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What’s Your “Plan B”?

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iStock_000009613557SmallHow many times have you heard that question? For me, I am sure the answer is “in the hundreds.” It began as a young boy who wanted to become an architect. And, it has come back any number of times since then in both personal and professional situations.

What’s your Plan B? 

I have now wrestled with this question and the best way to answer it for more than four decades. For me, the wrestle isn’t about “what” my Plan B is, but whether I should have one; for my clients, the wrestle is whether I should recommend that they have one.

Why wouldn’t I have–or recommend–a Plan B? Here is my reasoning. I will illustrate it with my own circuitous career path.

In fourth grade I discovered graph paper. How cool! I could draw rooms, design buildings. Suddenly my perspective went from logic and words (I was good on lined paper, but not an artist) to more creative visual thinking. Architecture became a passion that stayed with my through high school. I had a drawing board mounted under the window in my bedroom, and would spend hours lost in designing. I took mechanical drawing every semester, advancing my skills. The money I earned after school went into buying drafting supplies and books on famous architects. On career day I would visit la local architectural office. I entered competitions. When the time came for college I applied to three architecture schools, and was accepted to one. I had no Plan B. Being an architect was the one career that, in my heart, I wanted to spend my life pursuing.

As it turned out, by my junior year of college I had lost that passion. I no longer wanted to be an architect. I could probably succeed and make a living at it, and I knew that if I did, I wouldn’t feel very good about myself or my work. But by then, I had developed another passion… I was doing youth work on the Onondaga Indian Reservation, and had become very interested in Native American cultures. My new major became cultural anthropology. (“But what are you going to do with that? What”s your Plan B?”)  I continued into grad school with the same focus, thinking I would love to teach anthropology at a college or university.

Midway through the first semester of grad school I received my draft notice. The next four years were spent as an Air Force Basic Military Training Instructor (“drill sergeant”) and earning two masters degrees. My passion for Native American studies morphed to larger issues of social justice, and my focus on higher education shifted from the classroom to administration.

Eight years of various higher education positions led to four years of consulting to higher education and nonprofits. It was during this time as a consultant that I was introduced to the nascent field of change management, and realized that underneath every career shift was a commitment to executing change.

By 1990, AIDS was a growing crisis in America; I became the Deputy Director of Finance and Operations at an AIDS organization providing permanent housing and support services to homeless people with AIDS. They needed to put in place an infrastructure that would help ensure their long-term viability without becoming bureaucratic, and I knew how to do that.

And so the path has twisted and turned, even to today. The thread has always been change. It has taken me inside of organizations, and outside. I have worked independently, and on teams. I have been a residence hall director, a fund raiser, an internal (as well as external) change consultant, a coach, a trainer, a mentor, a trusted adviser.

And, I have never had a Plan B.

I have spent time exploring options. But those explorations have always been just that…where am I being pulled to go next?

Perhaps if I had a Plan B when I made some of these transitions, I would have made them more quickly. But for me, the only way to have a Plan B is to say, “I am good with doing either A or B.” And, if that is the case, then I would not be able to fully invest myself in either one. If Plan A failed (and some of them have), I would never know whether–had I been more fully committed–I could have made it work. And, given that we go into big changes in our lives naive about the difficulties that will inevitably arise, it would be too easy to walk away from the realities of Plan A to begin the uninformed optimism of Plan B.

Big changes are tough. There is no guarantee of success. That is why I always begin, for myself, with an exploration of what is in my heart…what is my passion? That is why I always urge the same reflection for both personal and professional clients. If you are not passionate about the intent of your change, how will you ever complete the journey? I have been laid off, fired, and had a nonprofit that I attempted to start fail to get the funding that it needed; in each case, I can say that I put everything that I had into success.

I have also had incredible successes. I have turned around a stagnant annual giving program, established a living learning program, and supported major strategic shifts that make a difference in people’s lives both within the corporate and the nonprofit worlds. I have continued to engage in issues of social justice. I have helped individuals successfully navigate some of the most difficult personal life-changing events one could imagine. I have taught, coached, and mentored students, change practitioners, and organizational leaders. Along the way, the changes that I have been engaged in have touched tens–if not hundreds–of thousands of lives. And I still have no Plan B.

