Proceed Until Apprehended

That’s funny. My title made you think I was going to tell you about all the subversive things I’ve done to make the government system inoperable…. well, sorta. I’m going to detail what I saw, at least in part, from my experience in the public service.

I’d like to provide some reflection on my seven years spent in the Saskatchewan Public Service. It was a period of tremendous growth and maturation for me. As the province’s largest employer, it represents the experience a lot of Saskatchewan people receive, or will receive, so here’s my take on what you’ll see.

There are two pretty distinct groups of people working in government. The distinguishing point, in my opinion, is how an individual interacts with the numerous boundaries the bureaucracy presents. Some people see these boundaries as porous and bendable, and others see them as air-tight and immovable.

There are written rules for when you’ll show up, when you’ll take a break, when you’ll get a performance review, how you’ll provide advice to decision-makers, how you’ll request bereavement leave… the list goes on. Then, there’s unwritten rules, like how you’ll dress, or what kind of message you’ll leave on your phone, what your out-of-office email message will say, where you’ll park your bike, there are even some unwritten rules for what are reasonable excuses for calling in sick.

The first, and most significant, choice government implicitly invites you to make is which group you’re going to be in. Most make a non-choice to follow the rules. However, now that you’ve read this far, you’re no longer eligible for the non-choice. You’ll have to choose. If you choose that government boundaries are rigid, congratulations. You’ve just gotten a job that will ensure you and your family are fed for the rest of your life. Mission accomplished.

That choice, however, requires you to accept assignments that appear pretty much meaningless, misguided and sometimes demeaning. If you’re OK with accepting that someone else knows better than you, even when you’re doing more thinking, researching or interacting on the topic, you’ll do fine with this.

My experience with government is that approximately 80% of employees choose to blindly follow the rules. It’s not that everybody starts this way, but they have to keep choosing, everyday, and government has a way of wearing you down until you accept the boundaries. Then you don’t have to choose anymore.

Even in this environment, 20% of individuals don’t accept the bureaucratic expectations. They choose to push, prod and break the boundaries. They work for change.

There’s different levels of investment to the work done on the 20%. Some work on the periphery, away from bread and butter issues. It’s a little more comfortable there. They can fight for changes to regulation 32 C of the Labour Standards Act, and feel proud that they fought the good fight… and no-one bit back.

Others try and strike right at the heart of the organization. They say, “12,000 public servants are working at half speed. We need to change the way we organize and engage employees.” It’s a herculean task given the amount of bureaucracy and control they’re confronting.

It’s in this environment that I worked for seven years, and it had three stages for me:

Stage 1 – Crash Course in Analysis

My amazingly brilliant supervisor demanded more and more from me during this time, and I wanted to get better. I got what I suspect was Masters-level training in creating concrete, credible and compelling solutions. It was a very beneficial relationship… for me, certainly, and I hope for my boss. That training is the foundation for the thought process I apply every day.

Stage 2 – My Attempt to Dent the System

My supervisor moved on, but the timing was impeccable. I was just starting to want to take on more ownership. Ownership not just for the work, but ownership for how I created my own brand and value in government. I challenged boundaries and had some success, primarily in helping others see their relationship with the boundaries. I also had failures. Lots of them. But they were mine, and I learned from them, so… success.

Stage 3 – My Burnout

I had built what I felt to be a healthy, productive little “shop,” an oasis in the bureaucracy, where people were responsible to be thoughtful and practice ingenuity. It was far from perfect. There was lots of growth left to pursue, but time ran out. New leadership brought new direction, and I found myself starting back near the beginning, so yeah, failure. I didn’t do what was necessary to lock in the changes I’d made.

I don’t know if you can “lock in” progress in government. (I don’t know if what I did was progress. If you like this blog, maybe it was.) I left the public service without knowing how to lock in what I’d done. I acknowledge this limitation. I think this was when I knew it was time to leave. I didn’t have the appetite to start again and rebuild what I believed in, and even if I did, I didn’t know how to sustain it when a more senior person’s philosophy didn’t jibe.

