No excuses

I send a monthly email with data happenings that includes a personal story. (btw, if you don’t get these monthly emails, scroll to the bottom of our publisher site at https://technicspub.com/ to sign up. I have been sending out these monthly updates for close to 20 years – pretty cool!) This month’s email focused on my daughter’s sailing regatta. I will expand on that story here, as there is a relevant part for our data practices.

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Although Arizona is landlocked, Arizona State University has a sailing team and my daughter is captain this year. My daughter’s passion for sailing led the club to participate in many boat races (“regattas”) along the California coast. It’s a long drive from Phoenix to the West Coast, and therefore, when our daughter announced that her team would be entering the San Luis Obispo (abbreviated as SLO and pronounced “slow”) regatta, I volunteered to be the driver. I have always wanted to see one of her regattas, and we have a large van nicknamed “The Beast” that can comfortably fit the group going to this race. My daughter mulled over my offer, and when I agreed to throw in free gas (gas is not cheap in CA) and not talk about data modeling or listen or participate in any conversations I should not listen or participate in, she agreed. I was excited and started packing shorts, T-shirts, and sandals, anticipating a sunny California weekend getaway. I pictured myself stretched out on a lounge chair on a warm beach, watching the sailboats in the distance.

Halfway to SLO we hit a blizzard adding five hours to the drive. I never knew Southern California gets snow! My shorts and sandals offered no protection from the freezing temperatures that first morning of the regatta. Trying to be the cool dad, I convinced the regatta’s Safety Team while shivering and through chattering teeth of my boating expertise, and they assigned me to a patrol boat. This way I can take pictures of my daughter and her team. Within five minutes after leaving the shore, I heard the captain of my boat say, “Here it comes.” Before I could ask what is coming, hail pelted us from every direction. Our boat was quickly filling up with large pieces of ice, and I could barely hear the captain over the howling wind and the sound of ice smashing into fiberglass say, “Take pictures, this is rare!” I couldn’t feel my hands and so couldn’t take pictures. During the next few hours on the boat, the weather varied from hail to rain to hail, and when I finally got off the boat, it felt like I had swam in the icy bay.

The weather during the rest of the weekend wasn’t much better, yet the kids from Arizona State and about 15 other schools had a complete blast. When we settled into the Beast Sunday afternoon, my daughter and her teammates all agreed they loved the weekend’s races, despite the weather. Before each sailor entered their own worlds for the long drive back, choosing to sleep, do homework, or listen to music, my daughter spoke. “Ok, let’s each share one highlight and one area we want to improve.”

I heard a girl all the way in the back say, “I need to improve on everything,” followed by a nervous laugh. The boy sitting right behind my daughter, though, said, “Can I go first?” And he started detailing each of the races, what he felt he did well and where he needed to improve. He spent several minutes critiquing himself. There was no bragging or self-loathing. Instead, he unemotionally assessed his performance. Next, they went around the car sharing, including my daughter, with a similar level of detached self-assessment.

I started thinking about some of my own projects I’ve worked on over the years, and how willing my colleagues and I would be to share as openly, especially what we felt we could do better next time. Most of the time we blame outside factors:

• The project manager does not understand the value we bring.
• Agile, ugh!
• She/he missed another status meeting.
• The whole team is short-sighted.
• No requirements, again!
• If only there was a larger budget.
• If only they gave us more time.

And I could probably fill up several pages of comments like the above, and I’m sure you can too.

The sailors could have made excuses too:

• The hail made it impossible to see.
• Phoenix does not have an ocean to practice.
• My skipper/captain did not know what he/she was doing.

But I did not hear one excuse, just openness in the car with what to work on next.

Maybe it is a generation thing (after all, kids today love to share). Maybe it is the way my daughter phrased the request (“highlight” and “one area to improve” is less judgmental than “good” and “bad”). Maybe it is the low risk (repercussions may be greater in a work setting than in a sailing club). Whatever the reason, you can sense everyone’s strong sense of self and desire to improve.

Have you had similar experiences? Please share!