So there was this one time when I went to get a hair cut here in Hong Kong. I've been to the salon many times and knew most of the hair stylists on staff. A young woman whom I don't recall seeing before escorted me to my chair and asked me how I wanted my hair cut. I told her that I needed a good 'business-style' cut, off the ears, tapered and feathered all over - what I normally say. She asked me if I wanted a 'number three', which is something I've never been asked before, so I asked her what it meant. She said something like 'a number three for your hair.' Still not understanding but wanting to be nice, I said, 'sure, why not' and she began cutting my hair, with an electric trimmer, which many past stylists have used so I was not concerned.
Note: because I wear contacts, I close my eyes during these events because I fear hair will get into my eyes and that would be very painful.
When she announced that she was done, I opened my eyes to see the masterpiece. To say I was a surprised is an understatement. This was by far the shortest hair I had had since I was about three months old. I noticed that one clump of hair on top was standing up so I reached out and touched it, somewhat out of disbelief, and also to see just how short it was. My friendly and eager stylist took that to mean that the hair was too long so she proceeded to cut it shorter. She smiled triumphantly as I nodded my head and, in my mind, declared a truce.
I guess it goes without saying that even when we engage in life's simple things, like getting a haircut, it's very important to have good communication skills. It also can't hurt if you can speak the language a bit to avoid even more unexpected results. Learning terms and definitions upfront and using them consistently also goes a long way. On the whole, the breakdown was my fault as I should have pressed her more on what a 'number three' was and how she intended to use it. I guess that's what I get for being nice. Ya, ya, I know. I'm rambling again.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
When pretending meets reality
So, there was this one time when Victor and I were playing 20-30 feet up in the large tree in my backyard. We spent a lot of time there, talking and laughing. We had tied ropes from one branch to the next, all the way around the tree, so that we could have a bit more freedom and not completely reliant on the tree for support.
One day while we were playing in the tree, we noticed that our neighbor was in the back yard and decided to play with her mind. We started moving around the trunk of the tree (remember we are 30 or so feet in the air) and pretending that we were falling. We knew where each and every branch and were having a lot of fun, thinking that we were really clever.
I was moving to my left and, grabbing for the branch in easy reach, pretended that I was falling. Only I was and so was the branch that I had grabbed. Turns out it broke when I grabbed it. I started yelling louder and grabbing for anything I could see. I fell into a large bush at the base of the tree, landing on my back with my arms and hands pinned to my chest by my knees.
Above me somewhere in the tree, I heard Victor laughing his head off. I yelled at him to get out of the tree and help me. He said, “What are you going to do, come beat me up?” He took *forever* to climb down out of the tree, laughing the whole way down. At last he helped me out of the bush and we both started laughing. Needless to say we never tried that trick again. I wonder if the neighbor lady had the last laugh that evening as she recounted the event to her husband.
One day while we were playing in the tree, we noticed that our neighbor was in the back yard and decided to play with her mind. We started moving around the trunk of the tree (remember we are 30 or so feet in the air) and pretending that we were falling. We knew where each and every branch and were having a lot of fun, thinking that we were really clever.
I was moving to my left and, grabbing for the branch in easy reach, pretended that I was falling. Only I was and so was the branch that I had grabbed. Turns out it broke when I grabbed it. I started yelling louder and grabbing for anything I could see. I fell into a large bush at the base of the tree, landing on my back with my arms and hands pinned to my chest by my knees.
Above me somewhere in the tree, I heard Victor laughing his head off. I yelled at him to get out of the tree and help me. He said, “What are you going to do, come beat me up?” He took *forever* to climb down out of the tree, laughing the whole way down. At last he helped me out of the bush and we both started laughing. Needless to say we never tried that trick again. I wonder if the neighbor lady had the last laugh that evening as she recounted the event to her husband.
Sometimes we get what we ask for, even when we don’t know we’re asking for it. At times we do things with little thought or concern then act surprised when that very action turns into something serious with devastating results. While I’m all in favor of having fun, perhaps it’s wise we choose more carefully the fun we have. I know, I know, I’m rambling again.
