Letter from John: Looking Up

Lately, I find myself looking up. A lot.

I recently had lunch with a senior executive at a large corporation who expressed exasperation with a team responsible for leading big cultural change in her organization. "I just don't understand why this team seems so overwhelmed allof the time," she said.

The team in question reported up to this executive, who frequently reviewed the team's work and made recommendations. She never failed to have recommendations, and ideas for more work...

"Look up," I suggested. She stared at me. I think she was annoyed. I continued, "I know it sounds trite, but it strikes me that the team is responding to the way it is being led. You simply aren't giving them breathing room to be great."

I went on to share that every time I was in the organization, priorities had shifted. New tactics and initiatives were constantly being introduced. The team in question -- and most of the rest of the employees -- spent much of their time reacting as they leaped from project to project. Not incidentally, it seemed that she triggered much of the ever-shifting cascade of priorities.

"People are professional boss watchers," says Jay Coffman, my old boss, friend and mentor. And too many leaders are professional people blamers -- surveying their employees and teams for evidence that things are not going well. That's not leading, no matter how well-intentioned -- that's bad management.

Too often, I see leaders who simply don't practice their leadership. That practice is as simple as standing in front of a mirror or asking team members to help replay their engagements, and provide feedback. Our team at Floricane knows that the cornerstone for effective leadership is a constant state of critical self-awareness -- and an active belief that change starts with each of us.

I say active belief, because I continue to run into leaders who nod sagely at the idea that how they show up, engage and behave is the most important part of their job at work. They nod sagely, and quickly shift the conversation to others.

Sometimes, there are good reasons to shift the conversation. The leaders I work with are stretched past capacity, as are the teams and organizations they're leading. The stakes feel higher than ever. And, so often, external issues feel more pressing, more important, than focusing internally on the development of self -- or others.

I think the core issue is simple: looking in the mirror is serious work! Looking in the mirror, or asking others how you're doing, is UNCOMFORTABLE. It requires humility, and integrity, and a willingness to change.

Self-reflection is hard stuff! Bringing your best self to your work with, and for, others demands discipline. I stumble more often than anyone I know. Some days, I can be a complete train wreck. It's helpful when I can spend a little more time checking my own performance:

• Looking in the Mirror: Change starts with me. Before I walk into a room, I should focus on how I need show up in order to benefit the others in the room. What outcomes do I hope to create? What do others need from me? What will success look like from their perspective? How do I know this? Can I ask them before we get started?

• Watch the Video: I know I can't be perfect in the moment, so I spend time trying to "autopsy" my meetings and conversations. How could I have engaged differently? Is there an opportunity to check in with someone else to review the tape from another perspective? Do I have an opportunity to follow up after-the-fact with new information, or better perspective?

Neither of these activities, as time-consuming as they can be, is useful if I don't care about improving myself -- or being in service to others. Because I want the people I work with to thrive and grow, and live into their best selves, I find that it is time well spent. And it is some of the hardest work I do. I know you feel the same way.

Playground Perspective: The Art of Losing Isn’t Hard to Master

I've got news for poet Elizabeth Bishop. The art of losing is really hard to master. Of course, that's the point of her poem, "One Art", which emphasizes that we spend our lives losing, and preparing for more loss, harder loss.

Last month, we lost a cat. Harvey, a cute 'fraidy cat who had been part of Thea's entire life, did not come home from the vet. The 'fraidy cat part is important -- in Thea's world, Harvey was a feline uni corn, a mythical beast that wandered the periphery of her life. He spent most of his time with Thea hiding in a closet, hugging the shadows, slipping beneath furniture.

His biggest fear since she was born in 2008? That the child would pet him.

Still, we knew that his de ath would rock her world. We didn't anticipate a shift in her mental pantheon that would elevate him to become one of the most important things in her entire universe. For a week.

