Attitude of Gratitude

I don't generally write about faith because it's a polarizing topic for which there is very little hope of influencing others' beliefs. But, I'm making an exception because, lately, a number of people in my sphere are struggling with loss, so I'm going to give you a little glimpse inside my head to show one of the ways I remain resilient: gratitude for simple joys and an appreciation for the abundance of this world. For the atheists, you may want to stop reading, because I use the "G" word liberally. Or, if you continue to read on, feel free to substitute any references to "God" with "Nature." This is not meant to be a divinity debate, just a ramble about what goes on in this particular optimist's head before coffee.

* * *

This morning, I was in the drive-thru at Panera, applying mascara and lipstick while I waited in a long line to claim my oatmeal and coffee.  A co-worker discreetly told me that I needed to wear mascara to work at a minimum, because women are taken a lot more seriously there when they “pretty up” a bit. Sexist, but that’s the current reality.  I had trouble getting the children motivated this morning, so details like makeup were left to the drive-thru line.

As I applied my Burt’s Bees lipstick, I considered how refreshing the mint in it felt on my lips. When I take simple delight in something, I try to remember to quietly thank God for the little joys of life.

It occurred to me that those of us who work in service/support are always looking for that little bit of customer delight, and how hard it is to find those clever things that the customer may not even think about, but that will heighten their overall impression of the product or service...like the towels folded into animal shapes to delight your children at a hotel...putting the data the customer requested into a ready-to-present PowerPoint slide...recognizing a team member’s contribution in front of their peers...knowing a "regular's" preferences in the drive-thru...drawing a smiley face on your child’s napkin in their packed lunch...

And then, there was God, creating mint, which is not at all necessary in the world, so that we could feel refreshed by its flavor, aroma, and tingly feel on our skin. And mint is only one of a zillion unnecessary but delightful things in the world that, if they never existed, we would still be perfectly content without, but, since they do, we have that extra delight. Outstanding customer focus, God!

Then, I thought about God using the divine equivalent of MS Project to plan creation. My head exploded once when a former colleague described a large product implementation with several thousand tasks. I’ve never implemented a project with more than a few hundred tasks; even then, it seems that keeping the project management plan up to date is unwieldy.  Can you imagine The Universe Design Project? Even if divided into sub projects, it would be beyond monumental. 

Mint was probably task 402 billion in Project Earthly Flora.

And God had one project leader and one team member, all rolled into one. And no budget. Talk about limited resources. No wonder evolution took so long. Time, Cost, Quality triangle.  With the cost so low and the quality so insanely high, that time vector had to be huge.

So, that’s what I thought about on the drive to work, my lips happily tingling with the result of Project Flora’s task 402 billion. From mint, joy...and insane project management skills. 

And, by the way, I am also very grateful for whatever task number in Project Earthly Fauna covered bacon.

This life is abundant with wonder, and that keeps me going. 

(Written on 5/16/2016 but I forgot to publish it!)

What if CEOs muddled by on only $1 million a year?

Lately, there's been a lot of buzz in the press about limiting executive compensation. In a webinar I recently attended, the speaker said, as we've so often heard from various pundits, that in the U.S., CEOs make 370 times the average worker's salary, versus European CEOs who make 20-30 times the average worker's salary.

I read a news article today that referred to GMI's 2012 CEO Pay Survey, so I clicked on the link to the survey and skimmed it. It made me wonder how many  "regular" jobs are represented by executive compensation in excess of 20-30x an average worker’s salary. I didn't want to find the average worker's salaries for all of those companies, so I just looked up how many wage earners (those at least 16 years old) are in an average U.S. household and what the median U.S. household income is. Close enough.

So, by my very rough calculations, if total realized compensation by CEOs of the 1,160 S&P 500/Smallcaps/Midcaps surveyed by GMI were 20x the median U.S. household income (which means the CEOs would still make >7 figures) rather than 177 times (note, not 370 times, at least by my calculation), their excess compensation represents enough jobs (nearly a quarter million) to reduce U.S. unemployment by roughly 0.2%. Putting that in perspective, the "excess" compensation of 1,160 captains of industry could bring us 15% closer to the unemployment rate deemed “healthy” by experts (now = 7.3%, healthy = 6%)

Of course, the link between executive compensation and unemployment is not as simple as that, if there even is a link at all. But, it is interesting to think about.  

Get off the log, be prepared

I wrote this a few months ago as a guest post for another blog. Much to the delight of this fangirl, the blog owner decided to write his own posts again. But, no sense in letting my post float in digital limbo pending uncertain publication, so here it is.

In this harsh economy, corporate restructurings, downsizings, and radical operations changes are daily news. When the corporate gods hurl stones at you, do you ever find yourself linking arms with your fellows around the fire at Camp Commiseration for the Woefully Wronged, swapping horror stories and plotting against the evil overlords? Right…me neither. But let’s pretend.

Managers and HR pros are the faces of the corporation and first-line contacts for employees. How we act during corporate transitions can make a critical difference for how employees adjust to the new normal. So, when stones are pelting us, it’s time to get off of our logs by the campfire, pull up our hiking shorts, and lead our campers to a better trail.

I’ve found that I need to acknowledge what’s going on in my heart and head before I can make deliberate choices about how to act. Otherwise, I’ll act on instinct—that natural fight-or-flight response—which may not be in the best interests of employees (or the business).

Start by examining personal emotional responses (feelings and actions) to a variety of stressful situations. For example, when people take sides, my kneejerk emotion is anxiety, and my instinctive action is to mediate to make that nasty, anxiety-causing conflict go away. When someone dominates, I feel devalued, so I want to disengage (i.e., pout). When I see someone misleading others, I feel betrayed and want to refute them. When my livelihood is at risk, I panic and plan escape routes. Try it:

Your organization has just announced a complete restructuring, including a large workforce reduction, facility closures, consolidated business units, and project/product eliminations.

1. How do you feel and what does that make you want to do? (Don’t ponder, go with your gut.)
2. Take a deep breath and own it. Emotions aren’t right or wrong, they just are.
3. How do your employees (and company) need you to act? Was that your gut response? If so, great. If not, go to #4.
4. What can you do to remind yourself of what you should do when your emotions are driving you? Put a plan in place now so that, under stress, you don’t revert to instinctive action.

To make it manageable, look for patterns. My responses to a variety of emotions boil down to a small set of characteristic actions. By recognizing my trigger emotions and how they drive my instinctive actions, I can make conscious choices under stress, choosing whether to act on instinct or not. (I try, anyway.) I’ve even changed some of my natural reactions over time.