When my clients ask me if they should have a Plan B, I tell them quite honestly that I can’t answer the question for them. I help them to understand the reasons I do not. I point out how uncertain a Plan A tough change is, and the fact that there is no such thing as “this change cannot fail;” every change can fail. I help them understand the reality of a difficult change journey. And, I assist them in determining whether developing a Plan B is right for them.

Sometimes, when the realities of change sink in they revert to an immediate Plan B…and don’t proceed with the change. Sometimes, they develop a Plan B (which they may or may not ever call on). And sometimes, like me, they dive headfirst into Plan A and leave the idea of creating a Plan B behind.

How do you answer this question for yourself? Do you have a Plan B? Do you recommend that others do? What am I not seeing that would make it an easier one to answer, or is it really as personal a decision as I make it out to be? Please comment below.

 

 

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Balance Is More Than Not Falling Down

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iStock_000005861755Small

Be open to action, and to reflection.

Be open to holding on, and to letting go.

Be open to knowing, and to not knowing.

Be open to doing, and to not doing.

In 2007 I took a Himalayan pilgrimage. Over the eight months before I left, I invested in preparing myself for the experience. While those preparations began in the gym, I soon realized that this journey would require more than physical training; it would require mental and spiritual preparation as well.

One day early in my preparations I met a friend for dinner at a Chinese restaurant. When the check came, I opened my fortune cookie. It read,

Balance is more than not falling down. 

Wherever you are on your change journey, there is an important lesson here. It is a lesson that applies in so many ways that one could probably blog about it for months. (As my son says, “No worries.” I am just going to highlight a few of them, and move on to another topic next week. I trust you to draw from your own experiences to add to the lessons that I am offering here.)

Just as my pilgrimage required me to call on my physical, spiritual, and mental energy, each change journey makes its own unique energetic demands on us. It may challenge long-held beliefs and practices. It may require us to re-frame our relationship to others, or to work, or to religious or spiritual or political beliefs. Whatever the change, it is likely that successfully completing the journey will not be possible with one shift; rather, multiple shifts will be required.

Perhaps you are still committed to that New Year’s resolution that resulted in a new gym membership. While the gym may be an important element in loosing weight and developing the body that you want, it cannot be the only one if you are to succeed. Doing so may also require you to change your relationship to your body: how you see it, what you expect of it, and/or how you treat it. That’s why I have never understood those people who walk out of the gym and light up a cigarette, or the ones who spend their entire workout telling their buddies about how much they drank over the weekend. It’s not just about the workout.

Balance is more than not falling down.

“Play to your strengths.” There is one theory of change that suggests this is exactly the way to go; build on strengths rather than focus on weaknesses. Another suggests that you should focus on your vulnerabilities, or they will undermine your success; manage them as risks, or risk failing.

Who is right?

In my experience, both are. When the going gets tough, we each tend to play to our strong suit. Perhaps you’re known for making decisions, or taking action, or planning, or anticipating problems, or… And, sometimes your strong suit is exactly what is needed at that point in time.

But sometimes, what is needed is the opposite; sometimes what is needed is your weakness. Perhaps you are strong on reflecting, on finding the solution through a long and deep contemplative process; but circumstances warrant quick decisions and action. Maybe you are known for holding on to things that have had meaning in the past, sustaining traditions or heirlooms, or beliefs; but circumstances call for letting go of these things before the door closes on the opportunity to complete the change.

Balance is more than not falling down. 

Do you know your strengths, and your vulnerabilities? Do you consciously choose when to call on each?

Are you at the action gym, or the reflection gym, or the decision gym, becoming the ever-more-masterful exerciser of your strengths? Or, are you at the action gym, or the reflection gym, or the decision gym, working on your vulnerabilities to bring them more into balance with your strengths?

Balance is more than not falling down. 

Balance is leveraging your strengths, and strengthening your weaknesses. It is knowing the full range of resources that you have available to you, and calling on each when appropriate.

Balance is being open to action, and to reflection. Balance is being open to holding on, and to letting go. Balance is being open to knowing, and to not knowing. Balance is being open to doing, and to not doing.

