Why you need Elvis and a Gringo Killer

11 strangers. 

42 kilometres. 

4 days. 

Getting up at 0400. 

Walking 8 to 10 hours each day up very steep slopes or down precipitous tracks. 

Altitudes above 4000 metres.

Camping in small tents.

Temperatures close to freezing at night. 

Basic washing and toilet facilities.

The Gringo Killer.

The Sun Gate

Then, finally, this.

Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. 

I walked the Inca trail this month. The enormous sense of fulfilment and satisfaction on getting to the Sun Gate then walking down into Machu Picchu with the group, is not one I’ve felt for a long time, certainly not in any recent job. So I thought about this and wondered just what were the circumstances that made it so personally satisfying and what parallels could I draw about working and management.

Objective

There was a clear objective. All the group knew exactly what the objective was, when was to be achieved and had plenty of opportunity to ask questions about it before the task started.

Leader

There was a leader, a guide (Elvis, yes he’s alive and lives in Cusco). The leader briefed the group, understood any fears or weaknesses individuals may have had and got to know the team beforehand. The leader’s task was to get the group to the objective safely, to educate the group on the way, to provide pastoral care if needed.

Plan

There was a plan. The plan was clear, the difficulties outlined, the timing detailed, the logistics identified, opportunities to make last minute adjustments factored in.

The group

11 people who’d never met but had a common purpose. Weaknesses and concerns about possible personal performance were openly discussed. There was a leader, the guide, and a backstop (Andy) to make sure no one got left behind. The group could spread out but was not allowed to separate. Those who wanted to forge ahead could - to a point.

Mutual aid

Because weaknesses and concerns were known the group provided a dynamic support system. Members moved amongst the group offering differing forms of support as needed, dealing with fears, tiredness, anxiety. 

Contingencies

Things go wrong. There was contingency planning. The group provided technical support to each other, selflessly offering and sharing items from their own supplies and equipment so that individuals were not disadvantaged.

Regular briefings

There were regular briefings. Where the group was, what lay ahead in the short, middle and long term.

Bonding time

The group always came together three times a day for an opportunity to talk, discuss, share experiences, express any fears, share how they overcame obstacles, mental or physical. The group provided a non judgemental and safe place for all to freely express themselves.

Same for everyone

All had the same equipment, the same catering, the same accommodation. There were no ‘management’ perks, no us and them.

Celebrate success

The group made the objective on time. There was much hugging, handshaking and celebration. The project had been hard work, uncomfortable (those chemical loos with no seats), tiring and dirty. The group all shared the same sense of collective and individual achievement.

All had to succeed
Everyone had their own personal difficulties but all the group had to reach the objective. No individual could go it alone, it was always a true team effort. 

And the Gringo Killer?

All projects are tough. Sometimes you have to find that difficult extra personal stretch just when you think you and the group have reached the objective and you and the team have used up all your reserves of energy - one last push to succeed. And all have to do it, no one gets left behind.

After getting up at 0400, walking three hours in the dark over 8km of rough terrain to then climb 50 near vertical stone steps cut by the Incas so steep you had to scramble up using hands and feet to reach the Sun Gate. But what a glorious feeling.

Do you still get that sense of satisfaction and fulfilment from your job?

Perhaps you need Elvis and a Gringo Killer.

90 days.

90 days.

The first three months in a new job. 
Generally it's chaos. 
You don't know anything. How things work, where things are, who are your allies, where the toilets are, where the paper is kept for the photocopier, how to claim expenses, what the culture is, what those acronyms and abbreviations that are used all the time really signify. And you want to ensure that you impress the boss with their new hire.
It's impossible.
Except it isn't.
In my latest podcast I have a conversation with Robert Moment, The Get Hired Expert, about what you need to do in those crucial first 90 days. Apart from finding the toilets and figuring out the photocopier that is.

Robert can be contacted here
You can buy his new book here
And you can read extracts from his new book here.

There's skin in the game...

All revved up and...the interviewer is clueless

You know the feeling. You’ve prepped for the interview, you’re ready to answer standard questions, ready to fend off the really difficult questions, done your research on the company and the sector and…the interviewer just doesn’t seem to have a clue what they are doing. It’s difficult enough going in as an older worker and being able to showcase your skills to what will almost certainly be younger interviewers, but how might you deal with an interviewer with poor skills and still present yourself as the preferred candidate?

All is revealed...here

And here...

Spring is here and so we need a new podcast - and here it is

We are not in Kansas anymore. Or applying for jobs in the late 1970s or 1980s. Job searching in the 21st Century.

