Doug Kreitzberg

A morning not fishing

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This weekend, I took my daughter to our family place in Montana. She had not been there in three years and I had promised to take her over the summer, but the work got too crazy. So we settled for a long weekend and a little hooky from school.

We had a wonderful weekend. One of my favorite memories is when we took a little boat to go fishing out on the lake.  We were at the mouth of a creek and the water began boiling with jumping Kokanee salmon.  My daughter was excited and grabbed the one fishing rod we had and started casting and reeling.  “Now I have a real fish story to tell,” she exclaimed.  And it was a sight to behold and under any other condition, I would have been reaching for the rod myself, or at the very least fussing that I had not brought another one out, as well.

But, I actually enjoyed the not fishing. I actually enjoyed, teaching my daughter how to make a good cast, how to jig, how to make sure she cleaned off the seaweed “salad” she’d invariably hook in to.  We did not catch any fish that morning, but I did catch the satisfaction and gratitude of sharing an experience with my daughter.

Business is often all about doing, and doing invariably means personal achievement.  And it is true, we are measured and rewarded by our accomplishments.  What I hope we don’t forget is that sometimes our accomplishments are best defined when we don’t do anything but let someone else give it a try.  Not only do we grow as an organization because then someone else knows how to get something done, but you grow as a person.

And that’s a reward all to itself.

Don’t Be Tofu!

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My wife is experimenting with vegetarian cooking. And tofu plays a major role in a lot of dishes. “The thing about tofu,” my wife said, “is that it tastes just like whatever you cook it with. If you cook it with celery, it will taste like celery, with rice, it will taste like rice, with mushrooms, with anything.”

And then, she said, “Don’t be like tofu. don’t just blend in.”

And she’s right. There’s a seemingly gravitational pull towards conformity that any society creates, whether the society is a business, a family or a cocktail party. While there are benefits to conformity, the costs are that we sometimes cover up our own uniqueness with the cloak of what we feel others want to see. Do that often enough and then you lose that unique essence that defines you.

And yet, in any group, uniqueness is critical if we are to grow and adapt to what confronts us. A community’s success, if not survival, is predicated on harnessing the unique talents and perspectives of it’s members and channeling them in a positive direction.

Think about who you are, and what unique skills, traits or ways of seeing the world you possess. Make sure you express those in your team, at the office, at home. You will always then be able to feel “you”, and we will all be stronger (and more interesting) because of it.

Baptism in Lake Superior

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On Saturday I completed my first marathon, Grandma’s Run in Duluth, MN.  My standing joke had been that, given my size, I’d be in the Clydesdale’s weight divison and given my inexperience, I’d be in the back of the Clydesdales making me the horse’s ass of the race.  I certainly did not break any land speed records, but I finished approximately at the time I had been pacing during my training (5:25).  I was in the back of the pack, but when you factor in that about a third of those who started the race did not finish, I’ll take it.
 
Eight months ago, all this seemed improbable.  I had this desire to get back into running, bought a pair of shoes, went out for a two mile jog and walked 1.5 miles of it.  A week or two later, around Thanksgiving, I told my friend I was going to run a 56 miler — the Comrades in South Africa in June (mainly because walking the uphills is encouraged) and he told me I was insane.  And when anyone tells me I’m insane, I start to think there’s some merit to it.  And, even though I won’t make Comrades — this year — I have a tremendous sense of accomplishment and have learned a number of things along the way.  And I believe they apply for anything, whether you are running a business, making sales, trying to retain clients or wishing to pursue your core passion.
 
1,    Think Big.  I am definitely not typecast for running 26.2 miles.  But I was tired of working out.  I needed something bigger than “to lose weight”  or “to relieve stress”.  I needed something almost impossible to shoot for.  What’s the point, if you can’t aspire for something bigger than you are?
 
2.   Get a Plan.  Of course, even if you are shooting for the impossible, it helps to have a plan. And I found this wonderful resource on the interent, Hal Higdon’s Marathon Training program for novices.  It gave me an 18 week plan which told me how many miles to run and which days to run them, as well as a lot of good tips (like, “run slow, the goal of a first-timer is to finish”).  Although there were a few exceptions, I followed this program to the letter. 
 
3.  Talk to People who’ve Been There.  Along the way I was fortunate to get encouragement and tips from those who had run marathons. One friend gave me tips on how to plan the run (such as “don’t run too fast in the beginning or you’ll die before the end”) and  another (who apparently has run quite a lot of marathons) got me to go to a real running store to get shoes to match my gait after I complained of hip and knee pain (both went away with the new shoes). I drew a lot of inspiration from them, which helped me immensely.
 
