Letting go to grow

It felt hard when I got home. We had celebrated my son Thomas’ 21st at Iguacu in Parnell. A lovely evening which included some healing. I wrote quite a lot in a journal in the 90s and had a collection of memorabilia from home and school that captured the moment. It amazed me how much you forget. So if your kids say something like “When you die and come back as another person do you remember who you were?” then write it down. It’ll be worth it. And it was.

Putting together an album of photographs covering 21 years – and really only snippets which is why I called it “The unauthorised and completely random photo album to Thomas from Dad” – I went though the journals, the photographs and the large container of memorabilia. What it came down to were 30 pages. It took a bit of time, but then it felt thin and not worthy of such a fine young man. But it was a representation of 21 very special years of growing up.

I’ve regarded Thomas as grown up for quite some time but when I got home after the dinner it suddenly hit me: now it’s real, I’ve given him all I can to him as a young person. I consoled myself that I can give him (I hope) plenty man-to-man.

Such an empathetic, energetic and optimistic person is a rare find, and Thomas is one.

I’m still slightly sad, not sure why, but I’ve let go in a way I hadn’t expected to feel on Saturday.

Time to grow. For us both.

Stephen

Hitting the spot

I had two significant conversations last week talking about authenticity and meaning in our work. We don’t always see the obvious. Someone who presents as confident, capable, even strategic can be as empty as can be. Yes, full of the right words, strategic linkages, linear flows and other deliberately important but shallow phrases. They might have an important job, looking after many people and a major division and a family who’s on the fast track to societal bliss.

And it may be perfect. But it may also be that you feel something is not congruent. As one of my colleagues said, “there’s nothing in here”, stabbing his heart. I remember being a cynical boy listening to stuff at a religious service about loving with all your heart and thinking “isn’t this just an organ that pumps blood!”.True, but we also now know that the wiring in our bodies is as big in our brains as it is in our gut. A gut feeling then perhaps, though that’s not the entire point of this.

If your organisation is only focussed on a limited range of number-driven KPIs then what? Happy investors? Possibly, but can the numbers only come from looking at the numbers? If you’re reading this then you probably don’t think so, but I challenge you to ask yourself if there aren’t times when the leadership and authenticity that drives business success is put to one side, because we really need to focus on the numbers. Maybe that always happens. If it’s true that corporate spending on leadership development slows during a recession, then that’s evidence enough I reckon. Say it again, spending on leadership development slows during a recession. That’s okay, but don’t pretend you think leadership development is a key driver of success. The manager with no heart has taken over. And a body without a heart is well, stuffed really, the brain will soon die along with all the other organs. And you won’t even know if you’re bleeding without a heart.

Enough of the metaphor! When I engage with an authentic person who has meaning in their life I know it and I can connect, whatever they do. Can you? Look around you at work. Who hits the spot?

Are you leading with something in the spot? That something is everything you are. A happy authentic space.

Stephen

Say it now

We went to a friend’s mum’s funeral this week. We shared some of the pain of the illness over the last year and learned how close mother and daughter were. At the funeral our friend spoke of the special relationship between her and her mother: how there was never a harsh word, they were best friends and Mum was always there for her, whenever.

I know people who, after their parents have died, talk of the things that they wanted to say.

Funerals make me reflective. No good waiting for the important conversations I was thinking. In fact I don’t mind saying I haven’t waited, but I count myself fortunate to have the tools and parents who engage. Doesn’t mean we agree on everything but we understand and respect. And feel we can talk about whatever we need to talk about.

And our friend clearly had the relationship with her mother that allowed that to occur.

No use waiting until you’re at the funeral home, either in the box or in the pews. Say it now. It’s never too late and you’ll probably have lots of good things to say.

Stephen

Coaching the boss

Lots of my time with leaders is spent not on leading others who report to them, but rather dealing with the board or the group CEO or similar.

Ambiguity of expectations, lack of clarity on results, conversations that leave the leader wondering at best, confused at worst.

Yes we need to get clarity and ensure that the board or our boss make their expectations clear, as best can be for senior people.

But it’s also an opportunity to coach the boss. Working closely with someone gives you a unique opportunity to observe. Knowing when and how to give the feedback and not to, is vital of course for everyone, but especially so for your boss.

So here’s the first of my daily tips – this one adapted from Amy Gallo “How to give your boss feedback”:

  • Wait or ask permission: ask if they’re open to feedback, rather than launching.
  • Focus on helping him or her: Not what you would do, but what would be best to grow your boss.
  • If you’re not sure, don’t say it: No point in damaging the relationship if the feedback is not going to be well received. Use other methods, such as a 360 feedback process.

Stephen