At work, the extent to which our collaboration skills are effective is measured in KPIs. Hiking 55 miles through Yosemite National Park with my husband and three teenagers, the extent to which we “successfully collaborated” – agreed on safety rules, routes, and plans – was literally survival.
I didn’t plan for my work of clout – building influence and partnering skills among business leaders – to be on my mind this trip. But given the very raw experience of some scary moments – wondering if my kids were on the right trail up ahead, or on another trail they thought was the right one and lost in Yosemite (did I mention there was no cell service? So, being lost is literally…LOST) – I couldn’t help but reflect on how important it is to deliberately, consistently align on how we walk a journey, on foot through Yosemite or on a project with a business partner.
For context, we’re a very adventurous family. We’ve rappelled 200’ cliffs in Utah and scuba’d shipwrecks in the Caribbean. We love this stuff. So a 5-day Yosemite backpacking trip was another adventure among many. And it’s worth noting that my three teenagers are experienced backpackers (maybe more than I’ve given them credit for), and my husband is practically pro-level outdoorsman.
What was different this trip can be summed up with two words – risk and resistance. The level of risk was not in the physical challenge, but in the lack of margin for error. With no cell service, we were completely on our own. My husband was prepared for any emergency – first aid training and satellite phone – but each of the rest of us was ultimately dependent on him. If we became separated, we were individually vulnerable to risk. Combined with resistance – the natural desire for teenagers to be independent and chafe at the expectation that they would stay with their parents – created some moments when we had to “realign”.
One of those moments came on Day 2, after several hours on the trail without seeing another human. Nor, seeing my kids for 45 minutes. I freaked out. I was blowing the old-fashioned whistle that my husband had packed for me (and each of us), and didn’t hear any response. They hiked much faster than me and my husband, and had been having so much fun together that they didn’t notice how far ahead they had gotten. But, as I said many times throughout the rest of the trip, “No one ever thinks they’re on the wrong trail.”
Once I finally caught up – they had stopped, and I had picked up my pace – we realigned. Not sure that’s how they’d describe the conversation… But here’s in essence what I think I communicated:
Intentions: I’m not an outdoors expert – Dad is. But I’m your mom whose primary goal is to offer support and keep you safe. And this conversation is about regrouping on what that means, before we go any further on this trail.
Possibilities: We have a really cool campsite by the river where we’ll fish and swim later. Along the way, you guys get to laugh together free of Mom and Dad, and get to the campsite as soon as possible with minimal stops. We get to enjoy time hiking together, knowing you’re safe up ahead. But we have to agree on how that happens, because we don’t want anything to happen to prevent that.
Commitments: We don’t go any more than 20 minutes without seeing each other. We stop at any directional sign where the trail splits. (Mom, can we make it 30 minutes? You guys are so slow.) Ok, as long as you listen for a whistle, and blow yours twice to let us know you’re ok.
Risks: If you guys renege, you have to walk with us.
For anyone with kids, especially teenagers flexing their independence, this kind of conversation probably sounds pretty familiar. But here’s why I found it worth sharing, and learning from:
It’s easy to minimize risk. We don’t generally care about business partners like we do our family. And their physical survival isn’t generally in our hands. But when we know that our role is to provide something of benefit or value to them – even if it’s the degree to which we care about their success and the honest feedback that comes from caring that much – we become an essential part of their work lives. Where might you be minimizing your business partners’ risks, or not getting involved in decisions you don’t agree with? Maybe they won’t “get lost on the trail”, but what might they not be seeing, that you see?
Commitments can be negotiable – we just have to have to have the conversation. The mama bear in me would much rather have had them in my sights the whole trip. But they’re teenagers. I wouldn’t have gotten a commitment to stay within 30 minutes, if I hadn’t asked for 20 minutes. I would have gotten, “Mom, we’re fiiiine.” What isn’t working for you, that you can ask to be different (even if you get an agreement that’s imperfect)?
Intentions get lost in resentment. I’m at least as annoying to my kids as any parent is to their teen(s). And as many of us know from personal experience, when we remind the people we’re trying to help that that is indeed what we’re doing when we’re reconfirming and renegotiating the details, it level-sets the conversation to one of collaboration, rather than competition, antagonism, or power plays. What might your business partners have forgotten about, regarding the work you’re doing and why you’re doing it the way you’re doing it?
We did fish (unsuccessfully), and swim in the Tuolomne, and eat freeze-dried food watching the pink clouds turn dark. I built more trust in them, and they were slightly less annoyed by me. But only because we sat on the pine needles and realigned mid-hike.
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