Archive for the ‘Environment’ Category

How to get to Carnegie Hall

Monday, February 6th, 2012

As the old joke goes, a man carrying a violin case in Manhattan gets stopped by a couple of tourists who ask him how to get to Carnegie Hall. The violinist responds, “Practice.”

So obvious, it’s funny–no one gets to Carnegie Hall without a ton of practice. It is usually the most ‘talented’ performers who practice most diligently. The talent onstage in Carnegie Hall is, as much as anything, a talent for practicing. A love of the hard work and focus that it takes to master one’s craft.

CarnegieHall1Rob McNamara writes in Integral Life about ‘The Necessity of Practice.’ Practice, notes McNamara, is preparation. What we are seeing and hearing onstage at Carnegie Hall is a performance informed by preparation. It is the preparation that elevates and defines the quality of the performance.

Everyone has a Carnegie Hall, a place or ideal they’re trying to get to. A vision for the future. And then, quite often, something happens. We get sidetracked. Distracted. Too busy to practice. We stop off at the Carnegie DELI and call it Carnegie HALL. Our ego tells us we have arrived. That’s when the unproductive patterns–sameness, repetition, redundancy, stagnation, smugness—set in. That’s the point where our performances become cyclical, begin to repeat themselves, and our audiences get bored, and begin wondering why they paid their money.

McNamara defines the act of practicing as ‘Engagement.’ The GameChangers Orchestral Model™ identifies six practices that generate productive outcomes in the world. Engagement is one of the six. The other five are:

Heeding (listening, paying attention, observing actively). In the Orchestral Model™, this practice precedes Engagement. As the social media doyenne, Sally Falkow, (@sallyfalkow) says, “You don’t go right up to people having a conversation at a party or social event and just start talking. First you have to hear what conversation is about, and then can you be part of it, and engage with people in a meaningful way.”

Learning. What is revealed to you as a result of your interactions with others, and with your environment? How does your network inform you? How do you turn learning into solutions? All this takes practice.

Creating. How does what you do make a difference? How does it make you unique? How do channel creativity toward innovation?

Performing. What are your criteria? What is your Carnegie Hall? Is it a seven or eight digit number? A place? A whale of a client? A standard you have set for yourself, or that others have set for you? How does your performance differentiate you?

Deciding. How consistent are you? What values do you represent? How clear and shareable are your decisions? What themes are important to you? Who and what influences your behaviors? If your deciding practices are weak, Big Trouble soon come.

Performing and Deciding are what we call the core practices. If you are not good at these–if you don’t have a clear vision of where you’re going, or if you are indecisive and wishy-washy along the way—the rest of the practices will not matter, because you’ll be too busy zig-zagging toward a mirage, rendering meaningless decisions in service of illusory goals.

So call the whole thing Engagement, yes, definitely! Practice it! Be engaged! Be present! Pay attention! Notice! That’s a good first step. Then refine your practices into the six different areas of the Orchestral Model™, like an athlete working on muscle groups or a musician working through different progressions.

And when call comes from Carnegie Hall, you’ll be ready.

Gameless

Monday, November 21st, 2011
Katehi

Katehi

The old games are exactly that. Old. And like anything old, they lack sap, spine, vigor. In many ways, the Occupy Wall Street movement calls this out. Saturday’s Silent Protest against the UC Davis Chancellor, Linda Katehi, is one of the best ways yet of #OWS demonstrating the impotency of old games.

Here’s the scene breakdown:

A day after the notorious on-campus pepper-spraying incident, the UC Davis protesters have the idea of  creating dialogue with Katehi, by forming a stage between the Administration Building and her car. (Note that no one is out front taking credit for this idea, it doesn’t belong to anyone. Ownable ideas are typical of an old game; shareable ideas are typical of a new game.) The stage is a hundred yards long, a catwalk extending the length of the theater, lined by hundreds of students sitting on the ground in order to effectively elevate the stage.

In forming this stage, the protesters change roles, from ‘Quad Occupiers’ to ‘Silent Audience.’ It doesn’t take them much time to do this. There’s no ’spin’ of a story being told or sold, no research to back it up, no ‘official position,’ only a simple intuitive agreement to keep their mouths shut for the duration of the scene. Game on. ‘Silent Protest’ is the name you can give the game. The reality of the scene emerges from the focus on this game, this agreement. It is the absence of protest that will make the protest so dramatic.

After 3 hours of what must have been a lot of hemming, hawing and phone-calling by her team about ‘how to handle it,’ the scene finally begins when the Chancellor enters, accompanied by a couple of non-speaking ‘extras.’ She is lit dramatically by the glow of cameras—-eyes of the world—-tracking her across the stage. Her delaying has made this a nighttime scene, which is even more dramatic, the darkness creating a heavier silence. By taking the stage without a script, i.e. nothing in her head, Katehi is exposed as someone with nothing in her heart. She’s got nothing. Because —-

The script won’t be ready until tomorrow!

