I tend to think of life as a grand adventure, filled with boundless possibilities; a place where anything, but not everything, is possible.
Apparently, as a young child, I was considered extremely sensitive. I came across this titbit in an old school report. I have no recollection of ever being considered particularly sensitive; except for one manager who told me to take a concrete pill and harden up, but that is a story for another day.
What I do recollect, is my mother constantly (or what felt like constantly) telling me that it wasn’t what I said that was the issue, rather it was how I was saying it. It took me close to 25 years to work out what on earth she was trying to tell me.
I think funny
I was 12, maybe 13? We were writing our Geography exam. We were allowed to raise our hands and ask the teacher a question if we needed clarification. I raised my hand. I asked the teacher what the question meant.
She tersely told me to follow the instructions and answer the question.
The question read:
Answer True or False. Do not put the correct answer.
And then followed 10 true or false questions, with the option to circle T or F.
Do you have any idea how difficult it is to answer False to a question you know to be True or vice versa?
You see — most people read the question as: Answer True or False, do not write in the correct answer if the answer is false.
Not me.
I read it to mean: Circle the incorrect answer.
That was the day I realised I think funny, it’s not good, it’s not bad, but it is different. And it turns out that this is a double-edged sword. Fortunately, in the real world, we can ask clarifying questions, and most of the time people are happy to answer. And those who try to belittle me for asking clarifying questions — well, that is rather illuminating.
I’m terrible at knowing my place
My first real job. It was super exciting (I was so naive), I was a graduate trainee and moved to Jo’burg. It was also the first time I had come face to face with the concept of hierarchies. I’m sure most people come across them long before they get their first job — you know, having a line manager, who has a line manager and so on. This was back in the day before flat structures were a thing.
You see, both my parents worked for themselves.
Back to my first job…
One day, all factory managers and the graduate trainees were called into a meeting, it was all very last minute. We were told that there was to be a merger and that our competition would be leading the merger in South Africa because they dominated the market.
I remember a lot of nothing being said.
Some of the people at that meeting asked questions about timings, and what would happen — would all staff be retained? Would everyone have to move (our competitor’s factory was in a different part of the country)?
The very important men leading the meeting gave their answers. I thought their answers were bollocks. Lots of words, nothing being said.
It never occurred to me that I should defer to these very important men, it never occurred to me that they might think that they were better than us lowly factory workers.
I saw men and women, who were suddenly faced with the prospect of not having a regular income and having to continue to pay mortgages and school fees; men and women who would have to go back to their teams and tell them the news: that there was a merger, and that that was all they knew. And a bunch of men (the very definition of pale stale males) standing up front, indicating that all they knew was that there would be a merger. Considering that these were the men who had been cloistered away dreaming up the merger, their lack of knowledge seemed disingenuous at best.
I had been raised to speak my mind; my parents had shunned the whole ‘speak only when spoken to’ way of raising children.
I asked these self-important leaders, rather pointedly, when they expected to have answers; because clearly, they didn’t have them now. Let’s just say that made me both rather popular, and persona non grata.
I call a spade a spade
I tend to call it as I see it. It turns out that there are a lot of people who don’t appreciate this. Early in my career as an analyst, I was asked to estimate the losses and individual provisions required for the following financial year.
When I presented my results to the COO and CFO, to say they were unimpressed would be an understatement. The CFO, particularly, was displeased. There was looming over the desk, and there was yelling.
For anyone who thinks CFOs (or Finance people) don’t have emotions, I can assure you, they do. They just don’t tend to run around gushing at people. In retrospect, I should have realised that telling a CFO the losses were about to increase year on year by approximately 25% was likely to do more than just raise an eyebrow. We live and learn.
The thing about forecasts and estimates, that’s exactly what they are. And they’re based on assumptions. If you’re not a fan of the estimated outcome, then interrogate the inputs and assumptions. When you’re faced with a forecast you don’t like, revisit the assumptions, if they’re reasonable, and you still don’t like the output, then that is the perfect opportunity to do something differently.
“Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.” - Rob Stiltanen
The adventure continues
Various line managers, coaches, colleagues, and people, have tried to quieten me, to make me conform, to make me smaller, and fit in better. For a while, I tried, until I realised that what makes me unique, my quirks and oddness, my eccentricities, is how I add value.
I still think funny, I still ask difficult questions and I still tell the truth as I see it. Although, over the years I have become more self-aware. And that awareness has made all the difference.
I’m a bit like a flashlight, I illuminate paths in front of us, and I examine the shadows.
Who are you? What are your eccentricities and quirks? Let’s go on this grand adventure together!
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