Here’s then, what government gave to me. If you’re a recent graduate or considering a career change, you can use this as a checklist to determine if government is right for you:

• Significant investment in my ability to produce quality thinking and advice
• Practice at managing and leading people
• Practice at building a grassroots cultural change
• A near-militant commitment to challenging status quo environments
• Pessimism for the future of all governments
• An innate sense of a bureaucrat’s motivations

I welcome your thoughts, especially if you’re a public servant in Saskatchewan or elsewhere. I tried to write this without pessimism, but I’m not sure it’s possible. Some other perspectives would help round it out.

I’m forever grateful for who I became through my public service experience, but mostly because of how it served as a motivation and a foil for me to grow up and away from it.

At UFC 100, mixed martial arts superstar and welterweight champion Georges St. Pierre defended his title from the best efforts of Thiago “Bulldog” Alves. It was a tremendous test of athleticism and skill, one of the toughtest of GSP’s career.

Throughout the fight, Georges was winning.  When he returned to his corner between two of the later rounds, he indicated to his trainer, Greg Jackson, that he thought he tore a groin muscle. To this, Jackson replied, “I don’t care… Hit him with your groin.”

Best MMA line. Ever.

I think this statement could simply be construed as a statement of “fight through the pain,” which GSP certainly did. When I hear it, however, it has more meaning than that. I hope it was the verbalization of a deeper, more fundamental paradigm – if it’s out of your control, we’re not spending time worrying about it. As you pursue your goal, the external elements that come up are to be used to aid you in your direction or be discarded as irrelevant.

It was an incisive statement of purpose. A painful red herring that had no bearing on Georges’ agenda… and it’s worth watching again.

So, a great lesson, but you and I aren’t in any particular need to know how to successfully dominate a mixed martial arts fight. Let’s take it out of the octagon and consider the underlying paradigm in our day-to-day. Supervisor providing inadequate career counselling? I don’t care. Create your own career plan. Contract not getting signed fast enough? I don’t care. Find a diferent way to deliver.  Chronic illness going to slowly debilitate you? I don’t care. Redefine what creates meaning in your life.

The most powerful position you can take when confronting an obstacle is to presume that it’s entirely your responsiblity to address it. We can acknowledge that the “bulldog” actually had a lot to do with your situation, but don’t let that knowledge hinder you from owning your path out of it.

Sitting in as a guest for some recent leadership training, I was invited to participate in an exercise to tell a story. I realized I hadn’t shared this here, and there’s no good reason not to.

Ten years ago I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. With the diagnosis, I received my fair share of the sort of the traditionally awkward condolences from those that know me. These condolences could perhaps be broken into two parts. First, none of us really know what to say. We fumble and we search for words. Second, we express remorse. We acknowledge that this is bad luck and the person is not as well off as they were.

I don’t really fault that. Given the reverse role in the situation, it’s what I’ve done, too.

When I received all these “bad luck” acknowledgments, they served to help justify my general apathy and lack of effort to improve things. “Well,” I thought, “I’ve been dealt this hand, so now I’m excused from whatever I was pursuing before.” This is all too typical a reaction for people that are diagnosed with a chronic illness. It seems almost normal that you should take on a bitter demeanor and wear a sign that says I was screwed.

That didn’t last a long time for me, but it was very real. I was diagnosed in the May, and through a combination of medication and lethargy I managed to gain 30 pounds by September.

Feeling sorry for myself, I was simply being a spectator, both literally and figuratively. My wife and I found ourselves watching as the runners of our city’s first ever marathon ran through the park. They were all shapes and sizes, and it began to dawn on me that I shouldn’t feel limited. I still had the ability to do things, lots of things, including run a marathon. If they could do it, I should be able to do it.

It was at this point that a blind man ran by being assisted over the course. That was a watershed moment for me. There was clearly no excuse that legitimized my current behaviour.

Life gives you lots of choices, but one of the fundamental ones is whether you’re going to select the role of victim or owner. This isn’t a one-time choice, by the way. It’s a choice presented to you every day, over and over. You have to choose each and every time.

I still don’t quite know what you’re supposed to say to someone who’s been dealt a bad hand. It’s an emotional moment, and I’m not sure there’s words for it. Given the invitation, though, I tell people recently diagnosed with MS that it can be a gift. They just have to choose that it is.

