Category: Questions to ask yourself

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Trust your nose

If the building you were in was on fire, you would get out, right?

Picture of a white and green sign of a person running out an open door, labeled “emergency exit” in Japanese and English

Isn’t that what any reasonable person would do? Screw being rational—instinct should kick in, right?

Or, maybe another reasonable thing would be to see if you could put out the fire, if it were small. Or to call the fire department.

Sure, it depends on the size of the fire, and the risk to you or others, and the availability of a fire extinguisher, or whether or not there’s some sort of emergency sprinkler or fire suppression system.*

But first things first.

How do you know that there is a fire?

Once upon a time, I was in the office on a day where, for whatever reason, there were only 4 of us in the office (at full capacity there were maybe 25-30 people).

I smelled burning. Specifically, I smelled the chemical-y smell of plastic burning.

Now, I do not have the greatest sense of smell. (My husband often pokes fun at me for this.)

So I asked someone sitting hear me whether she smelled anything burning.

She said something like, “Oh. Yeah, it smells like something burned. But I don’t know what it is.”

I asked someone who sat further away from me, and he told me he couldn’t smell anything.

I went to the kitchen to check out the microwave (looking at you, Coworker-Who-Put-Foil-in-the-Microwave!): Nothing. I looked in the toaster oven: Not coming from there either.

I followed my nose.

I followed my nose to the on-site server room.

Did I see flames? No.

But it was DEFINITELY the origin of the burning plastic smell. And it was swelteringly hot in the room.

I went to go get the person who seemed most likely to know what to do in this situation—and who happened to not smell it because she had her office door closed, but noticed as soon as she came out into the hallway.

Turns out that the air conditioning broke down in the server room and that the server had overheated and was beginning to melt. So, it smelled like burning plastic because it was in fact plastic that 99.95% of the way to burning. But my hero was able to turn everything off before it actually caught on fire. Disaster averted!

In this not at all scientific but extremely real anecdote:

  • 25% of the people couldn’t smell anything
  • 25% of the people couldn’t smell anything because something was obstructing the odor
  • 25% of the people smelled something that indicated fire but did not think it was worth investigating
  • 25% of the people noticed the smell and did bother to investigate—that 25% was me!

What if I hadn’t thought it was worth investigating? Then, it would have meant:

  • 25% of the people couldn’t smell anything
  • 25% of the people couldn’t smell anything because something was obstructing the odor
  • 50% of the people smelled something that indicated fire but did not think it was worth investigating
  • The server would have caught on actual fire, which then would have triggered the sprinklers, and then would have damaged much more than the server

I realize this was an n of 4 situation, but I’m willing to bet you have been in similar situations where you’ve smelled what might be a fire (hopefully not the literal kind) and other people did too, but they didn’t think that they should do anything about it. Or even verify whether or not it was a fire or simply someone ruining their lunch. That difference can be one person. That difference can be you.

Trust your nose.

Don’t assume others have noticed the same things you have. Don’t assume that they are able to. Don’t assume that people will necessarily take action after having noticed the same things – or that anyone else recognizes this as a situation that requires action. Or at least an assessment of whether or not action is needed.

  • How do you know that there is a fire?
  • How do you know that there isn’t?

When’s a time you trusted your nose? I’d love to hear your stories. Of course, most situations do not have such a clear distinction between fire vs. not (a real) fire. If you’d like a thought partner for sorting through the smoke and haze, then let’s have a chat to assess if coaching could help you.

*Another true story: At another job, I once got a message from my manager not to come to the office because there had been an early morning fire in the on-site server room and the fire department had to be called to deal with the fire suppression chemicals and they weren’t sure when they could get into the building. I suppose there are multiple takeaways from this, but my main takeaway is that I do not want my organization’s servers to be on-site. That’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.

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The spoons we carry

Stainless steel teaspoon with a slightly bent handle on a brown fabric placemat

“Who doesn’t bring a spoonful of fear to the first day of a new job?” – Michelle Obama, The Light We Carry

Years ago, I participated in a teambuilding event where one of the things we had to do was to fill a cup with water from a bucket—which was about 10 feet away—using a teaspoon.

I recall that there was no explanation for why we did this activity exactly (to infuriate us?!?) and that it was a competition to see which team finished filling their cup first. Trying to carry a teaspoon of water anywhere without spilling it is an exercise in frustration unto itself. I’m not sure how turning it into an internal competition was supposed to help our team cohesion either. It felt a bit counterproductive. (Unless the point was to unite everyone by our extreme irritation with all of the activity facilitators by the end of the day? I also recall some shaming by the facilitators about how we were supposed to collaborate and be creative.)

