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I recently had lunch with a friend of mine and they shared a story about something that happened within their organization. As the primary leader, they were sort of venting, and sort of looking for reassurance that they had handled the situation well. Not only did I think they handled it well, and in fact, I thought their handling of it could be a brilliant model for other leaders to follow.

Twenty-Four hours later, I found myself amped up on caffeine. As you may have noticed, I have been doing video blogs regularly in 2018, and the topic that had been discussed the day prior was “video worthy,” so off I went.

A few minutes later, the video was done. Before I started uploading it to YouTube, I thought it would be wise to run it by this leader, so I shared the video with them via text.  The feedback I received was the following: “Wow, this video is awesome. But since you asked, and I appreciate you asking, I don’t think you should post it publicly because this was a ‘private matter.’ I hope you understand.”

Not only did I understand, I was embarrassed that I had come within seconds of publicly sharing what they had intended to be a private conversation. I was completely in the wrong to assume that my friend’s story was not confidential. So thank God I checked before making a terrible mistake and sharing the “private” matter publicly.

Trust is everything in a relationship, and I had come perilously close to unintentionally ruining the trust my friend had in me. Granted, my intention was to inspire, not to ruin trust —In fact, the gist of the video was encouragement for this organization. Regardless of intentions, I had come close to ruining trust.

I learned a few things from this experience. For starters, I should never assume that I have the liberty to publicly share a story told in private. Further, I should always ask for permission to make sure —this is a good reminder for me and other writers, who are always on the hunt for a good story! Finally, I need to practice self-control with regards to what I tell others. Like many of the readers of this blog, I sign countless NDAs, and have countless “private” conversations. I want to be known as someone others can trust, not as someone with loose lips.

Trust is a big deal. In fact, it may be one of the most critical aspects of any relationship. Learn from me, and assume private conversations are to be kept private unless otherwise noted.

I have been captivated by Ron Chernow’s extensive biography of Ulysses S. Grant. Grant’s rise from irrelevance to the White House was sudden, and rather remarkable in hindsight. Post Presidency, Grant became the first 19th-century American President to tour the world for over two years. After a brief political comeback went up in flames, he devoted his time to Grant & Ward, a brokerage firm he opened with Ferdinand Ward and his son, Buck. As Chernow details in the biography, however, Ward was the 19th-century version of Bernie Madoff using the business as a Ponzi scheme. When the scheme was revealed in 1884, instead of being worth over a million dollars as he thought, President Grant was in actuality only worth about $84.

He had come full circle.

While there is much to learn from Grant’s story —especially around blindly trusting others, something he struggled with throughout the course of his political leadership—the point here is around the arc.

Most leaders, myself included, surmise that their arc will always be up and to the right. This isn’t to say that we are “cocky,” for we realize that some periods might be stagnant, or even have momentary downturns. But overall, we expect the path to be up and to the right: You get promoted, you work hard, you get promoted again, and the cycle goes on until you “retire.”

But this isn’t always the case. In fact, the norm for athletes is to “peak” at some point along their journey, and then come back down. “Father Time” always wins, as they saying goes. So why should we, in business, think we are any different?

Being cognizant of this potential reality, the challenge for us leaders is to remain:

1. Humble. Shouldn’t we be gracious to those who are helping us on the way up the arc? We might need their help on the way back down —President Grant received a $1,000 interest-free loan from one of his soldiers after the Ponzi Scheme was unveiled. Had Grant treated this soldier badly during the war, one can assume such help would not have been available to him when he needed it most

2. Hungry. As any golfer knows, every round is new. In other words, you cannot rest on your laurels. In business, we need to be careful not to fall prey to our hunger waning over time. Are we still willing to do what’s uncomfortable, or change? If not, isn’t it only a matter of time until we start to fade?

2. Smart. We need help. If we foolishly think we can make it on our “own,” we are headed to the other side of the arc because our own efforts are not sustainable.

(“Humble, Hungry, and Smart” comes from Patrick Lencioni’s Ideal Team Player, which continues to be the best book I have read on the subject).

For here lies the other reminder from the Grant biography: all figures of importance made it to the top of their arc with the help of others. In short, they were surrounded by a “team.”

If you and I are to make it there — the top of the arc —it will only be because we have surrounded our self with an extraordinary team.

Let’s always remember that.

A few weeks ago, I felt completely over-committed. Between an International trip, a minor speaking engagement, business booming, and family life, I did not have margin for much else. And yet, I had to prepare for one of the bigger speaking engagements of my life at the end of the month.

Reviewing my outline, I came to one conclusion. What I had created absolutely sucked.

So, I did what any wise husband would do. “Will you help me?” I asked Sarah.

Thank God for Sarah.

She refined it.

She cut out the fluff.

She got rid of the extraneous nonsense.

Especially the parts where I was making myself look better than I was.

