I wrote last week about the difference between “They and We”. After writing the post I was reminded of a song by Radiohead called “Just”. The chorus lyric goes
“You do it to yourself, you do
And that’s what really hurts
Is that you do it to yourself
Just you and no one else
You do it to yourself
You do it to yourself”
…….. which got me thinking. Working as a coach and trainer I see numerous examples of self sabotage and the saddest thing is that people actually do “do it” to themselves. Let me give you two recent examples.
I was delivering some training and one of the delegates became very animated about changes in the organisation. The delegate was happily blaming the ubiquitous “They” for all his woes. He mentioned a particular reorganisation initiative which even 20 years later is a touchstone within the company for how not to treat staff.
Except that when his workmates did some maths, he wasn’t even working for the company at that point. They challenged him and in fairness he admitted it but his colleagues were stunned. His credibility just washed away in that moment.
A different day, a different organisation and a similar person. In this instance the member of staff was railing against management, how “they” didn’t want staff like him, prepared to challenge their thinking. That was why he had been passed over for promotion etc etc. Part of the course was encouraging the delegates to use a new feedback model. In this model you focus on an action, explain the impact of that and then offer a way ahead. This member of staff saw his chance with a senior manager in the room and used both barrels.
Imagine his surprise when the manager calmly accepted the feedback. Then the manager used the same model to feedback something along the lines of “when you relentlessly and publicly complain about any change, people become tired of you which is a shame because you have some excellent ideas which we could really use”.
It was pleasing in the second example when a manager used the model I was teaching as the starting point for a new conversation. However, I’m aware that not every story has such a happy ending. I don’t have a specific call to action this week but I invite you to consider what you are doing to yourself and is it positive / in your best interests?
There have been some interesting contrasts in my work recently. Beyond the obvious differences (facilitation versus coaching for example) I’ve noticed a more subtle demarcation.
One of the organisations I was working in apparently had a strange, nebulous group of people employed there. No-one seemed quite sure of the roles, job titles or indeed positions in the organisation. I couldn’t garner any clear idea as to where these clandestine figures were located. So I asked my delegates where I could find these people, how would I know I was looking at one? Again, I couldn’t obtain an answer.
However when we talked about changing behaviour or processes in the organisation I kept on coming up against similar answers
“They won’t let us” or “They always stop our good ideas”. I also heard that “They” were responsible for inefficiencies, that “They” stopped good labour relations and “They” made management difficult.
Seems “They” are the real problem at this organisation.
I asked my delegates (a cadre of managers) whether anyone had ever described them or their role as being part of this shadowy “They” cabal. As you can imagine there was some awkward shuffling of feet, a few chairs creaked. I asked them to substitute the word “We” in their earlier statements. This was not a terribly comfortable moment for everyone.
Skip ahead with me to some work I did last week. Different organisation, different subject but this group of delegates always described themselves as “we”.
How can “we” change things?
How can “we” ensure our teams know they have permission?
What can “we” do to pass this message on?
What can “we” do to lead by example?
Quite a difference.
Next week will see me do a final wash up meeting at the first organisation. I wonder what conversation we will have.
There’s a story from the early days of the space race in the 1960s. When NASA started recruiting they were unsure of what conditions the astronauts would face. To that end the applicants were put through a battery of medical tests to ensure peak fitness. It was a pretty tough and debilitating week and many of the applicants quit rather than continue such invasive examinations. Whilst the majority of the tests were physical there were also some psychological ones.
The story goes that a pilot was offered a blank piece of paper. He looked at it, mystified. The psychiatrist waited patiently for an answer. Eventually the paper was handed back with a smile – “you almost got me there Doc, but it was upside down wasn’t it?” - the psychiatrist scribbles some notes down furiously and looks up to see the pilot laughing at him “Gotcha”*
Bear in mind that most of the intake had combat experience or were test pilots so they were used to these psychiatric interviews. The subjects knew that you didn’t say too little, after all, they needed to show flexibility of thought but on the other hand you didn’t say too much. You didn’t want to start discussing the “endless white void” or the like if you wanted to maintain flight status. A blank page could be a recipe for disaster.
