A LESSON IN CRISIS MANAGEMENT

If you’ve ever planned meticulously for an event, only to see a last-minute crisis threaten to turn your entire world … and the event … upside down … this article is for you.

Let me set the scene: I’ve recently separated from my wife of 16 years. It’s as amicable as can be, but it has seen my life change, as The Beatles sang in the song Help, “in, oh, so many ways”.

Primarily, we had to sell our lovely home. The sanctuary where we and our three children had set up our lives. Splitting one large Eastern Suburbs of Sydney home into two large Eastern Suburbs of Sydney homes brings some financial challenges.

Primarily, it has meant that, for the first time in my life (and a time when I thought this was far from a possibility) I find myself renting a home.

The second big challenge is that I now will only be seeing my children (13, 11 and 10-years old) … my Chickens … as I call them … half the time. And that is just sad.

But I talk to corporate groups about Positivity in my Positive Influence Keynote, so I feel I have an obligation, as well as some tools, to help me get by as positively as possible.

I just didn't realise all the ways I would be needing them.

Last week I took out a lease on a nice home that, although half the size of the one we were fortunate to have lived in for seven years, had enough space to provide what I hope will be a happy start to my children’s, and my, future.

It has its quirks. For example, the fridge I inherited in the split is too wide for the cavity in the kitchen, so it lives in the garage, meaning I have to plan my cold goods needs meticulously to minimise my inconvenient trips through the rear courtyard to access them.

After spending several days packing up the old place and setting up the new, I was ready to welcome my Chickens for their first night staying at Daddy’s place.

The plan was impeccable, highlighted by me preparing their favourite meal, honey soy chicken with rice, peas and corn. They call it ‘Daddy Chicken’ which, importantly, they’ve decided to pronounce “Da-deh Shi-koh”, to make it sound way more fancy than it is.

So, the food is cooking, my ex brings the kids over and they go to their rooms to begin unpacking their clothes.

They are excited, and so am I.

To prove myself as a capable homemaker, I also FINALLY put a load of washing on, as I’ve amassed a growing pile of worn clothes during the past week, which I had been ignoring as the washing machine hadn’t yet been connected.

I am far from a handy sort of person, so I feel proud as I successfully attach the hot and cold hoses at the rear of the machine to the taps, make sure they aren’t leaking, then pop my clothes in and turn the machine on.

I have dinner in the oven. Clothes in the machine. I’m a regular Mrs Doubtfire … without the dress and makeup.

A short while later, I hear the unmistakable sound of water from upstairs. Not a dripping sound. But a real, healthy swooshing.

I rush upstairs and find water pouring out from underneath the washing machine (which is situated in a laundry cupboard at the top of the stairs).

And, when I say pouring, I’m not being dramatic. It was gushing, in the way you’re happy if it’s praise, but certainly not when it’s water all over the upstairs floor of your new rental property.

And, when I say the ‘upstairs floor’, you have to remember that water doesn’t respect doorways. The water was flowing into the upstairs family room … and down the stairs themselves, creating the sort of waterfall that you’d be happy to discover when bushwalking through the Blue Mountains.

But that was just the start.

I turn the machine off, begin the important process of swearing in my mind and rush back downstairs to get every available towel from the newly-stacked linen closet.

It is then that I notice the downlights, of which there are many, have become a mesmerising series of unintentional indoor water features, as the water from upstairs has seeped into the ceiling cavity and discovered every possible avenue to allow gravity to continue its journey downwards.

So now, as improbable as this sounds, it is raining inside.

I enlist the kids to move cardboard boxes from the floor and all the items positioned under the downlights.

I apportion half the towels to downstairs duty and rush back upstairs with the other half to stem the tide that is quite literally occurring there.

I am trying to also focus on the fact that dinner is still cooking and will require some attention at some stage. I have to quickly work out a list of priorities. It is food versus water.

I quickly work out the two reasons behind the cause of the deluge.

