by sean@higheredcareercoach.com | Jun 16, 2011 | Career Skills, life purpose, Negotiation

Games are played when you take calculated risks, in anticipation of potential rewards. So let’s finish out this week’s discussion of game theory, careers and business by examining the risk-to-reward ratio, and how you should figure it out.
If you work with me, you do have some level of risk, because I will tell you outright that I can’t get you a job, and I won’t guarantee that you end up with one. Nothing takes that responsibility off of your shoulders. I can only offer my personal commitment to my clients, and I don’t work with every client who comes to me. I only work with those I feel I can help. To do otherwise just amounts to taking people’s money. And like I said earlier, I’m not motivated by money. I do fear not having it, but in reputational businesses like coaching, you are only as good as two things…your coaching skills and your honest commitment that if you can’t help someone, you’ll return their money. I will.
I’ve been blogging for two years and coaching professionally for year and a half, and so far (knock on wood!) no one has ever asked me for their money back. I’ve offered to return payment to a couple of clients who had a hard time getting jobs, and even offered one client more than once, but so far, I’ve never had to return a client’s payment. I don’t even have a time period on asking for it back. I may some day, but for now, I’m the Land’s End of the coaching world. Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back. Period.
For me, what are the risks and what are the potential rewards?
Well, here is where I’m going to be brutally honest with you about what I’ve risked to get my business and my websites to this point, and what the rewards have been.
Risks:
- Left a standing position at a great university that I could have retired from.
- Left all the benefits that came with it, except for COBRA, which expired at the end of last month. Probably the most risky thing I did, because I knew that leaving a group plan might mean that I would lose my health benefits and not be able to get them back, because I have a neurological condition. We have insurance for Sarah and the kids, but I’m having to go through some hoops and am currently uninsured, though I’m hoping that will be done soon, too.
- I now have to self-fund my salary, pay all my expenses for my home, my life and my business out of savings and income, and now I have a lawyer, more insurance and an accountant. I’m not going to go into numbers here, but let’s just cut to the chase…I’ve spent way more than I’ve made, and I’ve given away at least ten times what I’ve sold. It hasn’t been easy, but I have no regrets. Not one.
Rewards
- A sense of personal satisfaction when I help people get jobs they want, or into the graduate programs they hoped for.
- Less stress in my daily life, and almost complete control over my projects and my schedule.
- More time with my wife, kids, and extended family.
- More time for community activities, like Athfest, the Athens Half Marathon, and talking with people who interest me, like artists, musicians, writers, small business owners and even the homeless people who hang out on College Avenue in downtown Athens across from Holmes/Hunter Building and the Arch.
- More time to write, create, philosophize, and stir the pot, to come up with new ideas, crash old ones together, and see where the conversation goes.
Taking a look at all the above, and factoring in what I have spent, versus what I have made, you might be tempted to say I’m not winning. But you’d be thinking about the battle, while I’m thinking about the war, so you’d be wrong. I know what I am fighting to do, and why I am doing it. If you don’t understand that, then maybe you’re not playing the same game.
What rules are you playing by?
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by sean@higheredcareercoach.com | Jun 15, 2011 | Career Skills, Coaching, life purpose, Negotiation, Site News

In my last post, I talked about game theory and how it informs my view of careers and business, and concluded that I need to do a better job explaining what game I am playing.
Let’s get to it!
If I have a game, it’s called Putting Your Purpose to Work. The point of the game is lifting people up to live according to their purpose, and creating conversations that help organizations change in ways that allow them to do so. Specifically, I am doing this because I know it is needed, and that people like me need it.
I work primarily with educators because we (and society) routinely undervalue what we do, and we normalize it by accepting conventional wisdom and ways of doing things that are just plain wrong. The rules, as we are taught to accept them, limit the potential of those participating in the system, by strictly defining who can or cannot play, who is allowed on certain turf, and what rules apply, whether they make sense or not. Kind of reminds you of the times in elementary school when no one picked you for kickball, right? Well, that happened to me a lot, so I stopped playing kickball.
I played by the accepted rules for a long time, and it was killing me. So I changed the game, I bought my own turf, and I’ve been giving away tickets to the game for the last two years. Attendance has been low (only about 20,000 visits over the last two years), but for most of that time, I was playing it safe (or being overly cautious and driven by fear of bankrupting my family.) I have not been jumping the gate into anyone else’s stadium, I’m not playing their game nor accepting their rules. I’m not borrowing their field, and I’ve brought my own ball. This is a different game, I’m playing to a different audience, and I intend to win. I hope you win, too.