CAUTION: Don’t rationalize misguided actions with cleverly disguised fight-or-flight responses. Consider:

Your boss just told you that you are losing your job in a restructuring. Do you want your boss to:

1. “Bolster your confidence” by emphasizing that it’s nothing personal (i.e., dismiss your feelings)
2. “Comfort you” by saying not to worry, things will be fine (i.e., dismiss the impact on your life)
3. “Show solidarity” by relating their own tale of woe (i.e., make it all about them)
4. “Support you” by being your new best friend (i.e., seek absolution from you)
5. “Be honest with you” by noting the decision was made without them (i.e., cut off your feedback channel since your boss lacks influence)
6. Listen to you empathetically and offer relevant facts on next steps (i.e., do their job)

I bet you’ve seen or felt all of these. Now, wear your boss hat. What’s your instinctive response? (Mine is #5, a form of flight. My plan is to shut up and go to #6 when I hear myself say, “To be honest…”)

For those of us leading through career- and life-altering transitions, these are emotionally brutal times. If you haven’t experienced this, I hope you never do. Still, wise camp leaders know to be prepared.

As homage to my favorite management blogger, Paul Smith, and his ability to choose corresponding musical references, I tried to find a Camper Van Beethoven song to match the camping metaphor, but my instincts chose the campy Nothing Painted Blue’s “Swivelchair” instead.
 

 * * *

Michelle Drabik, Technical Services Manager at Energizer, has over 25 years of leadership experience in consumer products. She currently manages Energizer’s global library, experimental battery testing groups, and Analytical Sciences department, and has worked in R&D and competitive intelligence. She helped design and deploy many OD initiatives on diversity, continuous improvement, management, collaboration, and KM.

This post reflects the author’s personal opinion and may not be the opinion of Energizer.

Of Grief and Fear

Like most people, I have a few phobias, but there is one particular terror that makes me tremble to my soul.  I usually don’t think about it deeply, though I do pray five or six times a day that my fear is never realized. I keep it at the surface, even when I pray, because it is too awful to delve into.

I am terrified of leaving my children before they are fully independent.

Does anyone expecting a child truly consider the question, “What if my child is orphaned?” What are the odds, after all? But, when one parent dies when the children are young, this weighty question becomes much more real.

When I disclosed this fear to a friend, he said. “You have a will, right?” Of course.  If something happened to me, would my children be raised by loving and good people? Yes. But it wouldn’t be me, and that would leave my children with terrible holes in their hearts.

My husband died of complications of cancer treatment when our children were 4, 6, and 7. He was in treatment for a good part of the 5 years prior to his death.  We discovered he was ill before I’d even taken the home pregnancy test to confirm we were expecting number 3. The two youngest do not really remember their father, despite my constant efforts to reinforce memories. This breaks my heart.

One of my friends aptly describes our family as “a pack.” When your kids are not legally old enough to be left alone, there is no reasonable choice but to take them with you everywhere.  Sure, I could hire a babysitter, but would it really be effective to get all 3 kids in the car, go pick up the babysitter, bring them all home, go grocery shopping, go home and unload, pile everyone back in the car, and drive the babysitter home? Nope. So, they go with me, everywhere. Efficiency is key when you are time limited.   

Why am I time limited? Having 3 children who, sadly, are not legally permitted to work all day in sweatshops to support themselves, I must work full time. In the movies, the frenzied life of a working parent involves arguing with people on a cell phone from home while a child hangs on to your leg as you load perfectly bleached whites into the dryer, leaving you ample time to make dinner from organic vegetables harvested from your garden, help Junior with his science project, work out, direct the school play, coach soccer, deliver meals to invalids, refurbish the house, march for world peace, and sew the children’s wardrobes from self-designed patterns. In my world, it involves spending 50 hours a week as a ball of stress in an office, barely fitting in dinner, homework, and baths before bedtime; spending Saturdays driving in carefully orchestrated circles, depositing and fetching children from various sports activities, lessons, birthday parties, and school events, while trying to fit in errands, grocery shopping, and an occasional bathroom break; and reserving Sundays for worship, laundry, bill paying, school projects, and (very occasionally) seeing family or friends. 

So, we are a pack. Our lives are a jigsaw puzzle of activities that all must fit tightly together to make the picture. Though I’m usually exhausted, I wouldn’t trade a bit of it. I adore my children. And, due to their age and the fact that I am their sole parent, I am, at present, the center of their world.

Twelve years ago, one of my husband’s fraternity brothers died of cancer, leaving behind his wife, Julianne, and their two babies.  My husband and I did not have children until several years later. When my husband was diagnosed with cancer, Julianne was immediately on the phone coaching me through the initial terror. She repeated the words of encouragement that I had offered when her husband, John, was diagnosed, and told me how those words and my faith in them had lifted her many times. She told me that my non-judgmental ear when she was struggling with practical and emotional burdens had offered her relief from the expectations of others. Indeed, we’d had frank and lengthy discussions about pressures and awkwardness of uncoupled life and parenthood, but I hadn’t realized how much it had meant to her. And, as Julianne disclosed her feelings during and after her husband’s demise, she unknowingly prepared me for my parallel future experience.  By then, she had become an example of triumph over fear and struggle that I desperately needed to see.  At different critical moments, we’d given each other exactly the right support.

When last I spoke with her, our conversation led us to disclose a shared wish, our deepest and most profound desire as solo mothers:  To see our children through to full independence.  This was not spurred by any particular concern. It just came up.

On February 17, Julianne died at home of a stroke. Her children found her. Their earthly pack was broken.  My heart aches for them intensely.

It would be a lie to pretend that Julianne and I were best buddies. We weren’t. We didn’t call each other weekly or hang out having coffee on Saturday mornings.  We shared a common bond and engaged in meaningful conversations, usually at social gatherings.  But, that connection of similar life experience, overlapping circles of friends, and a 20-year history makes the loss of Julianne very hard for me. She bravely walked down a difficult path that neither one of us ever would have chosen to tread, giving me courage with each of her footsteps as I walked a few paces behind.  I realize that my grief is based in my identification with her life. Grief, after all, really is about one’s own loss.

Julianne told me that when people called her “brave” after John died, she thought, “What alternative do I have? That’s not brave, it’s just doing what you have to do.” Like her, I, too, learned that lesson the hard way.

Julianne is a powerful soul. One last time, she blazes an immensely difficult trail, not by her own design, but because that is simply what is. Her children, during this tragic experience, have shown that the content of their characters, like their mother’s, includes faith, determination, and wisdom. They will live extraordinary lives. Through them, Julianne continues to demonstrate that you just do what you have to do. As I reflect on this, I do not feel brave, yet my terror begins to recede.

For a wonderful tribute to Julianne, read this article by her former neighbor, Robert Nozar.

Thank you, Dr. Pohlman

Here's a post a wrote months ago, but never published. I still had a few tweaks to make. Then, the hubbub of a corporate restructuring, holidays, and other major events dominated my time and thoughts in the past few months, and this post remained unfinished as I neglected my blog. Better late than never.