I’m one week complete in my new role with iQmetrix. It was intense, but also really great. I’ve got enough work and opportunity that it’s easy to get lost in the avalanche, but I’m not overwhelmed.

Overwhelmed is a choice.

Starting a new job, I had some of the expected upheaval: New computer, new policies to learn, new procedures, new names and faces, products, acronyms that don’t mean anything, work assignments, papers to sign, planning meetings about responsibilities I’ve just received, a litany of background documents that will orient me to the organization and my role… and I was invited on my first day to prepare and facilitate a session with our Leadership Development Program participants 24 hours later, before I had a desk or a phone.

At home, the dishwasher and the sink both decided to sprout leaks.

And I was asked to speak at the kid’s school open house last minute.

And the neurologist’s office called and I have to call them back between 10 and 12 or 1 and 4. (If I can find a phone.)

And Passport Canada requires me to call and confirm a friend’s passport application as soon as possible.

In the middle of all this, on Wednesday morning, I started a blank document on my computer and wrote at the top, “Stop. Clear your head. What’s important right now?”

Then I answered the question. It took some real effort to quiet all the “noise” that was going on, but I knew I needed to find some space to determine what direction was right for me, for the organization, for my mission… not just to respond to the invitations the environment presented.

My answers didn’t contain anything about plowing through the reports or becoming familiar with the phone system or organizing my desk or finding the supply cabinet and getting a pen. It said “learn about your co-workers.” It said “get a sense of the culture.”

I wrote these items down, and I’m pleased with myself for having the perceptiveness to do that, but I’m most proud of the fact that I then went and did those things. Standing up from the urgent items at my desk was scary, but identifying and pursuing the most important things I could do feels deeply satisfying at the end of the week.

One of the most fun and energizing weeks I’ve had in quite a while.

If you prompted some people I’ve worked with, they’d say I have two glaring weaknesses – I’m stubborn and I’m impatient.

Yet another group might say I have two clear strengths – I’m persistent and I bring a sense of urgency to my work.

They’re both right, of course. It seems to depend on the context of the situation, and also the paradigm of the person you ask.  One thing’s for sure, though. A big part of my story is my tenaciousness and how hard and fast I push… for better or for worse.

I feel like my acknowledgment of this component of my character is helping me mature as a leader. In the past couple weeks, I’ve been invited to participate in a couple of committees. My answer? Well, I thanked them, first. Then I said, “I’ve never met a committee I didn’t disagree with,” explaining that I’ve learned that I’m not always at my best when I need to coordinate an opinion and an action with a group. Sure, I share their desire for outcomes and positive change, I’ll even work with them, but joining the committee? I’m not sure that helps anyone.

That’s not to say I can’t work with others, but committees put a lot of agendas in a room. To come out of it with agreement there often needs to be compromise. For some problems, a reconciliation of diverse agendas isn’t the answer we need. Sometimes, it just prolongs the time until we can get to the heart of the matter.

I think there’s hubris in that statement, but I’d also like to think there’s also an unwillingness to compromise a vision for the security of a team approach.

I wrote just a little while ago about “Beware the Invitation.” Sometimes, committees are a big, distracting invitation. They offer a venue for you to roll up your sleeves and to “see and be seen” working the issue. If your passion and knowledge of an issue drives you to act, it will likely also generate these invitations to align yourself with others. I’d suggest you need to ask if it is going to help you or hinder you in pursuing your original reason for action.

Sorry committees. I didn’t mean to rail on you. I think I’ve just realized that you’re not always a fit for me and it’s OK to say no.

The Chinese bamboo tree doesn’t grow upwards until the fifth year after the seed has been planted. For four years, the seed is watered and cared for with seemingly no results.  It’s roots are growing, but you can’t tell. In the fifth growing season, the bamboo grows upwards at an incredible rate, reaching it’s mature height of 80 to 90 feet in just three or four months.

There’s a lot to be said for having a willingness and a commitment to do things even if they don’t show immediate results. Arguably, that’s a definition for leadership – even if the payoff is so far off as to be unimaginable (and perhaps, impossible), you do the right thing.