Balance is more than not falling down. 

What is your experience with balance–or the lack of it–when approaching change?

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It’s Your Choice.

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It’s yiStock_000003622913Smallour choice. 

How do I choose?

I don’t have a choice.

When it comes to choice, all too often we approach the situation with a fundamental misperception.

We think “choice” means selecting between good or bad, right or wrong, easy or difficult.

Sometimes it does.

But sometimes it doesn’t.

Sometimes choice is between bad and bad, between right and right, between difficult and difficult. In the Old Testament we have the story of Abraham being commanded to offer his son Isaac as a sacrifice. In the more recent past, we have the work of fiction, Sophie’s Choice, in which Sophie is forced to select which of her children is gassed to death in the concentration camp. Choices are not always good, or easy. But, there is still a choice.

Daryl Conner, one of my change mentors, tells the story of Andy Mochan, the Piper Alpha oil rig worker who jumped 150 feet into burning oil in the North Sea after the rig had exploded. When interviewed on Nightline, Andy stated that he had chosen probable death over certain death. Andy made a choice–not an easy one by any stretch of the imagination–and lived to tell his story. 166 of his fellow workers on the rig died.

Daryl uses this story as a metaphor for the resolve that we each need when we are facing difficult changes. In executing your change, it is likely that there will be choices that are easy to make along the way. These are the “god/bad,” “right/wrong” kind. But there will also be antagonizingly difficult choices to be made..ones for which you are ill-prepared, for which you want more time and/or information, ones for which you shudder at the possible consequences of any decision you make. These, too, are choices.

My grandparents taught me how to play Pinochle when I was very young. I have forgotten and re-learned the game more than once over the years. But there is one lesson that I learned back then and have never forgotten.

We don’t get to choose the hand we are dealt. We always have a choice about how we play it.

What is your experience with choice during change?

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Track Your Path to Success (Personal Change)

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All Hands Picture OnlyHow do you measure success? What are the milestones along the way that let you know that you are–or are not–making progress? In today’s blog I offer some guidance when facing a change that is personally oriented; next week we will look at the same question through the lens of an organizational change.

In What’s Your Story? (Part 2, Guidelines 1-5 for Writing Your Story) I spoke briefly about the distinction between “installation” and “realization.” Let’s briefly revisit those distinctions first. Throughout this post I will use the example of a major career change. You are leaving your financial services career on Wall Street to become an actor; it is a passion that has burned inside you as long as you remember, and you are going to make your dream come true.

Installation is achieved when things are put in place. Installation metrics may include getting accepted to acting school; submitting your resignation; commencing training; completing your training; being selected for your first part; and completing your first acting assignment.

Realization is achieved when the promise of the change is fully delivered. perhaps, for you, realization will be when you feel secure in your ability to support yourself as an actor…no more waiting tables, valet parking cars, or serving hors d’oeuvres at catered parties.

All too often, when we plan a major change for ourselves, we start with the passion that is in our heart as our desired future state, and then we plan as if installation will get us there. Unfortunately, installation only gets us installation; it doesn’t get us realization. Nor can you start thinking about “what else do I need to do” once you have achieved installation. It is important to plan on, and move toward, realization from the outset.

If it is a big change, start by thinking through and listing out all of the major adjustments you are going to have to make not only in what you do, but in how you think. Perhaps while on Wall Street the thinking was “eating out is convenient, and I can afford it.” It may still be just as convenient, but may be much less affordable as you work your way through acting school, auditions, and your early parts as an extra or a member of the chorus. So, not only will you have to change how you spend money, you most likely have to change how you think about money. You will also probably need to make changes in where you live; your wardrobe will most likely be different; how you spend your time–including both working and non-working time–will probably change, as might when you get up and when you go to bed. They call it “major change” for a reason!

What about the people in your life? The colleagues who used to drink martinis with you before dining may be less excited about downing a shot after the final curtain call. The friends who loved getting invited to your beach house may find they have less excitement about a picnic in the park. And the family that worked and sacrificed to help you and your siblings through college so you could have a better life…perhaps they will be less than enamored with your new-found enthusiasm for what they see as a less professional, less lucrative, and less secure career path.

