Risk. (Allow) Reward.

Not Ed But A Guy Named Ed

I bumped into my friend Ed, who told me he’d gotten a new job.

“Rock on with your bad self!”I exclaimed (or something close to that). Ed went on to tell me that there had been 70 candidates for the position he had won. I asked him how he did it.

“That’s really interesting,” Ed reflected. “I asked that very question of the man who hired me. Know what he said?” I was hanging on Ed’s every word at this point.

“He said that of all the final candidates, I was the only one who said I wanted the job.”

“What?” I was incredulous. “What did you say, exactly?” (because I knew you’d want to know.)

Ed went on, “I said to my prospective boss, ‘This is my dream job, and I’d really love to have it.”

Of all the people interviewing for the job, Ed was the only one who took the risk to reveal what he really felt – to reveal an eensy bit of vulnerability – and that’s what got him the job.

A big, senior level job, I might add.

So many of us would play it a different way.

Maybe we put on the jaded act – been there, done that, slightly bored, seen it before. Yawn.

Some of us expect to be tapped on the shoulder after quietly, self-effacingly, doing great work … tapped on the shoulder and offered the dream job of a lifetime. “Me?  You want me?” we rehearse saying, like Miss America who has no idea – no idea! – she’s the judge’s favorite.  All faux humility, big smile and practiced walk.

And then there are those who think that since they went to the “right” college and made it into the “right” program, then – by rights – they are entitled to a big, senior level job. I know that’s not you – that’s the guy in the next cube, right?

But none of these types are really taking any risk. They never reveal a little of themselves.  A little of what they want.  A little vulnerability.

Which, then, keeps them from what they really want.  Because they can’t say what they want out loud.  It’s too risky.

Recently, I took a risk. I saw a small item in the way back of a special section of The Washington Post. It said, in small type, that they were going to have a contest to find a new career advice columnist. That interested people should enter into the contest the following Wednesday.

I cut it out.

I taped it to my computer monitor.

And looked at it for at least five days.

Until the day I could enter.

I clicked. I read.

I noticed.

The entry form didn’t ask if I wrote a blog. Didn’t ask if anyone read my stuff. Didn’t ask: How Many Twitter Followers and Facebook Friends Do You Have?

Just name, city, age, job.

Then, “answer two of these five reader questions.”

I paused for a moment. Maybe it was two. Or three or seven.

I couldn’t skate this thing because I have a blog that a few people read. My personal brand made no difference.

I was just gonna be me. Doing my best.

So, deep breath, I took the risk, and submitted. And decided to allow whatever was going to happen to just go ahead and happen.

Few weeks later: got an email. “You are a Top 10 Finalist!”

Huh. And, wow!

Took a risk and submitted a piece for the first elimination round. What would happen, would happen.

Waited.

Got an email: “You have made it through to the Second Round!”

Huh. And, wow! Funny how I’m just allowing it all to happen.

[Could have quit at this moment. Really. I mean, it was my choice. But I continued. Because it felt all flowy and good. Totally allowing. And fun.]

[Most importantly, fun.]

And now,  I just got another email. I’m into the Third Round.

There are six people left. Two will be eliminated this week.

And I’m gonna be all vulnerable with you, just like my friend Ed – writing for The Washington Post would be my dream job. Since I was 10 years old, I have read The Post nearly every day.

I’m taking a little risk in telling you that.  Getting all vulnerable with you… Because anything could happen.  But I think it’s OK.

I’ve taken a risk to get what I want. And I am creating the space to allow whatever outcome that comes to come.

Which just may be the perfect stance to receive a reward. Like my friend Ed did.

How about you? Ready to take a risk? And allow the space for a reward?

Doesn’t have to be a huge risk – just has to feel risky to you.

Why not take your risk? And then just allow whatever to happen.  I bet you’ll reap a reward.

Then you’ll have to tell me all about it.

Cuz I’m gonna write you up in the paper.

The Washington Post newspaper.

 

***

To vote in The Washington Post @Work Advice Contest, go to www.washingtonpost.com/workadvice after Noon ET on Wednesday, October 12, 2011.  Click on my picture.  Then click on the yellow link on the left side – Vote For Your Favorite.  Click on my picture again, then click Submit, so your vote will count.  And thank you.  From the bottom of my heart – thank you.

