I posted my last blog “I just wanted to hug her” at 12.48pm on 15 March, after boarding a regular flight from Wellington back home to Auckland. It talked of the events of that morning, and I felt satisfied that we’d had a good event, and that I’d been able to blog so promptly.
The doors then closed and by the time the flight landed in Auckland over 40 innocent people had been murdered at the Al Noor Mosque, and as I mounted my motorcycle to head up Highway 20A to the city, several more people were killed at the Linwood Islamic Centre.
Just over the road and around the corner at Linwood Avenue Primary School in the early seventies our class wrote to the then prime minister, Norm Kirk, to suggest that we have a holiday on his birthday. I have no idea what inspired us to write the letter, but I do recall we received a gracious reply, thanking us for the suggestion. I’m not sure what he thanked us for actually, but with the benefit of hindsight, it must have been something about his leadership that we had noticed.
Someone said to me today that because our prime minister wore a scarf while mourning with the Muslim community these last two weeks, she feels differently about Muslim women. It’s made quite a difference, she said, something she said she can’t clearly articulate but it’s been very healing for her. And she hasn’t been a fan of the prime minister at all.
I can’t remember what we saw in Norm Kirk, but my impression of him was a great leader, who sought change for good.
Leadership is about bringing people together for a common purpose.
To me the scarf was as simple as that. Powerful.
When Mary spoke at our PwC Fraud Academy event this morning she shared her personal experiences of “blowing the whistle” on her boss some years back. What struck me and others in the room was the very real and powerful effects on her.
At one level she simply did the right thing, having found evidence of invoicing fraud. But it was much more than this. The sense of disbelief – could my boss have really done this? The agony of not knowing who to trust. The suspicion that others might be involved. And the fear. Fear of consequences for herself – “maybe people will think I’m involved” – or at least culpable for not having picked it up, and the fear of what her boss might do.
As it turned out, after her boss was confronted by senior management she was confronted by him: “What have you done? They’re accusing me of all manner of things“.
Nasty stuff and not things we hope we’ll ever face in the workplace.
Leaders will typically prepare for crisis events: spring into action for natural disasters and man-made events. Preparing ourselves for confronting the worst aspects of the human condition requires drawing on our innermost resources and life experiences.
Mary left and we wrapped up the session with a few words about the importance of transparent and visible whistleblower services.
As our audience left one woman came up to me and asked me to ensure that we properly thanked Mary for her bravery “I just wanted to hug her” she said.
Sometime in the next five or six years there’ll be a tipping point. Electric cars will be like CDs after records or Netflix after DVDs. Suddenly you’ll realise the old is out and the new doesn’t feel new, it’s just normal. I expect I’ll own an electric car one day soon. I quite look forward to it, however, I think I’ve left it too late to be an early adopter as I was with my E-bike (which I’ve reintroduced myself to lately – so good!).
In an episode of Comedians in Cars getting Coffee Jerry Seinfeld declares “How you can not notice and appreciate cars is beyond my comprehension“. He’s driving a 1965 Porsche 356 in green. One from his own collection by the sound of it. Next episode he’s driving an Alfa Romeo Giulia Super, circa 1970. He said it was a “barn find” in Italy. Both vehicles beautifully restored. A Fiat 600 Multipla followed. So cute!
Anyway, so when we’re all driving electric cars, will we be allowed to have an old sort of car? Probably yes, and hopefully on the road too – especially for weekend trips.
So I wonder if it’s time to get a future classic or two for those road trips in the weekend when petrol stations are as rare as car charging stations – plenty around but they’re not obvious unless you are looking – and most cars are much the same (or even more so).
It’ll be a different world, and many significant global challenges face the planet in the immediate future. Who hasn’t got a bit of anxiety about what’s in front of us? But you have to believe that there will be time and space for things that provide contentment.
I’m counting on a weekend road trip in a classic.
p.s. they’re Alfa Romeo Giulia Super cars in the header photograph
After a year on the market my house finally sold before Christmas. After so many open homes – always keeping the house pristine – deals that didn’t go through and new advertising promotions, the prospect of a sale became all consuming.
There was contentment on reaching a deal, even some happiness, but when the time came to prepare to move this month, dread set in. How could I leave my home of 12 years? After all, I have lived there longer than any other house in my life. I had made it perfect for me.
