Lessons from Being Made Redundant: The Challenge Ahead

In the broadest sense, my plan is to Stop-Recharge-Re-engage-Restart – I intentionally wanted to take time out from work, as this is (hopefully) a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I've been unemployed for six weeks; it started with some complete downtime, but with a big hole where my job used to be, I went through a funk (see article one), and now I am Recharging (see article two), had a few ups than downs (see article three), this time I am looking at the challenge ahead of me.

Job Updates

I’ve not applied for any roles or spoken to any recruiters that comes in the Re-engage phase, which I start in the second week in May.

Of those roles that I applied the rocking chair test to, I am looking forward to further constructive conversations post-interview with one amazing opportunity that has a cool crew.?The other two roles are in the rear-view mirror.

As I look forward to re-engaging there seem to be lots of good roles in Wellington, so if the above doesn’t work out then there will be more on the horizon.

Before I get into my adventure story, I want to thank all of you who have taken some time to read these articles and have added your voice to the story or send words of encouragement.

Also, to those that have reached out for a coffee. I really appreciate you all.

To those going through redundancy, feel free to reach out, your journey might be different from mine, but you’ll come through it, you got this.

Next, I want to acknowledge that I am very fortunate to have the opportunity to make some space for myself through my redundancy journey and that many others might not be in that position. That’s not to say I can stay off work for too long, as it comes at a cost to my family and mortgage, but one that for me is worth it.

Finally, these updates take me a while and I am nearly a week behind!

Ko Taranaki te maunga

I worked on my Pepeha with Kaiwhakahaere Māori Wayne Glenn at Open Polytechnic.?One of the things I took to heart from him is that you should be passionate about all the statements in a pepeha, rather than follow a particular format, they connect you to your place and your family and your history.??As I have travelled around a bit through my life, and was adopted at birth, my story is complex and hard to distil down. For example, I might live near a river, and a sea, and indeed over the years many seas and rivers, yet I’m not overly attached to any of them.

I was born in Taranaki, Hāwera Hospital to be precise, then lived 20k north in rural Tataraimaka, before moving to New Plymouth town.?When I was three and a half my Mum and Dad, who adopted me moved back to the UK with my sister, where I was bought up.?Mount Taranaki stands, alone, in the middle of the Taranaki district.?In Māori, a mountain is called “maunga”

I was born under its gaze and lived in its shelter for my early years. Every time I see it, it takes my breath away, it’s a meaningful place to me.?

My Pepeha starts with Ko Taranaki te Maunga.?

The challenge ahead

My honeymoon was a trip to New Zealand. While there, my best mate, wife and “Uncle Eddie” who lived locally, climbed Mt Taranaki. This seemed fitting after climbing Scarfell Pike for my stag doo (the hens went to the top of Mt Snowdon in Wales).?That was 17 years ago.

I arrived at The Camphouse just before sunset.?The Camphouse is a grand tramping hut on the slopes of Mt Taranaki. On a good day, guests are treated to a spectacular view of the mountain and the surrounding area.

Today was a good day.

The sunset was golden and lit up Mount Ruapehu hundreds of kilometres away, in the other direction, wispy clouds parted to reveal the summit of Mount Taranaki, just starting to carry some snow/ice towards the top.

That night I ate well and laid out all my equipment, food and clothes for the tramp ahead.

I visualised the walk, quite aware that 17 years ago it took 13 hours to get up and down. I remembered some of the photos we took and the struggles that we faced.?I know I am fitter and more experienced this time, but I was to walk alone this time and it was no longer summer.

I went to sleep excited, with a healthy dose of trepidation.

You cannot be sure of anything when tramping in alpine environments. You may not get to the summit, you may not get halfway. The wind moves weather fronts in very rapidly which can bring dangerous conditions to an already challenging tramp. You might well twist, sprain or otherwise injure yourself, you might need to care for someone that is injured or in trouble, or your gear might fail.?Five days before I arrived, a fellow tramper was tragically killed by a falling rock on a section notorious for loose rocks. He was experienced and well-prepared. He leaves behind a family with kids and grandchildren, who have my deepest condolences.

A long way to go

The morning was glorious, there was not a cloud in the sky for the first time in a week, and the air was still.?I wolfed down a feed, packed my gear and set off.

On Mt Taranaki, there is no “Just round the next corner” or “over the next hill”, especially on a clear day.?There are no flat sections; it’s steep up all the way, and you can see just how much further you must go. It's intimidating.

