Cameron, Chipmunks, and the Geode
As far as titles go, this must be one of the stranger ones I have ever seen, much less written myself. But if it piqued your curiosity a bit, then it worked! Now, I've read numerous times that LinkedIn is not the place to post pictures of your kids or tell stories about them. But a couple of weeks ago, my seven-year-old taught me a very valuable lesson that applies to business leadership just as much as it applies to parenting, and I just had to share this learning experience with you.
Earlier this month, my family and I went to Colorado for our end of Summer family trip. It really was a great vacation, filled with adventures and packed with memorable experiences. But it was a very simple and inexpensive excursion that turned out to be one of the most unforgettable for all of us.
About two hours West of Colorado Springs is a little ghost town called St. Elmo, CO. It's nestled far back in the canyons, and there is only one road that leads in and out. During our brief time there, we learned that there are still two residents of St. Elmo, and there are four other employees who come to work in the town on any given day. But nobody drives to St. Elmo to see them. No, they go to see the chipmunks!
Just as you enter St. Elmo, there is an old woodpile on the side of the road that is home to a few dozen chipmunks. And you can go to the general store in St. Elmo, buy a bag of what seem to be the best sunflower seeds in the entire world, and proceed to feed those foolishly cute chipmunks directly from your hands, or your leg, or your lap, or your head.... As you can imagine, this experience was pure Heaven for my three daughters (Okay, okay... for me too), and I am sure it is one they will never forget. But that's not what I remember most.
As we got ready to leave St. Elmo that day, we popped into the general store to get a few snacks and get a souvenir for each of the girls. As expected, my two older daughters headed straight for the stuffed animals and picked out a couple of extremely cute chipmunks to add to their overflowing collection at home. But not my seven-year-old. Cameron wanted a geode. But she didn't want a geode with all the crystals exposed and shining and beautiful. She wanted one of the geodes that hadn't been cracked open yet. In other words, she wanted a rock. Cameron was so excited about the prospect of smashing that rock open so that she could expose the crystals inside on her own. I made sure that was what she wanted, even pointing out the disclaimer that said not all rocks would contain crystals. But she was set. She was going to take that rock home, and she was going to make her own geode.
Fast forward a few days. We were back home and ready to crack open the geode (rock). So much excitement had built up to this point, and to be honest, I was worried about how it would turn out. As Cameron and I were taking turns hitting the rock with a hammer, I kept thinking, "What if we can't even get it open? What if we do get it open, and it completely shatters? What if the crystals are boring and colorless? What if there are no crystals at all?" My mind was racing when finally, after a few dozen whacks, Cameron swung one last time. With a spark, the geode cracked open to reveal... a miniscule pocket of dull, grey crystals.
I immediately looked at Cameron, expecting to see a face of disappointment and regret. But instead, I saw a look of pure joy, wonder, and pride. I hesitantly asked her if she liked her geode. "I don't like it, Daddy. I love it!" And it quickly made perfect sense. Cameron didn't need that geode to be the brightest, most beautiful thing in the world. That didn't matter. What mattered was that she chose that geode back in St. Elmo. She chose to take the risk that it would not result in what she hoped. She waited until the time was right to do the work to get it open. And, most importantly, she did the work. From start to finish, she owned the process, right up to the reveal of her own personal geode.
I learned an important lesson from my child that day, and it made me think of how many times I had encountered a similar situation in my career. As managers, we want things to go right. We want things to stay smooth. And we will take choices and freedom and ownership away from our employees. We will fail to trust them in an effort to have things go the way we planned. And we will keep them from growing by doing so.
But as leaders, we must empower our people and trust them to make the right choices and own both their methods and results whenever possible. If we teach and develop and mentor them with every bit of effort we have, then we should be able to trust them to make the right decisions on their own. And by doing so, we will encourage them to take pride in their work, we will make them confident to take ownership of their results, and we will give them the freedom to grow higher and stronger than they ever imagined they could.