* * *

It was a difficult day at work today. I had to take a half day of vacation because my daughter was sick last night and I got no sleep. When I got to work, a press release made this 25-year employee of Energizer want to consume about 10-lbs of Belgian chocolate (though I settled for a vegan cupcake provided by my boss instead), and a friend called my attention to an article that made me openly weep. As there is little I can control to change illness or corporate direction, I'll focus on the article that made me weep. An oncologist at the Cleveland Clinic wrote a heartfelt article about closure, both for a deceased patient's family and for himself as the patient's doctor. After I read it, I realized that, although I verbally thanked my late husband's medical team, I never formally showed my gratitude.

It is in my control to change this, right now.

First, a little background: After a 5-yr. tug of war with mantle cell lymphoma, my husband succumbed to pneumonia following a donor stem cell transplant in 2010. He was both a patient at the Cleveland Clinic and a 25-yr. employee. When he was first diagnosed, everything we read noted a 3-yr. life expectancy. Martin lived 5, about half of which were pretty much normal.

Thank you, Dr. Brad Pohlman. You will always be my family's ultimate hero. You had enormous patience with our overly detailed updates and endless lists of questions. You couldn't hide your glee when the labs were good, and I will never forget the hug you gave me when it was the beginning of the end. We chose you for your brilliance and medical reputation. It was your engagement in our family's well-being, however, that made us truly grateful we made that choice.

Thank you, Karen Sands, Nurse Coordinator. You scheduled, coached, trained, managed, ran interference for, informed, celebrated with, was outraged with, laughed with, comforted, and generally held proverbial hands with us through everything. You gave us hope, cleaned up messes, and were a constant source of compassion.

Thank you, Dr. Alan Taege. There were a lot of infections in those years, and you knew what to do about them. But, most of all, I cherish the conversations we had in the ICU as things were going badly. You spoke from the heart, and it bolstered my waning confidence in my own decisions. You helped me hold true to the plan Martin and I had, and our motto of "no regrets."

Thank you, Dr. Rendell Ashton. I was a demanding caregiver, yet, you always were patient. You assumed I could keep up with the medical explanations and treated me as a competent partner in my husband's care, never projecting on me the false image of the deluded wife too desperate to see when the jig was up.  And you called me, personally, after the autopsy results were in, which was truly unexpected and most kind.

Thank you, Dr. Ron Sobecks. You always called personally with test results, answered our endless questions, and seemed to be on task 24/7. It was gracious and thoughtful of you to send a note of condolence even though Martin was no longer your patient at the time.

Thank you to all of the phenomenal nurses in ICU, including Megan, Kelly, Mandy, Sasha, Jamie, Margaret, and Jackie, to name a few. Thanks to the nurse who seemed to be sent straight from heaven to guide me through Martin's last moments. Thanks to Joe the Super-Respiratory Man, and to the rest of the crack team of respiratory therapists in ICU. Thanks to the med techs, especially the ones who sneaked me coffee (I won't rat you out, but you know who you are...and you ROCK!).  Thanks to all of the great nurses in the transplant ward who fed our kids graham crackers and cheerfully knew how to make taking 7000 tubes of blood at each admission seem almost fun. Thanks to the nurses in Taussig, who admired Martin's shoes, laughed when he wore a mismatched pair, picked him up when he fell, dealt with chemo drugs and the unfortunate effects of nausea, and kept what could have been dismal times as pleasant as possible. Thanks to Dr. Josh, the resident, who befriended us both and brought a fresh helping of youthful enthusiasm along with his medical skill. And thanks to all of the other oncologists in Hematologic Oncology and Blood Disorders, transplant docs, and infectious disease docs who treated Martin at various times when he was an inpatient, and all of the staff who did their utmost to help a daddy have the most quality time with his three babies as possible in his all-too-short span of life. I wish I could call all of you out by name.

The Cleveland Clinic is one of the top hospitals for cancer care, with the survival statistics to prove it. Medically, it is the place to go. But just as important, Taussig's elite cadre of medical professionals really and truly care. It is not only their jobs, but clearly their personal missions, to save the lives--or at least as much quality of life as possible--for the people in their care. Nothing impersonal or arrogant in these oncologists; the same docs who treat world leaders, Olympic athletes, and celebrities call even their less celebrated patients personally with test results. Until my husband got cancer, I had never known a doctor who ever called personally with test results. Ever.

Someday, when the kids are old enough to stay home by themselves, I will find a way to help in some small way with the important work these heroes do every day, to somehow repay a tiny portion of the personal debt I owe to them. For now, my children and I will continue to say a prayer for them each night as we have for two years, and hope that karma is real. Truly, these people deserve only good things.

And one more thank you to someone I will never be able to call by name. Thank you to the stem cell donor who gave us hope. Your magical stem cells did, in fact, cure Martin's cancer. Sadly, his immune system just wasn't yet ready to fight hard enough when he got pneumonia. You gave us a miracle. Thank you, whoever and wherever you are. My children and I pray for you every night, and always will.

Leaves and Goose Droppings

 I was walking outside today at what normally would have been lunchtime for me, but was pre-lunchtime today since my official 25th company service anniversary luncheon was scheduled later. Puddles from the rain were still in low spots on the driveway, and it was oppressively humid and blazingly hot. Since I didn't want to get too sweaty before the hug-fest ahead, I decided to stick close to the building and keep the walk brief. Staying close to the building equals "constant peril" for pedestrians, due to the flock of Canadian geese that abundantly festoons our sidewalks with their personal gifts. Dodging the droppings requires looking quite closely at the ground as one walks. Funny what you notice while paying attention to places you don't usually look. I noticed that the post-storm, fallen leaves on the sidewalk seemed to be framed like pictures by ovals of water on the cement. It reminded me of old, framed silhouettes of Victorian ladies, and of cameo brooches. Why the antique association? I realized that all of the leaves surrounded by their hydrous frames were older, already brown or on their way to it, autumn infringing upon them, creating a sepia tone I associate with distinguished old photos. They lay smoothly

and serenely within their aquatic cameos. However, those leaves that were still green, yet just as eagerly torn from their branches by the earlier winds, were unframed. They did not draw the moisture into themselves or attract it to their orb, but adorned themselves with sunshine-sparkled jewels of rain. Unlike the others, these leaves were not serenely clinging to the pavement, but still rustling, ready to flutter into the wind should the right gust present itself.

In my reflective mood, looking backward and forward at my career, I found many parallels to life, knowledge, wisdom, and relationships with others, and what all of that means within the framework of a diverse workforce.

What do you make of these observations? I'd love to know.

Burglarized in Cleveland's Western Suburbs

My house has been burglarized. My jewelry and my children's jewelry is gone. The part that kills me is that so many of the items had stories, and I was keeping them for my children. The worst loss is my late husband's wedding band. It looks like this, only it was two-tone yellow and white gold woven together:

I also lost the necklace my husband gave to me on the first Valentine's Day after we got engaged. It was a shorter length flat gold chain that came down to a point, like a chevron. Near the point, three strands of the flat chain were fused together to give it more substance, and a tiny gold heart was molded into the gold at the point.

