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Old Fashioneds with an Old Miner
How The Optimal Results Formula Radically Shifted My Leadership Approach
Scott Knutson, Shawn Snyder
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eBook - ePub
Old Fashioneds with an Old Miner
How The Optimal Results Formula Radically Shifted My Leadership Approach
Scott Knutson, Shawn Snyder
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About This Book
People inherently search for connections in their lives - connections to other people, connections to experiences, even connections to their organization and its leaders. We love to help our clients' organizations create the powerful connections that drive discretionary effort within teams. Discretionary effort is the secret sauce in the Optimal Results Formula. When we foster an environment that has positive, affirming connections, discretionary effort skyrockets. When discretionary effort goes up, our organizational results will soon follow.
Let's all raise a glass to the old miners in our lives who have helped us become better leaders!
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CHAPTER ONE
âYour team is sloppy, you arenât getting any good results, and I regret the day I ever agreed to hire you. Youâre fired!â
Kendra woke up with a jolt, taking a moment to realize that she had fallen asleep at her desk yet again. Exhausting days like these, when the work never seemed to end and she couldnât rely on anyone but herself to get things done, give her nightmares. She had them anytime she felt like she was letting someone down, and she couldnât deny the fact that she had been sorely letting her boss down recently. I wish my employees cared that they were letting me down, she thought to herself as she looked outside her office window, noting that not a single employee remained even though they were all weeks behind schedule.
The nightmares had started a few months ago, when it had become clear that her team wasnât just going through a slump, but rather was the definition of slump. Every time she had them, she felt transported back to her childhood bedroom, clutching her blanket and wishing someone, anyone, would show up to let her know that everything would be alright. Of course, those nightmares had been about disappointing her father, an upright military man who only grew more disappointed in her each time she came to him with her troubles. If I donât get out of here, Kendra thought to herself as she gathered up her things Iâll be disappointing him all over again by being late.
As Kendra drove, she did her best to shake off the nightmare. âYouâre 35, not 5,â she said to herself as she drove through the open Arizona air. âIt wonât kill you to be a few minutes late.â Still, her anxiety caused her to speed more than she probably should have, but it resulted in her arriving at Joe's Bar before her father, and thatâs all that mattered.
As she took in the familiar atmosphere of her best friendâs restaurant, she felt a tiny bit better. However, the feeling was short-lived as other thoughts caused her to become tense with worry once more. Today had been another grueling day of work in a job she wasnât sure she was right for anymore. As she sat down at her usual high-top, she thought about all the tasks her team shouldâve accomplished by now. For her first few months as team lead, her team demonstrated record-breaking performances. Two years later, it felt like everyone had suddenly run out of steam, and she just couldnât figure out why.
As she waited for Joe to come take her order, she wondered whether or not she could return to her old job in Seattle. There, she had worked twelve years as a civil engineer, the best her company had. She received glowing recommendations from her bosses when she decided to move to Coaltown, Arizona to become a manager for a small mining company. Her Washington superiors wrote in their letters how âtake chargeâ and âno nonsenseâ she was, convincing both Kendra and her prospective employer that there was nothing she couldnât handle at a small mining company. But two years later, she felt like every other day she was having to step back and wait for her team to catch up. It just wasnât working out.
âRough day, huh?â Joeâs question interrupted her haze of thoughts and she forced a weak smile. Joe leaned against the high-top across from her and waited patiently for her answer. He had been Kendraâs first (and practically only) friend in Coaltown, and they regularly checked in with one another.
âNo worse than usual. In fact, my father will be joining me today.â
Joe looked at Kendra in surprise. âYouâre meeting your dad at a bar? You realize the only food we serve here are burgers and fries, right?â
Kendra smiled back sheepishly. âIf youâd ever met my dad, youâd know heâd be unimpressed no matter where I took him. At least here I know you can keep the drinks coming.â
Joe chuckled in amusement and stood upright. âYour stories make me feel like Iâve met him. Strict military type, right? Iâll never forget the time you told me he got you a dry-cleaning gift card for your birthday.â
Kendra shrugged and shook her head. She remembered telling that story, but hearing it out loud reminded her of how little her father truly knew anything about her. âWell, apparently my slacks werenât ironed well enough.â She looked down at the current state of her pants and realized that sheâd probably get another card this Christmas. She sighed and felt another knot of tension add to the many straining her neck these days.