The silence of the audience is remarkable.  Its discipline is impressive. No one breaks. The silence is marred by a few unable-to-resist journos whose subdued questions as the Chancellor nears her car only underline the otherwise-completeness of the silence.

Here is what gets revealed by the scene: The Chancellor cannot speak for herself. Her heart is closed, her emotions as frozen as the mask of solicitude frozen on her face. She is afraid of saying the wrong thing. Her institution’s students intimidate her. There is no dialogue between player and audience, between administration and student, between authority and autonomy. No dialogue. Just an old game, getting called out for what it is. Empty.

The protesters didn’t have to say a thing. All they had to do was create an environment in which the old game of ’script and control’ would be displayed in all its inadequacy for the world to see.

A home for all our stories

Sunday, November 13th, 2011

JasonTerryHeadphones1I’ve written about it before, and it bears repeating, because it is such a beautiful concept. After his team had won the 2011 NBA Championship, Dallas Maverick guard Jason Terry (@jasonterry31) said something truly profound.

An interviewer asked Terry one of the most cliche questions in sports (paraphrasing): “Jason, what made the difference this year? How did the Mavericks finally win the championship?”

Terry gave an answer that was anything but a cliche. “We found a home for all our stories,” he said.  It might be my favorite sports quote of all time.

They found a home for all their stories.

That is such a huge idea, I’m going to write it again, just so I  can savor it once more.

They found a home for all their stories.

I think of Terry’s quote every time I see another inescapable headline or hear another sports radio host mention the scandal at Penn State. See, they found a home for all their stories, too. Happy Valley became a home for stories of geographic isolation, cultural myopia, personal idolatry, money, bigtime college sports, religion, patriarchy, imperialism, egotism, groupthink, pride, fear, careerism, irresponsibility and institutional insanity. And, oh yeah, the horror stories of a child rapist preying on the Happy Valleyness of it all.

(I think Terry’s quote gets to the heart of the Occupy Wall Street movement, too. America is supposed to be a home for more stories than those being imposed on most citizens by the financial oligarchs of Wall Street and the politicians who are their puppets. We are supposed to be a country where the stories we imagine for ourselves have a chance of coming true. Not a 1% chance. More like a 99% chance. For me, Jason Terry was the first person to Occupy Wall Street, because his quote was the first time I’d thought of politics in these terms: As a country, are we creating a home for all our stories? Or just for the so-called-success stories of a privileged and fortunate few?)

When you think about what kind of country or city you want to live in, or what kind of company you want to be, become, or belong to, think about it in Jason Terry’s terms. What stories will call you home?

The Cynical Girl

Friday, September 30th, 2011

Laurie Reuttimann came to my attention a couple of years ago when I was looking for gamechangers in the HR field and her blog, Punk Rock HR (tagline: “Teamwork is for suckers.”), snagged my attention. Her stuff was hilarious, honest, and in an envronment that can be obsessed with compliance and normative behaviors, breathtakingly contrarian. She retired Punk Rock HR in June, 2011, and today, goes by the handle of Cynical Girl. CynicalGirlHeader1

I could give you a million reasons why Laurie Reuttimann is a gamechanger, I’ll give you one. She understands the difference between business objectives and business outcomes. So often, we muddle the two, and think they are the same thing. They are not.CynicalGirlHeader2

Laurie’s objective with ‘The Cynical Girl game’ is to,”build a portfolio career. You should build one, too,” she writes in her last Punk Rock HR post.

The outcomes will be things like people changing their own games, finding work, passing her links around, friending and following her online, sharing an occasional smile, and using our newfound cynical outlooks to not automatically buy into the bullshit, especially our own.CynicalGirlHeader3

Objectives are singular. Outcomes are infinite. Focus on objectives to realize outcomes.

Or don’t. The Cynical Girl doesn’t give a damn. She’s too busy babysitting cats to babysit you.CynicalGirl1

What is Leadership?

Tuesday, September 27th, 2011

Last week, Forbes ran a column by Glenn Llopis that poses the question, ‘Is Leadership Irrelevant?’  The unwritten follow-up question probed though not fully answered in Llopis column, is, ‘If leadership is irrelevant, what can take its place?’  This is an issue that comes up all the time in conversations with executives. People understand that their model of leadership is broken, yet they don’t really know what can take its place.

