From What I Hear
In the past 2 months I have spent time with some of the most interesting people you can imagine. No, you’re not imagining hard enough, I need you to really put your mind to it and picture people in their teens, twenties, mid life, and late life. Some rich, some not so rich, some powerful, some obscure. I have spoken with generalists, specialists, socialists, conservatives, entrepreneurs, CEOs, gardeners and a couple of marine biologists. I’ve spoken to them on phone calls, hunting trucks, front porches, around fire rings, on ski lifts, at meals, on zoom, and in hot tubs. It has been a season chock-full of words and ideas layered through the never ceasing dance of conversation.
This all started because I needed a “marketing plan” to get the year kicked off right. Nothing works like a bloated gut and a freakish credit card statement to make you put on your running shoes and start thinking about finding a rhythm in the new year. I had worked myself up into a tizzy about my cool new sales strategy, pitched it to my fellow Pivotol compatriots only to have them shoot me down, nicely, but firmly. “Ben” they eased in on me, “does that sound like you? Is this something you want to do? Do you want to make 5-10 cold calls a day? Do you even like trying to sell stuff? Have you ever had to?” They had me. I was perfectly wedged between the loving rock of their words and the hard place of my own personality. I love people. I hate trying to convince anyone. I only ever loved authenticity. And so I sat in silence to take it in.
The result was an invitation to just converse with people. To make it a season of listening (one of our core values) and curiosity (also a core value…funny how those turn up when you need them.) So I emailed a few people asking if they knew anyone I could talk to about my services. No dice, but most of them did respond and said, “I may not have a referral, but I’d love to talk to you and catch up.” They lovingly corrected my request. And so I’ve been calling on these people’s generous time and have asked them to tell me their stories. They have willingly shared them, and now, because life is beautiful when it’s shared, I’d like to send you a few of the insights to which I have been a grateful and eager audience.
When you feel like holding on, be free to give
This CEO of a large multi family office in Texas told me his story of how he has grown up in his business. His advice was keen and clear, his story filled with a recurring theme of keeping people motivated and aligned to a central direction. On the first day of the business, but by now, that equity is divided among people he admires and has chosen to share the journey with. He has invited partnership, offered ownership to employees, attracted and retained some of the sharpest and kindest individuals in the industry. His secret? He would call people and ask how he could help them. Or, he would think of someone needing help and call them and offer to jump in. He said, “Whenever I needed something, I would connect with people and just offer to help them, or ask if I could bring value to any area of their life that was wanting for support. The thing is, eventually, it seemed to come back to me.” He clarified that it wasn’t an ulterior motive, you can smell that on people. But rather, when you sincerely and generously give, you create a little economy characterized by that same generosity. Same goes with his equity, “So many people told me not to dilute my equity, but I think just the opposite. When you draw people in, and give them a stake, they take ownership, and you need these hands to help build something far bigger than what you could create on your own.”
I’m pretty sure an hour of my college tuition was expensive, but in a few minutes, I heard something profound, and I won’t ever be able to forget it. And this isn’t textbook advice, this is human and real, steeped in story and experience.
Vulnerability is relational accelerant
That’s a quippy title, and it’s not a direct quote, but this wonderful leader of a large real estate company in Massachusetts gave words to something I have always felt, but never trusted in. She likes to tell a story of being dragged to another small-talk networking event. She, stuck with the guys, was about to put on her “face” and ask about work and jobs and kids and the same old rigamarole when she decided to try something new. “Yea, yea, fellas, we can all talk about golf and kids and stuff, but I want to know, what are you doing right now that really has you fascinated? What is lighting your fire right now?” They were stunned, a little, she’s a bright shining person, and when these well-lit humans ask you a great question it takes a second to wake up. One man ventured to start talking about a company he is invested in that trains surgeons how to use robots. They work on human cadavers and once, in a demonstration, they restarted a human heart. “The discussion went straight to what makes a human alive?” and the conversation took a turn for the authentic. Suddenly people are sharing their real thoughts about what it means to be alive, to be human. She said she’ll never forget it and that from that day forward, she has never feared those kinds of small-talk evenings. She doesn’t engage on this level, she goes for vulnerability, and the conversation wakes up.
