Front and Center



Are you talking to me?

As I continue to discover nuances of unproductive thinking in my own mental patterns, as well as outright infractions, I have begun to notice how easily I rationalize and deflect opportunities by comparing myself to others.

I recently had an experience in a church meeting that gave me a forthright wake-up call.  It has had a profound effect on me, and I hope it will be thought-provoking and helpful for you as well.  It is a lesson in humility — a sign of true Ownership and a key to continuous personal improvement.

For whatever reason, whether in the classroom, or in the seminar, or in the congregation, people like to sit in the back.  There are more places to hide in the back.  There’s less accountability in the back.  There’s less uncomfortable eye-to-eye contact in the back.  The congregation in this meeting was no different…the seats in the back were filled and, with many seats up front still open, some people were even leaning against the back wall.

As the meeting commenced, the person conducting made a general request.  It seemed obvious that his main intent was specifically to the people in the back but his phrasing was more general.  “Could we have you please move forward to the front and fill in the center section?”  I was sitting on the speaker’s left about three rows back from the front.  My immediate response was, “This request does not apply to me; it’s for those in the back.”  Done, finished.  Request in; request deflected.

In the group that day there was a young man, Curtis Kinneard.  Curtis has been described by some people as having “special needs.”  He does not see well and has a few other physical challenges, but he is very bright of mind and can carry on an intelligent conversation with any college professor.  I have learned many things from him, none more important that what he taught me that day.

At the moment of the announcement Curtis was sitting on the second row on the right side.  When he heard the invitation, he immediately got up, and moved to the very center seat in the very front row.

I have to admit, his guilelessness brought tears to my eyes.  I was so moved by his willingness to do as he was asked, to get as absolutely “front and center” as he could, I had to swallow hard to maintain my composure.

As I reflected on his response I pondered why I had not accepted and complied with the same request as openly and earnestly as he had.  Why had I almost reflexively chosen to justify myself by saying that I was already in compliance because I was closer to being “front and center” than a lot of other people in the congregation?  Why do I opt for:

I’m already nearly at the front.

Look around, I’m already closer to the center than most of these folks.

I just sat down here and I’m comfortable where I’m at.

He’s not talking to me…he’s asking those other guys in the back.

What’s the big deal?  I’m here, aren’t I?  Does it really matter where I sit??

How often do we justify ourselves, telling ourselves we’re “close enough.”  We fail to see what difference a little more effort will make.  We tell ourselves that we’re already doing our part to be a team player, and that it’s somebody else’s turn to move, or sacrifice, or do the hard work.

I have come back to that singular moment at church over and over again during the last couple of months.  It has become a metaphor for me, a metaphor that has had applications in my personal life, my spiritual life, and in my work life.  In every area, I find that there is always an opportunity to move just a little more “front and center,” to take true Ownership of where I am and evaluate my responsiveness to those around me.  I have asked myself if I’m really playing all-out, if I’m really doing all that I can, or if I’m just doing more than someone else and calling it ”good enough.”

In every organization, we are asked by our team leaders, by our corporate executives, by our boards, to stretch a little more, to innovate, to streamline, to go out of our comfort zones for the good of the whole, to, metaphorically, move up front and center.

In a quiet and significant way, my young friend, Curtis Kinneard, showed me again the very great difference being an Owner makes…not only in my relationships and my organizations, but in the kind of person I am at the very core.

I want to Own the kind of heart Curtis Kinneard does.

I’m interested in your thoughts.

Owner/Victim Thinking at the Tip of the Iceberg



Later this month, I will be teaching the Ownership Spirit seminar at Dixie Applied Technical College in St. George, Utah.  When I saw this upcoming speaking engagement on my calendar, it reminded me of a letter I recently received from a leader there.  I found it humorous and profound, and hope that it will help you navigate your own teams through your own “deep waters.”

The email came from Kelle Stephens, Vice President of Instruction.  She writes:

Yesterday we had faculty “bookclub.”  We reviewed the first section of Ownership Spirit.  One of the faculty, Dave Seely, told a great story.  He remembers being a kid and watching Titanic with his parents….not the Celine Dion music extravaganza one…the old black and white.  His mom had been a choir director his entire life…so when the part came on where the ship was sinking and the choir director assembled the sorry victims and led them in hymns, he remembered her dabbing her eyes and remarking about how perfect it was….to go down singing the hymns.  Then he recalled his father saying: “Bullshit!  They oughta be finding something to float on!”  Perfect illustration of the difference between Victims and Owners! 

My staff is loving the book.  They are pulling spouses, adult kids, and friends into the reading.  I think it is going to make a long term difference in my ability to move this group forward. 

It has been a long time since I have seen the 1953 version of this movie.  But, I found a copy of those final, ending scenes that Dave Seely referenced and rewatched it.

As I did so, I was struck by a few thoughts.  First, that we can find great examples of Owner and Victim thinking all around us.  This is the difference that defines the human experience.  The story of Owner vs. Victim is, in fact, the context from which all other stories are told.  It is universal.  And even in circumstances that seem bleak and unalterable, we still have the power of that most fundamental choice, even if it is only in attitude.

