“I Refuse to Tiptoe Through Life….”

Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined finding it “normal” to stick my head out of a moving aircraft, gazing directly below at the treetops and distant specks of automobiles on the highway below.  From 14,000 feet, it’s a surreal experience, even for those of us well accustomed to the world of skydiving.

The purpose of presenting your cranium to the buffeting wind of a plane traveling 80 knots is not merely for the thrill of it.  In fact, the goal is to ensure you can see the drop zone, the eventual landing area two miles below.  It’s that final check before the green light goes on and all but one of the plane’s inhabitants fling themselves into the open air.

For those of us experienced in such things, the whoops and hollers screamed into the whipping wind are of sheer excitement, not terror.  It’s what we’ve trained for.  It’s why we’re there, to experience the essence of controlled freefall over and over again.

It’s confession time….I’m 41.  Single father of two teenage daughters.  Former insurance agent.  Military veteran of both the Army and Navy (some may say a glutton for punishment).  Long-time organizational development consultant.  Aging ice hockey goalie and skydiver.  And my career is in transition….for the fifth time since entering the workforce as a naive college graduate, eager to make the world my oyster, armed with my endlessly useful Political Science degree.  So much has happened since then, so I won’t make you do the math….that’s a career transition every four years.

Several decades ago, such career transience would have prompted the cluck-clucking disapproval (masked in an equal blend of disappointment, pity, and parental concern).  After all, such a professional trajectory was not in the model of the 1950s IBMer or the path of a physician, lawyer, or other respectable “white collar” pursuit.  But amongst Gen-X and Millenials, seemingly dramatic shifts have become the norm.  Yes, there I said it….I’m “normal.”

Sure there’s a certain amount of anxiety and tension whenever one leaps in a new direction.  But, damn, the excitement, the renewed sense of purpose, the possibilities!  It’s quite invigorating, actually!

The hardest part of any transition, I’ve found, is just deciding to make that leap.  I’ve coached and mentored others who simply could not make that leap.  But with planning and the right attitude, the leap becomes merely a big step.  Gravity does the rest!

So, what’s my point…..

Every skydive is different, believe it or not.  And every skydive is planned.  Never once have I strapped on my parachute without first thinking through my upcoming dive.  And never once have I entered the plane without having made repeated checks of my equipment.  Not a single time have I skipped visualizing what I’d do in the case of an equipment malfunction.  And never once have I leapt without first looking (or without at least trusting that individual who was responsible for “spotting” when the door opened).

Similarly, no career transition should happen without planning.  No job left behind without first pondering what the future might hold and what you will do if your “parachute” malfunctions.  And when the door to opportunity opens, no leap should be made without first checking the terrain below you.  But once all of these have been done, when you’re standing in the door to career advancement (whether up the corporate ladder, laterally within your organization or to another similar position elsewhere, or to a completely new field and pursuit), make that leap.  Throw yourself out the door, your body relative to the prevailing winds, establish stability…..and enjoy the ride, my friend!

Over the past six years, I’ve taken many friends to the dropzone for their first (and sometimes only) skydive.  For some, it’s a bucket list item.  For others, it’s about conquering a fear.  For others, well…..there are all sorts of reasons for individual insanity, and far be it for me to judge others’ sensibilities.  I’ve witnessed hundreds of others on their first jumps.  And guess what?  I’ve never run into anyone who regretted making that leap.

So, if you’re faced with a career in transition, whether of your choice or a result of the economy, be willing to make the jump.  Chances are, it’ll be worth it.  Simply follow this recipe before leaping:

• Plan for the leap
• Ensure you have the right equipment and “know-how”
• Scan the terrain for the landing zone…………
• ….then LEAP!!!

I’m often asked, “Why would you jump out of a perfectly good airplane?”  For goodness’ sake, if the door’s open….stop asking questions and simply do it!

“I refuse to tiptoe through life, only to arrive safely at death.” ~ Unknown

Shoot the Elephant in the Room, Don’t Feed it!

The employees were seated in a semi-circle, their minds anxious and their hearts heavy with anticipation of what the executive would say.  The company had been on a downward spiral for several years, but senior level acknowledgement had only been forthcoming for the past six months or so.  Even now, bolstered by the advice of timid PR henchmen, the executives underplayed the severity of the financial situation and downplayed the impact it would have on the workforce.