The first is that there is a THIRD hose from the washing machine that had needed connecting: the outlet. It was still dangling aimlessly behind the machine instead of being pointed into the nearby downpipe, and was seemingly enjoying disgorging its contents with a freedom it had never previously experienced.

And the second reason for the flood is that I’m an idiot for not remembering that third hose in the first place.

There is a third possible reason for the flood. Something similar to what God did in biblical times when he felt everybody except Noah had become too sinful, but I sincerely hope that’s not the case.

Anyhow, my plans for a peaceful, happy home were in tatters … my confidence as?homemaker was shattered … and inside I was a distraught mess.

But, on the outside, I know the importance of being a positive influence. I speak about with corporate groups. So I keep a stiff (if moist) upper lip in front of the kids.

I tell them honestly what has happened, so they can fully comprehend the situation. I don’t make any excuses.

I calmly give them all tasks to perform and explain how each will help be part of the puzzle of the solution.

I make a game out of us repositioning towels to catch the flows of water as it tries its best to navigate around our limited cloth levees.

We start singing “Oh Water Night!” to the tune of Frankie Valli’s “Oh What A Night!”

In the end, we have to make a makeshift dinner table in the living room (as the dining area is under several downlights) but we still enjoy our “Da-deh Shi-koh”, punctuated by stories of what happened during their day at school.

Despite having experienced way too much water already this evening, the kids are happy to accompany their meal with a glass of the very same stuff.

Daddy, however, needs red wine.

On the outside, all is calm. I am listening to and laughing with my children, trying to ensure that, as of this moment my children are not worried by the prospect of spending half their time in my care.

But on the inside, I am cursing myself, trying to imagine what other crises I may manufacture in their lives and worry about how, after only one week in the place I chose to be our sanctuary, I managed to cause such chaos (and who knows how many thousands of dollars of water damage!).

After they showered and went to bed, I continued the clean-up. Eventually, the downlights were no longer dripping. The towels were removed and washed (yes, using the same apparatus that caused this mess in the first place!). The floorboards were no longer moist.

I cleaned up from dinner, trudged all the leftovers to the fridge in the garage, cleaned the lunchboxes and slumped into my outdoor lounge with another glass of wine … and smiled.

Yes, very little about tonight resembled the one that I had planned. In fact, very little about my current life resembles what I planned.

But I was still able to provide my Chickens with the outcomes they needed.

Isn’t that the same driving force we have as event professionals? No matter what, the bottom line is that we deliver something that represents value to our delegates. HOW we get there, and what crises we may face along the way, are of no consequence to them.

But they do understand when things don’t pan out perfectly, provided we are honest and remain professional and cheerful. And, if we do that, they don’t mind helping be part of the fix.

I cloaked my devastation in humour, distraction and action. I was all about finding solutions.

And, by providing my children with a positive path forward, I helped return my own mind to a positive state. By me being positive throughout, they were positive as well and this morning, despite seeing the signs of water damage on the downstairs ceiling, I actually felt good about how I handled all the disappointments of the previous evening.

So, be positive. If not inwardly, at the very least outwardly. Especially in a crisis. Share that positivity with those who are going through it with you. That’s the first of the two lessons to take away from this story.

The other lesson is one that I learned from Douglas Adams, who wrote The Hitchhikers’ Guide To The Galaxy’ series.

In it, he points out that, despite all the technological wonderment that would make intergalactic travel possible, there is only one item every person should ensure they have on them at all times.

A towel.

He also reveals the answer to the question of life, the universe and everything. And that answer is 42 … which just happens to be my house number.

If anyone is interested in booking me for my session on Positive Influence, I’d really appreciate it, as it looks like I’ll need to run a few of them to pay for the water damage!

Darren Isenberg is one of Australia’s most booked and re-booked Corporate MC’s and Presenters. He speaks to groups on how to improve their Positive Influence , as well as how to prepare and deliver Engaging Presentations.

You can learn more about him by heading to www.dipresents.com.au or by asking his kids. But don’t talk to his mother. She still has no idea … but thinks he’s great at what it is anyway.