Second, like Dave’s mom, I’ll have to admit I was quite touched by the doomed, singing passengers.  There is something quite appealing about their martyrdom, and they clearly get our sympathy--the stoic captain, the “brave” father, the sober boy.  I was tempted to see them as admirable, facing their imminent doom with such stiff upper lips.  This should be a red flag to each of us.  Do we engage in Victim thinking, just so that we can get the sympathies and concerns of others?  Rather than looking for solutions, do we simply resign ourselves to our “inevitable” fate?  Would we rather be pitied than be found working to solve the problem?  Are we just “making the best of a bad situation” or are we actually making a bad situation better?

The final thing which struck me about Dave’s comment was the phrase, “he remembers being a kid.”  This experience in Dave’s living room happened a long time ago, decades even.  And yet, it was such a powerful, pivotal moment, that he remembers it to this day.  The teaching moment that his father created has stayed and impacted Dave for years.  It was a good reminder to me again, of how powerful our words are to those around us.  When we are in a position of leadership, we better be thinking like an Owner because those who are following us, working with us, learning from us, and being raised by us, really are watching and listening.  

I’m interested in your thoughts.

By the way, the upcoming seminar at DXATC on Wednesday, October 27th is open to the public.  Please call 800-622-6463 or email us here if you are interested in attending.

The Day Victim Thinking Got My Goat



I’ve heard the Ownership Spirit seminar hundreds of times.  (I have a front row seat.)  I preach Owner/Victim every day, I can spot Owner/Victim thinking with my eyes closed, and I’ve coached leaders all over the country about Owner/Victim cultures.  I think I’ve got it down.

But I still have to choose Owner over Victim every single day.

I have a favorite jogging trail that I run.  A few mornings ago, as I was running along this path, I saw some tiny, baby goats and lambs in a fenced yard.  One of the little goats was up on the block wall surrounding the property and there were lots of his little friends gathered around him.  There were even a couple of the goats on my side of the fence looking up at their friend on the wall.  As I jogged past, the little goats started bleating at me, particularly these two on my side of the fence.

You might not know this about me, but it happens that I speak goat.  (To be honest, I didn’t know it myself until that moment.)  As I jogged past, those baby lambs and kids turned and looked right at me, and starting pleading with their eyes and their frantic little sounds.  “Help our little friend!”  they said.  “He’s stuck on that wall.  He can’t get down.  Please help our little friend!”

I could hear their cries for help.  I knew exactly what they wanted.  I speak goat, after all.

But I immediately started rationalizing:

This is crazy.  Get ahold of yourself, Dennis.

That’s a goat.  It has hooves and teeth and it might bite.  Who knows what could happen?

That wall is high, I’m not even sure I could reach it if I tried.

What if the owners see me and think I’m stealing their baby goat?

What if someone else jogs by and thinks I’ve totally lost my mind?

Someone else will get him down.  Someone who likes goats, or knows about goats, or isn’t possibly allergic to goats, or has a degree in animal husbandry with an emphasis in goat rescue.

One of the little goats by the fence started running back and forth, desperately expressing his anxiety.  He looked at me, and then looked up at his friend, looked back at me, and then bleated his cry for help.  “Help our little friend!”

It was so clear what he wanted and what he was asking me, you didn’t even have to speak goat to get it.  I almost started towards him.  But then I remembered:

He’s not even my goat.

This is not my problem.  Or my area of expertise.

He has teeth and hooves.  Teeth and hooves can hurt.  And when exactly did I have my last tetanus shot?

I’m just out for a jog, minding my own business, surely someone else will help.  Plus, I’m on course to run a sub-ten-minute-mile here.

And so I kept going.  Finished my jog, got my heart-rate up, did my daily cardio, got my endorphins pumping, crossed something off my list.

But I could not shake the image of that little baby goat in trouble.  In fact, every time I jog past that spot I wonder how he got down, how long he was up there, who finally came to his rescue.  It’s a sore spot, and I joked with my wife, Susan, that I’ve seriously got to consider finding a new jogging path just to ease my regret.

I missed an opportunity.  I was too busy thinking like a Victim to help.  (Did I mention the hooves and the teeth?)  I was too busy with my own agenda to help.  (A ten-minute mile, people!)  Over the last few months a subtle distinction in Owner/Victim thinking has become very apparent to me.  When I am in Victim-mode I am thinking about myself, the situation is all about me, my needs and my view, and whether or not my tetanus booster is up-to-date.  When I am thinking and acting like an Owner I can see the greater good, I am willing to be inconvenienced, I go to the trouble for others, and I am even happy to go out of my way to help someone else.

And whether we’re face-to-face with a stranded baby goat, a floundering project manager, or an entire corporate culture that has lost its edge, we have the opportunity every single day, every moment of every single day, to choose Owner over Victim, to choose the greater good over personal concerns–the choice that makes all the difference.

I’m interested in your thoughts.