In an attempt to “rally the troops” and to “engage” the masses, the CEO and COO continued their quarterly “town hall meetings” with employees.  After all, what better way to connect with the worker bees than to gather them and hear what was really on their minds, right?  Yet, with every town hall, employee skepticism, fear, and uncertainty seemed to rise.

One brave (or foolish) employee stepped forward, like an unwitting lamb being led to slaughter.  He hesitated briefly, enough to quell the dread growing in his gut.

“Sir, aren’t we afraid that with all the changes being introduced, and announcements of impending layoffs, much of our top talent will jump ship?” he asked.  “What are we doing to prevent a flood of talent out our doors?”

Others around the room nodded in agreement.

The executive chuckled, which did little to ease the discomfort in the auditorium.  Clearing his voice, he responded, “Well, that’s just the elephant in the room, isn’t it?”

A momentary surge of hope swept across the seats, only to be dashed when he launched into an explanation that senior leaders were confident the company’s incredible benefits would prevent the exodus of top talent.  Instantly, the collective confidence of the employee group vanished.

You see, for months, employees had been watching many of the most educated, most experienced, and most talented amongst them leave for other opportunities.  It wasn’t how would they avoid the exodus at all, but rather, how will they stem the flow that has already begun?

On top of that, while the benefits of the company were indeed admirable a decade ago, in reality, those who had looks outside the walls of the corporate headquarters realized that their benefits were now fairly average.  While the pension remained (for now), healthcare costs to employees were on the rise, flexible scheduling was becoming more tightly controlled (in part a byproduct of so many employees jumping ship and leaving less employees with more work), education dollars had been slashed, and performance raises were falling well below annual cost of living.  Once an employer of choice, the company was now simply on par with other employers in the area.

But, with that answer, the questions faded.  The atmosphere in the auditorium went flat.  Engagement sunk even further.

Despite the silence in the room, however, every mind in the room had shifted…..to their own escape.  After all, on the Titanic, there were only so many life boats.  In his own way, the executive hadn’t so much as attempted to distribute life vests to the crew.  He merely flipped his hand and smiled through his teeth….and instructed the band to keep playing, as the bow of the ship continued its slow descent into the deep.

Understanding the Patter: When Talent Abandons Ship

The bow of the wooden beast rose sharply heavenward, and the vessel’s angular stern disappeared beneath the salty swells.  From the groaning gunwales of the triple-masted beauty, the patter of tiny feet on the overly swabbed decks was audible.  Yes, the rats were abandoning ship, opting uncertainty on the open seas to certain death onboard the mortally wounded lady of the sea, her keel splintered by an uncharted reef.

So, too, the patter of panicked feet (albeit landlubber, shoed feet) symbolizes corporate giants in times of economic challenge and impending layoffs.  The risk of losing employees is a real one, well documented in research and known to all executives.  It’s reality, and its trajectory can spell success or doom for many an organization.

But unlike the nautical idiom, the corporate patter of abandoning employees is not the patter of rats.  Quite the opposite.  It’s most likely the best and the brightest, those who have foreseen the demise of the organization long before its public acknowledgement by senior executives.  They’ve sensed the impending battle, and refusing to play the pawn to frightened and ever self-protecting leaders, they’ve found other opportunities.

In the past several years, I’ve heard numerous leaders extoll the virtue of a tight economy.  “We’re lucky there are no jobs out there,” they’ve self-assuredly proclaimed.  “Only fools would look elsewhere in this economy.”

And for many workers, particularly those who have languished in positions for years, without much effort or attention to building their careers beyond their own cubicle wall, this may indeed be true.  For those with ambition, drive, and talent, however, they’d be fools not to look elsewhere.  Foolishness would lie in sensing the sinking of one’s ship and NOT abandoning ship.

Just as the Viking captain needed oarsmen to propel the ship forward, so too do corporations need acquiescent laborers.  But oarsmen themselves would be no good to a ship’s captain.  Beyond that, leaders are needed to rally the troops, to inspire and motivate, and to set the vision and direction of the ship.  If the smartest amongst the crew jump overboard, the oarsmen plod ahead until they hit solid ground, regardless of where that may be.

The patter of feet you hear….it’s the best and brightest you have.  If all you have left are oarsmen, what will you do then?