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One of those life-changing incidents that signal a time to move on occurred in my colleague’s office. Like me, my co-worker was a scientist. We were discussing a technical aspect of some mutual project; he sitting at his desk and me leaning against the credenza along the wall. In the midst of this discussion we are joined by another colleague, the key lawyer that makes up our three-person team. The lawyer closes the door as he enters and takes up a position near the window at the back of the room, thereby placing me literally and figuratively in the middle. I don’t recall the topic of the disagreement, only that it, as singer Harry Chapin once noted in a song, the volume “grew in intensity and excitement.” The impromptu meeting swung between vehement shouting and awkward periods of silence.
Not really being a party to whatever disagreement there was between the two, I remained quiet until both colleagues turned to me and asked: “David, what do you think about this?” Instantly I knew that my time with the firm had a finite shelf life. Within a year, the lawyer had resigned. I would hang on for a few more years and a change of office before quitting; my scientist colleague resigned shortly after.
This wasn’t the first time an incident catalyzed a change in workplace. In a previous company I ran a small office a continent away from the main headquarters. Our annual 5-day “Leaders Retreat” was held at the gorgeous mountain home of the firm’s president, a long flight to the opposite coast. The experiences at the previous two retreats portended anything but an enjoyable third. As it turns out, here too there was quite a bit of clashing and shouting.
One role-playing game facilitated by a guest “team-building” consultant was particularly enlightening. We were split into groups of four, and by chance I was placed in a group with the president along with a quiet guy who reported to me and a not-so-quiet guy who somehow always seemed to be a catalyst for conflict. We were given a scenario in which we had crashed a small plane in a remote area and had to decide which of three options to pursue; Stay with the plane to await an unlikely but possible rescue; Walk to point A [the original destination, about 20 miles distant]; or Walk to point B [where it was believed (but not known for sure) there would be a village with water and food, about 10 miles distant in the opposite direction of the original destination]). After choosing an option, we were to list in order of priority the 25 items scoured from the plane’s wreckage we could take with us. Items available ranged from raincoats, a bottle of water, a bottle of alcohol, a comb, a small mirror, and a variety of other items with sometimes obvious, but mostly not so obvious, value. Each of us four would create a list and then the group would negotiate a combined final list. The results were astounding in how well they so clearly epitomized why I felt it was time for me to leave the firm.
The president immediately told us that “this is the list,” to which we were expected to concur. No discussion of why the priorities were given or the importance of each item. Indeed, no discussion or communication of which of the three options we were to pursue since, to me at least, the priority of each item might vary depending on the choice of destination or even whether to stay or go. The other two members of the group essentially deferred to the president, probably fearing disagreement, but I said I would like to have a discussion about the choices, beginning with which travel option had been the basis of the listing. The president, who was used to the idea of arbitrary direction rather than evaluating input from her underlings, said that she knew the right answer because she had been trained as a small plane pilot and part of that training was to learn the lesson the role-playing game was supposed to teach. Of course, the role-play game wasn’t actually trying to teach us what items to prioritize, but to give us insights into how each of us interacts with others (i.e., our management/learning/acting styles). The game told me that the conflict I had always had with the president was a clash of work styles – she the dictator, I the facilitator (using the definitions provided to us by the consultant) – and that it was highly unlikely the president was going to adapt. Which meant I had to adapt myself (which contradicted why I was hired) or leave.
And this was even before all the yelling started.
The end of the retreat could not come soon enough for me and I enthusiastically boarded the plane back to my own coast. Within a couple of months I had hired myself into a bigger firm, the one that sent me to the second life-changing scenario on which I opened this piece.
Lessons learned. My career can best be epitomized by a series of finite work experiences, each one a step ahead. More importantly, each step gave me more insight and more confidence to take chances on the future. In doing so, the finite becomes infinite.
David J. Kent is a science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.
Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!
Hot White Snow 
I have left two jobs voluntarily (and one involuntarily). Perhaps it is my personality, but I have never “deferred” to someone else on what my opinion was, and while it’s led to plenty of conflict, changing that aspect of my personality has never actually occurred to me.
When I felt my management was no longer interested in what I felt was important, I looked elsewhere for a job. Not money, mind you. I’ve never been that kind of ambitious, but priorities like building good reliable hardware or ensuring safety, etc. I’ve told multiple companies that I wouldn’t lie for money or even be silent – it was a real liability on one job and caused conflict on another. I’m not apologizing.
I’ve been working at my current company for 13 years now. I have yet to have a single instance of having to choose between my ethics/need to tell the truth vs. my career. My management has backed my integrity every single time. I’m lucky to be here.