We touched on this briefly in the post Anchors, Aweigh, but it bears repeating here. In planning a major change, you are going to have to consider those around you. What role do they play in your life now? What role do they need to play in the transition? What role will they need to play when you achieve your desired future state? Which ones will be the same, which ones will be different, and which people will you need to end your relationship with in order to succeed?

Once you’ve listed all of the changes in thinking and behavior you can come up with, grab some sticky notes and a pen or pencil. Put each one on a separate piece of paper, and put it up on the wall (or white board, or closet door, or window). You may want to use different colors for mindsets and behaviors, or for different aspects of the change (e.g. leaving the old job; redefining relationships with people).

Now you can begin to group these together. Use your story to help you think this part through.

Let’s go back to your intent. I feel secure in my ability to support myself as an actor! 

Begin by defining your realization indicators. What will make you feel secure? Be specific; be sure it is measurable. You may already have some among the sticky notes you have posted; you might need to develop others.

These may be some of your metrics.

  • I have $X in the bank, of which $Y has been made as an actor.
  • For the past 18 months I have had a positive cash flow, all of it as an actor.
  • I have re-framed my lifestyle so that I am comfortable, in fact feel like I belong, in my one bedroom apartment.
  • I am entertaining family and/or friends at home at least once a month.
  • Etc.

Once you have your realization indicators (on sticky notes on the wall), think through how they might group together. Perhaps you will end up with some that have to do with financial management, others with career development, and others with lifestyle.

Next, position them in a relative sequence. The first two of the bulleted indicators may be targeted for attainment near the end of the change, as you approach full realization. The third one you might decide to position earlier in the process.

Now think through your installation indicators. Again, many of these may come from the sticky notes you have already developed.  What do you have to put in place in order to achieve each of the realization indicators? For example, what will it take for you to move out of your three bedroom and feel comfortable in a one bedroom apartment?

  • I have identified the characteristics of a living space in which I can be comfortable (a more open plan vs. individual rooms, whether a view is needed, etc.).
  • I have pared down my positions so that I have what I can comfortably live with inside the new apartment.
  • I have a plan in place for ensuring that I don’t begin to clutter my space.
  • I have defined the type of neighborhood in which I will be comfortable.
  • I have found, leased, and moved into my new apartment.
  • Etc.

    Look at the sticky notes that you first put on the wall, and that have not become either realization or installation indicators. Ask yourself two questions.

  • Have I identified an indicator that this contributes to achieving?
  • If not, am I missing an indicator, or is this unnecessary?

You should end up with a series of “work streams” made up of installation and realization indicators.

Finally, review your work streams. If you achieve all of the indicators in each of the work streams, will you be able to look at yourself in the mirror and say, I feel secure in my ability to support myself as an actor. 

Keep a record of what you have on the wall. It will change over time. You don’t have all the answers now; you don’t even know all the questions. Things will change around you. So, your indicators will have to change as well. Nonetheless, you are well on your way to planning, and preparing to launch, a very big, and important, change in your life.

Have you ever planned a big change in your life? Do you use milestones to track your progress? Share your thoughts, experiences, and insights in the comments.

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Big Changes Are Cathartic.

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iStock_000002578103Small bw 2Some changes are purely intellectual exercises. They make sense. We know how to achieve them. We get them done.

Big changes have an intellectual component…but they go much deeper.

Why?

At one level it is quite simple. They have the ability to (and quite often do) touch us to our very core.

Let’s take a brief look at this phenomenon. While it may not make the experience of catharsis any less difficult, it may be helpful to both know to expect it, and to recognize that this is an unavoidable element of major change.

Change disrupts the status quo; big change disrupts it big time. The path is unclear, the outcomes are uncertain, the journey often uncomfortable. At the very least, it will intrude on our sense of safety and security (the second level in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs). Some changes may hit us at even a more fundamental level, leaving us feeling that our very survival is at stake. Other big changes may undermine our ego or sense of self-worth. Or, they may bring about the creation, re-definition, or termination of relationships. They can leave us questioning our wisdom, our insights, and our dreams.