However, the quote above from The Light We Carry reminds me of this activity. Of how difficult it was to get from point A to point B while carrying this spoon of water and desperately trying—and failing—not to spill it. Don’t let them see you sweat! That’s advice I remember hearing, particularly as a woman and nearly always from other women. Even if you’re scared, you’re not supposed to let anyone see that. This is a message I’m sure many of us have heard (or at least it’s a common one in the US).

But we are sweating! And we’re carrying around it in a damn teaspoon, trying not to spill it while moving towards a destination. And we’re supposed to look good while doing it, too?

There are many metaphors for fear, and there is much advice about it. (Some advice seems much healthier than holding it all in. For example, using fear as a form of fuel, as the former First Lady suggests, or recognizing that fear can be an indicator that something or someone is important to us.)

Why not spill it?

The first time I went to a networking event in Tokyo, in 2022, I was super nervous. I hadn’t really gone to any such events since 2019, I’m always nervous around new people, and here I was trying to do it in a new country and in a place where I didn’t know anyone. After the host asked me a fairly innocuous question (probably what I do) and giving a rambling, probably nonsensical answer, I was sweating through my shirt.

Then I heard the person in front of me wonder out loud about what we were supposed to do, whether to get in line for the drinks, or how does one even introduce themselves to strangers anymore. It was as if I just heard all the thoughts in my head spoken out loud! Because I had. She turned to me and introduced herself, and that’s how I made my first friend (who wasn’t introduced to me by someone I already knew) in Tokyo.

Instead of trying to figure out ways to transfer the water if you can’t move the bucket or the cup, we ought to be questioning whose cup we are filling by carrying this water across this distance in these tiny spoons.

Are there still spaces in which letting them see you sweat is going to be something that others will use to undermine you? Unfortunately, yes. It’s their form of sweating in public – undermining others based on something that’s irrelevant because of how insecure those people are. But admittedly, it doesn’t change the fact that sometimes those people still have more power within certain spaces.

Still, I’m finding that there are more and more places where it’s better (and more rewarding) to spill it. Rather than trying to fill the cup that society tells us to fill, it’s better to water the ground around us. The point is not to carry the spoons, to carry the water, or to fill some arbitrary container. To continue to carry our true feelings and our humanness and our uniqueness in a tiny little spoon across the playing field is to continue to play by rules that were never meant for us, because the people who set the rules always intended for us to remain on the sidelines. And that’s the point of carrying the spoonful of water (or fear, or whatever) and trying not to spill it.

When we focus on not letting them see us sweat, we collude in their false narrative that vulnerability is weakness.

Screw the game. We’re each of us more powerful than we realize, sometimes even in those spaces that run on insecurity. When we focus on not letting them see us sweat, we collude in their false narrative that vulnerability is weakness. But if you think about the strongest people you know in life, I’m willing to bet that they’re actually the people who are secure enough to admit when they made a mistake, to choose courage in spite of how scared they are, and to be a whole human in a world that would find it easier if we could be tiny little machines that just stayed in our lanes.

But it’s not about what I think either. What do you think? What do you know to be true?

  • Are you here to play a game? Or to grow and create something?
  • What spoons are you carrying? What’s in them? Whose cup are you filling with them? And who benefits from that?

If you’re interested in a thought partner to help you unpack these questions, please reach out and we can find a time to talk.

Note: While I did not directly reference Spoon Theory in this post, it’s worth noting that, while the metaphor may also work for people without disabilities, that the concept of spoons and how many spoons you have available to get through your day comes from and is primarily used by the disability community. If you’re unfamiliar with Spoon Theory, I encourage you to give the linked article a read!

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Letting go to move forward

Okay, I know it’s almost summer in the northern hemisphere, but bear with me as I try to recall the chill of an ice rink as the weather in Tokyo gets warm and humid. | Photo by Kelli McClintock on Unsplash

Have you ever watched someone try to ice skate for the first time?

Often when people are ice skating for the first time, they want to hold on to something, like to the wall around the ice rink, or to someone’s hand. This makes sense. They don’t want to fall! 