Also gone are mementos of our travels:

From Egypt, an 18-carat gold cartouche, solid, with "Michelle" in hieroglyphics. It was on a heavy gold chain. The cartouche was vertical, but the hieroglyphics look like this:

Also, an 18-carat gold ankh pendant, maybe 3/4 inch tall. An ankh looks like this, only mine was a little pointier and was on a chain that looked like little gold balls:

From Italy, both on a gold chain, an 18-carat gold Italian horn, maybe an inch long, and an 18-carat gold Trinacria, also maybe an inch. A Trinacria looks like this:

From Greece, a Greek key design 18 -carat gold ring, size 6-ish, and 7" bracelet, both with hollow spaces within the design and about 1/8 inch in width. A Greek key design looks like this:

Finally, in addition to other gold necklaces and an antique cameo pin, my children's three small 14-carat gold miraculous medals on chains that were their baptismal gifts are gone.

Lots of other jewelry is gone, too, but these hold particular sentimental value, especially my late husband's ring. If anyone in the Cleveland, Ohio area noticed these fairly unique pieces in a pawn shop or resale shop or some other place that jewelry is sold, please comment and let me know. 

I am broken-hearted. These pieces were tied to very special memories of my late husband, who died from cancer much too young, and our life together. There were things I was saving for our young children. This was such a cruel crime.

Please help if you can. I am a very forgiving person. I just want my mementos back.

Small gap, big difference

This week, there was a hubbub on the internet about this talk by Nick Hanauer (multimillionaire venture capitalist), who did a brief TED talk—"Ideas Worth Spreading"—and was dismayed when TED, well, chose not to spread it via its popular web site. In my opinion, the speaker is not engaging and the talk is not very unique, simply not TED quality. However, the rejected speaker took his displeasure to the National Review, which accused TED of deciding that the issue of income inequality was "too hot" to handle. TED claimed that the talk was rejected for being "explicitly partisan," having "unconvincing" arguments, and receiving "mediocre ratings," which is just as inauthentic as the National Review's clearly sensational slant, since the talk is not partisan (both parties are accused), the talk received a standing ovation, and lots of the brief 3-minute TED talks have unconvincing arguments simply due to time constraints. Both sides were a little shady. Both sides have received HUGE exposure, much more than they would have received otherwise. I suppose exposure is what both TED and Hanauer want, ultimately, and it was fun to participate in the online debate, so I guess everybody won.

Where I won especially, though, is following a link embedded in the online battle to a similar, more substantial TED talk by Richard Wilkinson, a noteworthy economic researcher and professor. He presents a variety of data to demonstrate how the larger the economic gap within a developed country, the bigger the negative impact on health, lifespan, and other critical outcomes for the entire society.

I propose that a similar phenomenon occurs within corporations: The more pronounced the hierarchical gap between leadership and employees, the more dysfunctional the organization; small gap, big difference.  

Information Wilkinson cited about the physiological response to stress was particularly interesting:

"Threats to self-esteem or social status in which others can negatively judge your performance…have a very particular [negative, substantially higher] physiological response [than other stressors]…"

Perhaps this relates to our current do-substantially-more-with-substantially-less work environment:

• Could fear of being downsized as substantially more is being asked of a smaller workforce be driving up stress at an astounding rate, more than we might expect?

• If sustained stress makes us stupid, what are the implications to business of this high-stress work environment created by continuing economic challenges?

• Does your particular work environment support or defeat productivity and innovation?

• How can we improve the working environment for increased productivity and innovation?

What do you think?

Lizards and Linchpins

I recently read the getAbstract summary of Linchpin by Seth Godin.* According to the summary, Godin advises that, for professional success, we must overcome our most basic instincts in our resistance-driving "lizard brain"—the part of our minds that tells us to merely survive through risk-averse rule following—to exercise our “daemon”—a higher brain function that opposes resistance and drives creativity, love, determination, selflessness, and insight. Godin believes that the industry "artists" who exercise their daemons are "linchpins"—go-to people who are indispensable to an organization.

"…if you believe in yourself and your potential for greatness, kindle the creative spark within, embrace risk and seek the good in others, you can become an influential linchpin."

Hmm. Okay. (This feels like it is heading dangerously in the direction of the pseudoscientific law of attraction. Yikes.)

"You can either fit in or stand out. Not both. You are either defending the status quo or challenging it...Organizations will always strive to replace replaceable elements with cheaper substitutes. But generous artists aren't easily replaceable."

Again, okay. But what really plays out? Artists/linchpins may not be easily replaceable because they are rare. But they are not indispensable. Remember the adage:

"The graveyards are full of people the world could not do without."

It may injure a business to dispense of linchpins either by design or by lack of effort to retain them, but the remaining lizards will continue to do what they do best: SURVIVE. So will many businesses.

"Optimistic, successful individuals tune out their lizard brains. They don't take failure personally. They don't think of themselves as losers. They learn from their mistakes and take different approaches. They are strengthened, not weakened, by setbacks…You cannot truly embrace change until you decide that nothing is going to stand in your way. No amount of self-doubt or outside negativity is going to derail you. March ahead fearlessly."

In my experience, many lizards, like linchpins, don't take failure personally, either. They will fly under the radar, rationalize, play politics, game the system, blame others or the world, and a bunch of other possibilities, and generally emerge professionally, psychologically, and emotionally unscathed. Sure, some will be downsized, but if lizard-brain thinking is our natural instinct, it only stands to reason that lizards remain the vast majority in the workforce and in the world (including the executive suite).

Both lizards and linchpins will march ahead in their own ways. I've seen both find wild business success and both do just okay. Possibly, linchpins may feel genuinely happier about their plight and be liked by other people. But, lizards may believe the same about themselves. Either way, it works out on a personal level. Perception is reality.

So, if Godin is trying to say that being a linchpin will make your organization work harder to retain you or bring you greater professional success, I’m a skeptic. There are way too many variables in business to narrow success down to merit. I do not believe that there are robust meritocracies in the very subjective and political corporate world. If he's trying to say that linchpins have a better chance than lizards of leaving something good in the world (appreciated or not), well, that's possible.

Or, is Godin simply saying that you have choices about how you define and achieve personal and professional success, despite what is hard-wired in to your brain? With that, I definitely agree.

What do you think?

• How do you think lizards and linchpins compare in terms of professional success? Business impact? Value to your organization? Recognition and rewards?

• Do we need both types, or would it be best for business to have one type dominate?

• Which of these suits you? What do you do when someone you work with closely is the opposite? What do you do if you are expected to act in opposition to your preference?

• Are these the only two possibilities? Are there others? What about blends?

*Not having read the full book, I admit to the probability that I missed critical points. I’m a fan of Seth Godin, and I’m sure there’s brilliance in his book that couldn’t fit into the summary.

Options, Not Plans

I often say that I feel better when I have a plan. In fact, I just said it a few days ago to my mentor as our next steps for my career exploration started to take shape. I used to say it when my husband's cancer would return — waiting for data and doctor's appointments was much harder than treatment (which was no picnic), because simply having a goal with actions ahead of us was much better than being in decision-making limbo. I've said it in times of re-organizations and reductions in force — when you have enough data to start planning next steps, it's so much better than not having enough information to even consider options to rearrange the work.