4.  The Training is the Thing.  It’s amazing to me how little emphasis we place on training, whether at the office, on the field or at home.  We all seem to want to focus on Just Doing It.  But, what is more important is to “Just Practice It”.  Practicing builds confidence, builds mental toughness and perhaps most importantly, builds agility.  During the marathon, between miles 15 and 17, I began running out of steam and I switched to a “run 2 min, walk 1 min” mode which I tried during parts of my last long practice run.  By 17, I got a second wind and moved back into more of a running mode. If I hadn’t trained for contingencies, I might not have finished. Remember, training isn’t just about learning how to do the right thing; it’s also about learning how to adapt when you can’t do the right the thing (which happens more than we care to believe).
 
5.  Learn to love the Long Run.  Every Saturday was my long run day.  It was probably the most important part of the training program, but it also became my favorite.  I enjoyed having “Pasta Night” with the family the night before, getting up to hit the road between 5am or 5:30am, startling the occassional deer, fox or raccoon on the road, waking the sheep up at a passing farm, or witnessing a beautiful spring sunrise.  The long runs became the one time during the week which was all “my time”, to reconnect, to bring clarity to whatever was weighing on me or to just simply breathe.  It is almost as if the Goal of the Marathon became the Training, not the other way around.
 
6. Scout Out the Route before you Run. The day before the race, I took a bus ride along the course.  Despite a boorish tour guide who took one look at me and starting joking about eating chocolate bars and smoking Pall Malls along the way (how did he know my strategy?), I did get a chance to see the course, the hills, the turns and the neighborhoods.  It helped me during the race, when I could visualize what was coming up, which spurred me along.
 
7.  A Marathon is a Team Sport.  Running a long way for a long time is helped greatly by those running with you and with those along the way routing for you or giving you water.  I spent half of the race with a pace group.  The leader did a great job joking and telling stories and help us maintain our pace during the run.  During the last six miles, we ran through town and I marveled at the people still lining the street (remember, when I was running through the race was 4 to 5 hours old at the time) cheering us on.  (Note:  Although I’ve learned that there are three things specators should not say:  “You look great!”  (Everyone running looks like crap); “You’re almost there”  (After a while, any distance seems like a lifetime.); and “This is the last hill” (Which means “this is the last hill before the next hill”.)) There is something about the loneliness of the long distance runner, but it helps to encourage others and be encouraged along the way.
 
8.  In the end, however, it’s up to You.  After the tips, the encouragement and the training, after the Canadien and American National Anthems and the Minnesota National Guard Jet Flyover and the Chariots of Fire music at the gate, there’s basically nothing left but you and your feet.  You, ultimately, are responsible for finishing or not finishing and you can’t make any excuses or blame anyone else.  That’s a somewhat intimidating feeling, but on the other hand, when you do finish, it is ultimately because of what you alone were able to accomplish.
 
After the race, I was talking to a local from Duluth and he asked whether I had jumped into Lake Superior yet.  I told him I had not and he told me that it was important that I at least walk in up to my knees, that the Lake was an important part of the area and I could not leave Duluth without doing it.  The next day, I took a walk alongside the Lake.  It was a beautiful day and there was a nice breeze coming off the water.  At one point, there was a beach like area.  I made my way to the water’s edge, took off my shoes and walked in.  The water was cool, but felt wonderful.  I felt wonderful.  Rejuvenated. And ready to do it all again.
 
That’s what success feels like.

 

Who not What

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Let’s face it. It’s always all about us. The world we see is a world where we see ourselves, often only ourselves, what we want and what we do. And our self-centeredness is fine and probably necessary as some darwinian self-selected survival instinct.

But there are limitations. When we focus only on ourselves, we sometimes make the mistake that others are also focused on ourselves. We forget that they have needs and wants and may be focused on themselves. This creates problems for relationships, certainly, and also in business.

As a business grows and becomes successful, it creates an organization that initially is built to enhance and ensure future success. After a time, however, many organizations lose themselves in self-adoration; internal discussions focus on what the company does and the products it makes as opposed to the people or businesses it serves. It’s a well-worn tale. Business starts out extremely customer-focused, becomes successful because of that focus and grow processes and bureaucracies which detach strategies from the customer. Business then crumbles to more nimble-footed competition that is as focused on the customer as the original business once was.

I’ve been engaged in too many conversations recently which has been focused more on what is sold than who actually buys it. Sure, there’s talk about market segments, such as lawyers versus doctors or baby boomers versus millennials, but there’s no dimensionality to that part of the discussion; the talk about products is real and tangible — the talk about customers is vague and almost an afterthought.

Technology has provided us with tremendous and low-cost tools to engage customers and prospects as unique individuals (or businesses) with unique interests, needs and desires. But all those tools will be useless if the organization retains a culture that is more inward focused than outward, that talks about the features of its products rather than the benefits to the customer.

If you listen to, and think more about the who, the what will take care of itself.

Poncho and Lefty

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For the past six months I’ve had a cd by Townes Van Zandt recycling through my car stereo.  I have a few other cds as well, most of which I enjoy but also most of which my wife is tired of hearing over and over.

