Tag Archives: motivation

How to dare yourself into success

28 Jun concert

Most goals are hard. There’s a high degree of difficulty, and therefore a high risk of failure. And I never want to show up in front of friends, family, coworkers or (gulp) my boss as a failure.

But I am risking it all now.

My current goal is a biggie—it’s losing the equivalent of a gold brick in weight. I’m doing it the old-fashioned way: no pills, no programs, no prepackaged meals or bars … just good, old-fashioned counting calories, eating real food and literally walking my butt off. And it’s working.

But unless you live under a rock, you know that anyone who has tried to lose weight has failed (often more than once). So don’t you think I’m a bit crazy to admit that I’m doing something hard, something I’m likely to fail at, to everyone (including you, dear reader)?

Yup. Crazy.

But I’ve decided that this is exactly what I need to be successful. If I hide my efforts, it gives me the motivation-sapping opportunity to make excuses. To slack off. To quit. And that would most certainly make me a failure.

So, instead, I’m telling the world. Telling my marathon-running boss, my pageant-winning coworker, my REI-model coworker, my gloriously-skinny-after-two-kids cousin, even friends who will probably judge me for holding onto the equivalent of a spare tire’s worth of weight after each of my own two kids.

Oh, man. If I fail at this, I am in trouble.

But I would argue that getting to a goal requires a declaration that is exactly this big and bold. It means Continue reading 

Just say No? It’s not that simple: your work style’s blind spots

18 Jan Birds on wire

In today’s Harvard Business Review blog, Tony Schwartz has a great post about “No is the new Yes: Four practices to reprioritize your life.” In it, he describes a typical executive workday filled with meetings, email and hair-on-fire requests that keep their wheels spinning endlessly.

The tyranny of the urgent over the important seems like an unchangeable force, as if we are constantly running on a hamster wheel. But doing so will leave us tired—or fired—unless we can find a way to hop off the wheel.

I observe that for some executives, the hamster wheel bleeds into relationships with colleagues and subordinates: they never seem to be present for the people they are leading. That’s why I wanted to offer five lessons I’ve learned about managing time, work, people and priorities that embraces Schwartz’s fundamental argument about saying no more often … but does so with finesse based on the styles of people you’re working with.

You might be familiar with a work style framework from DiSC, Meyers-Briggs, Kolbe, or others—my personal favorite is Market Force, taught by the folks at aPriori International. I’ll explain each type of style and their blind spots related to saying no.

Lesson one: Balance time discussing what you’re working on with a healthy debate on why. Continue reading 

Getting lucky (The best job interview question, ever.)

16 Jan Clover

There’s a killer question one of my senior executives likes to ask of new people who are interviewing for a role at my company: “Do you think of yourself as a lucky person?”

This is a trick question, because there is a right (and a wrong) answer.

If you answer “No,” you will not be hired.

Let me explain. The executive asks this because he’s interested in whether interviewees have an optimistic view of life. He wonders if people feel they “get what they deserve” or if the universe does them one better, blessing them with great opportunities and people in their lives.

When we look for new employees at my company, we want a few essential ingredients, what we call SOAP: People who are Smart, Optimistic, Ambitious and Passionate. Some of my colleagues take this object lesson to its logical extreme and hand out bars of soap at our corporate training camps, reminding attendees (who are our rising stars) that we’re investing in them because Continue reading 

The toughest apology I’ve ever written

10 Jan Apology

This is hard for me to write. An apology to my best friend. I’ve been paralyzed by fear that it wouldn’t be enough to rescue a relationship that endured for fifteen years before suddenly, almost inexplicably, it vanished. But here, I’ll try to explain.

It was November 7, 2009, and I was planning a trip to Seattle to celebrate two friends’ birthdays. I was going to take my best friend out to lunch during her short break from work (as a retail manager, her weekends were almost always filled with work), and then go to a dinner show with another friend for her milestone 30th birthday.

But when I got on I-5 to make the three-hour drive up to the Seattle area, a pounding rain storm slowed traffic to 25 mph, and I was stuck. I knew I couldn’t make it there by her lunch break, and so I called my best friend to tell her I wouldn’t be able to make it on time. She didn’t answer (she was probably working), so I left a message. I asked if I could take her to breakfast or lunch the next day.

I didn’t hear from her. I called her again that night, and again the next day. Nothing. Continue reading 

Key question for innovators: How can we make this more fun?

30 Nov Fun paint

As part of my social media experimentation and engagement strategy (that’s code for “learning it by doing it”), I sometimes participate in one of Harvard Business Review’s #HBRchat sessions on Twitter about leadership.