Joe and Kendra continued to chat until the little bell above the door sounded. She glanced across the room and saw her father step into the bar and take in the casual atmosphere. Maybe it was just her imagination, but it seemed as if his permanent frown got slightly deeper as he scanned the room. Kendra took a moment to look around herself, trying to see what he saw.
As Coaltown was predominantly a mining town, there were miners scattered here and there, most still in unkempt work clothes. It was also a Friday, which brought in a couple more people than usual at 5 p.m. on a workday. She knew that her father probably hated everything about the place, from the wall full of rusty, old license plates to the sticky, miner-filled bar. Even Joe himself wouldnât be free from her fatherâs intense scrutiny. As she took in the room, she began to rethink her decision to meet him here.
When Kendra turned back to the door, her father was already taking strident steps towards her. While the two friends were chatting, Joe had regressed to leaning back down onto the high-top, but with Hugh Gilbert coming in hot, he stood ramrod straight.
When Hugh arrived at the table, Joe looked to Kendra for an introduction, but Kendra knew to stay quiet until she was addressed. After a beat, Hugh spoke. âGood evening, Kendra. I did not realize we would have company tonight.â With this, he took Joe in, probably noting his unbrushed hair, faded jeans, and white T-shirt stained with what Kendra hoped was ketchup.
Before Joe could intercede, Kendra jumped in to say, âThis is my friend, Joe. He owns the bar. He was just coming by to take our order.â
With that introduction, Joe held out his hand. âHello, General. Iâd just like to say thank you for your service. Kenny sure talks a lot about you. Could I start you off with something to drink?â
Kendra could tell that manners alone forced her father to tightly shake Joeâs hand. âWhiskey neat for me. Kendra?â
Hugh Gilbert didnât suffer fools, disrespect, or messiness. Knowing this, Kendra decided to take a pass on her regular order of a beer and asked Joe for an Old Fashioned.
âComing right up.â If Joe was nervous, he was doing his best not to show it. With his regular easy gait, he walked off to the bar to prepare their drinks. In his absence, Kendra had no choice but to look her father in the eye and wait for whatever criticism he had for her.
âYou let him call you Kenny? No wonder youâre having problems at work. You let your subordinates refer to you that way, too?â
Kendra shut her eyes in frustration and took a breath before replying. âNo, sir. Joe is a friend and it felt nice to have a nickname. The problems I have at work have nothing to do with authority, or lack thereof.â
âThey clearly do, otherwise your workers wouldnât be so far behind. When we spoke last, you told me that you didnât have a single team member who was keeping up with the workload. Has that changed?â
Hughâs eyes bored into her, and she felt like a small child again. âNo, sir. Theyâre still behind.â She looked down at the table, waiting for her rebuke.
âKendra, I didnât raise you to be spineless. A company hired you to be a manager, and it is your job to ensure that your workers are doing the work you assign them. Production is everything. If youâre not producing measurable results, you might as well pack up now. No company is going to support a manager, a female nonetheless, when she cannot hold authority over her own employees.â
By the end of Hughâs tirade, Joe had returned with the drinks. Sensing the clear tension, he asked cautiously, âCan I bring you both anything to eat?â
At first Kendra looked at her father for direction, but realizing that he knew nothing about the place or the menu, she asked instead, âWould two burgers be alright?â
Hugh gave a wordless nod and Joe made his way back to the kitchen. Once more, Hughâs unwavering gaze zeroed in on his daughter. âWhat have you tried so far? Did you tell them you could take their breaks away?â
Her father was a big believer in authoritarian leadership. While Kendra believed it had its benefits, the company she worked for tended to lean more towards transformational leadership, the modern way of doing things. The biggest difference between the two was that transformational leadership acknowledged that employees had needs, like breaks, that must be met before higher levels of production could occur. Still, Kendra felt frustrated knowing that her employees were getting two paid 15-minute breaks a day while she worked diligently at her desk.
âCorporate wonât budge on the breaks. But I did cancel monthly team building exercises until we get caught back up to speed. Iâm also looking into getting taller cubicle dividers. I do my best to make rounds, but thereâs only so much time I can spend away from my desk. I know there is some needless chatter halting production, but I canât be there policing them all the time.â
As Kendra talked, her father sipped his whiskey and looked around the room. Instead of addressing any of her ideas, he commented, âThis place could use some better authority, too. Those license plates look like a health hazard. This is what happens when they hand out business licenses to anyone with a smile. I donât know what this nationâs coming to.â
Not knowing what to say, Kendra sighed internally. Times like these, she wished she had a mother to offset her fatherâs roughness. Her mother left when she was two and neither of them had heard from her since. While a mother like that probably wouldnât have been any help in this kind of situation, Kendra could at least pretend.