I was musing on that story this morning. I’m embarking on a piece of film work for a new client. The whole thing is a blank piece of paper. There are no restrictions beyond it being a film. Everything is up for grabs, no decisions taken on how it will be, look, sound or feel. For some of it we will explore separately, for other parts it will be a collaboration. I’m so excited to have such a blank canvas that I bought a new notebook, (one with little rectangles for movie story boards) so that it exists discretely from all my other projects.
In the mean time I’m delivering training for a heavy engineering company. A place full of rules and processes. There is a clear structure and lots of restrictions on the way that they operate. Interestingly the senior people there spend a lot of time avoiding the processes they instituted, preferring to let those rules apply to others. This has understandably led to some resentment and a major chunk of time on the course goes in to clearing the air. Picture the scene then, when at the beginning of day 2 I ask my delegates to redesign new reports for the bosses and also to create an aide-memoire for their own role. It takes a huge leap of faith for them to start writing on a blank page but once they realise that there is no wrong answer they have been bubbling with ideas.
We spend so much time benchmarking and evaluating in organisations these days. Last week there were blogs galore on “best practice” with case studies from the big CIPD conference. We are comfortable building on the old process, borrowing from others, just adding a few percent to last years budget and playing safe in our thought.
My challenge to you? What would you change if I gave you a blank sheet of paper? What would you see on that empty page?
*The pilot concerned was Pete Conrad and playing the trick can’t have done him any harm as he went on to command the second moon lander.
There is a saying attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson “Build a better mousetrap, and the world will beat a path to your door” it’s generally used as a metaphor for the power of innovation, the lure of the new. Except he didn’t say it, oh and mousetraps as we know them weren’t invented until 7 years after his death.
What he did say was “If a man has good corn or wood, or boards, or pigs, to sell, or can make better chairs or knives, crucibles or church organs, than anybody else, you will find a broad hard-beaten road to his house, though it be in the woods.” Which is almost the same but not quite. It might seem like semantics but to me there is a subtle difference.
I started thinking of this quote today when I read an excellent blog by Julie Drybrough entitled “What’s your contribution?”. She talked of living in an VUCA world (Volatile, Uncertain, Complex, Ambiguous) and how she believes that the quality of our dialogue is immensely important. I agree with this and commented as much on her blog but felt compelled to write more.
The misquote above has become synonymous with progress and rapid change yet Emerson formulated his thoughts in to Transcendentalism and man’s relationship with nature and soul. Ironic then that he is misquoted in support of technology. He certainly lived in a time of great uncertainty. He was born just after the United States doubled in size with the Louisiana Purchase and lived through the volatility of the civil war and the great battles over slavery. He was likewise familiar with ambiguity, ordained as a pastor before turning his back on organised religion. He travelled widely meeting such luminaries of complex thought as Thomas Carlyle and John Stuart Mill and also the poets Wordsworth and Coleridge.
In a rapidly changing world Emerson summed up his work as believing in “the infinitude of man” and I’m minded to agree with him. However complex and uncertain we make our world we also seek to understand and explain it. Nations rise and fall – or if you prefer organisations grow and contract – but human ingenuity continues on. (Making better chairs and knives amongst other things).
Rather than worry about how complex this world is I prefer to get on with making my corner of it a little more certain, a bit more open and clear. I try to encourage that with my clients when I coach and also when I train people. It’s also why I tend to work a lot in the area of mental health and personal resilience because that uncertainty and fear can be crippling, both to individuals and to organisations.
So I guess this is my answer to Julie’s question. My contribution is to help people make sense of their world and make the changes they want to see. Not from fear but from care and compassion and that all starts with a conversation……….
Today’s post is a guest one from Martin Couzins – all about a recent project which he managed……….