But I keep come back to Townes who has a simple, earthy directness to his music.

One of the songs is called “Poncho and Lefty”. The song tells the tale of a bandit named Poncho and his blues singing sidekick, Lefty.  Poncho is gunned down by the authorities in a Mexico desert and Lefty leaves for Ohio with a trail of suspicon that he might have tipped the Federales off for money.

When I first started listening to it, I thought it was a nice ballad. Later I thought that the story would make for a good “buddy” movie ala Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”.

But over the past month, I’ve been thinking that the song is not about two separate people, but two sides of the same person: the adventurous/creative side versus the pragmatic survivor.  The song talks about how many of us are the Judas to our own dreams and passions in return for what we believe to be a life of  security and conformity.

I think about the misalignment of our dreams and actions often, because I do believe that it leads more to chronic stress than anything else. I also believe that it makes it that much more difficult for an organization to align its purpose with the individual. The more an organization can involve employees in ways which inspire their individual passions, then everyone wins.

Of course, work needs to get done.  And not every task may seem to inspire passion in you, but if the bulk of what you are doing seems pointless and lifeless, then why are you doing it? That may not mean that you quit and pursue your dreams elsewhere (although it might) but it might mean thinking real hard about what it is you love to do and see if you can’t craft your job to do more of that – you’d be surprised at easy it might be to pull off; your boss is thirsting for employees who demonstrate initiative.

Townes’ song ends with Lefty growing old in a cheap hotel. But that is not how it needs to end for any of us.  We have the ability to redeem ourselves from ourselves every day, if we choose to.

That’s worth singing about.

Give the Ability to Receive this Year

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This is the gift-giving season.  And, as we know, it is better to give than to receive.  If you’re like me, you’ve bought and exchanged gifts (and perhaps had some of those gifts exchanged at the store afterwards) and, maybe, even now Aunt Minnie is wearing one of the sweaters you bought her and nephew Andy is playing the new Wii game you gave.

It feels good to give.  And yet, for me, there’s that nagging sensation of “how long will it last”?  When does the sweater get placed neatly in Aunt Minnie’s dresser rarely to be seen again and when does the “new” Wii game get shuffled to the back of the deck of Wii games?

One thing I’m also trying to give during this season as well as strive to do more of next year is to give the ability to receive; give those I care about — whether my family, friends or business relationships — the time to connect with them, to really hear what they have to say, to engage with them at their level, to set aside the multi-tasking jumble that my brain usually becomes and receive their ideas, passions or idle thoughts.  Even if it’s nothing more than a few minutes a day, it’s at least something.

Because, just perhaps, in these days where we are frantically trying to “stay connected” via e-mail, twitter, facebook, and voice mail, the greatest gift we can give is to push all that aside, empty our minds, reach out to someone and let them become connected to us.

Sharing

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We learn to share in day one of kindergarten (if not long before). Of course, what we learn to “share” are things, like toys.  Then we learn to share friends.  We learn to share time.  When we fall in love we learn to share our dreams and desires.  Sharing is a basic social contruct — in fact, societies could never survive without it.

In business, there are (at least) three types of sharing that are important: information, skills, and recognition.  Sharing information is critical to help us make better decisions. Sharing our skills allows us to both diversify and specialize because we utilize the indvidual and unique skills that each of us can bring to a problem. Recognition in all of its forms is important because it demonstrates that we are part of a team and that the team is grateful for our participation.

Look at your team, your department, your office.  How would you rate it in terms of its ability to share.  Is information free-flowing or does it get bottled up somewhere?  Do people pitch in to help with their unique skills or do they hang back with a “it’s not my job” attitude (or, conversely, do people not ask others to help because they think it would make them look weak)? Do you receive feedback from the work you do?

Share your thoughts and concerns with others and certainly your boss.  Sharing is crucial to your success.  Fortunately, it’s easy to do, if you put your mind to it.  After all, it’s only child’s play.

Surface Area

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I’m on a green tea kick and this weekend I was researching tea pots, specifically one called a Yixing tea pot.  The Yixing is a clay pot and, according to the description, because it is clay, it is porous, which means that the surface area is many times larger than a traditional teapot.  This provides, among other things, a faster heat time and the ability for the pot to retain water, or to be seasoned.
 
Of course, this got me thinking about business.  If a business is to be successful, it must be continually searching for ways to increase its surface area, to increase it’s touch points with its clients, its competitors, its vendors and its community. Businesses which focus too much within may have great processes and procedures and even a great “culture”, but are so dense that they let nothing in — whether innovation, dissention or new customers.  These type of businesses have a contracted surface area and are less adaptable to change or growth.
 
This is a danger I think every organization faces as it grows — that more time is spent on internal issues than external, and that the time spent on external issues is not adequately communicated to the rest of the organization to help overall growth.
 
