“My position just got eliminated – last day is Friday. Can’t talk now, have clinic. I’m not that upset. I’m ok,” read a text from my wife last Wednesday morning.
Well, ain’t that a kick in the pants, I thought, working to process the new information and its implications. So the hours went by as the texts continued between us, her communicating any new information and me trying to be as calm and supportive as possible.
When we got to talking that night, it was clear she’d already been scouring the net for cardio-thoracic-related nurse practitioner jobs. We talked about one that was interesting and she fired off an application for it that night. We both thought that although the position was full time (and her past job was part-time), the closer location (20 minutes as opposed to just over an hour) would make the time commitment somewhat comparable.
But then she came across another position, and our debate about whether or not to apply for it is instructive. With the natural dread of a long layoff and associated depleted bank accounts in mind, she wanted to apply for anything reasonably in line with her interests. But the position in question was full time, with four very long days and a commute equal to her last position. While she saw solid employment doing what she loves, good benefits and a problem solved; I thought about our little monkeys not seeing mom for four days out of every seven. I saw Dad turning into an ogre toward the end of the day when he’s tired and nobody there to mitigate his wrath. I saw some things I didn’t really care for.
And so we talked, and I tried to express the idea that we were not at the point where taking a job like that was necessary. I mean, she still had one more day to work, at which she’d hear about any parting package, possibly mitigating the need to rush into something sub-optimal. We might get to the point where I’d not only be telling her to apply, but to show up with flowers, but we weren’t there yet. And basing today’s decision on tomorrow’s worst-case scenario often only serves to bring it about.
I felt — I almost knew — that we’d be acting out of panic, with the only result being dread if she were successful in obtaining the position. I mean, you don’t want to extract yourself from an “Oh, no,” situation only to shift to an, “Oh, God,” one.
Great leaders don’t make such moves. Great leaders, great athletes, find that pressure causes the action to slow down so they can see more clearly, so they can make better decisions. And so we’ll continue talking, continue trying to get it right, to balance situation with action, and ensure that the two are in step.
When the circumstances are dire, take dire action, but try not to let the possibility that things might get there force you into prematurely extreme measures. Stay cool, stay calm and ratchet things up when necessary and appropriate, because the last thing you want is to find yourself in the fire, reminiscing about the good old days in the frying pan.
Share Your Thoughts
You must be logged in to post a comment.