Ultimately, though, when the play was over, whether a down or an interception or penalty or touchdown, the players (even in their disappointment or anger or joy) had to accept their contribution, adjust, and move on.

This week, I'm slowing down my conversations and paying close attention to the position I play.  And when I feel it rising from my belly or sense it rising in someone else, I am taking responsibility for that position, addressing my contribution, adjusting as necessary, and moving on.

A goose a laying (sitting, actually)

We have lived on Hopeville Pond for almost six years, and there is never a dull moment out among the wildlife that congregates in our backyard.  This fall, the geese came and hung out.  As the pond started to freeze, I could still hear them out there chattering to each other in the middle of the night, wondering when they'd fly to someplace warm.  One particular cold spell hit, and it appeared that they had finally given in and that the pond would be quiet for the winter.

There was one lone exception.  As my husband and I looked down on the water, one goose remained.  We became preoccupied with the fact that he wasn't flying or swimming; he remained in one spot, occasionally releasing a curdling squawk.

Convinced that the water had frozen around him and that his screams were due to his torturous entrapment, the rescue plot began.  As I threw a half loaf of bread onto the ice, hoping it would somehow stir him free, we ran through our options...surfboard, kayak, paddle boat...until the reality of all three of us frozen at the bottom of Hopeville Pond shook us out of it, and, instead, I called the Department of Environment Protection.

Me: 'I believe that there is a goose stuck in the ice in back of my house.'
DEP guy: 'He isn't stuck.  He's sitting.'
Me: 'Well, he's squawking and not moving and I think he's stuck.'
DEP guy: 'He can't get stuck; his body temperature is too high. Sometimes they just sit.'

I woke up the next day, and there was no goose.  What a relief; apparently he was done sitting.

Then, that afternoon, my husband breaks the news to me...'The goose is dead. He is down by the dock.'  For some reason, my heart broke.  I cried and cried in some terrible goose mourning, regretful that I wasn't able to save him.  I was given a stiff warning that I shouldn't go down and look simply to be further tormented.

The following morning, of course, I looked.  And looked.  No goose.
As I scanned the location of the death, I saw lots of animal tracks.  I concluded that a scraggly fox (or some other scraggly, hungry animal) had carried off the goose and found relief in the fact that the circle of life had presented itself in full glory. 

Later, As I shared my circle of life story with my husband, I began to suspect that the death was a bit more speculated than I had thought.  In fact, there was no real confirmation (for some reason I had visions of a goose laying on it's side with its tongue hanging out) just a long analysis of non movement through binoculars from our deck.  

One afternoon not long after, I pull in the driveway and spot something down by the dock.  It didn't take but a second to realize what, or who, it was.  Standing there, very much alive, was the goose (and I swear I could almost make out a little smirk).

I shared this story with lots of people (and my apologies to those that find it repetitive) because there was something in the experience that struck me as so powerful, indicative of the year that passed and the decade ahead.  I see it these three words: 

Stuck - We all have moments where it appears we're trapped, not moving fast enough or in the right direction.  Courage comes in the form of accepting when it's time to sit and knowing when to stop sitting.  Being stuck is often an illusion.

Feeling - We all have our own way of experiencing happiness, sadness, excitement, fear...sometimes wildly overblown and sometimes not nearly deep or wide enough.  The importance is to feel it, learn from it, and not beat yourself up when it's too much one way and not the other.

Hopeful - It's appropriate that I live on Hopeville Pond because I am hopelessly hopeful.  Without it, moments of despair become days and weeks and months of despair.  Without it, when we are disappointed in ourselves or others, the meaning all gets lost.  Without it, we can truly be stuck.

Happy New Decade! 

Losing and finding stuff

Last month, I thought I lost my luggage.

Of course, I got lost on the way to the airport in the impossible to navigate Minnesota because I didn't realize that the terminals had names and my itinerary had letters...meaning I ended up at Humphrey when I should have been at Lindbergh (or was it the other way around?).  I ditched my car at the Hertz lot in some delusional attempt to turn 33 minutes into enough time to check in, get through security, and get to the gate. 

When the scramble was over, miraculously I was sitting on the airplane, NOT in first class (cause I had lost my upgrade), sweaty and disheveled, and forfeiting my carry on bag to a less than believable flight attendant who told me it would meet me in Providence.

