Still Reflection on Troubled Waters

An accompanying job in one of my old stomping grounds has stirred up memories of a challenging situation.  While I'm not one to wallow in regret or rehash the past over and over again in my mind, I do occasionally consider what I could have done differently in a given situation, so that I might learn something valuable even if an experience didn't play out the way I would have preferred.  As I played through this particular sequence of events from my past, I came upon a startling realization.  Although I made conscious efforts to "not make the situation worse," there is very little I could have done to change the outcome.  It would have been more authentic, and perhaps had a greater positive impact on some of the people involved, for me to simply speak directly and honestly without going overboard on efforts to be diplomatic or polite.

As concise as I can be while still painting a more or less complete picture, here is the story.  I fired someone.  Actually, I eliminated their position.  I did so as gently as I could, and I offered another possibility for the person to be involved and continue to earn an income.  This individual was essentially getting paid for doing the same thing that several other people did as volunteers.  It was a bit of an ethical disconnect for one person to get paid to do something that other people did for free, and the budget wouldn't allow me to pay everyone I would have liked to pay.  However, I needed someone to do a different task, a more unique task that I could practically and ethically justify paying someone to do.  It seemed like a perfect fit to me.

Not so for the individual in question.  The position for which I wanted to pay someone was not desirable to this person, so when I stopped paying for her participation, she stopped participating.  I found someone else to fill the paid position and went on with my job.  It was, after all, nothing personal.  When I heard about another paying opportunity for which she was quite qualified, I passed it along, but she wasn't interested in that either. Instead, she started a whisper campaign to get me removed from my position.

One person who was sympathetic to her point of view happened to be the board chairperson, and this position held more power than any salaried position in the organization.  The chairperson already had some significant differences of opinion with me about the organizational structure.  I believed that the paid staff had been hired because of our expertise in our areas of focus, and that the volunteer board existed to guide and support the vision of the organization, spearheaded by staff leadership.  The chairperson believed that the staff were hired help who were expected to follow the orders of the board, lack of expertise or leadership notwithstanding.  This distinction was never clearly communicated to me, so I continued to operate under my own perceptions.

I knew that there were communication issues.  I knew that the board was slow to make decisions, and that many of those decisions were based on fear rather than vision.  I knew that there were rumblings going on behind the scenes and in the shadows.  In other words, I knew this organization to be like most other organizations.  So, I offered leadership from my position to support the stated purpose of the organization, not realizing that leadership was not really what was expected of me.

Eventually, ten months after these events began, it was suggested that I resign.  I did so, and they ushered me out as quickly as possible, with a polite reception and a plaque.  I received the plaque graciously and told everyone how wonderful it had been to be a part of their "family" during my time there, and I left it at that.  In the moment, I thought there was no reason to bring up any of the misguided or dysfunctional actions that led to my departure, since really there were only a couple of angry people with personal agendas that created a toxic environment.

Now, looking back at that situation, I realize that nothing I would have said could have made matters worse.  I'm sure there are things that someone could say or do that would have exacerbated things, but there was no reason for me not to be direct and honest with the people involved.  My situation would have been no different, and (although I doubt anything coming from me would have been received) they just might have heard something that no one else was willing to tell them.  Instead, I gave up and let them have their dysfunction, and in the process I didn't trust myself to be able to confront them with loving honesty.

Sometimes, being adept at self-deception leads us to the illusion that we are also effectively deceiving everyone around us.  I want to be the kind of person who will tell someone, "What you are doing doesn't line up with what you claim to believe."  Not out of spitefulness or malice, but simply because there is really nothing to be lost on my end and everything to be gained on the other end.  If I could go back and observe, "It must be frustrating to constantly be at the center of upheaval and turmoil," I wouldn't have been telling the chairperson anything astounding, but it would have conveyed that I saw the pattern of his involvement in one organization after another. 

Of course, I cannot go back and have any impact on that organization.  That time has passed, and I have moved on to other endeavors.  But I will continue to interact with people for the rest of my life, and I want to take as much as I can from my life's experiences, the ones I absolutely love as well as the ones that are frustrating as hell.  From that chapter, I can glean (among other things) that there isn't that much to be gained by me trying to "not make a situation worse."  I can trust my own authentic baseline of tactful diplomacy, honest care, and incisive discernment without adding anything to it.  It may not change the outcome in the least, but it will change how I am with myself, and that is ultimately worth more than anything.