'A Captain of Industry' by Graham McKean

'A Captain of Industry' by Graham McKean

I don’t think it’s a matter of anything ‘taking leadership’s place.’ What are we going to do, remove the word from the dictionary? Are we all going to wait around for someone else to make the first move? (Oh wait, that’s what happens now.) What leaders can do is adapt to a business environment that is different than the one that shaped the textbook definitions of leadership. This environment moves faster, with more, and more fleeting, opportunities for a generation of restless, tech-savvy players entering the global workforce. To prosper in this environment, leaders and the companies under their guidance must adapt. This is not a one-time only thing, adaptation is not a new program that that can be taken off a shelf and ‘acquired.’ It’s a way of life.

We call this new model of leadership Flexible Vision. Naturally it is informed by the principles of improvisation, among them:

Take care of yourself first. This is a phrase popularized by Chicago improvisation master, Mick Napier. It doesn’t mean be selfish, as in ‘get your golden parachute packed, and don’t worry about where the plane is going because you’re jumping off before it gets there.’  Not that. It means come prepared. Have a take. Be someone. Stand for something. Rock your style. What your style is doesn’t matter nearly as much as whether or not you rock it.

Begin with listening. How can you contribute to the conversation if you don’t know what the conversation is about?

Follow the follower. This is a Viola Spolin concept. The narrative was going on before you entered the scene, and it will continue after you’re gone. Don’t ‘try to make things happen.’ Connect with what’s already happening.

Let go of status. In the old leadership models, status followed a person from scene to scene. If you were the CEO that was your role, and you played it in every scene you were in. This model forced a lot of managers into a mode of pretending to know more than they actually did, to feign authority in subjects with which they were not familiar, just to preserve their status. These ‘false narratives’ are a big inefficiency in any organization clinging to old leadership models. Improvisers, by contrast, change roles and status freely from scene to scene. Though your title is ‘The CEO,’ your roles can be ‘Student,’  ‘Fearless Explorer,”Arbitrator,’ ‘Cheerleader,’ etc. Adaptive leaders adjust their role and status to fit the scene, not the other way around. And the higher a person’s rank in the company (however that is gauged), the more adaptive that person can be, because the range of roles he or she can play is wider than that of a lower-ranked person, e.g. a new employee.

Give gifts. This is the phrase improvisers use for supporting one’s scene and one’s fellow players. In improvisation, giving gifts is the most productive move there is. Those who do it most consistently? Those are our leaders.

'Made for Each Other' - Graham McKean

'Made for Each Other' by Graham McKean

Forgive Those Who Trespass Against Us

Wednesday, September 7th, 2011

This weekend, we will see  billions of dollars in media time, politician time, Homeland Security time, Pentagon time, NFL time, and the cost of our collective attention, spent on remembering 9/11. Most of it will be the ‘Never Forget, Never Forgive’ kind of remembering. Politicians and Generals like Panetta and Petraeus will warn us that it’s still a dangerous world, that our enemies are still omnipresent, and bent on destroying us.

We jump at shadows. A weekend pilot who wanders into the airspace above Camp David (where the President was not staying at the time) is immediately characterized by the media as a possible terrorist; this followed by dire predictions from Homeland Security that the next wave of terrorist attacks will come in small planes.

A mentally ill person armed with an AK-47 shoots up an IHOP in Nevada. The media blend this and other sad events like it into a nonstop drumbeat of fear, marching us inevitably backward in time, toward the paralyzing events of 9/11. We go into hiding from one another. Gate our communities. Update our security systems. Buy more guns. And all this does is blind us to the reality that we live in a country where mentally ill people can get their hands on AK-47s. Instead, we are made to feel powerless that we can anything about it. Except burrow deeper into the darkness.

I’ve got an idea for this week, an antidote for the fear being foisted upon us by people who want to manipulate and profit from it. An idea that doesn’t involve chest thumping, flag waving, or the naming and elimination of our enemies:  Do what the Amish do. Forgive.

When five young girls were executed in a schoolroom by a lunatic with a handgun in Nickel Mines, PA, in 2006, the Amish did the most difficult thing I can imagine. They forgave the gunman and his family. They bulldozed the schoolhouse where the massacre took place, and set about doing the unfathomably hard work of getting on with their lives.

When it comes to 9/11, we haven’t been allowed to forget, and we certainly have not been encouraged to forgive.  Warmongers like Dick Cheney, Don Rumsfeld and Paul Wolfowitz saw 9/11 as a business opportunity. And that, with Cheney’s abominably-timed book promotion, continues to this day.

The battles we must fight are not with our enemies but with ourselves. No matter how much we hurt, or how much harm has come our way, we can never find healing in bringing more hurt into the world, or in harming others as we have been harmed.

