I almost quit... and then I didn't.

As I was explaining how it all unfolded he was laughing, he offered perspective and thoughts for the next time, and then he said, “Doesn’t the sense of accomplishment feel good”. *

As I was explaining how a change in perspective confused the tried and true “Righty tight;lefty loosey” rule — he laughed and nodded, and said, “Doesn’t the sense of accomplishment feel good”.

I was explaining that “all ‘n all” I thought it went well except when I wasn’t thinking and spilled oil everywhere; to that he said, “Next time put out a drop cloth, and doesn’t the sense of accomplishment feel good”

It did feel good, and to think, I almost quit. The whole experience was a great reminder —

No matter how well you are prepared, it never really goes according to plan. It’s much harder than the classroom or what’s shown in the video.

It usually takes more effort than you originally thought. Figuratively speaking, be prepared to sweat.

Course correction is part of the process — you will find that sometimes you think you’re doing the right thing, when in fact, you are not.

It may very well get messy and you may want to quit. If you quit though, nothing gets accomplished and nothing of value is learned.

The sense of accomplishment feels good. You also learn important lessons for the next time you want to accomplish something.

So what was the experience I’m referring to?

Well I thought it would be a great idea to change the oil on my motorcycle. I have a Yamaha FZ09 (which I suppose is a extension of my fondness for two wheeled vehicles) and my thinking is there are just some things a person needs to know how to do — change a flat on your bicycle and change the oil on your motorcycle. After talking to some people who know about motorcycles and watching a video or two, it seemed fairly straight forward… run the motorcycle for ten minutes so the oil flows easily; remove the oil drain bolt at the bottom of the motorcycle and drain the oil; remove the oil filter; put the oil drain bolt back; replace the oil filter; replace the oil and tighten the cap; finished.

Having acquired everything I needed and reciting the mantra, “Righty tighty, lefty loosey”, I started the motorcycle.

Motorcycles heat up very quickly, the muffler gets very hot, and it’s hard to get at the oil drain bolt and oil filter without burning yourself.

My wrench can’t get at the oil drain bolt so I have to use a socket — I need metric but I just have imperial sizes. This size will work (sort of).

“Righty tighty, lefty loosey”. Why won’t the oil drain bolt come off? It should come off. I need more leverage. As I went to the other side of the bike to get a different perspective on the situation I realized I was tightening the drain bolt. Wrenching to the left the seal broke and the drain bolt was loose.

As I watched the oil pour into a pan I noticed I was working up a bit of a sweat. With the oil drained, it was time to remove the old oil filter (which is rather close to the hot pipes of the the muffler).

With my new filter removal tool in hand and “Right tighty, lefty loosey” as my guide I positioned myself to remove the filter — this tool doesn’t seem to be working very well. I need more leverage. Since it doesn’t matter what condition the filter is in when it comes off, I used the old screw driver trick and hammered a screwdriver through the filter. I could get a better grip and some extra leverage.

“Righty tighty, lefty loosey” — as I attempted to turn the filter, residual oil leaked down my hand and onto the floor, my grip started to slip, sweat ran down my face, my glasses kept falling off my face, and the metal of the filter just tore. Is it ever on tight. Let me hammer the screw driver in again and repeat. And then let’s try it two more times. I better take a break. (I suppose I could always call someone)

While I try to figure out my filter situation I’ll dispose of the old oil. I was extra cautious holding the pan because my hands were slick with oil, but neglected to consider the oil backing up through the funnel and getting all over the floor…as well as my shoes. (Why am I doing this again?) With oil stains all over the floor, oil soaked paper towel in the garbage can, and my hands slick with oil, I turned to the oil filter one last time. (If I can’t get it off I’m done and will call someone")

It’s still not moving. “Righty tighty, lefty loosey”. (I quit. I will call someone) Wait… why am I turning righty tighty? Let me adjust my new tool a little.

Lefty loosey — it moved; It moved some more. And it’s off.

Righty tighty oil drain bolt; righty tighty new oil filter; fill with 2.7 litres of synthetic oil.

Starts up nicely and no oil is leaking.