‘I love it when a plan comes together’. That quote from the late actor George Peppard’s A-Team character Hannibal captures how us four collaborators felt about the project we are about to share. In fact, we even tweeted those exact words.
For the four of us involved in creating a short film for Karen Teago, it did feel like it all came together really well.
I thoroughly enjoyed my advisory role and watching this project come together. I particularly liked the way the collaboration took place in a number of different ways and in different places, from face to face, to Skype, Twitter, the phone and email. For me this worked because we had a belief it would, we believed and trusted each other to make it happen.
I’d like to hand over to Jon, Karen and Simon, the main protagonists in this story. Having completed the project they then shared their reflections on what they had achieved. I might add that these reflections came straight to me after the project had finished.
Jon Bartlett, cameraman, editor and director
When I first saw Sukh Pabial’s Learning Stories it dovetailed with some plans I had to move in to using film/photography as part of my coaching and as a business offering. I had long planned to do a project with Martin but our original ideas revolved around bike journeys or walking and my impending knee surgery put those plans on the back burner.
I knew of Karen via twitter and responded to a request she made around the use of film in training. We had a long conversation on Skype and from that emerged the nucleus of an idea which I felt would suit the learning stories ethos. We arranged a three-way conversation on Skype and agreed to work together. Pretty quickly it became apparent that we needed to aim for brevity and a tight structure if we were to get this done in time. This restriction also seemed to encourage Karen even more, giving her focus.
My previous films have generally been around filming a long conversation and editing down to get the essence of the person up on the screen. To work this way was a real change. Having the structure really helped me and took the pressure off me.
The shoot went well and although against the clock it didn’t feel rushed until the end. It was worth spending an hour just getting to know Karen a bit. Whilst it cut in to filming time, overall it speeded the process. We also took the decision to shoot in black and white. This was more a reflection on the quality of light than any aesthetic reasons but it proved fortuitous for our later decisions around artwork. We tried to laugh and joke between takes and Karen relaxed immeasurably over the course of the day. So much so that we agreed to also make a film of the outtakes – a sure sign of confidence.
@teago_emplaw Well I'm not sure who is more patient because you had to put up with my terrible jokes— Jon Bartlett (@Projectlibero) March 14, 2013
Once the shoot was over I turned to editing. It was always our plan to use cartoons/images between shots of Karen talking. On watching the footage Martin and I agreed that we really needed a consistent set of images rather than getting them from disparate sources.
I contacted Simon Heath (who I had met earlier that week) to see if he was interested in the commission. Fortuitously he had roughed a quick cartoon in response to our tweets about how the day went – one that would later grace our outtakes film – and he was quick to agree to create our images.
As time was tight I needed to get a rough cut together to give Simon something to work from. He created a series of great fun images which really help the film and fit with Karen’s tone. I’ve not had to work in collaboration with an artist before and again I found the discipline rewarding. It also helped my editing that we shot in quick concise bursts rather than a long discussion. I wouldn’t always choose to work this way but I’m glad I’ve learned how to do it.
I’ve really enjoyed this process. I think it’s impressive that we have produced something so quickly and with only one face to face meeting. It helped that all participants are digitally savvy and could work remotely but I was still pleased with how well we collaborated.
Karen Teago, employment lawyer
For 13 years I have eaten, slept and breathed employment law. For the last three of those I have made my living talking about employment law to hundreds of qualified and would-be employment lawyers up and down the country. So talking to a camera about fundamental employment law principles was going to be easy, right? Wrong, so wrong.
Jon trekked cross country to reach our offices as the motorway was snarled up. When he arrived we sat chatting for a while in the office. He produced his camera from a bag for me to look at, which reminded me of the way the dentist lets my daughters hold the dental instruments to put them at their ease before their examinations. We moved to one of the communal spaces at the iCon Centre, continued to chat. The camera came out as we talked and an involuntary paralysis overcame me. That, I had not expected.