When we offer help, that is kindness.
When we ask for help or share our hearts, that is vulnerable.
These are relational ingredients that lead to something genuine, human, connective. And if the point of this life is not money (which it isn’t, otherwise we could take it with us) then it must be about something else? Maybe all this buying and selling is just a ruse to get us to interact, and the opportunity on offer is to find and connect with people in meaningful ways. To be enriched.
People are the value
My buddy owns a construction business. Matter-of fact, as I’m writing this, I realize that both of my friends who have construction businesses had a similar view on humanity, so I’ll mix their thoughts together here with a few dashes of simple syrup and a lot of ice.
Admittedly, I grew up in a solo-preneurial environment. I’ll even say the broader community was comprised of tiny businesses, not many corporations, even fewer healthy ones. I have always believed that you should build a business suited to not having employees. That fewer people means less headache. That people are your greatest risk.
These two conversations schooled me. “I love walking into a room full of people, I like people, it’s just so much more interesting every day and it used to get boring when there were only two of us.” What? Is it fun to be around others? Interesting. He went on to describe the horrors of hiring and firing his way into learning about a team. So many costly mistakes. But today he can delegate the scrutiny to others and let his eyes gaze past the interview to see a person’s potential, their willingness and brightness. “Ben, if you hire someone great, you don’t even need to train them how to do your job, and they’ll bring more value to the company than you could ever pay them.” He was describing something as an asset that I had grown up thinking was a liability.
The second friend took it even further with this. “Ben, my business is like a little kingdom, I have influence there, and I get to create a place where people feel valued, loved, seen, heard and cared for. For some of them, working here may be the first time they’ve ever experienced something like this.” He uses his power and influence to care for people, to love them. To blend joy and hard work into something that gives people satisfaction and purpose in equal measure. And in turn, his company has a stellar reputation in the industry. People can feel when those working on their project are glad to be there. And the cycle continues. His clients refer them to others, and these are glowing referrals.
Celebrate
I’ve had a wonderful friendship with a peer who runs a finance business. We talked about how energy comes in waves, and how projects can linger, and when they finish it’s more like walking into town after crossing the desert than heading up a parade. “I wish there was a way we could stop everything and look at how far we’ve come, we need to celebrate how we’ve changed.” It struck me like that supersonic nerf dart my son launched at my face. I blinked a lot and leaned back, needing to comprehend the power and importance of celebration at work. We are constantly in motion. Talk with any technology investor or venture capitalist or biologist, they will tell you that our world is never standing still. We take “change” and call it things like evolution. We make change sound natural, normal, cyclical. But what about transformation? Is it worth taking a minute to hop off the treadmill and go to the mirror and say, “wow, I guess I have been working hard!” Celebration is a language of validation. When we celebrate something we say that we have made significant progress in a direction that we have intentionally set. Celebration is a chance to draw others into that progress, to show that we all recognize when hard work yields fruit. I see this in the smallest way even in writing these journals. When I thought no one was reading them, it was less fun to write them, but as soon as others refer to them in conversation and ask me follow-up questions, I feel all warm and alive. I am proud to share my thoughts. Think about this with the people around you. What motivates us to change if no one sees it, if no one is able to recognize or care? Celebration is the art of seeing and affirming the journey. And that is so important to have along the way. The roads are steep and winding in life, so it’s important to enjoy the mountaintops and linger there.
These are just four tiny parts of what amass to probably 30-60 hours of listening to people. My head is swimming and every day something new pops up as a memory or a question. I have found so much life in this work, and that’s the point of work, isn’t it? To generate something valuable to this world and to the people in it.
To all of you with whom I’ve shared these moments in the past few months, I can’t thank you enough. These interactions have inspired me, and my hope is that they are the distillate that passes potent authenticity into the lives of others. Thank you for being generous and gracious with your time and wisdom. Thank you for all the vulnerability, the insight and the curiosity. I hope you feel my honor by the time we’ve shared.
