The summer Blog break is officially over. Sorry about the delay – I was in the process of living part of this article and leveraging my own advice. Since life and collaborating with people is not scientific, but more of a series of trial and error interactions, I made a lot of mistakes this summer. Looking back at this journey, I think that I have learned a thing or two. Time to share.
I do like baseball analogies and I was a modestly talented player who had a lot of fun on a softball team named the Mudsox. One of our earliest teams had a lot of outfielders, so our coach was twisting the arms of some of us to play infield. He pointed to shortstop for me, and I jogged out. In the outfield, I had some time to see and react to a hard hit, get into position and make a play. By contrast, the first hard ball hit to shortstop, I was cringing, turning my head and generally trying to get my body out of the way. All the wrong stuff. Miraculously, my mitt did end up right where the ball was heading, and, with a shocked look on my face, tossed the ball over to first. The coach did a classic face-palm.
My buddy in center field, who wanted nothing to do with the infield or shortstop specifically, decided to make a big fuss about it.
“Chuck looks like Ozzie Smith!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “He’s perfect for shortstop. He’s Mr. Awesome!”
My first thought was that our centerfielder should make sure to use our excellent company vision plan and get an immediate check-up. Still, the team generally knew that I was going to make some errors and some nice plays and improve. If I picked up any type of batted ball in a game, the outfields would call out “Miiiiiiiiiiiister Awesome!” This was said loudly with dragging the Mr. part out as long as you could, and then say Awesome as fast as you can. Until I became a serviceable shortstop, my teammates wanted to let me know I was doing ok.
If you have been privileged to be part of a close-knit IT engineering team, you can identify with the old Mudsox. A new tech might be tossed at the team, and folks need to pick it up like a hot ground ball. The person who volunteers learns, makes some mistakes and takes some lumps. The rest of the team may need to do more in their roles to cover. This is a super way for the team to behave. The person who takes on the new tech gets to be Mr./Ms. Awesome because they are taking on the toughest part of change. The rest of us support this Awesome person to be a success, because if not, the whole team is cast into doubt about a new tech.
Eventually, the person using the new tech does get better, and even attains true technical Awesomeness. The person is recognized as a true expert and gains that engineering street credit.
So, how does this relate to my more recent mistakes? Here’s another softball analogy. I decided to play on a second softball team, and this one had never seen me at any position. I was placed in right field and a nice fly ball came my way. I misjudged this ball as it curved in the opposite direction off the right-handed bat. It bounced off my mitt for a big error. This was certainly not a Mr. Awesome moment. I apologized to the guys between innings, and offered an explanation. I had not been in right field since early in the Reagan administration. I did get better, but I got off on the wrong foot.
My IT mistake was similar. When switching jobs within engineering teams, I began to work on a new team with unfamiliar technologies. In my prior role, I had become one of the top gurus and leaders with a critical technology. The problem was that I liked being Mr. Awesome from the prior tech and, in my mind, the new team should be giving me some kudos for work I had done in the past. In reality, I was more like that dysfunctional right fielder and not that short stop.
Here is what I have learned in the process of improving my reputation with the new team.
Step 1: The team has to know that I want to be part of team success. I should be doing the little things and assignments to the best of my ability. I want the new group to depend on me, and to deliver, even if this takes extra effort.
Step 2: The people on the team need to know that I have their back and want to share my knowledge. In my long career of technical experience, I know some valuable tricks of the trade. I need to be ready to share that knowledge to make other people better.
Step 3: Wait. No kidding, this is a critical step. If I am doing the first two steps over time, I will gain a critical spot on the team through trust. No engineer has even shown up to a new team, said “I am good at this and that” without triggering some skepticism. It is far better to have one of the current team see you grab the ground balls over and over. They will start thinking of you more awesomely.
Step 4: Don’t petition for your own accolades. I know that I have reach Mr. Awesomeness when the team will bring me in to solve a critical issue, and want my participation because I will make a key difference.
Finally, I suggest that you enjoy the ride to reach that personal and technical trust on the new team. How cool is it to learn, grow and have others say wow.