Day One, a Friday, was hard enough. We suspected that Harvey would not be coming home, and let Thea know that he was sick. We all snuggled on the couch and gently stroked him, and said goodbye. And then Nikole and I took him to the vet, and stayed with him, and said our own goodbyes, as he fell asleep under the anesthesia. The doctor euthanized him after we left.

Nikole and I were both broken-hearted, but Thea seemed to take things in stride once we came home. She didn't realize that he was dead until Saturday morning.

"Dad," she said, as we snuggled on the couch together early that morning, "will Dr. Hiser mail Harvey back when he gets better?"

Talk about crisis communication.

In short order, Thea knew that Harvey was dead, and was not coming home. She cried for two hours. It was rough.

At bedtime, she laid in bed and sobbed for an hour. "I miss Harvey so much," she wailed. Never mind that Harvey existed only on the periphery of her world. That wasn't really the point. For the first time in four years, something very real had vanished unexpectedly from her life.

That night, Thea curled in my lap as I told the story of Thea the Pirate Princess and Harvey. Heavy on the symbolism, it involved Thea setting sail on her pirate ship the Lucky Bucky. Thea and her crew of fierce pirates (her two small cousins, a fat Chinese cook and our dog, Rilo) took Harvey to an island at the edge of the world, where he slipped off into the jungle with his mother, chasing butterflies. (Hello, C.S. Lewis.) It seemed a good idea at the time, but it triggered another hour of sobbing.

Sunday was a little better. And Monday.

It's said that every significant loss in our lives reopens previous losses. But what about our first loss? What prepares us for that?

If the last few years has taught us -- all of us -- anything, it's that we are all faced with change and loss and challenges that we can never anticipate. When the economy evaporates, and the social and political landscape shifts with it, no one is immune. I talk to people every week who are trying to reinvent their lives on uneven ground, or attempting to reconcile their new world with their old aspirations. It's difficult, heart-breaking stuff.

It's never hard letting go. It's sometimes even harder grabbing hold of something new and unexpected. It's unfamiliar, uncomfortable. It feels too soon. We're not sure we're capable of moving forward.

It's been almost a month since Harvey died. Last week, as I was tucking Thea into bed, she leaned into me with tears in her eyes.

"Daddy," she said. "I miss Harvey so much."

"I miss him, too, sweetie," I replied quietly. I asked her what had made her think of Harvey.

"When we were going to the library today, momma and I passed a graveyard and it made me think of him," she whispered. She paused. "Dad, will you tell me about Harvey on the Lucky Bucky tonight before I fall asleep?"

Sometimes, we remember what we've lost. In those moments, we need to be able to lean into people we love, and feel their understanding. In those moments, we need stories, and memories, to hold us together.

The moon has just risen above the lip of the sea, casting a beautiful glow around the shape of Thea's rainbow pirate ship as it splashed through the waves. A bright moonbeam danced through the mast and sails of the Lucky Bucky, and in the shadows the slender shape of a small cat could be seen as he chased a moth through the skies...

Landing NAMI

It’s always nice when we have an opportunity to work with an organization whose mission hits close to home. The National Alliance on Mental Illness Virginia (NAMI Virginia) is focused on improving “the quality of life of Virginians with serious mental illness through support, education and advocacy.” It’s a big mission for a health issue whose big footprint is too often invisible.

I encountered mental illness in a visible way as a college student at Virginia Commonwealth University. Learning to understand and support – in a useful and caring way – several people who were central to my life at the time who suffered from mental illness proved to be one of the hardest, and important, growth steps in my young life. Lacking resources, I fumbled my way through these relationships – often doing as much harm as good, despite the love I felt for my friends.

As an adult, I understand so much more – but there is still much to learn. In my work with Floricane, I have opportunities to support and engage people from all walks of life, facing a variety of challenging circumstances.

Poverty, sexual violence, literacy, fragmented communities – in their own way, each organization we support addresses big, often frightening, issues. I’m not so sure that mental illness doesn’t remain the most hidden of them all.