Upon deeper reflection, though, it's not really a plan that makes me feel better. It is having reasonable options based on a vision.

There's something about the word "plan" that connotes a step-by-step procedure to me, something relatively fixed, with milestones, commitments, and a fixed endpoint. Webster agrees:

• an often customary method of doing something: procedure

• a detailed formulation of a program of action

It's not that I don't like plans. It's just that objectives I must meet according to a plan don't stress me out. It's just normal stuff. You lay it out and check off the intermediate steps. I don't really think about it, think to report on it, or give it much notice at all because it's so routine. I should, because that seems to be the work most people care about, in my experience. It's the stuff on which my performance rating is based and my value is judged. It's so infinitely measureable: solid process measures, clear milestones, obvious endpoint. The control freak inside each of us is blissful. 

When something requires a vision and options, it's a much bigger deal: big risk, big unknowns, big change, big impact. It's something that requires constant course adjustment, quick response, jumping into the void, trust in my own judgment, faith in others and in the system. Achieving a vision, navigating uncertainty, never being able to see more than a couple of steps ahead is such a rush, though! And, when you get close to the vision, you have really made a difference that counts — BIG value, BIG change.

Trouble is, it's hard to measure your progress along the way, and it can take a long time, so we have a tendency to say "nothing is happening" when, in fact, the reality is just that we don't know how to measure, or we simply become impatient. Or, even if we do wait it out, it takes long enough that it's like the "boiling a frog" metaphor: Major change can happen slowly and stealthily, like when you slowly turn up the heat under a pot of water, a frog in the pot will not notice that he's slowly being cooked. But if you drop the frog into a pot of water that's already boiling, he'll jump out. Dropping the frog into the pot, or measureable, point-in-time, firefighting-style change is what we notice and reward, even when it's not the most important step—or even a step at all—on the way to the vision (which, in this case, is a boiled frog). Slowly boiling the frog, or systematically achieving a vision, is not really noticed or appreciated because it happens gradually, even though it can result in a radical change in state (at least, for the frog).

In my experience, we talk a good game about wanting meaningful results, but, because it takes patience in a faster-than-Moore's-Law-paced corporate world, we don't pursue them. It's easier to chase the tangible and immediate, even if, in the scheme of things, they are not going to help us achieve what we want.

Many in corporate America are buckling under the weight of an over-processed, overloaded, over-everything work environment. The economy is weak, businesses are struggling, and pressure is intense. In response, we're micro-managing the obvious, to pacify our inner control freaks in an out-of-control work world, applying management concepts in increasingly desperate ways. We're adding layer upon layer of process to avoid the slightest deviation...cherry picking rather than delving deeply...making everything lean to the extreme. We're more interested in the bell curve than the people it represents. We're quick to fight fires or dash for the finish line, but slow to learn. We push to zero risk rather than push toward a vision. We don't want any uncertainty anywhere. These aren't bad things necessarily, but they shouldn't be an excuse to avoid more uncertain, more rewarding paths.

By managing out all uncertainty, perhaps we're also managing out options critical to achieving our vision.

Let's re-frame the thinking. Collect enough data to create a vision (per Webster: a thought, concept, or object formed by the imagination; unusual discernment or foresight) and then formulate options (choices, alternatives) that can help achieve it. When I do this, the control freak in me is happy because I am in control — at least, enough control to make decisions as the next few steps unfold. That's enough to make me okay with the remaining uncertainty, and creativity can flow. Plus, uncertainty means I can never get stuck: uncertainty equals options. 

Have faith in a vision, and back it up with just enough data.

Can you tell I'm a sunshine yellow manager?

Would you believe that I'm equally a cool blue?

Is that leadership schizophrenia?

Systemic Change...or Insider Amnesia?

Reacting to The 6 Rules Women Must Break in Order to Succeed, my favorite blogger, Paul Smith, stated:

"...their definitions of power were built upon structures of power already in existence...it seemed the very structure they claim is holding them back, is the same one they want to embrace...instead of creating truly new rules, they were suggesting to follow rules already in place...I was hoping it would resemble this quote from Alison Maitland..."We shouldn't be fixing the women but the system"...To me, if you wish to truly create new rules: take charge of yourself, create your own definitions of success and power, and be the captain of your own ship."

For once, I had to disagree with Paul. I agree that systemic change is needed. But I do not believe that it can be driven by those who do not control those systems. I used to believe that, but, after years of trying to impact change from the outside, I don't anymore. At least, I don't believe it can be done at a pace that will create a change I will see in my career. For significant, swift, meaningful, and lasting change, it needs to be driven by insiders, by those who control the systems. So, we need a critical mass of insiders motivated to change the systems under their control. But insiders have no incentive to change the systems that got them to where they are and help them maintain their position and power. And, simply by being an insider, they have not felt the inequity, bias, or discrimination that the current systems sustain.

One possible way to achieve that critical mass is for those who are currently outsiders to masterfully navigate the existing system to attain the leadership roles in larger numbers. I think that's what the 6 Rules are meant to do:

"We want to see women make up at least 30 percent of the leaders at the top levels of corporate America within the next 10 years. We believe that 30 percent will be a tipping point. If (when) that happens, the goals and direction of corporate America will change. The old rules will be shattered, America’s corporations will be better lead, and everyone will benefit."

The trouble is, once people become insiders, my experience is that they forget what it was like to be outsiders (or maybe they were never really outsiders, weren't change champions to start, or don't have enough insider support to change the system).

Can critical mass even be achieved in the next 10 years? And, even if it is achieved (which is a pretty big "if," given the roadblocks inherent in the system -- it's not as if we haven't tried to break the glass ceiling before), will the new insiders suddenly have insider amnesia and lose their passion to change the system?

I think "insider amnesia" – my term for forgetting what you wanted to change in the system when you were an outsider – is human nature. Reminds me of the anecdote in a December 2006 HBR article, "The Curse of Knowledge," by Chip and Dan Heath (also brought to mind by one of Paul's relatively recent posts). They describe a psychology experiment in which a group of people were divided into those who would tap out the rhythm of a well-known song on a table and those who would listen and try to identify the song. Tappers were asked to predict the probability that the listeners would guess correctly, and they guessed 50%. The actual success ratio was 2.5%. The tappers were shocked at the listeners' inability to identify the songs. The disparity was summed up:

"When a tapper taps, it is impossible for her to avoid hearing the tune playing along to her taps. Meanwhile, all the listener can hear is a kind of bizarre Morse code. Yet the tappers were flabbergasted by how hard the listeners had to work to pick up the tune.

The problem is that once we know something—say, the melody of a song—we find it hard to imagine not knowing it. Our knowledge has “cursed” us. We have difficulty sharing it with others, because we can’t readily re-create their state of mind."

