I knew I was in trouble when I saw the screen:
Please do not power off or unplug your machine. Installing update 1 of 14.
There may be one out of 100 times when such a message doesn’t convey impending inconvenience, and this wasn’t one of them. That’s because a number of factors had converged leaving me no time to spare. I’d just sat down to my desk after dropping off the kids at school so, as on most days, I was getting a later start that I might have liked. It was also a Webinar-production day, meaning I’d have to get everything prepped and ready to go within the next few hours. And it was Thursday, which is e-newsletter today. Based on our workflow for many, many moons, it was the morning Kate and I would give each other’s columns a final read before publication.
But though Kate’s column was ready for me to read, I’d yet to give mine the final once over before turning it over to her. She was waiting for me, and I was in update hell.
Now, 14 updates are going to take some time — perhaps 15-20 minutes on the high side, right? Well, as I sat there after the reboot (which I always do on Webinar day to make sure my machine is in tip-top shape), the clock kept ticking and ticking and ticking. Twenty minutes was long gone and I was approaching 30. It was stuck on update 8 (I may never forget update 8) for at least 10 minutes, and there was no sign things were still progressing. Was it stuck? Was I waiting in vain? I looked at the clock and said to myself if it hadn’t moved on to update 9 by 9:30, I was going go force quit and restart. I really, really didn’t want to do that, as I had no idea if the result would be an inoperable computer, leaving me with a real problem for the webinar.
So I keep my eye on the computer and the clock. And when I saw the latter move to 9:31, I cast my glance back to the former, ready to hold down the start button and risk Armageddon. For the first time, it read “installing update 9 of 14.” That was close!
But I wasn’t out of the woods yet. All told, the 14 updates took 45 minutes, leaving me behind schedule with a number of things, including giving Kate what she needed to move her ball along — to get out the e-newsletter. I had a feeling she wasn’t thrilled with the delay, but she didn’t say anything that day.
Then, on Monday, I got the email.
Hey,
I know things can get crazy on Thursday mornings, so can we try to start having our blogs ready for edit on Wednesday? It would make the process a lot smoother for me if those are done and scheduled. Do you think that’s feasible? Please let me know.
Thanks!
-Kate
Now, to be honest, agreeing to this change wasn’t hard for me. The actual adjustment was doable on my end and I knew it would make Kate’s life easier. I knew she was simply trying to do her job the best it could be done, for me, and for the team. The intention was solid, the request reasonable and well-articulated. The results likely positive and the cost of change low.
But deep down, I knew there was a message here for newer leaders, or younger leaders, or those who are a little less secure. For those leaders who are the “my way or the highway” types, who say, “You work around me, not the other way around.” To those folks, even a request as innocuous as Kate’s would likely be met with: “Um, I don’t think so. This is the process. Deal with it,” and that might be one of the nicer responses. On the harsh end, she would have just gotten a no or, worst of all, been ignored.
We have all worked for these types (I know I have) and usually they project such deep intransigence that we know better than to even ask for accommodations.
Remember, your job is to be what’s commonly called the “servant leader” — to, like a bulldozer of bureaucracy, smash challenges your folks come up against when trying to fulfill the mandate you’ve given them. So, whenever possible, say yes to requests that will help them get there. And, for goodness sake, when you’re the roadblock, get out of the way.
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