The way I’ve tried to address this is by focusing on growth areas on a weekly basis; not so much as to follow up on what was to be accomplished, but to brainstorm ideas to promote growth and to communicate what’s working and not working as quickly as possible to the rest of the organization.
 
But if these discussions don’t reach out into the frontline, then you won’t take full advantage of the resources you have.  Managers need to be focused on: 1) engaging with customers and clients and frontline staff; 2) improving methods for the overall organization to engage with customers, clients and frontline staff; and 3) sharing, learning and communicating what works and doesn’t work with their peers.
 
Increasing the surface area of your organization doesn’t make you weaker.  As you know, clay has a tremendous capacity to withstand extreme heat.  It makes you stronger.
 

A Stick of Gum

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I was on a flight yesterday from San Antonio to Charlotte.  A woman sat next to me and ahead of us were, it seemed, her parents. As we were taking off, the woman pulled out a pack of gum, offered a stick to each of her parents and turned and offered me one.

It was, as the cliche goes, a random act of kindness, without strings. And it made me think, that’s what a stick of gum is for.  To share.  When people pull out a pack of gum, it triggers some primitive urge to reach out to someone.  The gum doesn’t cost much and the act of sharing doesn’t come saddled with commitments. Yet the small gesture makes both parties grateful, a small ritual of acceptance and recognition that we are human and somehow connected. And it’s all wrapped in minty freshness.

What if we consciously turned every interaction we made into that ritual?  If every time we met someone, or spoke to them on the phone, or sent something in the mail or posted something on the web for them to see, we made them feel like we had offered them a stick of gum, that we said, “I know you”, “I’m just like you” and “You are special.”

I barely spoke to the woman on the plane.  I will never see her again.  Yet, for that one small moment, we shared something and it made me feel good and I won’t long forget it.

I think I’ll carry a pack of gum with me, from now on.

Management Communication and its Disconnects

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One summer during college, I worked with my uncle’s firm building microwave towers out West.  It was one of those great jobs that pay you more in experiences than dollars that I will always remember.  During that time, my uncle noticed that I a book in my backpack.

“What are you reading?” he asked.   “‘The Archeology of Knowledge‘?  Michel Focault? Who is he?”

“He’s French,” I said. “He’s a philosopher.”

“French philosophy?” my uncle snorted.  “Good luck paying for groceries with that!”

Deep down, I couldn’t argue, but I read the French philosophers anyway, specifically the ones focused on language.  Focault, Derrida, Barthes, Saussure were tough SOBs to read, but they opened up new ways to think about words and their meanings.

One thing I learned was the difference between the signifier and the signified.  In plain terms, the signifier is the word and the signified is the object that the word represents.  For example, the word, “chair”, is a representation of something else, namely, a physical object that one may sit on.

That all seems rather obvious.  But there is one key here.  The relationship between the word and the object is a social one: people have agreed what the word, “chair”, refers to.  Without social agreement, the word becomes, in effect, meaningless.

Now, let’s assume that someone has decided that the word, ‘chair’ now refers to something else.  You come into his house and he says, “Have a seat on this nice chair,” and points you to a picture frame lying against the wall.  You hesitate and are confused.   “But it’s not a chair,” you protest.  “Yes, it is.  It is a chair.  Sit.”  If that individual has power over you, you end up having no choice.  A chair is no longer a chair.  The signifier is separated from the signified.

Now, your host asks if you would like a nice cup of tea.  You begin to sweat.  “What does he mean? Is it really what I think is a cup of tea, or is it something else?”  Stay in this funhouse long enough and you end up shaking in your picture frame/chair questioning yourself and being afraid of everything. The social contract between word and meaning has been broken and therefore the community itself begins to break down.

That’s a (hopefully) extreme example. But one of the biggest challenges organizations face is the disconnect between what managers say and what their employees experience.  And, in today’s economy of falling sales, where organizations balance the need to remain profitable, in part via layoffs, with the need to invest in growth and motivate its workforce, what is a manager to say?

The simplest answer is: the truth.  Early and often. Do not sugarcoat the situation and do not ignore the impact your actions have on your workforce.  The most important thing you can do is to remove the uncertainty of the situation.  As Stephen Gill writes, people are resilient if they know what the situation is and if there is a plan to deal with it.  Being vague or unengaged doesn’t cut it.   You need to be visible, you need to demonstrate — through actions, attitude and body language — that you are consistent with what you say.

As a manager, you can only be successful if you have the trust of your employees.  Disconnecting words from their meanings, by saying one thing and acting another or by stating that things are OK when layoffs are occurring, is a surefire way to break the social contract you have with your staff.  And, in so doing, you severely inhibit your capacity for future growth and innovation.

No picture frames for chairs.  You don’t need to be a French philosopher to get that.