Around midnight, when I dragged myself to baggage claim, I can't say I was surprised when the last piece of luggage was pulled off the belt and I was empty handed.  As I searched the airport garage for my car, I began to silently catalog and mourn...

Two of my favorite pairs of shoes...I loved those shoes. 
A new pair of running sneakers...I had just started to break them in.
My black Ann Taylor jacket...what a great deal I got on it.
Three pants, several tops, bras, socks, makeup....there were so was so much stuff in there.

There is a terrible sadness, mixed with frustration and anger and disappointment, when something is lost.  My favorite poem by Elizabeth Bishop, One Art, speaks of dealing with it...'The art of losing isn't hard to master'...

The next morning as I listened to the 'no status' of my lost stuff on the airline's lost baggage line, I started to plan my replacement strategy.  I began running through what was a priority to buy that day, what could wait until the next trip to the mall, and what was something I would have to search a bit to find something similar.  Then I moved on.

As if the fates recognized my recovery, the phone rang.  Delta had found my stuff, and it was all waiting for me in Hartford (still not quite sure how it landed at a different airport).  After accepting that it was lost, finding it was all the sweeter.  And the experience was a reminder. 

Here it is in Bishop's own words:

'So many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss in no disaster'...
It's easy to give into the emotions, and the appearance of disaster can take over.  Recognizing that it's part of the natural order of things and taking just one step forward gives us power over it.

'Then practice losing'...
Maybe this is extreme, but the point is that the more adversity we face head on, the better equipped we are to manage through it and recognize what needs to be done.

And here it is in my words:

'Celebrate when it's found (or never lost)'...
On those occasions when things go right and stuff doesn't get lost or is unexpectedly found, hold onto it.

Communication Crime Scene (Episode 2) - Circling Atlanta

I am a frequent flyer. I am rarely nervous flying or annoyed by the inevitable delays and unpredictable behavior of the airlines.  This past week, however, I found myself both nervous and annoyed.  And I found the follow up to my first episode of the 'Communication Crime Scene'.

I was uncharacteristically early for my flight leaving Providence heading to Chattanooga via Atlanta, and I predicted a good travel day as I boarded and departed on time.  One narcoleptic episode later, I awoke to what I assumed was the 'turn off your things, put away your stuff, and sit upright for landing' announcement.  Unfortunately, it was the 'we're in a holding pattern and circling Atlanta'  announcement that meant an additional half hour in the air.  As I nodded back off to sleep, I recall the pilot mentioning two possibilities...either we get the go ahead to land earlier than planned OR we land at another airport to get gas.  About fifteen minutes later, thankfully the former came true and we started the descent.

'Started' being the operative word...just as we broke through the clouds and as I spotted the airport below, the plane suddenly pulled up and started climbing.  I have experienced this before, so I awaited the pilot's calming voice assuring us that it was nothing to be concerned about and providing some rational explanation.

Nothing.

I looked around at the other passengers wondering if they were waiting for the same thing.

Still nothing.

This is when I started making up my own explanation.
Another plane was on our runway...the landing gear wouldn't come down...air traffic control just said 'pull up'...we are now headed to another airport to get that gas...the pilot isn't saying anything because he is frantically working to determine if he can keep the plane in the air long enough to get that gas...

Fifteen minutes later, we landed in Atlanta.  No crash landing, no diverting to another airport, no explanation.

Once in the terminal and sitting at the gate for my next flight, the failure on the part of the pilot and flight crew hit me.  Their lack of communication under the circumstances was irresponsible and just plain annoying, and it offered up some basic thoughts on communication.

Saying nothing is easy (and lazy)
When the message is difficult or confusing or carries potential to create unwanted reactions, it's tempting to avoid saying anything at all.  It may appear to be the easy way out, and maybe it will just pass, but more often than not people will start to create their own stories, explanations, or rationale which are often worse than the truth.  Even though the outcome of my flight was uneventful, I was left aggravated and uncomfortable.

Modify the message
It is fair and appropriate to recognize how much your audience can digest.  Brutal honesty is also sometimes easier than crafting a suitable message that will assist in understanding the circumstances.  I didn't expect (nor want) the pilot to give me a blow by blow of what had happened, but a recognition of what I had experienced and an indication of what to expect next would have gone a long way.

