Buoy

He expected a battle, that’s clear.  While he’s not even in my presentation, he lets me know that he’s had a conversation with my audience.  The group is not where we need them to be.  He’s frustrated; I can hear it in his voice. He’s attempting to will them to our place, and in his haste is closing the coffin on their opinions, burying the very perspective and collaboration essential to our success.  Doesn’t he know that you need to meet people where they are and lead them to where you want them to go?

So when he calls me today to make sure the group wasn’t too harsh, I’m more than happy to tell him they were exactly what I expected.  I expected a battle and I was prepared, but not to fight.  I was prepared to listen to understand exactly how far behind us they are on this journey, to adjust my presentation on the fly so I can explain what’s happened since we leap-frogged ahead of them, to acknowledge and validate concerns that they’ve been left behind, to invite them to walk with us as we move forward.  I take questions for over two hours. We discuss the hard stuff. But there isn’t anything hard about the conversation.

This meeting is a test for me.  I’ve been echoing my colleague’s frustration for quite some time.  And it causes me to think more than once about quitting.  Maybe I’m not confident enough in my approach?  Maybe I’m not influential enough to make real change happen?  Maybe I’m not brave enough to speak my mind?  But then I read a perspective so galvanizing I can’t help but test myself.

Will Marre, in "Three Reasons Why We Need Women Leaders Now" is the first writer I’ve come across to take the data that compares leadership competencies in women and men and use it, not to debate whether it’s actually valid, but to support his wholehearted belief that women are built to lead right now.  Not tomorrow.  Today.  Right now, in this world that is still owned by men, he believes we are perfectly suited, exactly as we are, to lead in this tumultuous time.  And he makes me believe it, too.  In a way no other has before. I don’t need to change a thing.  I can just be me.

So I show up to my meeting as me, to see if he is right.  I leave my corporate-speak at the door.  I forget about what might happen if I say the wrong thing, make someone angry.  I own our mistakes.  I admit I can’t even begin to say I know how things get done in the places they call home. I tell them how much I believe in this product. I tell them how much I need their leadership.  I tell them that by partnering to bring this product to market we can be the business change the organization needs to embrace to make it successful.

While I’m a little shell-shocked, digesting all that’s been said, there’s a part of me that wants to jump for joy as I leave the room. Have I won them over completely?  I doubt it.  But it’s a fiery first step.  And I’ve passed my test.

When someone says to me, as Marre does:  “You are perfectly designed to lead in this disruptive age. Be committed to the difference you can make,” how can I not be?