A few years after starting my own business I took a part-time job at a golf course. I needed to get away from my computer and my home office because I had found myself mired in some old patterns. I was running my own business but behaving much like I did as a field office executive – sitting at a desk and staring at a computer.
At the course I didn’t see a screen or talk on the phone, and during those shifts I was able to process and think about the things I wanted to do in my business. I was able to observe and listen to the customers, a handful of whom were leaders themselves, and create messaging and ideas I thought might resonate.
Plus, I was physically active.
In the life of an outside services attendant (where I started), there is always something to do. If the carts are clean, the scorecards folded and stacked, and the driving range balls in ample supply, you can always find some cigar butts or dirt to pick up. The patio could always be swept again and empty beer cans put in the recycling container. For someone who needed to be busy, you could always find something to do.
But there were plenty of moments when I had gotten done what I needed to do (and then some) and had to wait for more golfers to come in. It was in those times that I felt like I was cheating the system. I shouldn’t be sitting down or having a conversation with a co-worker or customer – I should be doing something productive.
During one of those particular times I noticed some weeds growing in between the seams of concrete and blacktop. I hadn’t really noticed them before, but now that I did, I HAD to do something about them. So I pulled a few. Then a few more. Then I realized they ran from one end of the cart lot to the other and in front of the outdoor patio. Before I knew it I had two extra large trash bags full of weeds and dirt.
I doubt anyone noticed. I’m not even sure why I did it. But it made me feel like I was doing something worthwhile.
I was used to my brain going at light speed all the time and my actions following suit. Whether as a Marine or FBI Agent there was always something going on, and heaven help you if you were seen sitting idle. Too much work to do. Too little time. And most of it was already due yesterday.
If you weren’t “busy”, something was wrong with you.
Once the summer heat took over and the daily number of golfers dropped exponentially, I transferred to the maintenance team. On that team I would be cutting a lot of grass and shoveling mulch.
In retrospect, that transfer was one of the greatest gifts of working at the course.
Because it forced me to slow down.
On my first day in the new job, the team leader took me out to teach me how to cut the greens. These are cut very low and the goal is to have minimal imperfections so that the ball rolls cleanly. A lot of time goes into seeding, watering, and manicuring these 18 spots on a course and a rogue mower operator can mess it all up in a heartbeat.
I was determined to impress the team leader. I really liked this job and as a 50-something year old employee I was far and away one of the oldest guys on the crew. I didn’t want anyone thinking I couldn’t hack it or that I was there for any other reason except that I had what it took to be on their team.
I got a feel for the mower. How to sit, how the pedals worked, how to control the blades, how to turn without damaging the surface. He gave me the chance to test out what I had learned on one of the unoccupied greens and I instantly went back to my old way of working. I went too fast, determined to get it done like I had years of experience with this specialized mower. He kept telling me to slow down and while I listened dutifully, I kept pushing it subconsciously.
The entire time I was worried I was moving too slow. My internal clock was ticking loudly.
When I finished, I exited the green and went over to where the team leader sat in another vehicle. He got out and had me walk with him to inspect my work.
I figured I had crushed it but he did not look impressed.
He showed me where my lines weren’t straight. Where I didn’t overlap the previous track and left narrow lines of uncut grass in various (ok, many) spots on the green. Then he pointed to a hideous piece of the green where it edged up against the fringe. About two feet of fringe (which was cut at a higher level) was scalped. It looked horrific and as a golfer I would have noticed it right away.
Who did that, I wondered? This guy. I was so focused on moving quickly that I didn’t get the blades picked up in time.
Speed was important, but it was far from the highest priority. Yes, the boss expected you to get faster each time as you gained experience, but he was much more concerned with everything looking good.
I eventually passed the training and was able to go out on my own without someone looking over my shoulder. But I learned an important lesson that day that began a months-long process of slowing me down. And it was in that space that I began to process and fix years of mental and emotional self-neglect.
I was now on a quest, unbeknownst to me, to retrain a nervous system that only knew urgency.
To learn how to be more comfortable with stillness. Not equating rest with weakness and certainly not tying my self-worth to productivity.
It’s been a few years now and I’m still not there. Some days are worse than others. But at least now I recognize it and have the awareness to pick up on the cues.
Here’s the lesson:
Stillness is not laziness.
Reading, journaling, thinking, reflecting, working on your own development – none of that is wasted time. It might be some of the most consequential work you do as a leader.
The more I’ve dug the more I’ve learned that slowing down or sitting still and recalibrating is a an extremely important leadership discipline.
There has got to be some time in your schedule to get off the hamster wheel. Being a leader is hard work and your long-term effectiveness is heavily impacted by your ability to turn off the noise and sit still before racing back into the fray.
A few questions to consider:
Are you running your team or organization or family (or yourself) like I ran that mower?
Are you operating outside the boundaries of good speed discipline and self-control in order to meet some ridiculous metric?
Are you trying to fill every empty space so you don’t feel exposed?
If so, you are not alone. And you don’t have to figure that out by yourself.
If this reflection was helpful, feel free to forward it to another leader who might benefit.
If something in this reflection stirred questions or feels close to where you are right now, you're welcome to book a Leadership Strategy Call - a calm, pressure-free conversation designed to help you gain clarity and a next step.
Dan
Advisor to Leaders
A steady presence when the weight of leadership gets heavy