We set ourselves up in one of the glass walled meeting rooms. We had plenty of time, lots of memory left on the card and extra batteries. So we began.
“Are you alright?” Jon asked as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath… “Yes, I’m just about to jump off Auckland Harbour Bridge” I replied. That’s my special place, my bungee jump in 2008, the point in my life where I have never been so terrified nor exhilarated. I use the memory to launch me into things I find challenging.
Camera rolls, a career’s worth of employment law knowledge evaporates from my brain. We try again, same thing happens. We switch topics, the next one comes easier. Back to the first one, no, I’m still fluffing it every time. Jon tries some jokes to relax me, but he runs out of them as I keep screwing up take after take. It’s important to talk about something to keep me looking natural for the camera so we talk about horsemeat for a while. Topical, if slightly unsavoury.
We go from having plenty of time to working against the clock. Jon changes the battery on the camera. He starts deleting takes as the memory card is filling up. I’m trying not to panic.
One of the topics just isn’t working so I change it. I nail it on the second take. We’re nearly done. Three takes on the conclusion section and it’s a wrap. I’m not sure who is more relieved, Jon or me.
Hello. I make sense of employment law. Unless @projectlibero is in the room with a camera – in which case I blither like an idiot #flannel— Karen J Teago (@teago_emplaw) March 14, 2013
Jon packs up the equipment while I run to the café to get him a sandwich to go. No time for a debrief, I thrust the cling wrapped sandwich into his hand and wish him a speedy journey.
As I walk back up the stairs to the office, it occurs to me that I forgot to offer him a juice and some crisps to go with the sandwich. Not for the first time, I feel like an idiot.
I learnt a great deal about Jon that day. He once stood on the floor of NASA Mission Control in Houston. He doesn’t drink tea or coffee. He likes cheese and pickle sandwiches. He’s supremely patient, a superb photographer, and a delight to work with.
I also learnt a few things about myself on the day and over the course of this project generally. In spite of everything I’ve done over the years, the sudden presence of a camera made me feel vulnerable and awkward.
Why the hell was I doing it then? Because I want to push myself to try new things. Because – “if you always do what you always did, you’ll always get what you always got”. I don’t want what I always had. I want creativity and innovation to permeate my work. I don’t want to do it the way others are doing it. I’m making sense of employment law and I’m doing it my way.
In the days following the shoot, the co-collaborators threw out a few tweets to tease our mutual connections. The jokes and inane chat Jon and I threw around over the course of the time we spent together formed the basis for some amusing banter and inspired Simon to draw a great cartoon.
Random penguins, elephants in custard and giraffe burgers @kevwyke – if you can work out what @projectlibero and I were up to, I salute you!— Karen J Teago (@teago_emplaw) March 14, 2013
Jon said that he thought our “outtakes” were worthy of a film in their own right, which I thought was a superb idea. Simon’s impromptu illustration became the signature image for that film and the whole project.
In the name of doing things differently I have had the opportunity to collaborate with some amazing talent on this project. My heartfelt thanks go out to Jon, Martin and Simon for their efforts.
Simon Heath, illustrator
This isn’t the first time I’ve been asked along at the last minute to rescue a project and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
As far as learning experiences go, the pressure of a tight deadline can really help concentrate the mind and you need to focus on the key themes and important details to avoid becoming bogged down by extraneous noise.
In this particular instance I was working with two people I’d never even set eyes on, let alone met. This has been a major learning point for me since taking to social media to help launch a new phase of my career.
And you know what, it isn’t so very different from establishing a clear set of requirements in a conventional face-to-face working relationship. Ask pertinent questions, ask for clarification, ask, ask and ask again until you’re all clear what is going to be delivered, how and by when. Then the fun part starts and you can actually get down to work.
The other lesson to learn in a situation where you need a quick turnaround is to never take on something you run a danger of being unable to deliver. Nothing sticks like poor delivery, especially in today’s inter-connected world.
Reputations take years to build up but seconds to destroy.