But here’s the thing: When you hold onto something that’s not in the direction you’re trying to go in, you will keep veering towards whatever (or whomever) you’re holding onto. Even if it’s a person who is skating alongside you.

In order to skate forward (fully forward), you have to let go.

Holding on doesn’t mean you won’t fall. (I say as someone who has gone down multiple times when the person holding onto me has fallen.)

It’s not actually necessarily safer. (You can definitely tweak a muscle during your attempts to hold on while falling!)

Of course, it’s instinctual to want to hold onto something or someone that represents safety when we feel insecure, when we’re worried about falling. Just think of a new manager who is still stuck in execution mode, the bilingual partner who is the constant interpreter without even being asked, or that friend or family member who remains in a place (or a social circle) they’ve long outgrown.

But as anyone who knows how to ice skate will tell you: Falling down is part of the process.

Lately I’ve been thinking about what I’ve been holding onto that seems safer, but isn’t necessarily, or that perhaps was safer once upon a time but that I now need to let go of in order to move fully forward.

This feels especially salient as a new parent and as one who is coming back to work. I feel like I’ve been slow to relaunch as I’ve been trying to figure out how to integrate things in this new configuration–and as someone who is not entirely the same person I once was.

In past transitions, I’ve had to let go of things like being the expert, of how I needed to act in certain ways while in certain jobs, of needing to fully understand things in order to make a decision (definitely can’t hold onto that and do anything in a foreign country!), and many more things. Some of these (okay, many), I am still working on letting go of.

I don’t have an answer yet this time (my kid is not even 6 months old yet at the time of this writing and I only took off my out-of-office on my work email a few weeks ago) but here’s the question I’ll be pondering:

What is it I need to let go of in order to move fully forward?

If you’re open to sharing, I’d love to hear what you’ve previously let go of in order to get to where you are now. If you’re also in a transitional space at the moment and curious about partnering with a coach to think through this question, please reach out and we can find a time to talk.


Author’s Note

I’ve been struggling to write my first blog post after quietly coming back from parental leave. (Although perhaps coming back is not quite the right phrase either as I get ready to take some time off again for family time?)

There it is again. That belief that there is a right phrase. That there’s a perfect sequence. That there’s a right order of doing this–integrating life and work and reintroducing myself and communicating that externally. As if I should process map my whole life.

But life isn’t linear. Most things are not dichotomies, not A vs. B but points on a continuum that has more than two dimensions.

Sure, there are things that can be sequenced for a smoother process. But even if you’re designing a service that is largely automated, and you have created a workflow that works for most people most of the time, you’ll still need to consider various conditions. There will likely be branch off points. What about the person using assistive technology? What about the person who has to pause and restart later because it is during the 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. window and the washing machine repair person has finally come? What about the person who is trying to pay the bills for their parent who has dementia?

I digress. Few things have been as loud reminders that there is no one right way of doing things as much as having a baby. There’s what works for this kid, for our family. There’s what’s works best for right now. There’s lots of discovering that what worked last week or worked in before times no longer works. And there’s a lot of…well, that’s really not all that important in the grand scheme of things. 

Is it still a struggle to keep that in perspective? Daily. Sometimes hourly. Is working to let go of things a lifelong practice? Yes. But it helps to know what is important to me, what it is I’m moving towards, and it helps to have a good team. (I am so grateful to be navigating this together with my amazing partner!) 

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Name the unknowns

Wide eyed gray kitten attempts to climb up the side of a sleep pod but is sliding down and appears to be licking her way down
One of countless situations I’m sure this kitten has wondered how they got themselves into…

When you feel lost and overwhelmed, name the unknowns. Don’t leave them to be shapeless creatures lurking in the dark. Describe them. State what exactly you do not know about them, and they will slowly begin to take shape.

Will that give you certainty?

No. (Alas. I, too, am a creature who craves certainty and knowing.)

But naming the unknowns will help illuminate which specific things are actually unknown, and of these, which are actionable or answerable, vs. which things are beyond your control (so you can stop worrying about them).

I’ve been reminded recently of how useful it can be to name the unknowns. Of how useful it can be to inventory what you know (e.g., I know I like writing) and what you don’t (e.g., I don’t know whether I would like writing if it was my job). While I often like to use the Known-Unknowns exercise, it can be as simple as writing a list of the things—and then moving things from one column to the other.

