Not quite a year ago I wrote about younger days when I could strap on a harness and scramble up a rock face (Give Me All the Beta—Knowledge is Power). I don’t think they make a climbing harness big enough to go around what needs to be gone around these days, so suffice it to say I haven’t been rock climbing much the last few years.
Nevertheless, at the risk of repeating myself here, there are two types of climbers: those who want all the "beta" (information) about any particular climb, and those who wanted to face the challenge cold.
I think it’s reasonable to allow those climbers who want to discover the challenges of a new climb themselves the opportunity. They’re tied into a rope and placing protection as they go up, the risks are minimal and the satisfaction of figuring out a new climb for yourself can be very rewarding.
I just didn’t happen to be that type of climber—or guy for that matter.
Over the course of my career I’ve had the privilege of being taught and mentored by some pretty incredible people. For some reason I can’t explain, they took an interest in my career and spent time coaching me to help me achieve my greatest potential. They gave me the "beta" I needed to achieve success.
Of course I didn’t have to accept their generosity. I could have rejected their efforts to help my career and made a number of mistakes that I was fortunate enough to avoid by listening to them (although I still make dumb mistakes despite all their best efforts).
I’m pretty willing to jump feet first into fresh challenges. And I don’t think I’m alone. With that being said, I have noticed over the years that a number of professional colleagues choose not to accept any help from anyone—particularly from a co-worker. I don’t know if they perceive it as weakness or a commentary concerning their ability to do the job, but I think it’s a mistake. I can’t think of a single instance in my career where a potential "mentor" was telling me that I couldn’t do the job. In fact, I think they were exhibiting so much confidence in my ability that they wanted to make sure I succeeded by offering their help.
What’s more, I don’t think the "mentoring" I received diminished my sense of accomplishment—I think it made it all the more sweet because I could share it with a good friend. Were there times when the council I received was difficult or even painful to hear, yes. Nobody likes to be critiqued—especially me. However, I was motivated to improve my skills and become the very best I could be. With that in mind, there were times when I needed to bite my tongue and follow good advice.
As project leaders or senior members of the project team, we have the opportunity to provide "beta" to the less experienced members of the team. Often, how we approach doing that will make the difference between whether or not we are successful—in fact, in some cases knowledge might not equate to power as much as it might become a stumbling block. On the other side of the coin, as the "mentee", are we willing to accept the advice offered by those with more experience than us. I have to admit that there are often times when I’m listening to team members who have advice about how I could improve aspects of my role as project leader. And yes, it is sometimes hard to take—but often it’s good advice.
How do you share and receive "beta"?
Over the years I’ve come to appreciate that assigning value to something is pretty difficult. Everyone values things differently, which makes defining "maximum value" very problematic for most organizations—which is why coming up with a definition is so important.
Project leaders talk a lot about learning from mistakes. In fact, it’s an important part of the project management process. However, is it possible that some people have a harder time learning from their mistakes than others?
Whether we are talking about the California Gold Rush, the trek to Oregon or the Mormon Pioneers, the Western migration to colonize the Rocky Mountains and the Pacific Coast was a huge undertaking. Last week, several of my friends (with a number of young people) retraced a section of the Mormon Pioneer Trail through southwestern Wyoming. Along the trail, was a marker, an arrow pointing to the right direction (attributed to Brigham Young), to help keep the pioneers on the right path.
I’ve spent the last couple of days in Japan preparing for a presentation at PMIJ this weekend. A little over thirty years ago I lived here, but a lot has changed (not to mention my ability, or rather lack of ability, to speak and read the language). As I’ve been bouncing around from place to place via the incredibly convenient mass transit system, I’ve had to trust the directions I’ve received as I’ve expressed where I want to go and have been given instructions on how to get there.
Baseball great Yogi Berra once said, "You’ve got to be careful if you don’t know where you’re going ’cause you might not get there."
If you were interested in the Olympics in 1976, you were more than likely watching Nadia Comaneci score a perfect 10.0 in her gymnastics routine. It had never been done before and the scoreboard wasn’t even able to register it. Nobody ever expected that anyone would ever be able to score a perfect 10.0. It was unheard of.
Over the last week or so, I’ve been writing a lot about team member engagement, happiness in the workplace and the changing dynamics of working with the Millennial Generation. Most of the comments I’m hearing seem to validate that times are changing and the way we interact with and lead people needs to change.
Not long ago (I think we were in the middle of March Madness and the NCAA Basketball Championships) some colleagues and I were talking about the NBA draft, free agents and jokingly discussed how those types of negotiations might take place in an office environment. Apparently, we weren’t alone. A coupe of days ago, I stumbled on an article written by Tom Wessling for destinationCRM.com titled, 