I like to picture the bamboo farmer patiently, deliberately, even lovingly watering the spot where the bamboo seed is planted. He knows his investment of care and time will be returned, but there’s more to it. A four year commitment without results is about the journey. It’s about the process of watering and caring, not the resulting tree.

My own bamboo shot up this week. I have accepted a job with iQmetrix. They’re beyond progressive, they’re wildly successful and they’re putting me to work right here in Regina. I’m ecstatic to be joining them in a role that suits me to a T, Manager of Employee Development.

I feel like I do many things that won’t ever pay. I blog, I volunteer for my kid’s school and I tell my bosses things they don’t want to hear. Except these things did pay. They paid when I did them (because it felt like the right thing) and now they’ve paid with a career-changing opportunity.

There’s no doubt my passions and my commitment to honesty played a significant role in my appeal to iQmetrix. Meeting with leadership in my new role, it’s immediately apparent that they actively seek those behaviours, and I naturally fit. No pretending. I’m going to an organization that desires truth, desires honesty and encourages individuals to challenge convention.

I’ve been told many times I’m too much of an idealist. Wait ’til you see me now that I’ve been validated.

When Kerri and I got married, we chose to keep the wedding small. It was limited to our immediate family – parents, siblings, spouses and a nephew. It was a fantastic day, of course, and I believe it was in large part because the fun and joy of the celebration was contained and focused on a small number of guests we really wanted to share with. There were others that could have helped us celebrate, of course, but it’s a slippery slope to include more, all the while thinning out the direct contact and interaction with those that are there. It seemed there was a finite amount of happiness to be shared and we concentrated it among a few.

I’m reminded of this today as Kerri got a blank stare of non-recognition from a bride we saw get married a month ago. Evidence, perhaps, that size doesn’t denote quality.

There’s a moral here for our daily endeavours, as well. How much we’re taking on isn’t an indication of how much we are doing effectively.

Here’s a statement for your consideration: You have a limited amount of thoughtfulness and quality to offer.

The energy and skills with which we do stuff have finite properties, at least until you undertake a long-term effort to increase them. It’s pretty hard to quantify the quality you offer, but a limit is there. And if it is limited, how should you use it?

When you look at the way you’re using this limited capacity now,

• Are you creating quality connections or multiple relationships?
• Are you communicating with focus or responding to all the inquiries?
• Are you creating effective ideas or solving as many problems as possible?
• Are you pursuing meaning or juggling activities?

While I’ve written them as either/or propositions, they aren’t exclusive. Both options are arguably necessary. I’m simply asking if you and I are spending your time where we should.

Paradoxically, computers, the internet and social media create an environment where your finite thoughtfulness can be multipled and shared many times. We often misinterpret this as an increase to our limited capacity. Not so. All these advances simply offer a better distribution system for what we’re able to create.

This isn’t a comment about limits for your success or a containment of the reach of your brilliance, then. It’s the opposite. Your ideas can go further than ever before.

This post is a comment about an individual’s fixed capacity and the importance of treasuring it. When we acknowledge we have a fairly immovable constant, it can create a healthy sense of urgency… if this is all I have, am I using it right while time ticks away?

Invitations are exciting things. We’re so pleased when we get them. Someone thought of us, someone cares.

Not all invitations are good for you. For some, we need to be wary. These invitations ask you to solve problems, provide answers, make decisions and define the course. It actually presents itself like any other invitation. People are deferring to your wisdom. They value your input. They want you to join the party.

That feels nice, and it feels nice to accept the invite, swoop in and make stuff happen… except this invitation has strings. Accepting this invitation establishes that the inviter doesn’t do the heavy lifting, the invitee does. The inviter doesn’t need to think through the issue, make a plan or take responsibility for the breakdown. They just have to flag you down and point to the flat tire.

Accepting this invitation creates a relationship where you take on responsibility for the outcome. That’s all well and good if it’s your role, but if you’re trying to get others to engage in the work, this invitation creates a sustainability problem. The responsibility you’ve just taken with such mastery and confidence was taken from someone who was gingerly holding it, hoping they wouldn’t have to do it themselves. You just took them off the hook. They learned they don’t have to take the risk. You will.