As if that isn’t enough, very often the big changes in life–whether personal or professional–are about dismantling paradigms that we have invested significantly in creating and sustaining. Most likely, we envisioned them lasting forever (or at least for our lifetimes). It may be that the marriage or similar relationship that you have spent decades nurturing along with the home, the family, and the associated traditions are all about to fundamentally change. Or perhaps it is that the business in which you have invested days, nights, weekends (along with vacations and holidays) bringing to fruition…you have come to realize must dramatically  change if it is to continue to survive.

If all this sounds like catharsis comes with “doom and gloom” (few people would be surprised about that), it is equally true with the positively perceived big changes you will face. While I will go into this in more detail at another time, the reason we so eagerly launch into those changes, whether at work or at home, is that we are naive as to what they will be demanding of us if we are committed to long-term success. (Think “honeymoon” here…) The status quo is being equally disrupted. The old paradigms still need to be dismantled. The journey is no more certain, nor is the outcome.

So, positively perceived change or negative, if the change is big, the journey is going to be more than a “head trip.” It is going to require making significant shifts in ways of thinking, behaving, and perhaps even believing; it is going to require letting go of the old and affirming the new.

What does this mean for you and the others affected by the change?

First, anticipate and plan for catharsis; don’t let it surprise you. It may be possible to create cathartic moments.  One consulting firm that I know facilitates leadership workshops that are designed as catalysts for catharsis. I once worked with a client organization that held a ceremonial funerary event to acknowledge their acquisition, then followed it with a celebration for the new possibilities the acquisition would allow. The bachelor party and wedding reception are examples of parallel rituals at the personal level.

Second, acknowledge to yourself that catharsis is not just for the other people; it is part of your journey as well. Until you are ready to let the tears flow, find an appropriate outlet for the anger, perhaps laugh hysterically, mourn, and/or…, you will be unable to complete the journey.

What is your experience with catharsis and change? Please comment below.

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Whose Change Is This Anyway? Does It Really Matter?

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Sometimes we are very conscious of the process that has brought us to the verge of–or even into the heart of–a life-altering change. The light bulb came on. We reflected on the idea, shaping it, “fleshing it out.” We engaged others in our thinking, taking their feedback to further refine it. When we are ready to move forward, we are proud to face the world (or some portion of it), and say “I am changing…”

Then there are the times when it was somebody else’s light bulb that went off. The first time we hear of the change, it hits us like the proverbial whack on the side of the head. The company is downsizing; the compensation structure is being significantly modified; the divorce filing is waiting on the kitchen table when you get home from another way-too-long day at work. Whose change is this anyway? How would you answer?

  • The company is downsizing; you are being laid off. __ My change  __Not my change
  • The compensation structure is being significantly modified; you will have to think and work differently–perhaps significantly harder–to earn the same income. __My change __Not my change
  • When you left for work, it seemed like any other day; the papers filing for a divorce are waiting on the kitchen table when you get home. __My change  __Not my change

For some people the answer to the first two (or even all three) scenarios is “Not my change.” This can be played out in any number of ways, but the bottom line is: “I am a victim of circumstances.”

One of the early lessons I learned about change is this: We cannot always control the hand we are dealt. We do have the ability to control our response to it. What that means for me is, quite simply, if the change affects me, it is my change. It doesn’t matter if I formulated it. It doesn’t matter if I didn’t have a clue that it was heading my way. It doesn’t matter if I have everything–or nothing–to say about the how, why, what, when, where, or how of the change. I do have a say about my response to it.

Perhaps the most powerful application I have seen of this principle was in the early 1990’s. I was Deputy Director of Bailey House, a nonprofit providing permanent housing and support services to homeless men and women with AIDS. Back then, an AIDS diagnosis was often seen as a death sentence; the treatments available today weren’t even on the horizon. Yet over and over again, our clients refused to accept the role of victim. They would step up to this life-challenging change and say, “This opens up the opportunity for me to get the support that I need to take control of my life and turn it around.” And, over and over again, they did just that!

Whose change is it anyway? Does it matter?

If it affects you, it matters whether or not you claim it as yours. It matters whether you approach it as victim or victor.

What do you think? What has your experience taught you? Comments welcome!

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