  1. For example, when you think about this thing that feels unknown and uncertain, what are the things you wish you knew?
  2. Okay, now that you know what questions you have or what information you like, which of these can be addressed with some research, by talking to people, by looking at the data, or by making a decision?
  3. Next to each of those, list how you’ll work towards an answer.
  4. Of the items that are left on your list, which of these are simply unknowable or cannot be answered with any useful degree of certainty (or cannot be answered now)? Cross those out. (Or move them into some bucket for when you’re feeling philosophical.)
  5. If there are any unknowns still left on your list, which of these are outside of your control? Cross those out. (Or, if helpful, you can keep them as a reminder of things not worth worrying about.)
  6. If there are items that are partly within your control, then separate them out by creating a question you can answer and noting how you’ll answer it, and leaving behind the question that is unknowable or beyond your control (and do what you did for the rest of those).

When something feels too big, too much, or too overwhelming, it’s easy to lose sight of the things we do know already, and of what we can do. Naming your unknowns won’t tell you what to do next or give you certainty, but it will help you sort out which things are actually unknown, which things to let go of, and help you see what’s actionable enough to figure out where to start.

What do you find helpful when you feel overwhelmed and don’t know where to start? Or, did you try out the process above? Let me know how it went!

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Managing change when making big changes

Author’s Note: Is this change something new that you are in the process of planning? You may want to read “How to plan to do something you’ve never done before” before this one if you haven’t already.

Someone holds a phone with a compass app open while standing near a compass embedded in the sidewalk. Per the sidewalk compass, the person should be facing north, but the smartphone compass app says that this direction is 32 degrees north east.
In case you can’t tell from the photo, the compass on the sidewalk says we are facing north, but my friend’s smartphone compass app says that we’re actually pointing towards 32 degrees north east!

If you’ve ever managed a project with a long timeframe or been responsible for implementing a major change, then you know that, well, things change.  Inevitably, you’ll discover something that hadn’t been accounted for or that wasn’t as clear at the beginning, or perhaps, something in your context will have changed.  Maybe there’s a new opportunity you’ll want to be able to seize. 

You may have even identified some potential risks and come up with plans to mitigate them.  It is, however, impossible to know everything that could possibly happen or change or that needs to be accounted for when you’re initially planning a project.  One of the best ways to plan for the unexpected is to plan for change, to build in a margin for it.  That’s why it’s helpful to save for an emergency fund, and why you build extra time and contingency into a project budget.

You can also plan to make changes, even if you don’t know what the changes will be.  Worse comes to worse, your plan works out. 

Many people plan regular times to check in and evaluate progress on a project, especially a change management project, but even better is to regularly ask the question of what changes need to be made and evaluate the plan itself.

Plan to change your plan

Here’s how to prepare for course adjustments before you start really diving in:

  • Schedule check-in meetings and put them on the calendar along with an agenda.  How many and how often depends on the scope of what you’re doing and the timeframe.  Perhaps you might split it into thirds or around key milestones or phases.  If this is more of a continuous thing than a discrete project, then figure out a timeframe when enough will have happened to answer some key questions, but not so much time that it will be hard to change course.
  • Determine how it will be decided whether to adjust course and how.  This could be by consensus, by the project lead having final say, or some type of measure (e.g., as long as our revenue is on track within 5%, we stick to the plan)—or some combination.
  • When planning out the work, plan the first third in the most detail, the second third with some detail, and leave the last third at a high-level.  This will make it easier to make changes since you’ll have left some planning (e.g., who is doing what specific tasks during which week or month) until after the check-in point.

If this is a change management project (e.g., implementing a new system and new processes), having scheduled check-ins to review and adjust the plan can also support your cause.  One thing people worry about during a big change is that it will be terrible, it will make things worse, and they will be stuck with it.  (That can happen, of course!)  However, transparency about how changes will be made and opportunities to provide feedback or request adjustments (e.g., including some time to work out the new time tracking process before the summer staff join) can alleviate some concerns.  You can engage them as beta testers and partners in working out any issues before the full rollout.

Considerations for course adjustments

Here’s are some things you might want to discuss at the start of the project and then during check-ins:

  • What is the desired outcome at the end of this scope of work/part of the project?
  • What assumptions was this planned work based upon?  Have things changed?  You will likely need to change your plan if an assumption no longer holds.  If it was a constraint, then maybe you don’t need to change anything but this opens up other opportunities.  Note:Assuming that the plan will lead towards the desired outcome is an assumption.
  • Does it look like we’re making progress towards the desired outcome?  This is really about whether it is working for the team/organization or not.
  • What changes do we need to make to our plan?  This can be adding things, subtracting things, or modifying how you go about them (e.g., method, strategy, timing, who does what).
  • Do we need to change how we evaluate the need for course adjustments at our next check-in?

