Proceed Until Apprehended

At my high school graduation, they held a play-money casino night as our social event. One of the venues at our casino was a horse-racing game. You’d bet on your horse, they would play the video of the race and you’d see how your horse placed. Now, I don’t know if the game was flawed or someone just hadn’t read the directions, but we had odds for all future races for the evening. Same horses, same names, just a “different day” at the track. After one race, it became apparent to me that the odds for each horse in the next race were adjusted based on their earlier performance. Essentially, the future odds told you what was going to happen in the current race.

Like any good bettor, I used the available information to place my bets. It looked like a tremendous winning streak, until there were too many wins to just be luck. Then others suggested that I had the game at home, or somehow I was cheating. I wouldn’t call it cheating. I was taking the loosely formed (and mostly just implied) rules of the game and using them as best I could. By (math) skill and insight, I was cleaning up.

Rationalization aside, I don’t think I can adequately describe the anxious feeling I had as I exploited my loophole. I was so far ahead, I was sure I must be doing something wrong. It couldn’t be this easy. I felt huge pressure to stop playing the game. Eventually, I did stop.

It’s a goofy little story, but I was reminded of it today as I read Moneyball by Michael Lewis. It’s an artfully crafted story about one team’s application of objective, rational assessments to the selection of baseball players when seemingly every other team in the league uses judgments steeped in baseball culture. They’re using beliefs that are irrational. The only thing that keeps the beliefs alive is that it’s what everyone else is doing, too. General Manager of the Oakland A’s, Billy Beane, is at a completely different level as he selects ball players because they’ll perform and win games, even if they’re not the traditional prototype. It’s a massive success. As an outsider looking in, it’s sort of a “well, duh” thing, but I know it wasn’t easy. There’s a breaking of convention. Unfulfilled social expectation. People that look for how you’re cheating. The possibility that you’re wrong, that you’ll fail. It would be so much easier to just follow the same implied rules as everyone else.

The lesson, of course, is that it’s the person with the willingness to stare down those pressures and stick to a new, rational belief that finds the way to be much more effective and, perhaps, eventually change the game.

If I had figured that out in high school, I could have purchased a bigger plastic novelty item with my play money.

I wouldn’t say it’s happened a lot, but a few times when I’m being an effective volunteer and I’m addressing an issue, I’ve been asked to take an “executive” role, like chair or board member. It’s flattering, and given the old rules of power and hierarchy, I have an immediate gut reaction to say yes.

Thankfully, I’ve trained myself enough that I’m able not to blurt out the first thing that comes into my head. You see, I don’t want to run the movement, I want to help lead it.

Organizations come with responsibilities and obligations. Being the change-junky I am, I’m usually not too keen on helping out with all those old expectations and deliverables. There’s a bright, exciting future to be had, and the old stuff seems to be a distraction to the story. Now, I know that there are some old things that still need to be done… let’s call those the fundamentals. Things like budgeting, stakeholder communication or volunteer development, but there seems to be a steady supply of people to take on those roles. I’m really thankful those people exist. I want to play where there are no rules, no expectations. It’s people taking adequate care of the fundamentals that allow for others to explore innovations and growth.

So, back to the opportunity. What to  do? The roles have offered influence, but only if you’re not too busy being distracted.

I’ve found it works well to be uflinchingly honest in what I’m capable of doing. I’ve found myself saying, “I really care about the outcomes and am passionate about the work this organization can do. I like the idea of a bigger platform, the access to resources, the ability to influence the thinking of others, but I’m not really interested in many of the conventional things being done. In fact, I’ll probably be frustrating to you as I don’t ‘pull my weight’ on some of this stuff. You can have me, but I’m not going to be very helpful for maintaining business as usual.”

Kinda sounds like my job interviews, huh?

What I’ve found is that there’s a HUGE appetite for this kind of truth telling. The response has been a ready acceptance for this kind of approach. The big hurdle here isn’t the people inviting me to join. The hurdle is in my head, and whether I’m going to embrace the discomfort of being something different than expected.

The older I get, the more I see meaning, purpose and fulfillment in not-for-profit, community service activities. I’m ashamed to say that for a good long period, they just didn’t seem relevant to me. Most organizations in this category are really passive and reactive. Rarely do they reach out, market or do something remarkable. If you’re not looking, they’re not selling.

It seems to me many don’t even know (or question) if they’re relevant. They laid out their charter in about 1967 and they’re sticking to it.

In the past ten years, I’ve woken up to these organizations and how much they mean to me. Now, I sign up, I get plugged in, I participate, I wonder why it’s done that way, I shrug it off and just provide my time, I get frustrated, I decide to pull back for my sanity. Later, I try again. I come up with a good idea, it’s met with resistance… it’s sort of a circular, love/hate relationship. I’ll feel foolish if this is only my story, but I don’t think it is. I think many of us struggle with finding organizations that are willing to receive new ideas and challenges to the old model.