Maybe once we begin tapping from the inside, the system seems less broken to us, even though it hasn't changed. Or maybe we just are more invested in protecting the system that is currently rewarding us. It's probably some of both.

I'd still like to see 30% women at top leadership levels in corporate America within a decade, just to see if that is a tipping point. Couldn’t hurt to try that experiment, could it?

What do you think?

• Is it possible for women to achieve a critical mass of corporate leadership roles within 10 years within the existing business infrastructure?
• What are critical success factors?
• What do you think will happen if the goal is achieved?
• How do you feel about all of this?
• What will you do?

Crowdsourcing Science

"We are…moving to post-publication peer review where the scientific community judges what matters…connected globally through the internet."- Richard Smith Director of United Health Group's chronic disease initiative

Meh, so some guy blogs about the demise of peer-reviewed journals.

Only, I think he's right.

And the guy's opinion should carry some weight—he is a former editor of the British Medical Journal (BMJ), one of the preeminent peer-reviewed medical journals that has followed the peer review model since 1840.

In my opinion, the train left the station on this one a long time ago. It is a slow moving train, however. It is not in the best interests of those making money on the peer-reviewed journals industry to let go of their income source.

According to Smith, "Scientific journals began in the 17th century…Before that…scientists went to meetings and presented their studies. The assembled scientists would then discuss and critique the studies…This was the original peer review: immediate and open."

So, over time, the stewards of scientific information became a relatively small group of the scientific community, with some key publishers and their peer reviewers being the arbiters of "reliable" scientific communications. Not a bad way to do things for 170 odd years.

But the connectedness of the digital age changes everything. Everyone can be author, publisher, reviewer, promoter, as well as reader.

Even before Nature checked the data, I had faith in crowdsourcing as an imperfect but relatively sound way of maintaining an adequate level of factual integrity. The debate over whether or not to use Wikipedia as a source of information raged for years in the library realm because it isn't peer reviewed. I have always believed that for most substantive entries, there is statistically a high enough number of people who read it and a subset of them who will weigh in if the information is blatantly untrue. Experts are everywhere. Of course, there are also pretenders. I guess my feeling is that the information is likely to be accurate enough for many purposes. And I have never believed everything I read, even in peer-reviewed journals. Best to have several unique corroborating sources, maybe some data of your own, and a good dose of common sense on weighty matters.

So, will the validity of scientific information of the future be digitally crowdsourced, debated, and rated like a product on Amazon rather than peer reviewed? What impact will this have on future work based on information found in non-peer-reviewed sources? How will it impact the robustness and supportability of intellectual property? What are the implications on education of new scientists and how we teach them to evaluate data?

In my mind, I suddenly see Socrates surrounded by a mass of intellectuals and students peer reviewing

the old fashioned way—in a dynamic, real-time exchange. Isn't that exactly what we could do digitally, globally, and with more experts weighing in? Or, as Smith said, "It's back to our roots."

What Socrates could have done with a smart phone…

Technorati tags: Richard Smith, peer review, scientific publications, BMJ

My happiness: Shall I decide or shall you?

At the recommendation of a colleague, I read the getAbstract summary for the book Stumbling on Happiness (Vintage, 2007) by Harvard psychology professor Daniel Gilbert, whose research centers on predicting one's future emotional state. The book is about why people make cognitive errors in predicting what will make them happy: Our brains, overloaded with memories, take faulty short cuts in which they intersperse a smattering of facts with greater quantities imagination and erroneous perception, resulting in a poor estimation of the future state. The summary states:

Based on extensive psychological research, his book posits that, regarding life's future milestones, most people would do better asking someone else what to do rather than making their own decisions.

Note that I have not read the whole book, so there likely is more to it than the summary relates. However, for me, it boils down to the well-known adage, perception is my own reality, and that perception-reality includes lots of my own imagination.

I don't disagree with the main point made by the author: that imagination (I need to add the qualifier, "alone") is a bad happiness-planning tool. His reasoning:

1. Realism – We think we see reality, but we don't. The abstract states:

Because memories and perceptions are in part fabrications, they are often unreliable guides to future feelings. Yet, people uncritically accept the images their brains provide as true, even when their brains make up or leave out important details.

2. Presentism – How we feel in the present distorts our assessment of future state. The abstract states:

The brain operates on a policy of 'reality first'…if you're imagining a future event and your emotional response to it, your current positive or negative perceptions of the real world will take precedence over what your mind's eye creates. This may distort your feelings about future events.

3. Rationalization – We invent explanations that make us happy even if they are not rooted in fact. The abstract states:

The brain inherently leans toward positive, clear, rational interpretations of events – past, present and future. It provides "psychological immune systems" that keep people's spirits buoyant. Thus, even if an experience is negative…the brain will try to provide a positive perception of it…

Sure, I can buy that. Be aware of the part imagination unconsciously plays in our assessments and estimates. Check.

But where I get stuck is in the assertion: "...most people would do better asking someone else what to do rather than making their own decisions." Hmm…

Okay, I'm a scientist and I love good data and analysis as much as any geek. But abandoning my own personal data and analysis – especially as it relates to constructing a plan about me and my future – in favor of the data and analyses of others having similar experiences? That seems like a fundamentally flawed solution by the author's own arguments (not to mention a convenient way to abandon personal responsibility, which always rankles me). Doesn't it follow that an assessment of an experience by someone who has already gone through it is tainted by the same problems of realism, presentism, and rationalization as they relate their experiences to others?

I'll also concede that in controlled conditions a majority of people can have predictable responses to certain stimuli, but I do not fully support the assertion noted in the summary that "most human beings are alike" – at least, not without a whole lot of qualifiers. People have unique ways of drawing together their individual experiences and (faulty) thinking to construct a response. Maybe that response isn't "reality" in an absolute way, but my response is my reality, even if it is based largely on personal perception. And my perception is intensely related to my personal happiness. Vive la différence!

If you could just assess absolute data and assign cause-effect relationships, understanding human behavior would be so simple that Professor Gilbert would have to find something else to do. (Just kidding.)

I think a better approach to understanding happiness is, in addition to seeking input from the experienced (which is not a bad tip, just an incomplete solution), trying to sort out components of reality vs. imagination as best as possible in our own thinking and then analyze for complexity. Being aware of realism, presentism, and rationalization sure could help in sorting all of that out. (I suspect that, if I read the whole book, I would have excerpts to show that this is what Professor Gilbert is getting at.)

Happiness, I think, is a balance sheet. The return on your investment needs to come out on the positive end. The profits need to outweigh the liabilities. The trouble is that the things that make us happy all have strings attached, making the accurate construction of that balance sheet pretty complicated. It takes some work.