Realizing that she had let the silence go on too long, Kendra cleared her throat, took a long sip of her Old Fashioned, and switched topics. âSo, General, howâs the base these days?â
CHAPTER TWO
A grueling hour later, Hugh paid the bill, despite Kendraâs initial protest, and stood to leave. When Kendra moved to join him, he waved at her to sit back down. âStay and speak with your friend a bit longer. I have briefings to go over back at the hotel. Iâll see you sometime tomorrow.â
As a kid, Kendra almost never hugged her father, but as an adult, she was making a concerted effort to do it more often. Despite the awkwardness, she brought him in for a hug before saying, âGoodnight, sir.â
Although Hugh didnât smile, his frown seemed less deep after the hug. âGoodnight, kid.â With that, he strode out of the bar and Kendraâs strained shoulders released for the first time since he had entered.
Her state of relaxation did not last long, however, upon realizing that an old man in the high-top next to her was looking at her intently. She had seen him a few times at Joeâs before, but she couldnât remember ever interacting with him. He wore the ragged jeans, steel-toed shoes, and faded flannel that most of the other miners wore. Unlike the others, he looked to be in his late 60âs, if not older. Far too old to be doing some of the work Kendra knew the miners did. Overall, he didnât look too intimidating, but Kendra knew not to judge a book by its cover.
With her father gone, Kendra felt fully comfortable stepping back into a role of authority. Poker face in place, Kendra asked pointedly, âCan I help you?â
The old miner gave a soft smile. âActually, yes. I couldnât help but overhear your conversation with the gentleman who just left. Iâm not usually an eavesdropper, but I happened to hear that youâre a manager at the company I work for.â
Kendraâs eyes widened in surprise before she remembered to put her poker face back on. Her mind raced back to the conversation with her father. She had been vulnerable, telling him her inadequacies as a manager, her inability to keep her charges in line. With fear, she realized that this miner had probably heard all of it.
The old miner continued, interrupting her harried thoughts. âI remember having some of the same issues as you, once. Iâve been managing the miners in this town for, oh, 30 years now? Yeah, it must be. Anyways, it sounds like youâre having some issues with your leadership style. I know that gentleman gave you some advice, but I was hoping I could give you some, too.â The old miner looked at Kendra with genuine kindness, but Kendraâs pride was still smarting at the fact that a complete stranger, who worked for the same company as she did, no less, had overheard her weaknesses.
âThatâs a kind offer, but arenât our fields a bitâŠdifferent?â Kendra tried to say it nicely, but she knew she probably sounded uppity and condescending. She didnât want to outright say it, but what could an old miner possibly know about managing engineers?
The old miner kept a sweet smile on his face and responded kindly, âOur fields may be different, but human hearts are the same. We all want the same things in life, donât we? Do well at our jobs, help our loved ones, and inspire others to do the same?â
Kendra had been standing at her own high-top during this conversation, but at this remark, she felt that she needed to sit down across from the old miner and let him know how wrong he was. âI think my employees would beg to differ. I donât think a single one of them cares about being good at their jobs. Clearly you eavesdropped about the predicament Iâm in. What am I supposed to do when the people who work for me canât even be bothered to do the bare minimum?â
Kendra knew that she was now completely past the boundary of politeness, yet the old miner still looked positive. If anything, his smile grew wider the longer she ranted about her employees. After giving her a moment to cool down, the old miner replied, âHave you ever heard of servant leadership?â
Kendra scoffed. She hated that term, servant leadership. Her father had hired new servants for every home sheâd ever lived in, and she hated to think that as a manager her leadership title could be compared to the people who scrubbed her toilets. âIâve heard of it. Thatâs not the kind of leadership I need, though. My employees have a complete lack of respect for authority. Iâm not going to degrade myself by catering to them through servant leadership.â
At this, the old miner gave her a thoughtful look. Kendra braced herself to receive the lengthy kind of lecture that old men seem to give, but the smile returned to his face and he surprised her by asking a question instead. âWhat kind of leadership style would you say you use?â
The question felt more exhausting than if he had just given her a lecture. Kendra bris...