Planting Seeds



Take a seed.

Put it in some dirt. Maybe add some compost.

Now, water it.

Then, do the hardest part: walk away.

I mean it, walk away.

Because if you worry whether the seeds are germinating, doubt whether they’re growing – pull them up to check the progress? You’ll kill the plant.

Growing things calls for patience.

Even if it’s growing your career, your business, your practice, your network. Your love life, your family, your friendships. Whatever you’re growing, you need patience, baby.

And you need to plant seeds. Every single day.

Plant plenty, because we all know that some seeds will not grow. Too much water, too much sun, not enough water, not enough sun – there are many reasons seeds don’t take root.

But you can’t take it personally. Just plant so many seeds that a few duds won’t make any difference.

Just keep planting, even in the most unlikely places.

Because some seeds can thrive in an improbable inch of dirt in a random crack in the sidewalk.

Want a new job as a lawyer? Talk to your periodontist.

Want to meet a new person? Ask the yoga instructor.

Need to meet someone at XYZ, Inc.? You’d be surprised to know that the softball coach’s younger brother is the CEO there.

Plant those seeds and water them with generosity and genuine kindness.

Let them develop roots.

Let them flourish and grow.

And when it’s time to harvest, you will have a bumper crop.

What’s Next?


What do women in prison and Republican political appointees, and maybe even you and me, all have in common?

We all ask the same question: “What’s next?”

This past week I spoke to a group of women inmates at a correctional facility in Maryland about how to discover and live into their strengths. The basic point: do more of what you’re good at and that inspires you, and you’ll be living a happier life.

The difficult part is that so many of these women, and so many of the rest of us, have gotten so far from those things we love to do that we can’t even recall what they are. And when you’re battling addiction it’s hard to say you love anything more than what you’re hooked on. Most of these women know that loving crack doesn’t get you anywhere. But jail. Or death.

To reconnect with their passions, I urged them to think back to their young girlhoods. “When you were ten or eleven or twelve, how did you spend your time? What did you love then?” It’s interesting what pops out when I ask these questions — almost everyone can answer with something, and it’s usually something that unlocks a hidden passion. And when you identify a passion and a strength, you can begin to form an idea of work that can flow from that. An avid babysitter can become a childcare worker. A former athlete can work in a fitness center. An artist can work with paint.

During the question and answer period a woman raised her hand and said, “I’m a professional journalist and I’m turning 50 next week. Who’s going to hire me after I’ve been in here?” To be honest with you, she looked like a Ralph Lauren model, and I wondered what life path had brought her to jail as I considered how to answer her question.

“Well, if writing is a strength for you,” I ventured, “maybe you can write about this experience. Show people that you can write, and my guess is that you can get hired.”

“What about fear?” she asked. Heads around the room nodded in agreement. “Fear’s a big barrier,” I acknowledged. “But there’s reasonable fear and unreasonable fear. Reasonable fear is facing a charging bear, or someone with a gun in their hand. It’s real. Unreasonable fear comes from a part of you called the social self — what will people think? — and the only antidote is to focus on what’s real. Your strengths? They’re real. Your passions? Real. Focus there, rather than on your fear, and you’ll be OK.”

Tomorrow I’m going to speak to about 150 Republican political appointees here in Washington, DC, who will lose their jobs as of Inauguration Day. I imagine there’s plenty of fear for them, too, as they look into a future where politics are dominated by Democrats, and jobs are scarce. I’ll talk with them about identifying and playing to their strengths, about facing their fears, about creating a reasonable action plan grounded in what’s possible rather than what should be.

I imagine I’ll take several questions very similar to those asked of me in the jail. Maybe it’s the human condition that causes each of us, regardless of our life’s path, to ask, “What’s next?” And, truly, what’s next is unknowable. What is knowable is who you are, what you’re good at and how to live your best possible life. What I know to my very marrow is that living into your strengths — into the gifts and talents you already have — is the key to living a happier life. And finding work that matters.