These can be a great—if chaotic—place to discuss business and management issues with other leaders on Twitter. Even if you miss the weekly chat sessions, the posted recaps always include a few insightful zingers, in tidy 140-character bites.

One of the questions I recently answered was “What are the qualities of a great leader?” My immediate tweet back? “A sense of fun.”

Leaders generate better ideas (and greater innovation) when people are willing to take a chance in proposing a wacky idea. Fun breaks down the barriers and fear of failure.

During the chat, I went on to argue that the most effective leaders make a conscious effort to build a sense of fun in their teams. They are intentionally approachable, which in turn encourages people to go out on a limb, look silly and even fail.

Let me put it another way: I strongly believe that leaders with a sense of fun will get better ideas from their team, because their team members will be less afraid to propose or pursue them.

I can tell you this: I can offer up the most hair-brained idea to my CEO fearlessly. While I typically put serious effort and thought into honing things before they get in front of him, I still feel the sense of fun, the permission to be foolish that makes innovation possible.

For example, at Pixar, mistakes are celebrated along with successes—the nothing-ventured, nothing-gained mantra is “He who fails the most wins.” Pixar’s appetite for risk has removed layers of fear that stifle creativity and limit an individual’s willingness to go out on a limb with a crazy idea.

What I love is that Pixar hired top-notch creatives who were considered “unmanageable” and gave this group free reign to do their best work. Result? Their film, The Incredibles, won Academy Awards and became a best-selling DVD, even though its budget per minute was lower than any previous Pixar film.

I have to imagine that fun was more than just a movie goal. It was an essential mandate for being part of the team.

Google tells a similar success story; it enables its engineers to spend one day per week or up to 20% of their time working on anything that interests them. Here, I see fun at work as a product of autonomy—getting to choose to do what you love.

Both Google News and Google Product Search were spawned by this permission to innovate. Pulitzer-winning author David Vise explained, “Google … technologists think first of ways to solve problems; only later, if ever, do they worry about how to ‘monetize’ them.”

For an extra helping of fun, take your meeting outside, or somewhere more interesting than your office.

One of my most successful projects was proposed twice, dismissed twice, and finally left for dead by a boss that fostered a sense of fear, not fun, in the workplace. It’s hard to keep pushing your idea at what feels like a brick wall.

But, when things changed and I had a new opportunity to pitch my idea, the project was resurrected (and we had a lot of fun doing it).

Fun beat fear, and the results speak for themselves.

What’s getting in the way of your ability to innovate? Maybe it’s a lack of fun, or the presence of fear of failure. So instead of tackling the innovation problem, consider taking a step back and asking a simpler question: How can we make this more fun?

GO.

You know you’re rich when…

29 Nov Are you wealthy? How do you define prosperity?

I watched with morbid fascination this past weekend as news reporters relayed the following Black Friday-related stories.

  • Stores including Target, Toys R Us and Wal-Mart opened on Thanksgiving night, further stretching the shopping marathon.
  • A couple camped outside of an electronics store from Monday through Friday morning (yep, they spent their Thanksgiving on the sidewalk) to be first in line to get $199 42-inch TVs and $299 laptops.
  • A dozen people were sent to a hospital after a woman pepper-sprayed a crowd during a scuffle involving sought-after items in a large retail store.

Do any of these stories bother you? At some level, each put me on edge.

The name Black Friday originated in Philadelphia, where it was originally used to describe the heavy, disruptive traffic on the day after Thanksgiving, according to Wikipedia. Later, an alternative explanation suggested that “Black Friday” is the point at which retailers begin to turn a profit, or are “in the black”.

That’s really what Black Friday is about—retailers making a profit. But at what expense? This year many national retailers set a new precedent by opening on Thanksgiving. It makes me sad, thinking of my best friend (a longtime retail manager) and how she was never able to spend Thanksgiving with her family 250 miles away because trying to get Black Friday off work was impossible.

The Macy’s CEO tried to spin it another way, saying that seasonal workers don’t mind the extra hours, but I still find it sad that many retail workers have to choose between being employed or being with family.

I also find the decision to camp out for bargains quite sad. Just how much money are they “saving,” anyway? I put a pretty high premium on the opportunity to sleep in (or even just be at home, not away on business), so the idea of spending several windy, rainy nights in a tent on a sidewalk does not appeal to me.

I do this mental arithmetic: How much is my time worth? How much money am I actually saving? The answer to this question informs lots of my choices about money, including whether to hire a housekeeper (it creates time I can spend with my family instead) and myriad other conveniences.