Be prepared for the reactions
No matter how well crafted a message may be, there will inevitable reactions and questions. Anticipating (and welcoming) their arrival and thinking through the responses is a necessary part of effective communication.  I later regretted not asking the crew on the way off the plane what had happened; my guess is that they were assuming that we would be so eager to catch our connections that we wouldn't ask.

Accepting the fact that communication is something to be developed and nurtured...personally, professionally, one on one, to a team, organization, company, country...is not an excuse but a way of continually taking ownership of decisions and actions.  Those receiving our messages will ultimately excuse imperfection but will end up distrusting silence.

Leader to Note - Mark Scheinberg

I am not impressed by successful people. 

I am impressed by how people become successful.

Last month, my friends Ted and Katy at Leadership Greater Hartford introduced Mark Scheinberg during their Leaders in Focus series.  As I sat and listened to Mark talk about his experiences as founder and president of Goodwin College, I was impressed.  I found myself jotting down some notes as I realized that those I see as impressively successful people became that way because they are impressively successful leaders.  Mark's commitment to building a prosperous academic institution was apparent, but it was his energetic leadership and the not hard to miss trickle down effect that it has on his staff, that makes him my first 'leader to note' on Leadership Soup.

One of Mark's comments that I jotted down was about meeting people and introductions.  His point...we have a tendency to tell people what WE KNOW when we should be telling people what WE DON'T KNOW.  My immediate connection was to my own distaste for the 'resume introduction', and the fact that you'll bore the heck out of the people you meet trying to let them know how smart and important you are.  But it goes deeper than that...growth comes from continued learning, and a tremendous source of learning comes from other people.  Before you trick yourself into believing you have this one nailed, look out for the common traps.

It's not just about asking questions...
I meet lots of people every day that ask lots of questions. What I suspect in many instances is that these questions are more about proving how smart they are than about getting actual answers that will help them learn.  Next time you are sitting in a meeting and are about to ask a question, ask yourself about the purpose of the question.

Been there done that...
Thinking that you've done the job before, experienced the situation before, or heard the story before immediately cuts learning off at the knees.  Respect for someone else's perspective and understanding, and a recognition that your own experiences are not the only truth, will open up both you and others to mutual learning.

It's only appropriate that Mark's passion for education led to a leadership lesson for me, and he's a clear indication that it's not just about achieving the success but, more importantly, about how you get there.

My love-hate relationship with the snooze button...

I love the snooze button.  The little bit of genius that gives me a few extra minutes (maybe more than a few times) to ease my way into the day has become ritual. 

I hate the snooze button.  The conniving little piece of technology that tricks me into thinking 'just one more' has left me scrambling to get ready more times than I'd like to admit.

This morning, the love-hate relationship became clear. 

I had been working on a new post that I intended to finish last evening, but a long ride home, a few chores, and a wave of tired that hit me around 10 p.m. had me convinced that I'd be significantly more motivated and creative if I got a few hours sleep and tackled finishing my writing in the morning.  I settled in on the couch (a bad habit, agreed) with my blackberry set for 3:30 a.m. (and my standard 10 minute snooze securely in place).  

3:30 a.m. came, and 3:30 a.m. went.  Thanks to the little increments of 10, I had inched my way to 4:30.  But then it got worse...I discovered that there was actually a 1 minute snooze setting on my blackberry.  From there, I jolted myself every minute until 4:45 when I heard my husband's alarm go off upstairs.  So now it's exactly 6:07, and here I am (and this is not the post I intended to publish). 

Though I am pushing my luck...I need to leave the house in exactly 35 minutes...the snooze lessons needed to be shared.

It's not always time to get up.  There is something to be said for taking a few minutes and not just jumping out of bed when the alarm goes off.  Too many actions and reactions, and far too many decisions, are made in haste without some good healthy 'snoozing' for reflection. 

When the time comes, get up.  There comes a point when the snoozing is not getting you a darn thing (whoever thought that a 1 minute snooze was at all a good idea?).  There comes a point where, no matter how tired, unmotivated or cranky you might be, that action is the only solution...the phrase 'you snooze, you lose' comes to mind.

As I head off to the shower, I recognize that I missed an opportunity this morning to be disciplined and focused and follow through with my plans (you'll see that post later this week), but I also recognize that this is the quickest I've written since I started this blog...maybe the minute snooze has a purpose after all.