When I looked at the new outline, I had hope about the future product.

A few thoughts on asking for help:

Ask early. I asked for Sarah’s help more than 3 weeks prior to giving the talk. I still had time to make wholesale changes, which I did. Conversely, if you ask for help too late in the game you don’t have a chance. Whatever you are creating will suffer because doubt will enter the equation.

As I learned in competitive golf, if you are messing with your swing on the driving range, you have no chance of winning the golf tournament. Same here.Ask someone you trust. This will sound pompous, but I could care less what most people think about certain topics. When it comes to my speaking, I trust my wife over any other human being. She knows me best. There are also other friends whom I would trust. In fact, I ran an outline of a potential talk to a friend (also a customer) last month, and they gave me incredible feedback that will shape what I do with that talk on sustainability. That kind of feedback is golden. Just be careful who you ask. Most engineers would not ask me how accurate their CAD model is, and for good reason—I cannot be trusted to give an accurate answer because I lack that ability! So choose wisely.Ask with genuine humility. At first glance, this should be a given. But notice that in my example, I did not ask Sarah to do anything specific. Rather, I asked for “help,” which gave her full authority to “help” in anyway she saw fit.

She had the freedom to rip it up, suggest I start anew, or even disagree with my diagnosis altogether. The point here is that I did not steer her towards my bias (i.e. that the outline was terrible) and gave her the freedom to help as she saw fit. It takes real humility to allow this to happen.

I challenge you to ask for help the next time you are stuck. Ask early, ask someone you trust, and ask with genuine humility.

Your work will get better in the process.

I received another rejection notice the other day for a potential speaking engagement.

I was somewhat relieved.

A few observations…

First, I was relieved because I have thrown my name in the hat for several speaking engagements. So a few “you have not been chosen” messages are actually relieving.

Second, I take rejection as a sign that I am casting a wide enough net. I am admittedly reaching, instead of “playing it safe.” Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Finally, my speaking proposals are unconventional, which leads to potentially more rejection. Instead of a standard “commercial,” my proposals make an argument. The topics may range from sustainability, blame, to a variety of leadership issues, but the the emphasis is always on moving the audience to some sort of action. Admittedly, not everyone likes this kind of approach. But, my goal is not to be something for “everybody” anyway.

I share this to encourage you to keep casting a wider net. More than that, do it the way you feel it should be done, rather than becoming the cookie cutter: Design the new part. Implement the new system. Promote the promising millennial.

Doing the unconventional will always be criticized, and may lead to the kind of rejection that I have shared in my personal speaking journey. The part might not work, the system might wreak havoc, and the millennial might leave (at least that’s what I am told they typically do —and I don’t believe it!)

Keep striving anyway.

Keep working to get better.

I’ll do the same with public speaking. In fact, this year I am going to get some help with my speaking, which is a topic —help—that I’ll turn to in my next post.

What’s the difference between confidence and courage?

Are you willing to do what is uncomfortable?

I have a ritual where I reflect monthly on a few documents I created to remind me of important professional endeavors. One of those documents pertains to areas of improvement for the company and its culture, and a few ideas that are more personal in nature. In short, I have discovered that thoughts not captured on paper are likely to disappear.

I recently had a startling experience reviewing one of these documents. Early in 2017 I had an idea pertaining to the structure of one our departments. What if, I hypothesized, we changed the structure to more of a 2-3 member pod with a designated leader in each pod, thus incentivizing teamwork, and providing a path of leadership for those who desired it? Looking back at it, I still think the idea has merit, and at the same time, I fully admit that it was not completely fleshed out and there are several implications to consider —but the intent of this post isn’t to consider them here.

The intent is to publicly confess that in early 2017, I did not have the guts to propose this change.

Why?

For starters, I listened to critics. What’s interesting is that the critics were not fellow leaders in the organization — in fact, the few I shared this vision with embraced it. The critics were those would have been impacted. Wanting buy-in, I strategically shared this idea with a few of them and received push back. Like I said, I didn’t have all the kinks worked out in my mind, so their questions were legitimate.

Perhaps more importantly, however, it became clear that a few of our team members did not want to embrace something new, and would prefer to maintain the larger “team” concept that currently exists (and to be fair, works well based on 2017 results).

In retrospect, I learned that I should not give up so easily on ideas like this. I should think through some more of the implications of a proposal like this before going public with the idea —in fact, I have realized that “over exuberance” about a new idea is a weakness of mine.

But I shouldn’t be afraid of making some team members uncomfortable for a bit while we adjust to something new, if I’m convinced that it will make things better in the long run.

I’m glad I wrote this idea down and it didn’t completely disappear from my mind.  I am challenged in 2018 to keep considering this proposal and its consequences, investigate how similar structures have worked at other organizations, and talk it through with people I trust.

And I can also say with confidence that while I did not have the guts last year, the story of this little idea does not end there.