By the same token, when I don’t choose convenience, such as when I choose to make my kid’s birthday cupcakes instead of buying them at a store, it shows how much I value what I am creating.

My core reaction to all of the shopping lust that crops up during this so-called giving season is a real assessment of what wealth is.

Are you wealthy? How do you define prosperity?

Are you rich? Are you wealthy? Are you prosperous? By almost any measure, I am.

I should clarify. Before you imagine me in a totally different tax bracket, I’m not among those with elite wealth, what I’ve heard described as “jet money.” At that level, you aren’t just going on fancy vacations … you’re flying there in your own jet.

Sure, that’s wealth. But I think too many people see that as the only definition of wealth, and fail to appreciate the prosperity in their here and now.

One way I used to describe prosperity post-college was “you don’t have to balance your checkbook before ordering a pizza.” It’s great to be able to splurge—even on pizza—without second-guessing your financial means.

By far, my favorite description of wealth is from my mom. My folks married early, lived frugally and worked tirelessly for years to build a small business and raise two little girls. After more than a decade of work, my folks finally “made it,” which (to me, in middle school) meant the ability to buy clothes at the mall, not just at Goodwill and garage sales.

“I felt like we were rich when I could go to the grocery store and buy anything I wanted,” my mom said.

And isn’t that a great measure of wealth? Consider how few people in the world have access to a wealth of choices in a grocery store, much less the means to buy whatever they want?

So, throughout this holiday season as you enjoy giving and receiving, consider your own definition of wealth. Do you have enough? Plenty? Prosperity? Wealth?

I believe I do, and that alone frees me from the compulsion to shop at 4 a.m. or grapple with other shoppers over some discounted item. I have everything I need.

I am thankful for … mentors who guide my career

24 Nov Hopscotch

Happy Thanksgiving! It’s my favorite holiday—we celebrate our many blessings, we give to the less fortunate, there’s always room at the table for another; we cook, eat, nap and watch football. What could be better?

There’s more: I’ve never had someone get mad at me for failing to buy them a Thanksgiving Day gift, or send them a Thanksgiving card. The hardest holiday shopping is the Costco parking lot the day before the big event, and even then, it doesn’t require traffic cops like the mall does on Christmas Eve. (Not that I’d be caught dead there and then.)

But I digress. It’s Thanksgiving, and I wanted to share what I’m thankful for. Since this is a blog about work and purpose, I wanted to specifically acknowledge mentors who have been important to me: I got a wonderful surprise via Facebook last week, which was a blog post via aPriori International about my blog post on styles. You can read the whole thing here, but my favorite part is this:

We don’t bring Heidi’s blog to the forefront just because she is a participant in our programs or because her latest post references the principles we espouse. Rather, we feel her documentation of her learning expands the risk that is inherent in learning. By jumping into Market Force courses, Heidi admitted to herself that there are things in her life with which she needs assistance, from employee assessments to personal time management to … whatever. And so by writing about her learning, she is taking a greater risk, a critical action in the process of becoming your “whole self.”

The thing that this post immediately brought to my mind was Charles Bukowski’s poem, “The Rape of the Holy Mother.”

Before that title freaks you out, read what this poem is really about: “To expose your ass on paper/ terrifies some/ and/ it should:/ the more you put down/ the more you leave yourself/ open/ to those who label themselves/ “critics.” (full poem here)

As Travis Carson, author of the aPriori post above, rightly says, learning is inherently risky. And that’s why today, on Thanksgiving, I am especially grateful for mentors.

Mentors challenge you. They allow you to fail. They guide your learning and your experimentation. They’re not about “thinking out of the box,” they’re about tearing that whole damned box apart.

Which is pretty cool, don’t you think? So here’s my list (and only just a start) of career mentors who have helped me make pivotal choices.

I am thankful for Yvonne Young, my second-grade teacher, who constantly repeated the phrase, “You are loveable and capable!” She built tremendous self-esteem (and daring qualities), and her expert storytelling remains so memorable that I try to mimic it with my own children.

I am thankful for Andy Gottesman, my high school debate coach. Winning in debate helped me feel fantastic about myself in high school even though I was pretty nerdy. That’s a big deal, but more importantly, I truly believe that speech and debate skills got me through college and prepared me for the world of work.

I am thankful for Cliff Rowe, my college journalism professor. Cliff literally changed my life when he prompted me to apply for a fellowship even though I hadn’t declared a major in journalism. I ended up winning the fellowship, a $1,000 stipend to intern at a newspaper, and then Cliff then directed me to an idyllic summer at the Port Townsend-Jefferson County Leader. By the end of five months there, I was hooked, and spent the next nine years in newspapers.

