Adapting to Change? Nothing to fear but fear itself

Todd Hirsch

20-April-2023

(this is an adapted excerpt from the book “Spiders in COVID Space” by T.Hirsch and R.Roach, 2021)

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It seems all around us, industries are being forced to change. New ways of doing business, new ways of interacting, new ways of organizing our economy. It’s become a sad cliché to say “Change is the new normal.”

Layered on top of this are some daunting new developments in 2023. Everyone is grappling with chatGPT and how it may (or may not) upend our jobs. Geopolitics hangs over the global economy and could force some wild changes in trade and procurement. More severe climate events are forcing us to adapt in ways we would never have imagined.

Like a lot of challenges in life, the prospect of adapting to unwanted change often turns out to be easier than we thought. Not easy, but easier. Fear of the unknown and the inclination to resist change, tend to ignite negative thinking. What if I can’t adapt? What if I fail? These fears can paralyze us and make adapting harder than it needs to be.

Fortunately, humans are extremely good at adapting. We may not like having to do it, but when put in a situation in which we must adapt, we often do quite well.

In this three part series, we will explore stories of how the fear of change almost ruined a vacation, destroyed an industry and shut down a national economy. But because of our natural ability to adapt, things still worked out well in the end.

PART I: What’s so scary about Australia?

In the fall of 2019, just months before the COVID-19 pandemic shut down global travel, my partner and I had the wonderful opportunity to visit Australia. It was our second trip to the Land Down Under, having been to Sydney and Melbourne in 2007. But this time was different: it was a two-week road trip covering some 2,500 kilometres along the northern coast through the state of Queensland along the Great Barrier Reef.

Australia is a beautiful place—but it’s also known for its dangerous wildlife. There are sharks that will eat you, spiders that will poison you, snakes that will bite you, jellyfish that will sting you and crocodiles that will drag you to an unspeakable fate. And they’re not joking. Everywhere you go, there are warning signs to watch out for the wildlife.

I wasn’t, however, too worried about the dangerous wildlife in Australia. But I was absolutely terrified of something else: driving on the left side of the road.

I’ve been to several other countries where they drive on the left (with a steering wheel on the right), but I was always a passenger on those trips. I had never driven a vehicle in those countries before. It was entirely new. And I was convinced I couldn’t do it. I tried in advance to visualize driving on the left. I even watched some YouTube videos, believing that would help orient me to Australia’s roads.

But I just couldn’t imagine doing it. I thought it was going to be like writing with my left hand; as a right-handed person, my left- handed penmanship is a mess. I feared my driving was going to be the same.

I suppose I did have a few options.

I could have petitioned the government of the state of Queensland to reverse the flow of traffic to allow me to drive on the right. Everyone would be safer and it would only be for two weeks! Obviously that option wasn’t realistic.

Another option would have been to simply drive on the right side of the road and dodge the oncoming traffic. That, too, wasn’t a practical option.

My third option proved to be the most unrealistic of all. I was kinda sorta hoping my partner would take care of the driving, leaving me to enjoy the view from the passenger side. After all, he’s a great driver and he enjoys it! So why not let him do it all?

When we picked up our rented vehicle in Brisbane, he was the first to take the wheel. He drove for about four hours, but eventually needed a break. He pulled over and suggested I take the wheel. I looked at him. He looked back. And then he said, “If you think I’m doing all of the driving on this trip, you’d better rethink that!”

Ultimately, I had no choice but to get behind the wheel and start driving. And when I did, I discovered something amazing: it was not nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. After an hour or so, driving on the left side of the road felt surprisingly natural. (Tip: when I started driving, it was on a quiet highway. I’d recommend doing the same before you get into a busy city.)

Don’t get me wrong, driving on the left side of the road is not the same as driving on the right. It required 100 per cent of my concentration, 100 per cent of the time. Distractions were not allowed. No fiddling with the radio, no drinking coffee, no gazing out the window to enjoy the surroundings as I might have done at home in Canada. In fact, we joked we were probably safer drivers in Australia than at home because it demanded greater focus and concentration.

Fortunately, my fear of driving on the left side of the road did not prevent me from going on the trip because it was an incredible experience.

The key to adapting—in this case and in every other—is letting go of the old environment and embracing the new. I didn’t spend my time in Australia trying desperately to get back onto the right side of the road. I yielded to the fact that the environment is different. Once you can let go of the past, moving forward and adapting to the future isn’t as difficult as we think.

TOMORROW: Part II