Advice I would have given myself at 21

Nobody suggested it would be interesting

Nobody said it was easy

No one ever said it would be this hard.

No extravagant claims were made during the interview for the role, pretending that it would be uplifting, fulfilling, contribute greatly to society or even be enough to keep you awake during most of the day. There were veiled mutterings along the lines of there's actually nowhere else to go from here, no promotion escape route, no way of seeking a more demanding role. This is it. And they failed to mention that my predecessor had not stayed longer than a few months. But, my choice, I accepted the job. No complaints there.

And so here l am. Bored. In fact I shambled across the boredom threshold sometime back and am now trying to see if there is a limit to boredom and what may lie beyond peak boredom, in the way perhaps, that philosophers used to contemplate what came after you reached the rim of a flat earth. There may even be grades of boredom, like the Beaufort scale for wind speeds or Mohs scale of hardness. In fact I've invented one (see below).

I was asked again, just this morning, was I enjoying the job. Why is everyone so concerned about 'enjoyment' of a role. I don't think I look suicidal or someone about to walk off site permanently, though the glazed look I get in my eyes around about 3pm is an indication of my daily cerebral cortex shut down for my brain's protection. My stock answer to the question is ‘I can tolerate it’. And I can. Though there was small incursion, for a day last week, into a 'Nope, now I'm actively not liking this’ zone.

I've been here almost three months. Three long, long months. I feel like Marvin the Paranoid android felt in The Hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy. 'The first ten million years were the worst,' said Marvin, 'and the second ten million years, they were the worst too. The third ten million years I didn't enjoy at all. After that I went into a bit of a decline.'

Now I don't like to think of myself as prideful. I've done many a mundane and unpleasant job in the past. How can I ever forget cleaning a large Welsh sewerage works at 0800 on a warm summer's Monday morning. I just can't, not even with therapy. Then there was the garbage truck summer job where there were real metal ash cans that you had to lift onto your shoulder and empty into the truck with the ash and other garbage blowing back into your face. None of this softie mechanical handling for us. Some of the residents would neatly tie their pornographic magazines up in bundles for us so we could read them at lunch time. How thoughtful. How graphic. Rather put me off my sardine sandwiches I can tell you.

I work in what you'd call an industrial environment if you were being kind. This does not comprise shiny state of the art Macs and clean, modern, comfortable office furniture, oh no. I've cleaned my desk using antiseptic wipes, I clean my keyboard weekly, my workspace and bin get cleaned/emptied every full moon and the heating is either a barely adequate wall mounted electric convection heater or a wheezing electric fan that sounds like a Boeing spooling up. The space where I work is partly a dumping ground for amputated office chairs. They’ve come here because, well I’m not sure, probably because no one could think of anywhere else to put them. Still, it is my space and I can concentrate on the tasks I'm set.

What you have to do, of course is find coping strategies. For boredom the course. I have discounted alcohol and drugs sadly. Apple music is particularly helpful and I'm making way through their back catalogue quite steadily. You have to look deep into your reserves to survive the numbness. I have become rather good at The Times crossword at lunchtime and this proves a useful d_st__t_n (11, a thing that prevents someone from concentrating on something else.). I go for walks around the site with self set tasks. However this is a little weather dependant and today it has rained and rained thus causing me to stay largely inside and become ever so more like Marvin.

There must be something you like, I hear you say. Ok can tolerate then.

The short, 15 minute drive, against the traffic, to and from to work. The hours are OK. And, and, oh the pay-check. I didn't really need it when I started but, as life goes, circumstances have changed recently and it is coming in very useful. It's a short term thing so I’ll be interested to see if I can maintain my stoicism when the need goes.

And this is the advice I'd give to my 21 year old self.

'Get a job where you care about what they do. Don't just accept any role (unless you are desperate) even for big money - there's never any long term satisfaction or fulfilment in it for you.'

A long time ago I thought I could take my transferable skills to any industry. I was wrong. Well actually I was right as I did do exactly that. However the life lesson for me was ‘You have to care about what you do.’ I quickly found out I didn’t care about the outcomes and products and my move was a disaster; I had to leave as soon as I could. I've learned that if you care about the outcomes, or the organisation, it's far easier to tolerate the boredom and mundane nature of work that every job has. If you don't care about it then every day becomes hard and mistakes are more prevalent. And you clock watch constantly for the moment you can leave.

Don't boil the frog. The podcast.

Working fewer hours than you want or need?
Over educated for your current role?

Underemployment - pernicious. As bad, in my view, as being overloaded with work, and can be just as damaging, if not more so. I tell all (well some) in my latest podcast.

Usual places including iTunes.