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I also job-hopped to some extent. Early on it was mostly due to companies running themselves into the ground; later it was because I had grown out of the company and sought better opportunities. And yes, never for the money, though the compensation always worked out in my favor. And I agree that it’s unacceptable to lie for money. Luckily none of the firms I worked for ever asked me to do that. I just didn’t agree with the future prospects, or lack of it.
I never was in a position to compromise ethics, and I don’t recall it ever being a problem to communicate the facts to my bosses or the clients. They accepted that professional ethics applied to every one of us.
There is a certain amount of irony in telling a company they could not do something that would have made them hundreds of millions of dollars, then sending them an invoice for the work I did to reach that conclusion.
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I think there is an element of bipolar disorder in most folks that go into management. So, in that case, one might not call it a disorder but rather a feature.
My best experience with such was walking into a rehab hospital for cardiac patients about 20 years ago. I joined an elevator ride with a few folks and was dressed in my usual disheveled boots and hat. Struck up a conversation with a woman in the elevator.
I was a bit cautious. I reckon she was too; probably wondering who let this psychotic cowboy into this hospital. Nonetheless, the conversation was fruitful but still spooky. She followed me into my father’s recovery room and then introduced herself as the director of the facility. That made my Dad’s day.
One can learn to cultivate such features in personalities, but it is exhausting to do so.
The little things like the anecdote above do not warrant a lifetime of irrational loyalty.
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To be honest, I think most people don’t choose to go into management (unless they specifically get an MBA or the like). People who do good work are promoted, and since promotions usually mean managing more people or managing projects, they become managers. A lot of good competent scientists become not so competent managers. I was probably adequately competent in both areas, but not necessarily stellar in either.
Thanks for your story. It’s interesting how we pigeon-hole people based on how they look, though I suppose people tend to look the way the want to be perceived. But looks, as they say, can be deceiving if we assume they reflect our stereotypes and biases.
I enjoyed the work I did until I no longer enjoyed the work I did. More often than not I just got bored and wanted a change. I was lucky and/or perceptive enough to modify my job description every two or three years. When that was no longer possible within a firm, I traded one firm for another. That kept me going until my last big roll of the dice – quitting and becoming a full time writer and traveler.
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Concur. Sort of like three kids, a dog, and the options. Something one falls into.
Sometimes, one climbs out. Sometimes one is kicked out. Sometimes you just meander sideways.
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I think I’ve failed upwards.
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I’ve really only worked for someone else (or some “thing” else) for less than five-years. Admittedly, money was the primary motivator. Regardless, the first year-and-a-half was rewarding. But after that, the inherently sociopathic nature of corporate profit-making became increasingly evident, eventually resulting in a sort of moral injury. I can’t say that the transition out of that situation was without some degree of trauma; but it was certainly a healthy move.
When I was younger, I didn’t have any problem with taking a utilitarian view of things myself. But I think people who can maintain that perspective long enough to become truly successful administrators have to be self-absorbed enough to not really care all that much about others…a certain degree of “Martin Shkreli” necessary in successful corporate management. And therein lies the paradox that while such an approach might encourage shareholders, it doesn’t exactly inspire the loyalty of employees.
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The lack of caring was probably my biggest problem with the corporate life. In my last job I didn’t really have a boss, per se. I worked for my clients and brought in a large part of my work, plus did smaller projects for partners who probably considered themselves my “boss,” but really were nothing more than funnels for the client work. When I left, it was largely because they saw me as a funnel also – of money into their pockets. They lost sight of me as a professional and a person; I was just a money-maker for them. So I fired them (aka, quit) to pursue my own path.
So far it’s worked out well enough. Not rolling in the whole “rich and famous” stuff (yet), but enjoying my life.
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I can sympathize. It is easy to get deceived and exploited in a big playground.
My only experience is in academia, but when my first Dean congratulated me for achieving tenure by threatening to fire me, I sort of lost confidence in folks that get to that rank. Bothered me for some years. Kind of like having a fullback bust out your knees from behind when on the same team.
So now I have a thicker skin. And I realize folks play those games just because they can. But it seems an emotional inefficiency.
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This past year has made it clear people are more than willing to be deceived, and give up any semblance of critical thinking.
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There is some element of human nature that prefers to be deceived. Rather than Hillary Clinton’s term of abuse, I think that there are many varieties of self-imposed ignorance and fantasy.
Maybe most folks would just like to believe the best and go the Disney rather than fix something.
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Likely most people don’t want to take responsibility. So they attack those who do in order to feel better about themselves.
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I see an entire essay… but I don’t think it will fit.
(-_^)
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Essay about what?
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Fitting big ideas into small spaces.
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Worth trying.
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Fantastic article! I love it.
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