Here’s the counter-intuitive punch line: Establishing yourself as a person that eats problems for breakfast is exactly why you got promoted in the first place, and now it’s exactly what you do not want to do when you’re coaching others.

Spotting and skillfully redirecting unhealthy invitations is one of the key distinctions between good workers and good leaders.

A recent post of mine was about the library, of which I’m a huge fan and user. I’m passionate about the museum, too, but it’s a different kind of love. I don’t particularly like going there, I just like what it represents and what it could be.

I work directly across from our Provincial museum, the Royal Saskatchewan Museum (RSM), and right next door to their annex. They house three collections, a biological collection, a paleontological collection and an Aboriginal artifacts collection. I’ve had the opportunity to tour through the annex, which is not open to the public. It’s more interesting than the museum itself by a factor of ten.

I think this goes for many museums, but I’m picking on the RSM. The museum is, unfortunately, much too static. This is because of money, of course, but it also seems to be because they’re presenting a history of Saskatchewan through mostly physical artifacts, and those don’t change over time. Once you’ve tweaked your presentation, you’re largely into preservation, right?

As you might guess, I don’t agree. I think the RSM should be all about the interpretation. This shouldn’t be too much of a stretch. The tour guides are called interpreters, after all.

Right now, the museum presents the facts, and just the facts. By “interpretation,” I mean that the museum should be in the business of helping me understand what all the history and the worldview they present means for me right now.

The museum offers a picture of reality that is not warped or diluted by other noise. It’s a view of our world that hasn’t been overly polished, manufactured or “defined” by someone else. It’s contact with a reality you can really trust, and that’s exceeding rare in our lives… check that… the lives of people like me, living in the city and going to work each day.

The museum says: These are the environmental regions of our province. This is the bedrock beneath our feet. These creatures once roamed our land. These creatures now roam our land. These people and these cultures defined this province. This vegetation naturally covers our landscape… When I spend all my time outside on paved roads and my indoor time in the air-conditioned comfort in front of a screen, these things can be forgotten.

Somewhere along the way, museums defined their role as protectors of history. They are preservationists to the point that most of the collections are hidden away from public view. The mandate of a museum ends up being, “We protect things that are irreplaceable.”

I think there’s a relevance problem here. Museums need to be challenged to make these collections and this ”real” look at our world relevant to the public. The museum I dream of would be dedicated to helping others understand the world, past and present, so they can make better choices for their future.

Leadership is often understood to be “principle-centred.” You figure out what’s important to you and then you stick to that path. You establish the path that’s integral to you, and even when distractions try and pull you from it, you know what’s important. I see the museum offering a reality-centre. It can be trusted. It can help you buildi an understanding of yourself and your world, offering a solid foundation from which you can develop principles that govern your behaviour. The museum offers an excellent foundation for leadership.

The museum offers bedrock in more ways than one, but we need help using it. It’s not enough just to be there.

Museum, thank you for helping me understand the past, and thank you for helping me understand the present. Please help me plot a path for the future that is grounded in reality.

At the moment, there’s limited transition between “What we know to be true,” and “What we should do now.” I’m inspired by the Human Factors exhibit at the RSM, which connects our human influence to the world’s current state, but it only implicitly invites a tough self-examination. For most, the principles at the centre of their behaviour are  left untouched after a museum visit.

I’d like to see the museum:

• provide examples of leaders who stuck to reality, even when it made them appear unreasonable
• ask me to make a personal commitment to respond to something I learned today
• organize our community to take action on important issues that are largely ignored
• reach out and engage the community in interpreting current events through a scientific and historical lense
• offer orientation for public servants and any organization that’s committed to Saskatchewan
• lead a movement of choice and change based on a trusted understanding of the world
• when I’m physically in the building, engage me in a dialogue. Pull scientists from the back room and focus on engaging with the public.

I’m sure this is easier said than done. There’s undoubtedly a laundry list of items and infrastructure that just need maintenance. Here’s my tradeoff: I’m OK with seeing historical artifacts suffer damage if it means people’s future decisions are more thoughtful, deliberate and grounded in reality. I say that, but I don’t think it would get that far. In truth, becoming more relevant is the first and most important step in getting more funding.