When the only constant is change, might as well plan for it!

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Knowing when it’s time to move on

Recently, someone asked me how you know when it’s time to move on from an organization (although this could also be from a particular role or type of work).  Of course, this is not the type of thing anyone else can tell you.  Only you can know.  But perhaps it is helpful to read some examples and the questions asked when others have been at this crossroads.

You're in a park, with trees and shade and benches, standing on a path that forks off into two different directions
You’re in a park, with trees and shade and benches, standing on a path that forks off into two different directions

Here are some times when I knew it was time for me to move on:

  • I had grown as much as I could within the organization, and I was interested in growth. 
  • I wasn’t interested in the pathways that existed in my current organization or field (e.g., that’s cool, but I don’t have any interest in becoming a Director of Development or moving into prospect development or digital engagement).
  • I gave that type of work a sincere try, but continuing to do that work would have required me to be something I’m not (e.g., I enjoy helping people learn, but classroom instruction is really draining as an introvert and that’s not sustainable as a majority of my job).
  • I was no longer interested in learning new things in the field—even if I was still interested in learning other things, whether about a new field or in general.
  • I wanted to learn or do things that I wouldn’t have the opportunity to do in my current role (e.g., strategically plan for the organization’s technology use) or at that organization (e.g., work on product development as part of an in-house team).
  • The leadership was toxic and not changing any time soon.
  • The way the organization operated created a constant clash with my values.
  • I was consistently undervalued and disrespected and/or my ability to do the work effectively was systemically undermined.

The last situation is an and/or because sometimes this is how I have been treated as an individual professional, and sometimes this is because the work I do is being systematically under-resourced, overlooked (until there’s a problem and then it’s all my or my team’s fault), and de-prioritized.  Often, these two situations tend to overlap, and they are both extremely demoralizing.

While some of those situations could apply to anyone, some of those reasons stem from what’s important to me at work: constant learning, autonomy to accomplish a goal as I see fit, balance of peopling and solo work, etc.   You may be looking for different things (e.g., the ability to focus on research, more people interaction than behind a desk time, flexibility as a caregiver, etc.).  And of course, what we we’re seeking evolves over time as our lives evolve.

Some of the situations for moving on are downright unhealthy.  But others might be things that could be adjusted.  Perhaps you work to craft your job a bit differently or discuss growth opportunities with your manager.  Maybe you spend some time exploring a different niche within your field of work and how that might enrich your current work.  Maybe some things you seek outside of your day job – through a side gig, a volunteer role, or something just for fun.  Maybe you realize that it’s not only that you have lost interest in your line of work, but you’ve lost interest in everything and it’s time to find a therapist.  (Hopefully that’s not the case, though please get help if you need it!  Note that burnout can be caused by lack of control and that can be due to the context of your work.)

The person who asked me was feeling a bit guilty about leaving their teammates behind.  That’s natural!  It’s a big change for everyone.  But on a healthy team, we want what’s best for each other.  I trust that if you’re the type of person to worry about that, you’ll do what you can to be a good teammate throughout your departure as well.

So here are some of the questions I’ve asked myself during those times:

  • Am I running towards something or away from something?*
  • Is moving on the only way to meet my objectives?  Or even if it’s not the only way, is it the best way for me?
  • If I’m concerned about the impact of my leaving, what can I do to handle that transition in way that I feel good about?  Including, how might this open up opportunities for others?
  • And if it is indeed time to move on: What will I choose to let go of in order to make space for the things I want next?

Yes, even if you are seeking to leave a negative situation in your current job, moving on still can be about what you are running towards.  Maybe you are running towards an organization that puts people first as evidenced by their operational practices.  Maybe you’re running towards working with leaders you are excited to learn from.  Maybe you’re running towards being able to be authentic at work.  Whatever the situation may be, it helps to be clear on what you’re seeking to move on towards so that you can select a next step with that intention.  

Does any of this resonate for you?  Have you used other approaches to think through the decision to move on or to stay in a job or in a line of work?  Drop me a line and let me know!

*This is a question I use often when thinking about big decisions, and it is inspired by the poem, “we are running,” by Lucille Clifton.