Regardless, it’s an important issue for all of us. And we’re excited to be partnering with NAMI Virginia as they explore the ways in which they can strategically strengthen and focus their work.

Pitching FIRST CHAIR

It’s official – the joint Richmond Symphony/Floricane leadership and organizational culture program has a name, and it’s tuning itself for the upcoming 2012-2013 season!

FIRST CHAIR, a co-creation of the Symphony and Floricane puts up to 80 employees from a single organization on stage with as many as 60 musicians from the Richmond Symphony – plus Maestro Steven Smith and Floricane’s John Sarvay. In a facilitated, in-the-moment musical experience, participants sit elbow-to-elbow with the musicians for a live performance, and deconstruction, of an intense piece of classical music. Along the way, lessons in collaboration, innovation, change management, organizational effectiveness and leadership are woven into the discussion.

FIRST CHAIR was piloted last spring with a team of 80 leaders from HCA’s Chippenham/Johnston-Willis campus, and it was a huge hit. Since that first session, key Symphony staff – including advancement director Frazier Millner, executive director David Fisk and business development manager Elyse Jennings – have been ironing out logistical details and discussing FIRST CHAIR with more than a half-dozen businesses interested in the experience.

It looks like the next run of FIRST CHAIR is set for the first week of December – with subsequent sessions on tap for early 2013.

Business Friends

One of the books we use a lot with teams and organizations is “Leadership and Self-Deception”. Like most books of its kind, it has problems with structure, flow, a tendency to beat readers over the head.

But it makes good, powerful points about the nature of relationships – and the simple fact that the way we see, and treat, others frequently (and not always consciously) sabotages our effectiveness, and our leadership.

One of L&SD’s core lessons invites us to explore our “way of being”, essentially our emotional attitude toward others. Do we see, experience and treat our boss, our coworker, our spouse in a responsive way – a way that truly values them as a person with unique needs and abilities? Or, do we see them in a resistant way, as problems or obstacles or challenges or annoyances? The simple point of the book is we often never stop to ask these questions – and our answers can change very quickly, very situationally.

I have a friend who I’ve known since I started Floricane who now runs a consulting business very similar to my own. We have many of the same connections, and periodically our work overlaps. I’ll call him Matthew, since that’s actually his name.

Matthew and I regularly catch up with each other, and have made a practice of being open and honest as we have shared stories about our work. We’ve also compared notes on how we price our work, and the types of work we’re chasing. It’s a far cry from collusion, but this level of transparency, I’ve found, is tough to maintain in business. Especially during a tight market, as both of our businesses start to grow and experience success.

Enter Leadership and Self-Deception.

Early last spring, Matthew called me to ask some questions about how we price conference talks or public speechifying. My first instinct was to be entirely honest – we usually hadn’t charged for such activities. That was my responsive impulse. It was immediately followed by my resistant impulse – What was Matthew really trying to find out? What sort of talk was he giving, and why wasn’t someone on our team giving it? He’s becoming a competitor, so I’d better play things close to the chest.

What a terrible feeling! After a few moments of hemming and hawing, I went back to my first impulse and we had a very good conversation. If I had stayed in that space of resistance, however, you can only imagine how much that would have damaged our relationship – and created the very thing about which I quickly became suspicious and fearful.

Now that Floricane is in the Richmond Times-Dispatch Building, our offices are just a block away from Matthew’s. Last week, we sat down and had a very open conversation about our business challenges, and opportunities. It was real, it was refreshing and it was a reminder that not only can you have friends in competitive places, but that rising tides are most likely to lift all boats if the crews are communicating.

It’s nice to be out of the box, and to be responsive to our friends – and competitors.

Add It Up

I started working with an old friend and former colleague early this summer. Jim Parker, the former chief financial officer for Luck Companies, has known me since 1996, and would probably joke that I haven’t learned a whole lot since he first since me out to train hourly quarry workers on company financial statements.