Who has an unfair advantage in this kind of scenario? Some might argue that it’s the established system, the old guard, and those people they accept and embrace as the next era of visionaries. Me, I say “meet the new boss, same as the old boss.” That’s business. That’s institutions. That’s closed-system thinking, which assumes that the only people who can get into the game are those with a ticket, or those who jump the gate.
I don’t need to jump the gate. I have my own stadium. It’s got great loudspeakers, a few loyal fans who get me (you know who you are, and thanks!), some others who seem at least mildly intrigued by what I am doing (even those who are annoyed by it or don’t completely understand it), and the beer’s pretty good over here. (No point in owning a stadium if you aren’t going to serve good beer, I say.)
What’s your game?
Whose rules are you playing by?
Do you intend to win?
If you do intend to win, will it be at someone else’s expense?
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by sean@higheredcareercoach.com | Jun 14, 2011 | Career Skills, Negotiation, Site News

Games are always a part of business, and many times a part of life. Whether you enjoy a game or not depends on a couple of factors:
- Whether you want to play a game
- Whether you are playing the same game others are playing
- Whether you agree with the other players about how the game should be played
- Whether one side or the other has an unfair advantage (or is cheating)
- How big the risk is, in comparison to the reward
I’m not a hard-core gamer. I appreciate those who are, and can identify with where they are coming from. I used to play video games quite a bit, but I wasn’t very good at them. Not terrible, just easily bored. I only have a certain amount of energy to put into playing a game, and when I get bored, I usually stop playing and don’t go back to the game for a long, long time–and then more to figure out why I liked it, or to intentionally waste time. So, in most cases, I don’t want to play games (at least not the ones other people are playing.) Tactical exchange bores me easily, because I’m less worried about objectives, and more worried about winning the war.
This is different for me if the game is strategic, but most video games aren’t. They are tactical, and have clear objectives, definite results, and limited rewards. I like that stuff for a little while, but overall, I am a strategic, long-haul thinker, and as a result, people don’t get what I’m doing, because I am often playing another game altogether (a game within the game, or a game I am making up outside of the game.) So it’s about understanding game theory, more than winning a particular game
I also don’t believe that life is a zero-sum game, like poker, where someone has to lose for others to win. I actually think that cooperative games, played over the long haul, can result in unexpected outcomes for all players. The point of playing the game is still to win. But more than one person can win, and it doesn’t have to be at the expense of others.
This doesn’t remove the need to be self-interested and protect your goals. It just means that you don’t have to take something away from others to win. It does reinforce the inherent need to keep others from causing you harm. Like I said before, I generally prefer not to play games. But if forced to play, I do my best to win. And if people go for my throat, I don’t hesitate to fight back, and to do so on my own terms.
In a couple of recent conversations, I’ve tried explaining to people what exactly I am trying to do with my coaching business, programs and websites. They didn’t get it. I had a conversation with another person about these conversations. It was a social setting and this was a friend, so our talk was free-flowing as we had beers with a few others involved in a community organization (Athfest) that I am involved in.
These are the conclusions we arrived at:
- I need to do a better job explaining myself and what I do.
- Other people probably still won’t get it, because they think I am playing a different game. And…
- People will understand what I am talking about in five years, when it’s an established way of doing things, and accepted as common wisdom and common practice.
What game are you playing?
Whose rules are you playing by?
How committed are you to winning?
Did You Enjoy This Post?
- Please take my reader survey and tell me what you think about Higher Ed Career Coach. It’s 11 questions and shouldn’t take long. Also, SurveyMonkey will be selecting one recipient at the end of June to receive a $25 Amazon gift card. So give your feedback and get a chance to win!
- Please like the Cook Coaching Facebook page and join the career discussion boards there!
- Follow Higher Ed Career Coach on Twitter
- Connect with me on LinkedIn
- Sign Up for our mailing list and get early announcements about upcoming site features, workshops and coaching specials.
- If you are interested in one of the upcoming summer groups or workshops, follow the links below.
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by sean@higheredcareercoach.com | May 27, 2011 | Career Skills, Job Search, Podcast
In any job, some things come easy, and some come hard. This is definitely true for positions in higher education, even at the entry level, but even moreso as you move up the ladder. This week on the Grill, John Mayo and I will be discussing the right ways and the wrong ways to answer questions in your interview about what you think will come easily in a new position, and what will require a steep learning curve.
This weeks we tackle two thought-provoking and tightly connected questions that ask you to share your thoughts about how your strengths and weaknesses match up to the position you are applying for.
“Given your current level of education, skills and experience:
- What part of the position will be easiest for you, and why?
- What part of the position will require the steepest learning curve and how will you approach closing the gap?”