In my experience, if there is a way in which "most human beings are alike," it's that a lot of who we are is seemingly hard-wired, coloring our natural responses to the world. If we seek additional quality input (e.g., asking about the experiences of others), we may be able to modify our responses somewhat:

• If you are the sort of person who seeks happiness (i.e., relies on that "psychological immune system") and balances it with consideration of the data, you will find a measure of happiness, even if it is not perfect.
• If you are more radical and disregard the data in favor of blind optimism, your delusion may crumble and you may crash when it doesn't measure up to your perfect imaginings.
• If your inclination is to see the glass half empty (and I don't mean that in a snide way – some people are just like that) and you balance it with data, you may find avenues leading to some measure of happiness you hadn't considered.
• If you disregard the data, you may only see a miserable, flawed world in that half empty glass.

It's all about balance.

What do you think?

Technorati tags: Daniel Gilbert, happiness, Stumbling on Happiness, getAbstract

Are you real, Mona Lisa?

It lives. It breathes. I know the intensity of these words.

A troupe of 300 Japanese tourists, all taking individual photos of themselves in front of the glass enclosure, finally left for the next gallery, offering only a moment to fight my way to the rail.

I’d seen photographs, of course; we all have. But, now, the photographs seem to represent some other work. This is no eyebrow-deficient, small-mouthed, jaundiced lady on a muddy canvas who dolefully reminds me of Morticia Adams’ homely sister. This is a gorgeous, vibrant, three-dimensional, human creature, searching my eyes across time and space, whispering her secret joys in my heart. I could not breathe within her gaze. My God.

This is the indescribable power of portraiture, of capturing faces to exude the subject’s core at that moment, grasping recognition in my own. It is a soul released of vulnerability, speaking deepest truths it could not utter in life.

I still tremble when I think back to that moment in the Louvre.

I commissioned an artist I admire to paint a portrait of my recently deceased mother, at my father’s request. He sent emails with attached jpegs, I sent back guidance on how to make the smile more like Mom’s or to better describe the shape of her chin. When I saw the photo of the best version, I was pleased. Today I saw the painting. My God.

The artist said, “In the photo you gave me, I saw a young, happy, woman, typical of her era, seeing her future of possibilities.”

That is exactly what he painted, but both his words and mine fail to describe her truth. Only oil and canvas can.

I cannot breathe within her gaze. I cannot stop looking.

Technorati tags: Mona Lisa, portraiture, painting, art

Rubber band

Have you felt strrrrrretched to the breaking point, lately? I have. And just when I think I can go no further, I find a little more elasticity.

I was losing my mind thinking about the 7,432 things I need to accomplish by Friday. After a couple of hours pounding away furiously on my laptop in the waiting room at the hospital (long story), oblivious to everyone around me, I hadn't put even a small dent in those 7,432 things. In fact, the list had grown. And a couple of huge complications had arisen.

Frustrated, I unplugged my laptop and popped my cell phone into my pocket so that I could visit the restroom. Of course, it was closed for cleaning, so I had to go searching for another. Another woman was also on the potty hunt, so we headed off to find it together. 

She was wearing a baseball cap and had no eyebrows or eyelashes. Although the visible evidence suggested the answer, I asked her what she clearly wanted to be asked. She is fighting breast cancer.

She had driven more than an hour for her final chemo session. She continued to grapple with “Why me?” questions because she has always been very health conscious. She was feeling besieged by unsupportive co-workers who were speculating about what she’d done wrong to bring this curse upon herself. She was deflecting people who had various (ridiculous) suggestions on how to beat cancer. She was there all alone, facing her disease.

She told me about some uplifting audio programs that helped her emotionally. She showed me a new age tool for improving circulation and talked about her chakras and energies. When I complimented her beautiful complexion, she described a concoction she invented to heal her chemo-ravaged skin. She relayed concerns about her medical bills. She told me how she had to cut back to make ends meet, including cutting off her internet and cell phone – lifelines of connection when people can’t physically socialize. She told me about her exercise program. She told me of the joy of having a pedicure.

She smiled, she teared up.

She had a whole bag of tools with her that she used to help herself through this ordeal. She wanted someone to see them.

She wanted to help.

She wanted to be heard.

So, I looked. I listened. I commiserated. I encouraged. I affirmed. I congratulated. I complimented. I noted her advice. I tried to link her up with people and services that might help her to share her self-help discoveries with other cancer patients who might find comfort in them. I probably said a few wrong things, too.

I hope that when she drove home alone, feeling like hell, trying not to nod off or lose her stomach, leaving a few more hairs inside her baseball cap, heading closer to the people and bills that complicate her plight, she knew that someone heard her today and thinks that what she has to offer is important.

And, while I tried to be truly present for this stranger, I forgot the 7,432 things on my to-do list and focused on one unexpected thing that probably had more value than all the others combined. What a relief!

Stretch a little more. Be present for someone today. Maybe that extra stretch will keep both of you from breaking.

Thank you, lady in the baseball cap.

I Have Not the Courage

I recently visited the International Civil Rights Center and Museum in Greensboro, North Carolina. Although a range of African-American experience and worldwide social injustice is covered, emphasis is on the African-American Civil Rights Movement, 1955-1968.

I was born at the end of this movement, so I have no firsthand memory of it. Textbooks I used in the 1970s and 1980s didn't include many events past World War II. (Encyclopedias I used as a child stated, "Someday man might explore space.") My upbringing in a white area in the North didn't provide exposure to racial tension; it existed in town, but didn't enter the few square blocks of my life. I knew only of a few events, like Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat on a bus, the Little Rock Nine pioneering school integration, and Martin Luther King saying "I have a dream."

So, when our exceptionally fabulous tour guide queued up displays with, "Of course, we're all familiar with the story…", I, shamefully, wasn't familiar. For example:

In 1955, 14-year-old, black, Chicagoan, Emmett Till, was brutally murdered while visiting family in Mississippi. Dared by his cousins, he wolf-whistled at a white woman. As a result, he was kidnapped, beaten, blinded, and shot in the head. His body was thrown into a river with a 74-pound cotton gin fan tied to his neck with barbed wire. His mutilated body could only be identified by a ring he wore. The two white suspects were acquitted by a jury of white men after only 67 minutes of deliberation. Afterward, the defendants gave an interview in which they admitted their crime. They never expressed remorse

As a mother, I'm shaky as I recall the photos—indescribable anguish on the face of Till's mother, Mamie Till-Mobley, viewing an unrecognizable lump that was once the face of her son. She insisted on an open-casket funeral, saying, "I wanted the world to see what they did to my baby."

The International Civil Rights Center and Museum is the original site of the Greensboro Four sit-in (a story I vaguely recall hearing before). On February 1, 1960, four African-American North Carolina A&T University students sat at the all-white lunch counter of F.W. Woolworth in Greensboro, triggering nonviolent sit-ins throughout the U.S. Joined daily by other students, they continued until the drugstore chain served all "properly dressed and well behaved people," regardless of race several months later.

It's unfathomable that such extreme and unpunished injustice and brutality could have been so common in my country (almost) within my lifetime.

The Greensboro Four were phenomenally courageous, given the extreme retribution exacted from a child who merely whistled 5 years earlier. How did they ever muster the courage to defy their oppressors? How did parents of college and high school students sitting in protest at that counter, amid jeers and threats, endure their fear for their children's safety, while remembering the heart-rending story of Mamie Till-Mobley's loss?