To say that I’m working with Jim is probably a misstatement. Jim is working me over.

Our meetings have been a series of conversations. The conversations have evolved from a series of scribbles (my scribbles) on scraps of paper and napkins to a series of charts and tables in Excel spreadsheets. As he has pushed me to reconstruct my business, Jim has pushed me to focus – and to deepen my focus.

Jim’s last statement as we finished our first conversation proved prescient. “I haven’t looked at any of your financials,” he said, “but my gut says that you’re probably losing money on every job.”

His point was simple. And he was right. My lack of attention on the financial structure, and long-term stability, of Floricane was a problem. And it was one that could be fixed – if I had the discipline to do the right work.

Through effective questions and consistent attention – and a push for accountability – Jim has started to steer me, and the business, in the right direction. We started with a hard look at the foundation – operating costs, expenses, job pricing, contractor costs – and have started to move into bigger questions around job costing and mix. It makes my head hurt. But it’s starting to make sense.

In many ways, Jim is doing the same work as Floricane does when it coaches managers and senior leaders. In our coaching role, our team asks hard questions, and keeps attention focused on the uncomfortable spaces, the spaces where development and growth need to happen.

Initially, it doesn’t feel as if it is ever going to add up – and, then, it does. And you wonder why you never approached work that way before now.

10 Lessons from Our Summer of Self-Discovery

We recently finished a fast sprint exercise – a real test for the Floricane team, which has a tendency to test the waters and plan each game. Our Summer of Self-Discovery series was conceived on-the-fly in late June, and launched five weeks later as a three-part series of workshops built on the Insights Discovery® assessment we use with clients.

The focus of the sessions was to help people deepen their understa nding of and appreciation for the many different ways we can leverage our unique personalities to develop personally, and to increase the effectiveness of our teams and our leadership. In the end, more than two dozen people took us up on the offer to spend at least one (and many spent three) evenings with us as we unpacked different elements of Insights at a fast clip.

I walked away with a small handful of lessons:

• People are hungry for understanding: We see it everywhere we go, whether it's a public workshop or in the workplace. There are just a lot of people in our community who just want to learn!

• My experience as facilitator is different from your experience as participant: My Insights profile actually suggests that I’m my own worst critic. Taking time at the end of sessions to chat with people helps me understand their experiences much better than packing up and bolting!

• Tablecloths make an impact: We really love our new space, but simple design gestures – orange table cloths, music – have a huge impact in big corporate rooms. We need to remember to do more to soften our environments.

• Get out of people’s way. They’ll do better work: Sometimes, it helps to get out of the way – whether your blocking your co-facilitators, or getting in the way of the participants.

• Planning is not underrated, but it is often overdone: It helps that we’ve been working with this material for more than a decade, but we pulled these sessions together pretty fast! Sure, they could have been tighter, but we found the loose flow to be conducive to the learning – and a bit contrary to our tendency these days to over-plan things.

• Interaction is always underrated, and often underdone: If over-planning is a disease in our organizations these days, so is under-interacting. Creating space for people to come together, connect and learn is a WIN. Seriously.

• Soft sell beats hard sell: Lord knows, I’m a terrible salesperson – at least in the traditional sense of the concept – but I continue to find that demonstrating the value of our work trumps packaging it. Creating opportunities to experience Floricane’s approach to change seems to be our most effective approach to selling.

• We care about what we do: Every time we conclude one of our money-losing, public workshops and step back to debrief how things went, I’m reminded that the biggest driver for the work we do is our passion for people, and for change. It’s such a great reminder for me, and for our team, that we get to live our Vision every single day.

A Day with PUNCH

We recently spent the day with the creative team at PUNCH – by which I mean we spent the day with the 20+ team members representing all aspects of the Richmond-based creative design firm. We've been guiding the team through a series of discussions about various ways the firm can grow and transform, building on its excellence in print production.