The show today is pre-recorded and due to a minor disaster here in Athens (see photo), we will not have the live call-in portion of the show, as a storm blew down a branch onto my house and cars and I am working on cleanup and insurance-claim-related stuff.
To listen, use the player in the sidebar.
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by sean@higheredcareercoach.com | May 19, 2011 | Career Skills, work/life balance

Paralyzed in fright by a choice in front of you?
It’s easy to build up a decision in your mind until it’s reached monolithic heights. The more important a choice feels, and the more distinct the options you choose from,
the higher the likelihood that you will feel paralyzed by it. This is especially true when you find yourself needing to choose between things
you are passionate about and weigh them against the things
you need to do and
your available time.
More than likely, you have at least one situation in your life that tugs on you this way, and leaves you feeling that the choice is always
all or nothing. I wrote about this the other day, in reference to a friend’s dilemma in setting priorities so that he could devote more time and energy to his business.
My answer to this sort of “analysis paralysis” that strikes many job-seekers and career-builders: do what the
Ghostbusters always did in their movies.
People told them not to cross the beams, but they did.
Every. Single. Time.
And the ghosts went away.
Nothing in life is all or nothing.
- What if you took your multiple passions out of the different corners of your career and crossed those beams?
- Could you bring your colleagues into your life, your family into your work, and find ways to combine your personal interests with your career goals?
- Could you really have it all?
- And if so, why are you spending your time and energy fretting over a choice, rather than looking for ways not to choose?
When you follow your passions, you get others to help carry your load, and get the “likable authority” points that come with bringing the right people together. It’s a different kind of wealth that you build when you do this. It’s not money, but you will get steady, purposeful work and hopefully, time to nurture your ideas more fully.
So cross the beams already. I double-dog dare you!
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by sean@higheredcareercoach.com | May 17, 2011 | Career Skills, life purpose, work/life balance
I recently had a discussion with a fellow coach as part of the Third Tribe Marketing membership site, which connects small businesses with some of the top minds in social media and marketing to help them learn ways to build authority, increase their credibility and get more business.
The discussion was about saying “no” to some commitments so he could concentrate on his business. He was having an awful time doing so, and I could definitely relate to where he was coming from. Like most of the people I work with (and like me!), he has multiple passions and only so much time.
His question was about deciding what to quit and when to quit it. I get it. When you have a business, and want to have a life beyond it, it makes no sense to keep on doing the wrong things, or dividing the time you need to spend on the right things. I suggested that maybe he just needed to re-balance his priorities.
There was a time when I worked at Penn State’s Smeal College of Business, and was responsible for running a student organizations office that supported 32 student groups. I advised four of these directly, and assisted the other 28. I also coordinated the work of the committees for all of the college’s major student events, including a scholarship committee, two award ceremonies, and all of the major leadership and professional development events.
I left that job and went back to Residence Life. In my first position back in that department, I supervised professional staff, planned training events for student and professional staff, created publications, and was responsible for 11 major department tasks and committees, including oversight of a resident assistant training class with 4 to 7 instructors and 70-120 students each semester; admissions events; orientation; welcome week; assessment and writing the department’s annual report. I had so many things on my plate that half the time I met with
my supervisor, we talked about what I had been doing lately, and the rest, we tried to click through in our heads all the things I was supposed to be doing, because neither of us could keep up.
Now those were busy jobs. Many people have busy jobs, and those were the duties. I knew that going in. These types of positions are classic student affairs jobs…you
wear many hats, largely because of interesting
institutional priorities and
lack of funding to actually hire an appropriate level of support staff.
Anyway…
What I did in my “free” time was up to me.
Did I relax?
You tell me. Here are a few things I spent my “free time” doing during that period:
- Serving on the “nominating committee” for my church to recruit people gullible enough to want to be on the board, or who could be guilted into it.
- Acting as student outreach chair and advising the Penn State student group related to the church (yeah, another group!)
- Teaching a 26-week sex ed course at the church for junior-high-level kids (10 of them) where they learned about not only plumbing and mechanics, but assertiveness skills, understanding sexual orientation issues, and discussing their values and the role they play in decision-making. (Did I mention this was an unpaid position? My standing joke is that this is about as close as an Unitarian can get to sainthood!)
- Serving on the fundraising and events committee for a new non-profit that saved an old movie theater and converted it into a performing arts center. In this capacity, I helped plan a couple of concerts, a 5K and a certified mile race, and helped with open houses during the yearly arts festival.
- I also took up gardening, got back into home brewing, and helped found a home brewers club. I was secretary of that group for a while.