Deliberately Deliberate

Each year, as we head into our busiest season at work, I choose a word or phrase that reflects the focus for my organization.  I target something with a basic meaning that the entire team, no matter what position or role, can ground themselves in as the work days get longer and the stress gets a bit higher.

This year, I have been thinking about 'deliberate':
1: characterized by or resulting from careful and through considerations.
2: characterized by awareness of the consequences.
3: slow, unhurried, and steady as though allowing time for decision on each individual action involved.

Too often, our actions are not deliberate.  In haste, due to pressure, because of apathy or just out of habit, we answer questions, perform tasks, and react without taking pause or giving the due attention required...in more instances than we'd like to admit, this is when mistakes and errors (of all shapes and sizes) are made.

So deliberate is a great word to share with my team...deliberate actions, deliberate thoughts, deliberately deliberating...the errors made, not from lack of knowledge but due to lack of focus, will be all but eradicated.

But then I burned my pasta.

It's a simple activity boiling pasta.  I threw in some ziti, set the timer, and used that 11 minutes to get some paperwork done.  Then I realized the 11 minutes had come and gone, yelled for my husband to take the pan off the stove, and then heard the dreaded call from the kitchen 'IT'S BURNING!'  I now have a pan to clean and no lunch.  I also had a minor twinge of frustration that my husband didn't hear the timer and pulled my pasta before it boiled dry...

I'll stop there for self analysis.  I remember hearing the timer go off.  I also remember ignoring it assuming that in a few seconds I could be done with my paperwork and would have multitasked away one chore for the day.  My husband wasn't even in the kitchen.

This was not an example of being deliberate.  And I became painfully aware that it's not as easy as it sounds.  I pride myself on being a successful multitasker and quick and instinctual thinker, but as I thought about the pasta, all the instances of mistakes made doing simple tasks came flooding in...a assumption about an email, a quick reaction (that turned out to be way off base), any number of burnt grilled cheese sandwiches and batches of cookies and toast pushed down for one second more (and the list goes on and on)...

So this week, before I pass along this great word, I need to test my own fortitude.  For those of you who know me, call me out on it.  For the rest of you, call out yourself, and let me know what mistakes you don't make.

Who needs a GPS? Getting lost in Minnesota.

Last month, I went on a trip to Minnesota and got lost. A lot. 

I travel quite a bit for work, and I never get a GPS with my rental car...and I never really need one.  Generally, the directions I get from the coworkers I'm visiting, a quick stop on MapQuest, the little local map they give you at Avis, and some instincts are enough to get me where I need to go.

So I'm not sure what was with me and Minnesota. 

I made about twenty-five u turns, got lost twice (ok, I only went twice) going to the office which was four miles away, got lost four times (ok, every time) I tried to get back to my hotel, spent a ridiculous amount of time driving back and forth on Prairie Center Drive looking for anything familiar, and went 10 miles in the wrong direction when heading to the airport (even with MapQuest directions).

The experience left me confused, doubting my often touted sense of direction, and wondering whether my principled avoidance of the GPS had come to an end.  Once I successfully exited Minnesota and got speeding along on the familiar roads of Connecticut, it hit me how easily this translates well beyond the road and into a way to manage work and life.

Finding my way...
It is often when I don't know where I'm going that I find the greatest adventures and many times uncover things I would have otherwise missed.
Having an automated voice tell me exactly when and where to turn is a great way to lose sight of the things around me.  Trusting my instincts makes me feel powerful, even when I am the most lost.

Forcing myself to find my bearings and understand the landscape has been a large part of my successes both personally and professionally.

Getting lost...
Driving in Minnesota threw me way off.  Route 35E goes north and south, Prairie Center Drive goes in circles, there are detours for detours, and apparently there is more than one route 16.  My instincts failed in a place where the local landmarks were the Home Depot, one of 10,000 lakes, and other office buildings. 

There are times when getting my bearings isn't going to be easy, and it's most definitely risky to assume that what has always worked will always work, especially when the unexpected detour or wrong turn throw off the instincts.  Supplementing directional skills with some formal guidance can serve a very important purpose...most importantly when arriving at your destination is critical and being late is a deal breaker.  Not accepting this is where I've had my biggest struggles.

As always, it's a balance.  Plans and directions and instructions all have their place and necessity, but learning to trust your instincts and forge into unknown territories is where many valuable discoveries are made.

So, Minnesota may require a GPS for now (or at least I'll have it in the glove compartment).