Delicate Arch and aching arches
So there was this one time when my family moved across the valley to a new neighborhood and a new junior high. We moved during the summer and we all thought it would be a good idea for me to join the local boy scout troop on their annual scout camp. They were planning a week-long trip to Southern Utah and Colorado. I was very excited to go as I had never been to that part of the state and I wanted to get better acquainted with the boys in the neighborhood and ward.
Our first stop was along the Colorado River near Moab, Utah. While I was climbing among the rocks with the other guys, I jumped and landed funny on my heel, causing me considerable pain and a noticeable limp for the rest of the trip and many weeks thereafter.
A day or two later we went to Arches National Park, with the goal of hiking to Delicate Arch, one of the signature arches in the park. This was one of the main reasons I had decided to go as I admired its beauty. At first the hike was normal and I enjoyed the conversation with my fellow scouts, but soon I was falling behind, unable to keep up the pace due to my tender foot (no pun intended), and before I knew it, I was alone. I could neither see nor hear anyone on the trail, coming or going. Before long I came to a point where I had to make a decision in order to proceed. To me, there was no clear trail, no clear way forward, just a lot of shale and flat rock. I could see Delicate Arch ahead of me in the distance, and absent any other idea, I decided to head directly to the natural wonder. I don’t recall how long it took me to get there but when I finally arrived I was captivated with the wonder of it all. I walked around the arch and explored it as much as I dared.
Soon I became aware that I was all alone in this wilderness, and having absolutely no idea from whence I had come, I had no clue how I was going to get home. I decided to utter a silent prayer that someone would come along and take me home. A few moments later I heard voices in the distance, and to my surprise, it was my scout troop! Imagine the boys’ surprise when they realized ‘that new crippled kid’ had beaten them to the destination. Imagine the leaders' surprise when they saw me standing there, all alone. One leader took it upon himself to berate me for not following the clearly marked path and for putting them at risk. My 12-year-old mind was swimming in confusion. I was a brand new scout and had never before been on such a hike and I had certainly not intended to put the troop at risk – although I was not sure how I had. I was also wondering why and how no one had noticed that I was missing. What was once a feeling of relief was now a feeling of hurt and confusion.
I learned something about leadership that day. The leader has a responsibility for everybody in his or her care, regardless of their condition or circumstance. The leader has a duty to teach ‘the trail markers’ to the newbies. The leader has an obligation to see that all in his or her stewardship arrive safely at the destination. Years later I reinjured my heel, which brought home forcefully once again the lesson of leadership I learned that day at Delicate Arch. I know, I know, I’m rambling again.
Shovelling dirt
So there was this one time I was working for a landscaping company. I was new to the job and the profession and was eagerly learning all that I could. While I was certain that it would not make a career of it, I knew that it would help me shape and maintain my future yard.
It must have been slow at work that particular day because when I arrived at work, my boss told me to go down the hill and shovel the dirt into the pickup as a customer needed some. He didn’t say any more than that and I didn’t ask; I went on my way and started shovelling dirt.
Some time later, maybe an hour or so, my boss came to check up on me. He was immediately angry. He started screaming that I had shovelled too much dirt into the truck and that the weight would break its axles. I was very surprised and upset as he had given me no other instruction than to fill the bed of the pickup; I had done exactly that. After his rant, he told me take out the dirt but to leave some in so that he could deliver it to the customer. I again started shovelling dirt.
After some time he returned to see how I was doing. Again he exploded saying that I had taken out too much dirt as the customer clearly needed more than what was now available. He told me that I was stupid and wondered how I had made it that far in life. He stormed off and I again started shovelling dirt.
Finally this cruel and unusual punishment came to an end as I had filled the truck bed, as Goldilocks may have said, “just right.” He drove way after he dismissed me from work for the rest of the day.