Somehow I fit it all in. And for a while, it was okay. Then, I got promoted, had a different scope of responsibility, and my wife and I started a family. I supervised more people, had fewer work responsibilities, but ones with more impact on other people, and I had to learn to say “no” and to let some things go, and scale back commitments to others.
Eventually, I hit a wall with stress, being a new dad, and dealing with everyone else’s needs for my time and energy. I had a health issue crop up, and things got much harder to deal with. Only then did I learn to say “no.” It’s not selfish to take a step back if you need to do so. At least not in the unhealthy, guilt-wracking way most people think about it. Instead, think of it as “self-preservation,” because that’s what it is, really.
I won’t say I did it without encouragement and support from the right people. First, my family. My wife
Sarah insisted I stop ignoring my obvious health issue and go to the doctor. My doctor insisted I see more doctors. And
my supervisor told me in a meeting that she would support a personal leave of absence. I resisted for a while, but eventually realized I needed to step off the stress train and go look at some trees and grass and get right with how I was taking care of myself and with how I was viewing my work, my life, the world, and my place in it.
Here’s how I did it.
- I started saying “I have some other things to deal with right now, and I want to take some time to sort out my personal priorities, so I will be scaling back some duties and not continuing with others.”
- I offered to help with an orderly transition of tasks during my leave, and I did so.
- Then I left, turned off the cell phone, stopped looking at work e-mail, and spent a few days all by myself at a state park lodge in Berkeley Springs, West Virginia. It was the best thing I ever did for myself. Looking back, I realized I hadn’t given myself enough opportunities for comparison.
That period let me adjust my approach to work and family, and my priorities started to settle themselves out. I spent more time developing my staff, and less time criticizing them; more time talking with students instead of just at them and near them, and I started going home on time to be with my family, work in the garden, enjoy downtime, and think about the kind of person I wanted to be. It led me onto a path toward coaching, and eventually to this group.
Here’s where you have to be bold and unapologetic. I was established at Penn State, and comfortable. You might even say
complacent. I’d
“topped out,” and after a few searches for the next rung up the ladder didn’t work out, I realized several things about my situation that I hadn’t reflected on enough. First, my opportunities to move up internally, which had been regular and self-sustaining for almost 15 years, dried up. Second, I had moved through the hard transitions of the previous couple of years, and was in good stead with my colleagues and supervisor. Third, the organization was most comfortable with me at the place in the organization I held at that time, and both of us were losing out on growth opportunities because of it.
That’s when I realized my priorities were hopelessly out of sync with where I wanted to go in my life and career. So I took a leap of faith, and went there anyway. It meant leaving my job, moving away from a place I had called home for 15 years, and making new friends. I left at a weird time of the semester (about 5 weeks before Winter closing.) I didn’t want to leave then, because of the weird employment gap it left, and how some people would interpret it. But we had bought a new house, had a buyer for the old one, and I really didn’t want to move from Pennsylvania in December, anyway. So I planned my transition as cleanly as I could, left the lines of communication open, and stepped boldly into creating my own life and career.
I realize that for many, this would have been completely insane. For me, it was only mildly so. I had savings and investments to lean on, the support of my family, and a plan B. (I moved to a college town just in case I needed a more stable stream of income, and I keep the lines of communication open with my old colleagues, supervisor and references, in case I need to get that next job.)
I’ve concentrated my efforts on being recognized as a likable authority in relation to higher education careers. I’m learning to provide content that enhances that reputation and build
testimonials that will speak for me. I know I talk too much and that it annoys some people. I can only say I’m working a little on it, and the rest is just who I am. If you respect the value of my advice, knowledge and skills you’ll move past it. What content “expert” isn’t a little bit of a pain in the ass every now and again?
But I’ve digressed, so let me return to you and hopefully help you to focus your efforts:
My questions for you are these:
- If you can’t fit your priorities into your life, is it your life or your priorities that are the problem?
- How could you re-order them without “throwing out the baby with the bath water?” My bet is that you can. And if you are going to get where you need to get, you must.
- So which needs and priorities are you going to feel worst about not meeting: yours, or those of others?
- What’s the role of faith (in yourself, or something greater, or both) in your career? And how do you know when it’s time to “take a leap?”
The other truth you need to embrace, if you are to move forward, is that the world doesn’t rest on your shoulders. The programs you support will go on, if people are committed to them. You can still be involved in a lesser role if you want to be. You can do your own thing, without walking away mad, or burning the bridge behind you.
To think any less is to imprison yourself by meeting someone else’s expectations. Let them go. Focus on your own. You deserve to be happy and get where you are going.
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