Braving the Ice

When I initially made plans to drive back to Fort Worth after a couple of days of rehearsals back in Houston, last week's storm wasn't even on the radar.  As my travel day dawned, however, it became apparent that the trip would be a little more challenging than usual.  Most of the drive was just very windy, but as I drew nearer to Fort Worth, icy roads presented a challenge to which most Texas drivers are not accustomed.  As one might expect, the transformed roads led to transformed behavior for some people.

Normally, busy roads around here are an "every man for himself" affair, but the icy conditions made it impossible for people to go speeding along in an imitation of the Autobahn.  For a long stretch of the treacherous road, our cars were in a slow, single-file caravan, etching a cautious path through the ice.  Instead of driving in the midst of the typical road rally, I was a part of a united effort to navigate the roads safely.  Cars would exit or merge gradually into the determined stream of drivers, relying on one another's judgment and courtesy in a most unusual way.

We seemed to be crawling along, but the conditions demanded it.  At one point, a little red pickup wasn't satisfied with the pace, and attempted to go a little faster than the long line of cars.  The passing lane, being less traveled, had a much thicker layer of ice with no ruts from a caravan of cautious drivers.  When the little red pickup hit a patch of ice and went spinning off the road, it was confirmation that we were doing something right by taking things slowly and carefully.  I might have stopped or called for assistance for that driver if my entire focus hadn't been on my own safety.

Once I got into Fort Worth, the icy roads were still a hazard, but drivers were no longer banding together.  There were fewer cars on the road than usual, but each driver was going it alone.  The road conditions hadn't changed, but without the solidarity of a string of other drivers the experience was a bit more harrowing.  Still, slow and cautious got me home.  It was a great comfort to have that experience of safety in numbers, even though the last portion of the trip was on my own.  And really, it had to be.  None of the other drivers were actually going to my specific destination, so I couldn't possibly follow a caravan all the way to my doorstep.

Which is the blessing and the challenge of solidarity.  When that long stretch of vehicles slowly arced onto an exit ramp going to some other nearby community, it was a bit tempting to go along with them just for the perceived safety.  Maybe they know something I don't.  Maybe the way ahead isn't safe.  Or (more likely) they had a different destination than I, even though we shared the road for a portion of the dangerous trip.  How tempting it is to go along with the group, just for safety's sake, or even for comfort's sake.  It can seem disproportionately threatening to follow what one knows to be right when a group of people head in a different direction.

The group has its value, but those benefits must be balanced with trust for one's self.  If I didn't trust myself to handle the road conditions, I never would have made it home that night.  Sometimes trust is misplaced, and we hopefully learn to fine tune our perceptions.  The group experience can help to strengthen our discernment, so we don't go spinning off the road entirely, and a trustworthy group can help to keep us focused on the path we've chosen.  No group can replace self-knowledge, though.  When conflict arises, I believe it's important to remember what matters most and follow that compass.

Hibernation

  

In some spiritual traditions that evolved in a time when technology had not yet overcome nature to the extent it has today, winter is considered a time of hibernation, of rest.  Not literally sleeping for months, but allowing oneself a time of rest spiritually, emotionally, psychologically.  Although I understand the value in that, I don't like the concept personally.  I don't like stopping and resting.  I have it in my head that I must always be accomplishing something, moving forward, having some result to point to at the end of each day.  What this translates to, really, is that I believe I have to justify my existence by external results, I have to prove my worth as a human being each day anew.  Those words even look exhausting when I look at them, and on top of that, they don't mesh with my worldview.

Why would a person who believes that human beings have innate value simply because they are human beings demand of himself a constant stream of evidence that he is valuable?  I'm sure somewhere back in my childhood there was some lesson learned that led to that conclusion, but the point now is that I realize how ludicrous and unachievable that demand is.  Yet on the other side of that demand, I am still resistant to the idea of hibernation.  What if I get into rest mode and never get back into growth mode?  I don't want to be lazy.  I don't want to be worthless... a ha... so we're not really on the other side of that demand.  It can be a challenge to change what one thinks about oneself.

Which is why I am grateful for the move and the transition away from the built-in demands I had established in my previous routine.  For one thing, living just a few hours north of where I was, it feels more like winter.  For another thing, I was emotionally and psychologically worn out by the preparation for and execution of the move.  I find it easier to rest when I am actually tired.  So, this idea of hibernation is starting to make sense to me.  I don't need to prove anything or accomplish anything right now.  I'm not going to lose my place, and I'm not going to stop being creative and intelligent just because I take a little time off from my demands.  Although I don't really know this to be true, I have a suspicion that I will jump back into creating something meaningful when "winter" cycles into spring.