I tend to try and volunteer at the governance level. That may be the problem, but it’s also where I feel like I can make a difference. I’m struck by how un-strategic and short-sighted these boards can be. I guess much like our for-profit organizations, many of the “leaders” around the table are those who proved their mettle in the rank and file, doing the blood, sweat and tears-work. Unfortunately, there are different issues at a board table, but old habits die hard. Being an excellent fundraiser isn’t a strength in that discussion. Constantly pulling the discussion back to a side issue or a particular project is downright detrimental.

That table needs questions like, “why do we exist?” and “are we relevant?” Those are the earth-shattering questions that could bring these organizations back from the brink of extinction.

Personally, I don’t think it’s in the cards. More non-profits are going to dwindle away than build an evergreen culture. I haven’t lost my passion for community service, but creating alternate methods of delivery looks more appealing, even if it’s a lot of effort to start them.

A while ago, I read a Chief Happiness Officer post by Alex Kjerulf called “My job is…”

He points out that if you start a Google search with “my job is” it will auto-fill your search with the ways that search phrase is typically finished in Google. The results are fascinating, though perhaps not surprising. Here’s the screenshot of the list Alex found:

When I decided to toy around with Google Adwords, Alex’s post was in my mind. I could think of no better way than to use some “long tail” search terms that are in this same style. I’m presenting ads in the obscure, rare moment that you’re staring at your computer, at the end of your rope, unable to fathom what to do next at work. At that moment, the best my target recipient can do is type their frustration into the Google search field… viola, there I am. With my little text ad, I say:

Here’s a fun little game. See if you can find my keywords. Try a “frustration search.” If you find it, you can click on it and take up to ten cents off my net worth.

My limited understanding of criminal law (thanks mostly to Law and Order) is that in the innocent-until-proven-guilty presumption of our courts, the “burden of proof” lies with the prosecution. This creates a healthy bias in favour of the accused. Someone on trial won’t be thrown in jail because they can’t prove they didn’t do it. Someone else has to prove they did do it. Fair enough. I want that justice system if I’m accused of a crime I didn’t commit.

At work, the “burden of proof” lies with the person that is challenging the status quo. That “healthy bias” is against you. If you propose change, you’re immediately presented with a number of concerns, all of which you’re responsible to allay. The new proposal is considered guilty until proven innocent.

Most of the challenges that come up will actually have some validity. I’m not intending to argue that they don’t. It’s just where the burden lies that gets me.

So, what’s a person that sees a better way to do? The organizational version of presuming guilt and innocence isn’t changing anytime soon. The burden of proof is going to be placed squarely on your shoulders. Do you accept the challenge?

I say do not accept, at least not exactly. That’s because the challenge they’re foisting on you isn’t the challenge you’re seeking. You’re asking to pursue a better way, not prove your point through the established rules. Don’t fight the opposing view. Energize your own perspective. Create something that replaces the old instead of trying to go toe-to-toe with it.

The next time you have an idea that’s going to be presumed guilty, don’t start that conversation. Just start making change happen and see how far you can go without engaging those who would resist. You won’t be by yourself. The informal team you build will be of people that are helping you, not resisting you. When you do meet up with resistance, see how much of it you can ignore. It’ll mostly be language and semantics and furrowed brows. Ask if these are actual barriers or bluster. Do they have a veto? They may just be trying to get you to quit.

Side-stepping naysayers isn’t to avoid barriers and concerns that must be addressed before changing structure. The real challenges have to be resolved to create an effective, reliable solution. The side-step is about choosing your own approach. It’s about creating a culture of value-through-creation instead of value-through-critique.

If you accept status quo rules and expectations, you also accept that you’re on a path of incremental adjustment. You know we’re past the time for incremental. We have to make the choice that brings us revolutionary change.

Change. Let’s just take that as a given.

Your organization. Unless it was established in the past decade,  it was designed or incrementally built for a different era and a different notion of how companies are successful.

Now, the world is different. Creating value had different rules. To make an old organization relevant for today, you have to adapt.

In evolution, adaptation is done though trial and error. A long beak either helps you survive or slows you down. A different shape to your ear either helps you hear predators or it dulls their footsteps. Species have thousands of mutations and a few work. Ultimately, the adaptations that improve design are the ones that make it.

So, in our organization, why do we think it is going to be the vetted, approved-in-triplicate, endorsed-by-the-president idea that is going to change your organization? That’s the common expectation. Everyone keeps looking for the home run.

If nature offers any clues, we should likely be considering the “small ball” of little trials and errors. Trying a hundred small things gives us a lot more opportunity to find a winner and plenty of knew information, besides.

A culture of “small innovation” guarantees you’ll find some real, effective improvements. It just won’t happen like in the movies.