Martin Couzins, producer
So there you have it: four collaborators, two films, seven illustrations and all in a matter of days with just one face-to-face meeting.
We hope you enjoy the films, the illustrations and our stories. Now, it’s what you’ve all been waiting for – the outtakes……..
Last year I started working with a new organisation. Freebridge Community Housing. My very first days work for them was running some small sessions at their staff conference.
As Margaret Burnside & I packed up, I decided to keep my name badge as a little memento.
I justified it on the basis that I was back a few weeks later to deliver more formal training. The staff seemed to think it a little eccentric but no one minded. For me though it represented a link to the company & made me feel like I was part of their team. Although an external consultant I was their employee for that time.
Over the last year the relationship has grown and I’ve been back to deliver various pieces of training. Sometimes that has been paid, other times it has just been a conversation with one or other of the team there, nothing formal.
I’ve seen my friends, Margaret Burnside & David Goddin go in & deliver work there. I think it’s fair to say that we all view Freebridge as a great place to work even if we aren’t on the payroll as such. They have allowed us to work independently but also trusted us to manage the commercial relationship such that we are not competing with, but rather complementing each other. Everyone gets a small piece of cake and Freebridge get us as a loose team able to work alongside each other happily.
How lovely today then to get a letter saying that I have been made a “Friend of Freebridge”. Their letter spoke of my commitment to them as an organisation, how I lived their values and contributed to them – all of which is excellent feedback but it was the enclosure to the letter which is the real perk from my perspective.
They gave me a small badge.
Nothing remarkable in that you might say, except for one thing. It is exactly the same badge as their regular employees get. So this little badge speaks volumes. It speaks of trust, it speaks of acknowledgment and also of true partnership.
Moments like this are the reason I went solo. To be part of companies who are changing the way they work, making it better for customers and for staff.
I’m honoured to work with Freebridge and proud to be part of their team.
I like to walk in the mountains, not climb you understand but quite serious stuff, all 4 seasons, snowstorm or sunshine. Ice axe & crampons at times. There is a term in mountaineering “false summit” this is when there is a secondary or lower summit on your route. As you walk along you can easily see what looks like the top of the hill, however, when you crest it then another summit (or indeed summits) are revealed beyond. The best way to deal with this disappointment is become a good map reader and work out when then is likely to happen to you so that it doesn’t become demoralising.
Today I went for the second of two meetings with a new therapist. I’ve enjoyed talking to this Dr. He is really warm, very open, able to deal with the way my mind randomly connects things and most of all listens to me. I feel truly heard.
He is the 6th NHS person I have spoken to about my mental health in the last 10 months. All of them good and well meaning, all of them keen to help and all of them a false summit.
Today I got the news that this kindly man is another false summit.
That I may wait up to another six months to get the talking therapy he feels I need on the NHS.
That he feels a group therapy setting is inappropriate for me as I understand my condition extremely well cognitively (& would hinder the progress of others or get sidetracked on to helping them rather than my own treatment).
That there will be at least one more person to tell this long story to.
It’s not his fault, basically I’m not enough of a risk to myself or others to be a priority case. He discussed with me the possibility of reduced fee arrangements via final year students of the professional psychoanalytical organisations – possible but very time consuming and somewhat inflexible. We covered the pros and cons of private treatment – tailor made to suit but eye-wateringly expensive.
So I’m kind of stuck on the top of my false summit looking upwards and you know what’s the worst thing? I really don’t have a map to guide me here. I’ve no idea how long this will take, the best route, what I will need to do to get better.
I need a plan. So far my plan involves getting some work through the door, investigating barter arrangements to help me get the therapy I want and need. It involves making more connections, studying mindfulness, researching shamanism and looking at the spiritual angle to this.
Most of all though it means not giving up. It means putting that heavy rucksack on my back, checking my emotional compass and heading up the hill, one step after another. If I ignore you on the trail with my head down, please forgive me, I’m just trying to keep going, to reach the real summit.