I'm still fulfilling a couple of accompanying contracts.  I'm still getting the new home in order.  I'm still interacting with people.  But for now, I am letting the winter coax me into some emotional and psychological down time, free of my typical demands.  The interesting thing is that resting from my demands about what I do external to myself opens space for a different kind of growth.  Creating evidence that is visible to me and other people about my value is a bit of a drain.  During a time of rest, there is still activity inside of my own psyche, connections being drawn, ideas being incubated... the kind of inner work that may actually lead to an easier manifestation of creativity and forward motion when the time is right.   

Adventures in Beaurocracy

There isn't much need to carry cash anymore.  Or checks for that matter.  Everything is payable by plastic, or else it's gone completely electronic.  All of the vendors that are providing some utility or service for our home encourage automatic payments, taken right from a bank account without me even lifting a finger.  Of course, I still have to remember that money is being virtually vacuumed out of my account, but I certainly don't have to write a check or hand over any paper bills to anyone.  In fact, the only legitimate business I have seen in recent history that required payment by cash was a parking garage during a special event when the fees were different than usual.

Imagine my surprise when I learned that renewing a driver's license in the state of Texas required payment by cash or check.  The last time I renewed my license, I did so online.  It was quick and convenient, and I used a debit card.  Imaginary money was magically transferred from my electronic account to the Department of Public Safety's account without anyone needing to write a check or count any dead presidents.  This time around, however, they required that I appear in person to fill out a little form, have my vision tested, and get an updated photo.  I walked in to the driver's license facility to see the expected throng of waiting people, sitting in chairs or slowly queuing through lines.  I assumed they were queuing, at least.  They weren't actually moving, but the impression was that infinitesimal forward motion was indeed taking place.

I went first to the information desk, since a large sign on the door instructed me to do so.  It was right next to a large sign that admonished against bringing food or drink into the building.  Nearby were several signs advertising the convenience of renewing one's license online and some other signs that got lost in the overwhelming visual chaos of messages.  The kind lady at the information desk told me I needed to fill out a short form and wait in one of the lines.  Easy enough. 

"Do I need anything else?" I inquired.

"Just your old license," she replied.

Simple.

So, I filled out the form and stood in the line.  It moved.  Slowly.  I watched people, generally calm, perhaps a bit bored, waiting in their respective places in their respective lines, and before long I was next.  I had my form, I had my license, I was ready.  A surly older woman who was pushing retirement called me up to her window and asked for the form and my license and $25. 

"Is a debit card OK?" I queried innocently, expecting that any form of payment that would work for the Department of Public Safety website would surely work in person.  Not so. 

"Cash or check," she snarled, adding a snippy, "The sign on the front desk says so."

I took my form and license and left, rather disappointed, frustrated, a bit angry, and perhaps a smidge indignant.  I did glance at the front desk on the way out to observe a small square sign that read: Cash or Check Only.  It was posted at waist-height, amid all of the other informative signs about how easy it is to navigate the DPS website.  Part of me wanted to make a scene, to play the victim, to demand to know why a form of payment accepted across many parts of the civilized world for almost any service or product imaginable was not good enough for the Department of Public Safety.  Instead, I decided that there are simply some times when you have to play by someone else's rules.

Determined to renew my license on the day I intended, after lunch I stopped by the bank and made my way back to the DPS office, expecting that the lunch break crowd would have cleared out and that I would quickly slip back it and take care of everything.  Incredibly, the information desk line was nearly out the door and the throng seemed even denser than before.  I slipped past the information desk and to the end of the renewal line, feeling a little conspicuous.  I already had my form and knew where I was supposed to be, but I felt sure I would be "caught" disobeying instructions. 

It wasn't quite this bad.

No one said a word, and I settled into the line behind a trio of older women complaining about how long they had been waiting.  Their complaints became a bit louder until a deputy eventually came over to check on them.  Had these women been thuggish young men, the scene would have seemed even more tense.  The ringleader, a woman in her 70s, explained that she had been waiting for two hours and was too old to be standing around.  She had other things to do, after all.  The young, authoritative deputy sternly explained that this office had to handle licenses and identifications for all of the millions of people in the city, and she would have to be patient.  Wrong answer.  Her quick retort was that they should have a proportionate number of workers for all those millions of people they had to serve, which elicited some agreement from the officer as he departed around a corner.

