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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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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One of the hardest things to do in any job search process is to be yourself while also being polished, on point, and focused on delivering a targeted message to your potential employer about how you will are the perfect “fit” for an open position.
Clients sometimes ask me how they can convey their sense of purpose and desire for a position without coming across as phony. My answer: quit trying to prove yourself and spend your time being yourself.
The logic behind this is simple enough. If you conveyed your qualifications well enough on your resume, cover letter, and other application materials, then the interview is less about that and more about two things:
1. Whether you presented your qualifications accurately, and
2. Whether you will fit into their organizational culture.
If you have presented your qualifications accurately, you do yourself a disservice by presenting yourself as someone you’re not. So try as much as you can to go into each interview “comfortable in your own skin,” and let the details settle themselves.
The truth you must be most comfortable with is that the most qualified candidate on paper often is not the successful candidate in the process. By the time an interview happens, you have been given a so-called “equal opportunity” to state your case, and the assumption you should take into each interview is that all candidates meet the basic qualifications for the job. This will allow you to meet your potential employer on a more equal footing. A good job match will be dictated as much by your potential fit into an organizational culture, or your ability to navigate the nuances of such a culture, in an emotionally intelligent and productive way, as it will be about your actual skills, experiences, and qualifications.
Understanding organizational culture is tricky. You must be ready to separate your interest in a particular job from your possible fit, and accept that a rejection doesn’t label you as “unqualified” for that type of position, or even for another position at that institution. It just means that wasn’t your day, and that wasn’t the job.
This will allow you to move on toward exploring other opportunities, and clear the path to a position and an organizational culture that will hopefully be a better fit for not only your qualifications but for you.
My five-year-old son Brendan is a real fan of a new show on Disney Junior called Jake and the Neverland Pirates. Set in the magical world of Neverland, home to Tinkerbell and Peter Pan, the show follows three young pirates (Jake, Izzy, and Cubbie), as they regularly foil the evil plots of Capt. Hook and his sidekick, the bumbling Mr. Smee.
I’m not usually one to like the retelling of classic stories from my youth, but I have to admit that I have a great deal of affinity for Jake and his cohorts, mostly because my son enjoys the show so much.
The other day a friend asked me if I ever thought about when children lose their sense of imagination. He remarked that he could keep himself occupied and happy with the simplest of things when he was a child. And I know this to be true, because it was true for me, and because I see it daily with my two children.
It may seem cranky for me to say this, but I think the world beats it out of us and makes us too serious for our own good. I spend quite a bit of time trying to explain things to my son, that seem so intrinsic to functioning as an adult, that I regularly find myself questioning the logic of adult behavior, and the ways in which we cling to procedures, policies, rules, and the ever-present “just the way things are.” And I realize then that I am spouting nonsense. And the saddest thing about it is that this nonsense is very much the accepted status quo.
As a coach, one of the most important things I do is to help each client imagine what aspects would be included in their perfect career. And often what this means is that we return, together, to childhood, and spend some times exploring what they enjoyed doing most, what they were most interested in, and what kind of people and places they were most comfortable being around. In many of these explorations, I have found that clients have abandoned doing what they most enjoy in pursuit of material gain, increased influence in their field, titles, positional authority, control over their organizations, and when possible, their personal destinies.
The “Ah-ha” moment usually comes when they realize that their goals are complete bullshit, and that they have nothing to do with who they’re meant to be, and everything to do with a fiction and fantasy that society calls success. We work together to face each client’s fears, anxieties, and the practical, emotional, and circumstantial blocks in their path. You can only do this by picking them apart, holding them up to the light, and seeing them for what they are. Only then can a client move forward and meet himself or herself truly and deeply and genuinely, as who they are meant to be.
My friend Tommy Walker, a social media strategist I’m working with to develop a more engaging Facebook strategy, has a favorite saying: “I don’t do bullshit.”
Okay, so maybe that’s not all that original. But it is authentic. And if you’ve ever had the opportunity to speak with Tommy, to read his thoughts on his blog, or to chat with him on the Internet, you just understand the Tommy has developed and cultivated a true sense for who he is as a person, and matched that, as best he could, to a career which brings out his best.
So what are you doing to align your career with who you were meant to be?
Close your eyes. Remember the joys you had in your life. Not just the joys of accomplishment in your career, or those adult milestones that many of us strive to achieve (like getting a first job, having a first apartment, buying a house, buying a new car, getting married, having children, etc., etc.) Go back, go deep, and go long.
Then say to yourself, loudly “Yo Ho, let’s go!” And get back to where you once belonged.
Last Friday, I was glad to have my friend Mark Dykeman from ThoughtWrestling.Com on my BlogTalkRadio show. We talked about how job seekers could use mind-maps to plan their job search or to come up with a strategic plan for their career.
Mark recently released an e-book called Unstuck, Focused and Organized. I bought it, and have found it is really helping me focus my thoughts on some new programs I’d like to offer, set (or revise) some of my priorities, and basically get my act together. He’s running a great promotion this week on the e-book, the e-book plus interviews with Chuck Frey, Michael Martine, Chris Brogan and Dave Navarro, and all of the above plus one hour of consulting with Mark. Follow the affiliate link above to find out more.
Mark also made a generous offer to give away a copy of his e-book to support an idea I thought would be cool. So this week I am challenging readers to create their own job search or career-planning mind-map and share it. Embed it in your blog or send me a link via e-mail to sean@higheredcareercoach.com. It can be about any part of your search and how you hope to approach it, Just start with a central idea and then explode it, deconstruct it and see where it takes you.
I did a basic mind-map on Prezi that illustrates the Life Purpose Process and its different parts, to give readers and idea of the basic parts of the coaching model I use with clients. The model was put together by Fern Gorin and taught through her Life Purpose Institute.
In the business world, people talk about leaders endowed with the “vision thing.” These are people who can envision the future for their industry and their company in concrete terms, and explain it in ways that encourage others to buy in to that vision, and focus their efforts around it as well.
Job seekers would do well to follow this example, and spend some time envisioning a clear picture of their career as it will be. With a clear endgame in mind, you can track backwards to those steps you should be taking now, and to recognize the logical next steps when they present themselves.
Do you have a vision for your career? Are you using it to inform your choices now? And will it stand up to the tests of time and experience?
If you don’t, spend some time with your future. Think it through. Let it be real for you, and you’ll see more clearly what you should be doing now, and where it might take you next.
Work with Sean. I help higher ed professionals take control of their careers with tailored services including resume and CV development, LinkedIn profile optimization and networking strategy, interview coaching, and one-on-one career guidance.
I recently had a discussion with a fellow coach as part of the 
