Whenever I attend a company meeting, a large scale gathering, I’m concerned about a few things. First, I’m concerned about my everyday responsibilities at work but most importantly at home. Fortunately, that usually wanes pretty quickly. The earth’s not going to stop spinning because I leave for a few days.
The next concern is about what’s going to happen. More specifically, what’s in it for me? I’ve seen this referred to as WIIFM. Follow me? Good. I think that’s a pretty staple human reaction, asking that question. How will what I’m about to do impact me?
Based on past experience I didn’t always feel like some content benefitted me. Only after some reflection did I come to realize the meeting or conference wasn’t being held just for me. So, OK. I get it.
Now, this week was different. “How?” you ask. I was part of the content. Yes. I was in front of some folks delivering the goods. At least I hoped I was delivering something good. That remains to be seen, I suppose. Some early feedback registered as positive but I’m waiting for the full debrief!
My point here is that my perspective was tilted this time around. Instead of being an audience member participating and sometimes judging, I was facilitating and being evaluated by my peers. A bit daunting at first pass, but I like challenges!
To sum it up, I did fine. My partner did well, too. So, let’s move on. There’s some other cool stuff to share.
When I landed in Tampa I boarded a shuttle with about twenty-four other members of the team and raced off to the hotel. Less than two miles from the hotel, the small bus begins to fill with smoke. It becomes choking and downright noxious and none of the windows could be opened. I asked the guy next to me, “How come the driver’s not saying anything.” Then, “Why is he going faster?”
We turned onto a major city street and drove toward the hotel. It was close now, but the smoke was so thick I had to put my hand over my mouth to breath. Without warning the driver yanks the wheel to the right, turns down a side street and hits the breaks. He opened the doors and called for everyone to get out. Streams of liquid marked our path on the pavement. Smoke continued to roll out of the bus.
All twenty-five of us ended up standing on the corner with our luggage waiting for help to arrive. That’s when we noticed the house we stood next to had this metal, DIY-looking security grates over the windows. “I’m thinking this isn’t a good neighborhood,” I said to one of my colleagues. In the end, we were rescued and all was well.
A guest speaker was scheduled for the morning of Day 2. For many, it was the highlight of the conference. His name is Bob Delaney and his story is so incredible you’d think it was a movie script. Actually, Delaney wrote a book and a movie is in the works. Delaney’s book was published in 2008. Here’s a link to check it out:
It’s the true story of a New Jersey kid who follows in his dad’s footsteps joining the state police, going undercover to infiltrate the mob, and helping put 30 members of major crime families in jail. But that’s where the story gets interesting. Instead of going into the witness protection program, Delaney does the opposite. He becomes and NBA referee and is on television 25 nights a month during basketball season. He’s a sitting duck for a wise guy looking to even the score. There’s much more to the story, but I won’t spoil it. Get a copy of the book. I read it today. Yes, my copy is signed!
When Delaney spoke to our group he moved a lot. The camera guys had a hard time keeping up with him so they could keep his image centered on the two mega-screens in the front of the room. Probably a skill he picked up being undercover and mastered as an NBA ref running about 3 miles a night during the game.
I was sitting at a front table. Instead of using the stage, Delaney put his notes, written in red magic marker on the inside of opened manila folder on a table where people were sitting. He told them he needed the space. Nobody disagreed.
I was sitting at a front table. Instead of using the stage, Delaney put his notes, written in red magic marker on the inside of opened manila folder on a table where people were sitting. He told them he needed the space. Nobody disagreed.
At one point, Delaney stopped beside me and clamped his hand on my shoulder. It felt familiar. It reminded me of my dad’s hands. Large, solid and heavy. It was a great performance. The audience drank it all in. A highlight for me was his experience in Iraq where he was asked to speak to the soldiers at the front lines. I can’t repeat all his stories but in summary, I realize how much we really owe the people who wear those uniforms.
My return flight home had a connection. I could not get a direct flight from Tampa to Hartford. Guess where I chose to stop? Some of you who’ve been faithfully reading my blogs might guess right. Wait for it. Wait. I picked Cincinnati.
I chose Cincinnati because the last time I had a connection there I was impressed by the terminal’s cleanliness and friendliness of the people I encountered. Especially Priscilla. To re-read that experience click on Priscilla’s name in the TAGS section on the right hand column on this web page.
So I land in Cincinnati today and walk straight for the Mexican place where Priscilla works and guess what? She was there. She didn’t wait on me though because a supervisor of some kind wearing a tie whisked her off for a conversation. It was enough for me to know Priscilla was still around caring for people as I had witnessed her in action back in May. Before I left she was back to work. I did worry for a minute that the guy in the tie might be there to say goodbye to Priscilla. Thankfully not.
And lastly, the flight back to Hartford. It was a tiny jet with one seat on the left side of the plane and two on the right. I could not stand at my full height at any time in the plane. I was one of the last handful of people to board the plane. I knew I had a B seat. That meant I had the aisle seat on the right side. No one was sitting in the window seat as I slouched down the aisle. A little thrill ran through me.
“Yes!” I thought. “This cabin is so small, any extra space is a major bonus.” I sat down, shoved my carry-on under the seat in front of me and buckled my seat belt. In about 30 seconds the window seat passenger arrived. My extra-space-bubble burst. I tried to stand up but forgot to unbuckle my seat belt. I dropped back into the seat. “What a knucklehead,” I chided myself.
I’ll hit the pause button here. I had a choice to make as I got back in the seat and re-buckled. I could silently sit and mind my own business for the entire flight or do the opposite. I chose to speak. I used a phrase I picked up from my Manager Tools mentors’ rules for airline travel: “Are you heading out or heading home?” From there, the conversation took off as easily and rapidly as the jet.
We chatted through the entire flight. I truly enjoyed the conversation. If you think about it, we have opportunities like this all the time. I know because I struggle with it regularly. “Do I start a conversation or just mind my business?” After the plane ride, the answer for me is easy. You make an attempt at conversation. If the other party isn’t game? No problem. Hey, it could be an experience you won’t soon forget.
Case in point: on December 24th 2010 I drove to an oil change business. I spent the forty minutes in the waiting room swapping Christmas traditions with a total stranger. It was a blast. I can still remember some of the vivid details. And do you know why? We were communicating at a high level.
Even though we were swapping info, we weren’t trying to one-up each other. The listening happened at a level of understanding (yes – another concept I learned recently and do struggle with). I go back to Bob Delaney. He spoke about listening. How important was it to listen when you’re deep undercover within an element that could put a bullet in your brain if you missed a cue. The constant innuendo and threats, traditions and unspoken rules that every real wise guy knew instinctively. But Delaney had to absorb it, learn it and live it on the fly. Even more impressive that he lived through it all.
So, thanks Julie for the great conversation. I hope you and your husband enjoy your trip. May your holidays be safe and happy for all your family. It was a pleasure meeting you.
I’ll wrap it up here. As I was writing, the kids fell asleep during Charlie Brown’s Christmas Special. Time for rest.
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