story

Fortunately…

There’s a famous Zen story about a farmer’s luck, and depending on what happens to this farmer, the neighbors proclaim that he has either good luck or bad luck. When something terrible happens, he has bad luck. When something wonderful happens, he has such good luck. Regardless, the farmer always replies, “Maybe.”

The point of the story is that in bad situations (what might be called bad luck), often times good things are born. And conversely, when things seem to be going so well, bad things can happen.

Lately, I’ve adapted this story in two ways:

I regularly add the word “fortunately” as a preface to something that might at first seem unfortunate.
In both good times and bad times, I am intentionally grateful.

Fortunately, I am going through a difficult divorce and some things that did not bother me before do now.

Fortunately, I was very sick last week and felt for the first time incredibly disoriented and out of balance.

Fortunately, I am feeling that my teaching is being compromised by other stresses in my life that make me tired and impatient.

Adding this simple word BEFORE the apparent “bad luck” opens up the opportunity for gratitude, which inevitably leads to “good luck”.

The man with the hat in the back of the room

by John Goodell

The pianist Lorin Hollander tells a wonderful story of arriving at the Academy of Music ahead of his performance with Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra back in the late 1970s. He situated himself on stage for his warm up ahead of his rehearsal with the orchestra, and started to play the piano alone in the hall. As he worked through a few passages, he looked out to the empty seats and spotted a short man wearing a hat and coat near the back. He continued playing, but couldn’t stop himself from thinking about who was listening.

As he continued to play, he realized it was Maestro Ormandy. Hollander started to question in his mind how he was playing – criticizing his left hand, his articulation, his tempo – all while continuing to play more rigidly and less musically. As the voices got louder and louder in his head, he turned to his audience of one and shouted, “I’m sorry, Maestro. I’m not sure I like the way I’m playing right now.” There was no response.

Hollander stood up, and as he continued making excuses under his breath, as if in conversation with the Maestro, he walked down into the audience towards the back row. As he got closer and closer, he realized that there was no one actually there. Instead, there was simply a hat left on one of the seats from the night before. His mind had fabricated the rest of the person.

Hollander’s point in telling this story was to help the workshop of young musicians to recognize themselves as their worst critics. His point wasn’t to “unlearn” being critical, or to *not* listen to one’s self with critical ears, but instead to limit how those voices affect one’s perception of both the music and in this case, an entire conversation with a hat!

A former teacher of mine often used the analogy of trying to repair a roller coaster *while* on the ride. Impossible, right? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a mechanic reaching outside the coaster box as it speeds down the track to fix a screw or repair the rails. Of course we need to listen (actively) while something is happening, and this is particularly tricky if *we* are the ones making the music, but criticism, evaluation, and analysis need to happen before and after, not during.

As artists, our perceptions of others are often the result of how we perceive ourselves. A healthy balance of critical listening and devil-may-care performing is a great recipe for meaningful communication.

Houston, do we really have a problem?

by John Goodell

I’ve been in several situations recently in which a concern expressed by an organization member was immediately interpreted as a problem that needed to be solved. Changes were made to ease the concerns, but the knee-jerk reaction to fix problems that didn’t actually exist adversely affected other people, and that, in turn, caused actual problems.

What I learned rather quickly was that taking a little bit of time to examine what is actually happening (i.e. whether there really *is* a problem) is critical to making good decisions. In both cases above, the “right” decision was to do nothing.

Of course, ignoring squeaky wheels is not ideal, either. So how do we find a balance?

Simply acknowledging that our human instinct is to fix things after they have been reported as broken goes a long way. Zingerman’s founder Ari Weinzweig asks ZingTrain attendees to identify three areas of time spent on “work” each week:

Time spent working IN your business (day-to-day routine)
Time spent working ON your business (reviewing and improving processes, designing new training, etc.)
Time spent working on YOURSELF as a leader (reading, attending seminars, reflecting, etc.)

I’m convinced that spending more time on #2 & #3 helps to not only identify problems before they are reported, but it also offers a larger perspective that allows a team to correctly identify something as problematic (or not).

Why do we only question security practices on airlines when something goes terribly wrong? Why do we wait to install traffic lights or stop signs until one or two deaths have been reported at that very intersection? Why do 16-year olds start classes at 7:50 in the morning when all the scientific research tell us it’s wasted time (possibly even harmful to development)?

Recently at a local restaurant here in Chelsea, our waiter came to the table and said that our food was delayed because one of the batches of homemade pasta used to prepare the dish was not up to the standards of the chef. They refused to serve something that was just “good”. Moments later, the entire meal arrived. It was fabulous. His remarks did two things: explain (proactively) that there was a delay and they knew it; identify a problem before it was a problem.

I have never reached out to a customer with an honest explanation and regretted it. In fact, it typically leads to more business and happier customers.

Ugh.

by John Goodell

I used to dread support emails. Inevitably I would feel my heart race as I saw a ticket come in, or got pinged on my phone by a long-time client.

About a year ago, I decided to make a change. I adopted the following guidelines to help me realize that “support emails” are the foundation of what we do:

I am going to communicate with a joy and energy that conveys an overall vision for what my organization believes and does.
I am going to treat every interaction (phone call, email, blog post, tweet, etc.) as an opportunity to convey my passion for what I do, and I understand that every communication crosses over “departments” – sales, service, support, training, advertising, marketing, etc.
I will use tools that empower everyone on my team to communicate effectively, efficiently and in a timely manner.
I will use tools that accurately track what is “actually happening” and I will regularly check in with these analytics to identify strengths and weaknesses.

Over the past 12 months, our average response time is measured in hours, not days.

Over the past 12 months, our own products have dramatically improved, and we are serving a record number of equally passionate clients.

I now *run towards* at any opportunity to interact with any organization interested in doing something better.

Two kinds of teachers

by John Goodell

The teacher who teaches the same material in the same way year after year, regardless of who he is teaching.
The teacher who teaches the same material but finds new ways to teach depending on who is in the room.

How do you find new ways to teach the same material? Set aside dedicated time every week to be a student. Inevitably this also exposes you to *new* material.

Fortunately…

The man with the hat in the back of the room

Houston, do we really have a problem?

Ugh.

Two kinds of teachers

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