My oil change was an accomplishment, and I learned some new lessons, and relearned some others, and it does in fact feel good.

iamgpe

* It was never a question — always a statement.

Are you wearing your lucky rocket ship underpants?

At the very least I will introduce you to Calvin and Hobbes (or reintroduce you) — created by Bill Watterson, this iconic comic strip follows the exploits of a young boy named Calvin, and his sidekick Hobbes. Offering a view of the world through the lens of a young boy, their adventures are insightful, identifiable, heartfelt and very, very funny. I have at least three compilations on my bookshelf.

I only bring this up because I came across a Calvin and Hobbes strip I had in a file — when I looked at it I was awash with the feeling of being wrapped in a warm blanket… comforting. When I read it, I laughed out loud.

Calvin: You know, Hobbes, some days even my lucky rocket ship underpants don’t help.

Hobbes: Well you’ve done all you can do.

What makes this brilliant is how you decide to interpret Hobbes’ response — with empathy or sarcasm? If it’s empathy, the response is funny because rocket ship underpants aren’t really a solution, and if it’s sarcasm, it’s funny because rocket ship underpants aren’t really a solution. What makes this really funny though, in a knowing way, is there are times we’ve all felt we’ve done all we can do and things still aren’t going our way; stating quietly (or loudly) to anyone who will listen, “I’ve done everything I can do.” — and tethered to it, more often than we’d like to admit, the suggestion that “I’ve done everything I can do; it’s not my fault”. At best “lucky rocket ship underpants” is a euphemism for “I’ve tried everything I know, and no matter what I do, I can’t overcome the situation”, and at worst, it’s a euphemism for “I quit”; neither which overcome the situation.

There are situations (or problems) that will be bigger than your skills sets, capabilities and endurance, and create an uncomfortable choice: find a way or put on your lucky rocket ship underpants. Ever the optimist, I will say there is always a way, but it’ll definitely be something new, different, scary, and take you where you’ve never gone before (literally and figuratively). In fact it’s the only way.

And if you find yourself saying there is no way, as comfortable and cool looking as they are, you’re lucky rocket ship underpants will become a constant reminder of what you could’ve done. And none of us wear regret very well.

iamgpe

Sometimes when the building is on fire...

Wouldn't it be great if "everything" worked out perfectly one hundred percent of the time... all of the time?

Well we know that doesn't happen; the same as we know that "everything" doesn't work zero percent of the time. On average I would say the range is somewhere between 60% and 80%; yes it may venture below or above once in a while, but this is a pretty good range on a daily basis. I also know I'm not presenting any science or hard data to support what I say, but I suspect you are probably thinking to yourself, "That sounds about right". 

As I suggested, sometimes it goes "really right", and the celebrations and accolades commence... but sometimes it goes really wrong, and that is a much different story — Anger, blame, despair, confusion, finger pointing, did I mention anger, and of course frustration. Sometimes it is just so broken it can't be easily fixed.

A number of years ago, in one of my various professional iterations, I found myself involved with a very messy transition where two fundamentally different companies were coming together; different systems, different cultures, different products, and different leadership philosophies — There were many things going on and much to do. In one of the more trying periods of this transition, a leader was offering a perspective on the situation to his team and was trying to alleviate the growing state of frustration in the group. He was the king of the analogy, and as he was offering insight as to how to work through the situation he said,

"Sometimes when the building is on fire you let it burn and move on to something that you can fix."

By no means was he advocating giving up or not taking on the difficult challenges — What he was saying was sometimes when it is so broken (or dysfunctional), it is best to recognize it for what it is, minimize it's impact, and move onto something you can fix. By doing this you:

• Identify and escalate the really big issues and problems in which good resources are being thrown after bad. This forces the need to step back and reassess the situation.
• Keep people focused on situations that can actually be fixed, and in doing so "move the needle forward".
• Prevent people from focusing on the negatives, and get them looking towards the positive energy of accomplishment.
• Remind everyone that it's all about prioritization and almost always about the net gain. In the end some fires will rage on, but more will have been put out.

It also should go without saying that you should not play with fire unless you have to because if you aren't very careful you can get burned.

Prevention, as they say, is everything.

iamgpe