I learned some pretty powerful lessons that day about management and communication. 1) delegating does not mean deserting and does include detail; 2) performance with no coaching will usually be poor; 3) too-busy bosses that can’t be bothered are as much to blame for poor performance as poorly-performing staff; 4) when any of the first three conditions exist, the employee always suffers.
I learned this last lesson the hard way. The following morning when I awoke, I found that my hands were ‘frozen’ such that a shovel could fit nicely into my curved hands. It would be eight weeks before I would have complete and total feeling in all of my fingers. When the carpal tunnel syndrome acts these many years later, I reflect back on the dirt and the pickup truck. I know, I know, I’m rambling again.
It must have been slow at work that particular day because when I arrived at work, my boss told me to go down the hill and shovel the dirt into the pickup as a customer needed some. He didn’t say any more than that and I didn’t ask; I went on my way and started shovelling dirt.
Some time later, maybe an hour or so, my boss came to check up on me. He was immediately angry. He started screaming that I had shovelled too much dirt into the truck and that the weight would break its axles. I was very surprised and upset as he had given me no other instruction than to fill the bed of the pickup; I had done exactly that. After his rant, he told me take out the dirt but to leave some in so that he could deliver it to the customer. I again started shovelling dirt.
After some time he returned to see how I was doing. Again he exploded saying that I had taken out too much dirt as the customer clearly needed more than what was now available. He told me that I was stupid and wondered how I had made it that far in life. He stormed off and I again started shovelling dirt.
Finally this cruel and unusual punishment came to an end as I had filled the truck bed, as Goldilocks may have said, “just right.” He drove way after he dismissed me from work for the rest of the day.
I learned some pretty powerful lessons that day about management and communication. 1) delegating does not mean deserting and does include detail; 2) performance with no coaching will usually be poor; 3) too-busy bosses that can’t be bothered are as much to blame for poor performance as poorly-performing staff; 4) when any of the first three conditions exist, the employee always suffers.
I learned this last lesson the hard way. The following morning when I awoke, I found that my hands were ‘frozen’ such that a shovel could fit nicely into my curved hands. It would be eight weeks before I would have complete and total feeling in all of my fingers. When the carpal tunnel syndrome acts these many years later, I reflect back on the dirt and the pickup truck. I know, I know, I’m rambling again.
Rear-view mirrors
So there was this one time I was driving along enjoying the beautiful weather. I checked my rear-view mirror, like all seasoned drivers do, and became a bit frustrated that I couldn’t see very much of what was happening behind me. I went through some pretty extreme head movements to see all that I wanted to see. And then I noticed that I hadn’t been paying enough attention to the road in front of me. Luckily, nothing happened and all were safe.
That’s when it hit me: there might be a reason that the rear-view mirror is much smaller than the front windshield. Perhaps I am supposed to pay more attention to the things that are ahead of me and not so much time on the things behind me. Or said another way, while reviewing where you’ve been can be very helpful, dwelling on it, especially the mistakes, will only cause more problems in the future. Learn from the past and look to the future, and make today count. Yah, yah, I know, I’m rambling again.
That’s when it hit me: there might be a reason that the rear-view mirror is much smaller than the front windshield. Perhaps I am supposed to pay more attention to the things that are ahead of me and not so much time on the things behind me. Or said another way, while reviewing where you’ve been can be very helpful, dwelling on it, especially the mistakes, will only cause more problems in the future. Learn from the past and look to the future, and make today count. Yah, yah, I know, I’m rambling again.
The seatbelt
So there was this one time when I was 99.9% parched and stopped at a 7-11 to buy something that would quench my thirst. Ryan, who was only two or so years old, and I went in and quickly made our selection. When we got back into the car I reached over and buckled his seat belt and started the car. I was very careful to comply with the law which required that all children must wear a seatbelt. He turned to me and asked, “Why don’t you have to wear one?” I started to explain that the law only required children to be belted in and then tried to suggest that it was different for adults and then I just gave up. The look on his face suggested that he was very confused. So I reached behind my seat and put on my seat belt, which I’ve been wearing ever since that day in the 7-11 parking lot.