It is powerful to see the lunch counter standing on the same tile in the same room where a revolution began. It is sobering to admit I would not have the courage—courage like that of the Greensboro Four and so many others who risked their lives for equality—to cross those tiles to sit at that counter myself.

I stand in awe.


Technorati tags: civil rights, African-American Civil Rights Movement, Greensboro Four, Emmett Till, Mamie Till-Mobley, International Civil Rights Center and Museum, courage, F.W. Woolworth

It's a Man's World. (How Are They Doing?)

(More from my digital compost heap.)

Father O'Malley: On the outside, it's a man's world.

Sister Benedict: How are they doing?

Father O'Malley: (Sheepishly) Not too good.

-The Bells of St. Mary's (1945)

One of my favorite snips of movie dialog. Ever. Pity it's still true 65 years later.

A social media disagreement caught my attention a couple of months ago when social media guru Chris Brogan tweeted something (or maybe it was in his blog feed?) along the lines of sometimes wishing he didn’t allow comments on his blog. Of course, that drove me straight to his blog to read his post, “Women in the Workplace,” and the reader comment of interest from Rieva Lesonsky, noted business consultant, author, and editor. (I read the other comments, too. Lots of evidence of privilege – good intentions but lack of understanding due to insider status.)

Chris Brogan stated in a comment (which seems to have disappeared now) on Rieva Lesonsky’s blog that the main points of his post were:

1. Not all women WANT to lead, at least the way leadership is set up now. 
2. Maybe women are leading “from different chairs” inside and outside of organizations.

To #2, I say, "No kidding." Women have always led behind the scenes in business, making significant contributions.

The problem is that women do not receive the same recognition and tangible rewards for their leadership as men do.  In fact, many men (and, to be fair, some women) have built their careers on the backs of highly talented females leading from different (less prestigious, less compensated) chairs. I doubt that many men, however, make similar complaints about having to manage upward while their female bosses keep rocketing up the corporate ladder.

To #1, I say, “Not untrue, but let's not use it to avoid the issue.”

Of course not all women want to lead, nor do all men. The difference is that women who want to lead and are talented enough to do so successfully are not given the same chances in terms of development into the role, decision-making authority, and commensurate compensation, as men. Lots of men. Often, untalented men. Men who may not even want to lead but took the money and title anyway.  

Despite the problems in leadership perception and expectations corporate America, do you really think that women with leadership talent and a desire to lead would turn down high pay and a prestigious titles if they were offered?  Heck, no! No more than the men do, anyway. They want to lead!

Would women change the frame of leadership if they could? Probably. But they are not in a position to do so. They have to get into the executive suite before they can make impactful changes to what defines corporate leaders, but there are nowhere enough of them in corporate leadership to be heard over the din of the old boys club.

And, sorry to burst the self-determination bubble, but Mary Middle Manager is not going to be able to revolutionize leadership at XYZ organization from a grass roots level. And, frankly, to expect her to do so is ridiculous. Oh, sure, if you don’t like something , change it – we’ve heard the rhetoric. But the reality is that business is NOT a democracy, nor is it primed for revolution. It is primed for self preservation. Most people go to work to earn a living, not change the world. Mary may be brilliant, but unless she is in the executive suite she has no real influence, no one really cares about her plight, and peers won’t rally around her to propel the coup. Worse, if she sticks her neck out too far, she just may anger the overlords. And Mary probably needs that job. After all, she’s still generally making 80-85% of what her male peers are making, no matter how you slice it.

Why will Mary leave to start her own business, retire in place, or off-ramp? It’s not that she doesn’t want to lead in the current leadership environment – she does! But by the time she effects the organizational changes that will open the top jobs to her – before she’s given the chance to lead – she’ll  be long retired.  Who wants to fall on the sword for a glacially moving cause?

Reminds me of this poster. I don’t want to end up with my picture on a demotivational poster with the caption, “Midas Touche’:  Did she seriously think she’d ever convince the golden boys to share their gold?”

Technorati tags: gender bias, leadership, Chris Brogan, Rieva Lesonsky, The Bells of St. Mary's

_______________________________________________

Just to round out the story, here is the comment I left on Chris Brogan’s blog:

I understand Chris’ issues with this response. But, as a mid-career professional woman, I understand where Rieva is coming from, too. I have been exploring gender bias through involvement with diversity initiatives at my company. (I love my company.) Frankly, I was shocked to discover how much rationalizing I’ve done about the bias I have seen, experienced, and even (unwittingly) enabled in my career. Clearly, Rieva was quicker than I in recognizing the realities of gender bias and is passionate about it. We need to be outraged, because it *is* outrageous that gender bias can still be an issue in corporate America in 2010. In her response, Rieva raises some very important points:

1. Sexism is still alive and well.

It’s not necessarily covert, which implies intent. I think it is more of a failure to recognize white male privilege and the resulting subconscious sexism. Most of the decision-makers I know, men and women, have good intentions and have championed improvements. But, there is so far to go.

It took me years to admit that the primary determinants of my career progress were not merely hard work and talent. I received many kudos and rewards (and much more work), but not the particular career-propelling opportunities that fast tracked my male peers for highly-compensated, direction-setting jobs. I duped myself into thinking that I was taking the right steps to control my own career destiny. I control it now, but had to reconstruct my approach on the ashes of long-held beliefs.

I have long led from another chair. The question is, “Why should I have to?”

2. Perhaps we’re avoiding the priority problem by diverting attention to fruitless analysis of wants

Clearly, asking someone what they want is better than shoving what you think they want at them. However, such rhetoric can be an avoidance technique. If I make the issue about undefined personal wants, then, as a decision maker, I can offer mentoring and my job is done. If I recognize it as a systemic problem of unequal opportunities, suddenly it is a big, complex problem that rattles my own security, requires major changes, and becomes imperative for me to address. Ick.

3. There’s still a huge wage gap

Chris cites statistics that say the gap is narrowing. No matter the size, should a gap exist at all in 2010? While women are paid less than men, they continue to have more stress and less opportunity. Stress and costs rise when a business trip means you have to scramble to find a live-in caregiver at a cost you can’t afford…or pay daycare an extra $100 to attend an emergency meeting scheduled on a day you don’t usually work…or are expected to work—and pay a sitter—on your unpaid FMLA because a crisis arose at the office…or part-time simply means you must do the full job in fewer hours at reduced pay.

4. We do not provide equal opportunity

We need to stop clinging to work structures defined back in a Donna Reed world. Neither women nor men who don’t fit the archaic stereotype can fully engage in their careers in this model—and we are losing out on their talents. With the many options available to us now for rethinking work-life, work locations, job responsibilities, etc., why can’t we move it along on this issue? A woman (or man) shouldn’t have to found a new company to align values with opportunities.

Thanks to both Chris and Rieva—and all the other commenters—for thought-provoking discussion.