I am thankful for Pat Jenkins, my first, full-time newspaper editor. He took a chance on hiring me fresh out of college and pushed my writing far, far forward by taking the time to show me how I could improve (not just making corrections and moving on). He helped me develop strong reporting skills to really immerse myself in a community, and also helped me navigate some tricky political stories that resulted in the resignation of a judge.

I am thankful for Dan Cook, my business reporting editor, whose passion for digging into a story completely changed my reporting style, who managed to reign in this spitfire with good humor and tons of patience, and who taught me the value of having conviction in your work (and knowing when to take a pass).

I am thankful for Lynn Parsons, marketing and business development consultant, who understands the value of real business relationships (not just LinkedIn connections) and how to manage clients with diplomacy and grace, and who I admire tremendously for running her own firm through any economic cycle. She is the master of client service.

I am thankful for Craig Robbins, Chief Knowledge Officer and “dean” of Colliers University, who has given me hours of insight into work styles and systems, and who has the kind of advice that is tough to hear but absolutely essential if you want to get through any roadblock.

And I am also thankful for Katherine Steen, director of Colliers University, who since 2006 who has given me the platform and opportunity to speak to a broader audience, share my expertise and connect with people from around the world, and tackle challenging projects with zest.

There are many more on the list, but I wanted to recognize the people above because the each played a pivotal role in my career development. I am deeply grateful for everything they shared and invested in me.

If you’re from the USA, have a wonderful Thanksgiving. If you’re not, give thanks anyway. I’m taking this weekend off blogging to spend with my family, but I’ll send you a post later tonight on gift-giving and see you back here on Monday, Nov. 28.

When inspiration strikes, pray that your car is dirty.

9 Nov Inspiration strikes feat

Hi again. I’m taking the next 15 minutes to add another post. It’s late (my whole family is asleep … even the dog is snoring) and the rain is absolutely pounding our house. Ah, Oregon.

I’d love to be in bed, too, but I find that when inspiration hits, I just can’t get away from it. It plagues me like a mosquito humming around my head as I try to get to sleep, keeping me up for hours if I don’t just settle down and write it out. And so I obey.

Sometimes, the inspiration is personal—an idea for my novel, or for a children’s book. I stumbled on a Facebook event launched because two mothers were asked to leave a local mall for breastfeeding in public (which is legally protected) and I spent that night doing research and drumming up a press release.

The result was coverage by three stations over two days, and I passed out more than 100 flyers at the event. I didn’t even know these women, but when I saw what was happening, inspiration struck … and it just wouldn’t leave me alone. (Also, I like to use my marketing powers for good, not evil.)

When I get inspired, the best response is to just do it. Do it now. Do it all all all. Because the flash of passion and inspiration is like a shot of adrenaline in my creative system, and the longer I make it wait, the more it fades and fizzles, like soda left open on the counter to grow warm and flat.

Yuck.

When inspiration or ideas strike me, it's as subtle as a fireworks spectacular. Featured photo by Denizen24; insert photo by Bayasaa

Often, my inspiration is for work: an idea for a cool project, a creative marketing idea, a new way of helping my company win new business or retain clients. If you’re in a meeting with me when inspiration strikes, you’ll know it—instantly. It’s like an enormous neon lightbulb exploding over my head.

Fireworks are more subtle.

If I were a third-grader in business meetings, I’d be flapping my hand, high in the air, doing that grunting thing kids do that’s code for “Pick me! Pick me!”

Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. I’m just that enthusiastic about ideas. It’s where I got one of my nicknames, “the idea vending machine.” Can’t help it. My best friend at work loves to tease me about it, pointing to something imaginary over my shoulder and saying, “Look! Shiny!”

I laugh, claiming I’m not that distract-able. But let’s be real—if it’s a really good idea, I am. I totally am. And as a recovering procrastinator, I should add that my favorite project at any given time is always the one that I just had a new idea for. Always.

Here’s my all-time favorite story about inspiration, from author Roald Dahl. Before I tell you about it, I have to say this: If you think you know that author (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, James and the Giant Peach), throw that notion out of your head and sit down with The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More.

Yes. As an adult. It is one of my favorite books, a perennial read, mostly fiction and one startling nonfiction short story. And Henry Sugar’s story still haunts me (but more on that in a later blog—I’d like to think it’s the reason I met my husband).

Back to Mr. Dahl. In the book’s introduction, he describes how inspiration once struck him while he was out on a drive. The idea for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory popped into his head and he was so desperate to capture this idea, he immediately pulled over to the side of the road and emptied the contents of his glove box to find paper and a pen.