Of course, “just round the next corner” and “over the next hill” are devices created by parents to hide the enormity of the tasks ahead from their kids in the hope that this will help them overcome a challenge and make it more manageable (or to stop asking stupid questions).?We use similar devices at work too. It’s the heart of project management, both agile and waterfall, breaking down big projects into phases, parts, deliverables and milestones.?I suspect that climbing Mt Taranaki is more of a waterfall project.?You do a bunch of planning, and then you really have one shot at the summit with several milestones along the way. You know the goal and how long it might take, and there are no sprints.?You are the sponsor, project manager, and delivery team.

Joining forces

I like the idea of spending time alone with the maunga; I would welcome the daydreams and inspiration that lay ahead.?It, therefore, surprised me that not half an hour into the tramp, I met a lone tramper called Richard.?He was taking photos of the amazing scenery. I introduced myself, asked if he would like to walk together for a while (yes) and off we set – two strangers with exactly the same goal.

I would later find out that Richard, an American, flew into Taranaki from Brisbane, where he worked, with the sole purpose of climbing the mountain that he’d seen once, a bucket list item that needed ticking off, my type of adventurer!

There are several sections to the ascent of MtTaranaki – The Puffer, The Stairs, The Scree fields, and then The Lizard, and these lead to the crater and from where you can ascend one of the sides of the crater to the summit.

• The puffer is essentially a steep four-by-four vehicle track that allows service vehicles to get to “the Transmitter”, a TV radio and mobile phone mast that covers the entire region.
• This is followed by endless flights of wooden steps cut into some really steep slopes.
• Next comes the scree fields, deep gravel, that slips away when you attempt to gain purchase on the slope; it was when traversing this section that a tramper died the week before.
• Next comes the Lizard, a cooled lava flow of sharp volcanic rock that requires hands and feet to climb.
• The Lizard leads to a tricky and very icy path into the crater. This is as far as those without crampons should go at this time of the year.?Though many less equipped trampers continue, nonetheless.

The thing you need to know about these sections, which is made clear in the official video for the route, each section is harder than the next, and each takes approximately one to one and a half hours. Signs remind you of this on the track and encourage you to consider turning around.

This encouragement that you should consider going back in the video reminds me of when, 17 years ago, my Uncle Eddie first set eyes on my best mate Rob and my wife Lisa. ?Noting that Uncle Eddie was 69 at the time and says what’s on his mind with little to no filter (I can report at 86 nothing has changed in this regard). We were standing in his kitchen the night before the climb, he looked at Rob and say you’re a bit fat, and then to Lisa, and females struggle, you won’t make it, but we can try.

To this day, the three of us don’t know if that was the best motivational speech ever, or just that lack of filter, because, by god, Rob and Lisa were going to, and indeed did, get to the top of Mt Taranaki that day. (So did the 69-year-old Uncle Eddie, who talked the entire way – I hope I am that fit at his age)

While clearly, I am not a fan of body shaming or sexism. I think there is something to coaching with being honest (without being a dick) when the challenge ahead will be hard, and those attempting it might fail. Sugar coating, gilding or minimising it, or saying ‘it’s just round the next corner" does not promote a growth mindset.??Even in failure, there can be growth, learning and enjoyment – as long as you don’t ignore the signs and burnout or get injured due to overconfidence or lack of appreciation, that what you are trying to do is very hard.?

Having a growth mindset and being humble as you start a challenge is important – else failure to achieve lofty goals, B.H.A.G.s, as a boss of mine, Peter Cowper called them, can become catastrophic.

The Climb

The climb was amazing; I can’t explain the disorientation of the extreme slopes being above the clouds and the only ‘flat’ line being a distant horizon – it’s wonderful and weird and would if I was not careful, set off my vertigo and make me a dizzy.

Building my experience of setting micro-goals, I used them again, but this time there is no way to trick my brain into not seeing the whole journey ahead. You can see the minuscule context of it versus the entire climb. Mental fortitude and trusting your process are needed to keep you going.

On the way up, we passed some fellow trampers, and a few passed us. Progress was made in small increments. We’d reach a post, stop, get our breath and then carry on. Stops might only be a few seconds, but enough to return heart rate and breathing back into the black, while this provides a balance of a sort to allow you to maintain progress (and the pause is a great place to take a photo or two).?Someone working within their true capacity might ascend more slowly and avoid so many micro stops or pauses.?One such tramper walked with us. Briefly, he walked at the same speed, it’s just that his micro pauses were way fewer and further apart, and he eventually disappeared out of view.