Good mentorship is one of my favourite perks of a good job.

A supervisor should be critically interested in your growth and actively engaged in helping you develop your career. It’s in their long-term interest that you become capable of doing more with even less supervision, that you start solving things they didn’t even know were problems and exceeding what they even anticipated your role to be. Your development makes their succession planning easier, takes problem-ownership stress off of them and makes more value for the company… which makes them look good.

However, there’s a limit to how much your supervisor can be your life-coach. Your supervisor isn’t the only external perspective on your development you should have. They’re just the mandatory one.

You have to remember that your supervisor is going to have a conflict of interest when discussing things like whether this organization is right for you or if a project is sucking the life out of you. For one thing, if you say no to the deal, they’re likely left holding the bag. For another, they’re likely a little more invested in the game plan than you. They may be putting some things off the table that you shouldn’t.

I think the contract you have from your supervisor is, “I’ll help you develop desirable career skills and I’ll help you figure out how to get the most out of this organization.” What’s unsaid, however, is “I won’t tell you when you could grow faster/more efficiently/more broadly by getting out of Dodge.”

Step one: Start choosing your supervisors as much as the job.  Make sure your supervisor is committed to a philosophy of “developing staff.”

Step two: Know their advice isn’t the whole picture.

Step three: Get more advice – find another mentor…or three.

No one person has the whole answer for you. Diversify where you’re getting your advice.

When you start something new, you often see with great clarity the things that are wrong or inefficient. You ask simple questions like, “why is this done this way?” or “could we just stop doing that?”

It’s a tremendously valuable perspective, but it’s typically not received that way. Instead, the reaction is defensive, perhaps a bit perturbed. My guess, the person doing the reacting probably agrees with your point, but it’s that you’ve made them feel foolish. It’s hard to separate the emotions from the logic.

You see, everyone prides themselves on being a strategic thinker. It’s like those surveys that ask people if they have above-average intelligence. The large majority will say they do. These folks have been fighting the good fight, even if it was a little in the weeds, and today you pointed out that they’re churning instead of making it simple. It’s like someone just showed them the shortcut after they’ve used the long route for five years (or twenty). They had a reason, you know… or in ’82 that option wasn’t available… or it’s easy to say that NOW… or we’ve been building to that shift for a while, let it come.

As the instigator of a broader view, however, you should gird yourself for this kind of reaction. Finding an innovation was easy. The hard part is getting through the egos and the habits to make it happen.

I’ve got one word for you. Plastics.

I don’t have good advice. I tricked you, as so many others have before. In my defense, at least I’m willing to admit the charade.

I’m pretty frustrated by the “helpful” advice we get from friends, colleagues, parents, teachers, guidance counsellors, professors, supervisors, people that are older than you, people that have some sort of societal status… I’m sure you have more to add to the list.

It is soooo hard to discern good advice from bad. You can’t tell from tone of voice, cut of clothes or the number of degrees on their wall. Seeing material evidence of their success or media coverage of their latest coup doesn’t actually mean anything, either.

Whatever they say, you’re still confronted with an individual that is giving well-meaning advice about a future they can’t predict.

I’m in a unique role now to see LOTS of people who have listened to LOTS of well-meaning advice and are still struggling to find success, to get work or to feel valued. All those people that provided advice with gentle eyes and a hand on the shoulder? They didn’t know. They just thought they knew. From a paradigm of “my position requires me to groom, control and cultivate,” they sold a Nigerian inheritance.

I’m thinking it would be more helpful if they said, “I don’t know what’s needed. I’ve had a long and full life with a particular strategy for adding value, but I’m not sure it’s relevant anymore. I think the only thing I can encourage you to do is ready yourself for a lot more change. Be ready, willing and adaptable.”

THAT would have saved me some time… if I listened to it.

This might be a really simple idea, but sometimes I can forget it. My guess is that you’re prone, too.

What we chase to make us happy and what actually makes us happy are often two different things. We chase a bigger salary, a nicer car, a trip to Mexico or a bigger office. We chase acknowledgement for our volunteer efforts or for someone to compliment our new shirt. We save up to buy… wait, who am I kidding? We use our credit card to buy a new camera.

Without fail, these items soon become part of our new routine or a distant memory. Once the euphoria fades away, we’re filled with “what next?”

There’s a pattern here, and if we step back for a moment it’s easy to see it. The majority of our lives is spent in the routine, not the moment of achievement. If your happiness is derived from THE NEXT THING, you’re establishing that you will live most of your life unfulfilled. Sure, you get a sense of satisfaction when you attain something, but that’s fleeting.

I say we should focus on what’s constant. Rather than “what’s next?”, how about asking “what am I doing on a consistent basis?” Then, if you plan to continue repeating the pattern, figure out how being in that moment can make you happy.