A second gentleman came by a few minutes later, and he kept the ladies entertained for a while longer.  He explained about the new system that was being installed, and that change takes time.  It would have been nice to get the new system up and running without interrupting the normal business of the office, but sometimes the most ideal solution isn't possible.  They were calling more workers in to assist with things in the meantime, and the line should get moving along more quickly very soon.  Improvements for the long term are worth a little inconvenience in the short term, but he understood her frustration.

He was smooth.  And he was right.  Not long after he promised it, more workers appeared and the line began moving more swiftly.  Before I knew it, I was handing my form and my old license to a calm, polite gentleman, although a part of me had secretly wished for the surly woman who had sent me away earlier in the day.  My vision was tested, picture was taken, I provided my signature and my thumbprints, and while his computer was busy doing something, I said, "I hope the improvements will make your job a little easier."

"Nope," he replied.  "We've gone from three screens to 50" (referring, I assume, to the number of click-through screens on the computer to complete the process).

It seems that change can be a challenge for everyone, and it's not always easy (or preferable) to contain one's frustration.  Improvements can be double-edged.  Improving one part of a process may make other aspects more cumbersome.  And all of the challenges may not even be foreseeable.  I started the afternoon angry at the surly woman, the Department of Public Safety, myself, and the whole situation in general.  By the end of it, I was seeing the tenderness of humanity.  In the surly woman and the polite gentleman who were both facing an exponential complication to their jobs.  In the complaining women who basically wanted to be shown a little respect.  In the deputy who tried to use his authority to maintain peace.  In the gentle bureaucrat who successfully conveyed information with compassion.  In myself for missing a vital piece of information and doing what was necessary to accomplish what I set out to do.

I almost felt ashamed paying for my new license in one-dollar bills, but I was thankful that I had talked myself down from the stiff-jawed desire to pay in pennies.

Dancing with Reality

I was encouraged to share this recent article I wrote in the newsletter for Envision Coaching Solutions, LLC.  With all of the hectic activity around the move this week, it seems like great timing for it.

 

http://www.oddee.com/item_94046.aspx

Sometimes I have been frustrated when plans go awry, especially when I have spent a great deal of time and energy formulating how things can ideally play out. Unexpected elements can emerge and change things suddenly and radically. There are times when it is tempting to delay action until all the unknown factors come to light. But even though chances for success may be greater with increased information, you might never have all of the information pertinent to a decision.

I wrote a few issues back about "paralysis by analysis". Now I am experiencing the other side of that conundrum, dancing with reality. Without knowing what the future would hold (and without expecting to be able to have such knowledge!), I created a plan for the next several months, and now I am faced with making some pretty big changes to that plan. The reasons for those changes is on the whole very positive: My wife is taking a job doing something at which she excels in a field she absolutely loves. There is some payoff for me in that as well. But it still means making changes to some pretty exciting plans.

Rather than see the situation as a loss, though, I am able to see how I can still be creatively engaging my passions for one simple reason. I knew from the start that there was more than one way to get the outcome I most want in my life. Had I believed that the first possibility I determined was the only way, this would be a very frustrating time indeed. Some people call that single-mindedness attachment to a particular result.

Attachment is not your friend. Determination is valuable to a point, and commitment and resolve and all of those admirable qualities that keep us focused on a goal. But danger arises when we focus on that goal to the exclusion of all other possibilities or when we ignore reality. Every plan of action is really just a proposal, a hypothesis to be tested. You test it by taking action, with full commitment and resolve and determination toward your goal. Then you get feedback, from other people, from circumstances, from your own gut.

The key is to take that feedback and adjust your plan accordingly. You can still focus on the same goal, but you may have to take a different route than you were expecting. It may even be a better route than you had considered. If you are unwilling to alter your plan, you are essentially saying that you know everything that you could possibly need to know to get where you want to go. No one can honestly say that. That is at the very heart of attachment. You must be willing to be wrong in order to create anything of value. That doesn't mean that you will be wrong, but a person who is willing to consider the possibility that he doesn't have every possible piece of useful information will be much more receptive to feedback than someone who can't bear to be wrong.

So, determine your goal, make your plan, take full throttle action on your plan, and then pay attention to what happens next. Whatever feedback you receive is incredibly valuable, and what you do with it is the key to having a plan that will truly carry you where you want to go.