I am going to be mindful of this more as I go back to work, watching to ensure I am not going too far into the red and that I have a sustainable balance, and if not, that I bake in micropauses to get my breath back.

The Crater

Seventeen years ago, the crater had a small glacier filling its centre; it must have been at least 10 metres deep; 17 years before that, the glacier used to pour out of the crater.

It was a shock to find the crater to be exposed boulders; the glacier is no more and had revealed the place where it sat likely for centuries. ?Everything was still covered in ice, tortured wind-swept ice, and it was SILENT, no plants, no animals and little wind. The sound of nothing is amazing to listen to, especially when you can see so much around you.?It was punctuated from time to time by the sound of falling ice and rocks. The walls of the crater are all around you. These punctuations draw your attention and remind you that this mighty mountain is in the exceedingly slow process of crumbling away.

The summit

Another 30 minutes of icy scrambling gets you to the summit. The wind at this level is, even on a calm day, brisk.?I found a spot out of the worst of the wind, bundled up in some more layers and opened a small bottle of prosecco and a pack of sausages. What a journey. ??After surveying the view – recording a Facebook live for my family and friends.?It was time to put on a second pair of gloves and descend. ?Reaching a goal like this is always a bit of an anti-climax for me. It’s hard to explain. I’m not ‘let down’ by the majesty of it all, which is truly remarkable. It is fairly inhospitable, so staying long is not possible. I think the crux is that I enjoyed the challenge, pushing myself to achieve a goal, and now it's achieved, the challenge is no more, and I miss it.

Rocks at the top, soil at the bottom.

The environment is so harsh the mountain itself fractures and breaks under the strain.?Water, like time, washes over the rocks; small cracks soak up water that freezes and opens the crack further, which lets in more water and so on until the rocks shatter into smaller pieces, which themselves shatter on and on down the mountain and toward the sea, becoming soil and sand.

Overall, large unbroken rocks near the top are tough, strong, and imposing, yet they don't support life. ?Fractured rocks, with their scars, nooks and crannies, provide shelter and lets enough water in that create spaces for new things to live and grow.

I see this as a metaphor for leadership. Some leaders are the big rocks, impressive and imposingly heavy. ?However, there are no chinks in their armour, so little may prosper in their shadow.??The leaders that are rutted and cracked by the water of time may still be impressive, but those imperfections have humbled them, and they support life to flourish in and around them.

Getting to Know Richard

Tramping together, sharing a challenge, and being complete strangers allowed us both to let our guard all the way down. When we had the breath to do so, and when I wasn’t daydreaming, we talked about everything, little matters, life goals, business, leadership, Te ao Māori, politics, families, feelings, children, and adoption. We supported each other and, on that day, were colleagues and best of friends. ??

I want to live in a world where strangers are friends you have not met yet, and people don’t avoid eye contact for fear of encountering one. I’ll do my part if you do yours.

I reflected that I knew more about Richard in one day than many people I’d worked with for years and will undertake to ensure I share more adventures with my work colleagues.

When, after seven and a half hours, the walk was over, we were both genuinely sad to part ways, and we shared kai and a beer at a local brewery, where all my adventures are celebrated.

Richard – thanks for the company, we went on a journey together, and I am glad I got to do it with you.

*I already feel like a stronger person because of this adventure. When I am in a tight spot at work, I’ll remember I climbed up a cooled lava flow on an active volcano and drank champagne at the top.?I got this.

*I stole and adapted this line from Richard; he is a smart cookie.

Each week that I’ve been redundant, I’ve discovered a new level of myself that perhaps I’d overlooked for a while; I smile more and am more relaxed. I’ve not made any life-altering decisions or changes. I just got more comfortable being me.

My next adventure is either Tongariro northern circuit, Tongariro crossing or re-engaging with work?- only time will tell.

I got this.

Some further photos from the trip

Some photos from the 2006 trip (where Eddie is 69, Rob is NOT Fat, but Lisa IS Female)

Future Paul here! these are the links to the rest of the blogs I made on redundancy.

• The Post that started me writing about normalising redundancy..
• Article One: Overcoming a funk..
• Article Two: using Adventure to Recharge..
• Article Three: Adventure bound..
• Article Four: The Challenge Ahead..
• Article Five: you don't always get what you want..
• Article Six: sometimes you get something better..
• Article Seven: Life is full of OR's not And's..