Nothing. He came up empty. And he was feeling more and more desperate to hold onto his idea. So here’s what he did: he got out of the car, walked around to the back of the car, and wrote one word, chocolate, with his finger in the dust on his bumper.

And just like that, he’d grabbed hold of inspiration and tethered it to something tangible in our real world.

So what do you do when inspiration strikes? If I were sitting next to you and saw fireworks exploding from your ears, evidence of a great idea that had just occurred to you, I’d say, “GO! Run! Do it now! Write it down now! Make it real now!”

Because you never know how long inspiration will linger. Capture it. GO.

What box are you living in?

8 Nov Photo by USFS Region 5

I wanted to share a cool thing one of my colleagues described to me years ago, which I dutifully scribbled down as he said it. I saved it, tacked up on one of the corkboards that line my home office. Here’s a prettier version of it:

 

So what does this mean? The idea behind this graphic is that you’re living in one of these boxes for your work life and your personal life. If you’re accepting what’s actually happening now, your current reality, then you’re at peace. If you also accept (let’s say: embrace!) possibility, you’re living in a mood of ambition.

That’s where I like to live, all the time.

But maybe today is not that day. Things have got you down. Your gut says you’re opposed to the status quo; your job sucks, home life sucks, or your personal situation sucks. Can you relate to one of those, at least sometimes?

I’m not talking about a case of the Mondays. This is that deep, throbbing feeling that things aren’t right. You might find yourself angry or anxious. And you’re probably living in that space of resentment, opposed to your current reality.

That’s pretty bad. I’ve been there. My friends and colleagues are there from time to time. But what’s worse (infinitely worse) is that lower-right-hand box. Living in opposition to possibility. Believing that things won’t get better. That’s where resignation sets in. You don’t even want to go there.

So my thought to share today is as simple as this—consider which box you’re living in. It probably won’t be the same for every aspect of life, and that’s OK. But if you want to be at peace, and you’re not, what would it take to change it?

Baby steps. Let’s say work stinks and you don’t see it getting better. Boom—you’re in resignation. How do you dig out of that hole? I imagine that the first step is admitting you’re there, and then the next step is wanting to at least move one step clockwise, from resignation to resentment. That’s when you say, “Hey, work sucks, but this won’t last forever. In fact, I’ve got a lot of potential to change that. I can start here. I can start now.”

And you’ve moved, just like that. Whether that means updating your resume (or, in this social age, it’s your LinkedIn profile) or joining a networking group, taking a class to hone your skills or taking a potential employer to lunch, you’ve got it in you to make the change.

I find it’s harder to get from resentment to peace, but I did that today with my hubby. The disagreement was big, but the thing I have to remember (after being mired in disciplinary drama with my preschooler) is that this is not a parent-child relationship. There are no punishments to dole out, no new rules to adopt and follow, no changes we could make to bedtimes or snacks or rewards to ultimately change behavior.

All we could do was talk it out. And so we did. And just like that, it was over. I felt my anger (which also kept me up for hours, I hate to admit) evaporating, moving from resentment to peace. I’ve never been one to hold a grudge (I just don’t have that good of memory), and moving on with a healthy dose of forgetfulness is often the best medicine for those times.

Peace is a great place to be. For many people, living in a mood of ambition is flat-out exhausting. But I find that it’s not in my DNA to just be. Peace is good, but I always want to go to the next level, jump the next hurdle.

Two guys in my company put it better than I ever could. During a video shoot I conducted, where I interviewed some of my firm’s key leaders, I asked our past CEO what kept him motivated over 25 years and 200-plus days on the road building our firm from a provincial operation in western Canada to one of the largest real estate services firms in the world.

Here’s what he said: “You really have to be curious. Curious people do a lot of strange things like mountain climbing, there’s always, ‘What’s over the next hill? What’s over the next hill?’ You always want to keep going over the next hill.”

Later in the interview day, I asked his son, the current leader of one of our world regions, what defined our company and people. He said, “the pursuit of doing something more. All the time. To climb that next mountain. We’re ambitious people, and you know we’re always looking to do more.”

Yup, that’s me. Always looking for the next challenge. Living in ambition.

I don’t want to sound like Pollyanna, a saccharine line that says life’s just peachy, but I do want to make the point that your mood is your choice. The actions you take can help you get out of a rut, a mood that can bring everyone down with you.

And so this note is as much to myself as anyone. Cranky? Pissed off? Complacent? Stuck? It’s your mood, and your choice. Own it, or take action to change it. GO.

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