A colleague of many years left last week, the day before my move, to pursue his own journey last week. He made a big decision to disrupt for the future.
When he left it was an opportunity to reflect on the value of relationships and the often unspoken meaning that comes with valuable relationships at work.
Leaving my home has been a necessary disruption to make way for my future housing plans.
Tonight while I was showing the new owners all the little things they should know, two little girls appeared at the front door. Neighbours with farewell drawings. So sweet. Their way of letting me know that they valued our friendship.
Nothing new and really meaningful can happen without disruption and for me a bit of pain. But it’s a good thing. A great clean out, a new neighbourhood and proving I really do know how that complicated A/V system goes together!
So for me, a silver lining although I do wonder what it’s like to be completely content in the present state. Does that bring similar joy in the end?
In the end, whatever works. And stay tuned for my new beginnings on the home front.
Happy new year.
When Mum and Dad were married, the end of WWII was just seven years earlier. That’s like it had ended at the end of 2011, looking back from now. Or, if we look at the Armistice for WWI, the 100th year of which we commemorated yesterday, that was thirty-four years prior, say 1984 from today’s lens.
Photographs from that era were all black and white and the first one included in this blog is the “meet the parents” trip taken outside 125 Queen Street, Auckland. Until recently this was the Bank of New Zealand building, the bank that Mum and Dad have been with for all that time! (although I’m pretty sure Mum has some funds hidden away elsewhere). The photograph was taken by a street photographer and collected from the store an hour or so later on payment of a small fee.
It’s tempting to look at a long marriage as a specific time period and consider it a great achievement (which it is), or a good effort (perhaps like a prison sentence – “hey it’s more than David Bain did and he was innocent!”), or assume what is there today is what was there all along.
Here’s the wedding day – them on the right with one of Dad’s brothers as best man with the bridesmaid.
Unlike the photographs it’s not all black and white. Mum and Dad are quite colourful actually – check out the recent photograph below. They’re parents, grandparents, great grandparents, brother and sister, uncle, aunty, cousin and friends to many.
So on this day it’s a celebration of a couple who have lived together as an example of love, persistence, humour, faith and actually, the most important thing of all: just doing good. Some of that even washed onto me!
Nice. Congratulations. You’re a legendary couple.
ps 66 years!
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about micro-moments. Those moments in leadership when we have to make a call or react to circumstances. When our EQ is truly put to test. And our leadership defined by others. Harsh, but true.
But there are other micro moments too. Those moments when to do nothing might not be noticed, but to do something could make a big difference to others and our leadership. When we need to grab the moment. I’ll call this the Leadership Grab (kind of grabs me!).
We had some of these moments on the Authentic Leadership Programme today when the participants sat with senior leaders in a series of leadership conversations. Rich and empowering stuff for all concerned. There were Leadership Grabs up on offer.
I’m pretty sure I’ll have one or two on offer later this week when I facilitate an internal session on leadership and culture. Even so, I’m doing some planning.
But what to do to prepare for the unexpected Leadership Grab? I’ll be trying as best I can to use some wise leadership and tools that go with it – my ethical compass, appreciative inquiry, stories, coaching and vision – and ignoring the ordinary voice in the head that tries to tell me to not step forward.
It needn’t and shouldn’t be loud or confronting. Just an authentic act of leadership delivered calmly and firmly to empower others and grow yourself.
Will you be ready for your next Leadership Grab?
noun a feeling of great pleasure and happiness.
It’s a word that’s been top of mind lately. As authentic leaders we strive to provide an environment where those we lead can perform, grow and reach their purpose, or meaning.
I have had an internal debate about whether I look for purpose or meaning. Whichever one it is I strive for, lately I’ve noticed that unless something brings joy, I’m hesitating.
A colleague and I engaged in a coaching conversation today. We challenged each other on blocks that people have to finding joy. It is the nature of the work? Is it too much work? Or is it just a mindset.
Work won’t always bring us joy. Sometimes it’s just hard. Our personal objectives won’t always bring us joy. Getting there can be hard.
But on the way through I reckon we should be finding some joy. Not just from reaching a purpose, finding a meaning, or even reaching a goal. But on the way through.
Reminding ourselves “these are the good old days“. Making it a daily challenge to find the mindset that brings joy to us is not easy, but worth a try for our own sense of purpose or meaning, and our teams.