Kinda reminds me of work. In response to something management does, many staff usually ask a penetrating question that at times results in a terse or poorly thought-out response. It’s probably better to re-evaluate the practice or policy and listen to the team. In short, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. I know, I know, I’m rambling again.
Kinda reminds me of work. In response to something management does, many staff usually ask a penetrating question that at times results in a terse or poorly thought-out response. It’s probably better to re-evaluate the practice or policy and listen to the team. In short, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. I know, I know, I’m rambling again.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
11 September 2001
So, there was this one time that we had a big virtual classroom pilot at work. I arrived early in the day to get things set up and to double check we had everything we needed. As the pilot start time approached, one of my colleagues gasped, “Oh my goodness! A plane just flew into the World Trade Center!” I admit that I was a bit annoyed and said, “Well, that doesn’t surprise me. They are after all extremely big buildings and someone sooner or later is bound to hit one of them. Let’s get back to work.” I went back to my desk and tried to focus on the upcoming big event that would set the tone for many such sessions in the future.
Just a few minutes later, my colleague screamed, “A second plane just flew into the other tower.” Suddenly I knew that this was no accident, that something significant was unfolding on the East coast.
As the days and weeks crawled on and we yearned for more accurate information, one thing became clear to me: what matters most. The people in the planes, the persons in the buildings, the loved ones trying to locate others had one thing and only one thing on their minds: they wanted to locate and visit with a loved one. In all the conversations of which I am aware, not one sounded like this:
“Oh, hi, Victor, Doug here. Well, someone has hijacked the plane and well, we’re gonna crash so let me give you the budget numbers I’ve been working on the last few hours. It's gonna be tight and the sales guys are going to have to step it and pull their weight. And, oh yeah, will you make sure to make that adjustment to the shipping contract? I put them in my middle drawer in the file marked 'URGENT.' We need to make sure it’s done right after all.”
Instead, again to the best of my knowledge, EVERY conversation included sentiments of love for each other, requests to pass along well wishes to others who couldn’t be reached, final words of comfort and hope for the little ones who may not understand. Every conversation was about the relationship. No conversation was about the task, it was all about the relationship.
Work is important, don’t get me wrong. Yet it’s the relationship we have with those around us that in the end is far more important, and if developed and nurtured properly, will endure any fiery tower or tragic situation.
We eventually got around to the big virtual classroom pilot, admittedly a few days later, and it went okay. But its importance always seemed to pale in comparison to that other 'big event' on that fateful 11 Sept. 2001.
Just a few minutes later, my colleague screamed, “A second plane just flew into the other tower.” Suddenly I knew that this was no accident, that something significant was unfolding on the East coast.
As the days and weeks crawled on and we yearned for more accurate information, one thing became clear to me: what matters most. The people in the planes, the persons in the buildings, the loved ones trying to locate others had one thing and only one thing on their minds: they wanted to locate and visit with a loved one. In all the conversations of which I am aware, not one sounded like this:
“Oh, hi, Victor, Doug here. Well, someone has hijacked the plane and well, we’re gonna crash so let me give you the budget numbers I’ve been working on the last few hours. It's gonna be tight and the sales guys are going to have to step it and pull their weight. And, oh yeah, will you make sure to make that adjustment to the shipping contract? I put them in my middle drawer in the file marked 'URGENT.' We need to make sure it’s done right after all.”
Instead, again to the best of my knowledge, EVERY conversation included sentiments of love for each other, requests to pass along well wishes to others who couldn’t be reached, final words of comfort and hope for the little ones who may not understand. Every conversation was about the relationship. No conversation was about the task, it was all about the relationship.
Work is important, don’t get me wrong. Yet it’s the relationship we have with those around us that in the end is far more important, and if developed and nurtured properly, will endure any fiery tower or tragic situation.
We eventually got around to the big virtual classroom pilot, admittedly a few days later, and it went okay. But its importance always seemed to pale in comparison to that other 'big event' on that fateful 11 Sept. 2001.
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