Forgiveness is the first step out of the shadow of our fear, into the light of a better world.

2006 Site of the Nickel Mines Schoolhouse, Today

2006 Site of the Nickel Mines Schoolhouse, Today

The Hurricane with a Thousand Faces

Sunday, August 28th, 2011

I wasn’t going to write a blog post this morning, I have too much to do, flying to San Francisco later today for a workshop at Art.com with the miracle who is Ivy Ross and a small group of artists and storytellers from her amazing constellation of friends.

Then, as I was scanning my network, a pattern became too obvious to ignore:

Television news missed most of the Hurricane Irene story. Social networks did not. This may be the most visible, tightest-framed example I’ve ever seen of how narratives live differently, more dynamically, in networks than they do in the old inside-out media channels. And why improvisation trumps scripting.

From Wednesday on, the mainstream media beat the drum for a monolithic, fear-based narrative about Hurricane Irene. Don’t get me wrong. Precaution is good, and often necessary. “Worry,” William Inge said, “is the interest paid on trouble before it comes due.” The problem for the scripters of TV News is that this is the only narrative they had, and it became increasingly and visibly detached from most of the storm’s reality.

By Friday, CNN’s Wolf ‘Cry’ Blitzer was bouncing from correspondent to correspondent in search of bad news, and you could sense their desperation at not finding any. They were showing B-roll that could have been any Friday afternoon Raleigh-Durham traffic jam in the rain, and characterizing it as a panicking populace fleeing to higher ground. Politicians, camera whores that they are, played dutifully along.

By Saturday,  kids were dancing around in their underwear behind your intrepid TV c0rrespondents who were doing their best to file Admiral Byrd’s dying words even as the dancing kids spoofed their phony narrative. IreneStreaker1

Social and local networks, by contrast, were generating an entirely different portrait of the storm. It was not a picture of panic, but of ‘yes-anding’ the situation. Of neighbors connecting, and watching out for one another. Of helpful hyperlocal reporting about downed trees and street closures. Of beautiful photography from the beaches as Irene rolled in. Of friends gathering for a drink at their favorite martini bar, and bikers blazing through empty Manhattan streets.

Hurricane Irene Photo by Paige Minimi

Hurricane Irene Photo by Paige Minimi

When we play along with the fear-based narratives–be they our own or anyone else’s–there’s no opportunity, no expansion or growth. Irene is a scary bitch, stay inside, don’t answer a knock at the door, and whatever you do, don’t laugh at her or she will terrorize you like her sister, Katrina, did to New Orleans.

The reality of Irene is that she is a Hurricane With a Thousand Faces, and many of those faces are smiling.  Find yourself a smiling Irene and dance.

Burning Platforms

Wednesday, August 3rd, 2011

Before yesterday, I’d never, to my recollection, heard the phrase ‘burning platform’ used in a business conversation. Yesterday I heard it used multiple times in two different conversations, with teams in two different businesses, in two different parts of the U.S., to refer to issues they are addressing.

A pattern defines a game.

This is what a burning platform looks like:

BurningPlatform1

What’s the story here? Well, let’s see…it’s an environmental disaster…lives are no doubt endangered (many have already escaped in lifeboats, jumped or been killed (e.g. ‘fired’)…the focus is on containment instead of productivity…the PR spinning is beginning…a hundred lawyers are circling…Wall Street is manipulating markets based on shareholder emotions…the media is fanning the fear…the government is organizing committees that will haunt and impede productivity for years to come…cities, states and municipalities are seeking reparations. Whatever good can emerge from this mess will be years, maybe a generation, in coming.

Metaphors like ‘burning platform’ represent a level of meaning that accompanies all communication, the Meta level. (The other two are Cosmetic and Emotional). The Meta level contains metaphor, symbolism, allegory, parable, analogies, etc. Meta meaning is powerful stuff and should be chosen with great care. It’s why brands work so hard, at such great expense, on their identity. Those symbols mean a lot.

At GameChangers, we practice what I call the science of narrative. This science requires specific, deliberate and objective choices about what metaphors we put into play.

The Center for Public Policy and Administration defined the phrase ‘burning platform’ in 2005. ‘Burning platform’ according to the CPPA, came into meaning when a driller on a burning offshore oil-drilling platform calculated that his best chance of survival was a 150-foot jump that he’d never make under normal conditions. A burning platform came to mean an ‘urgent condition requiring bold choices.’ All good, and useful. Context is huge, however, and after the Deepwater Horizon explosion, the context for this phrase changed and, along with it, its meaning. Now it means ‘unmitigated disaster.’

Look at the photo again. That’s the image of a burning platform most of your audience will conjure when this phrase is used. Whatever changes come about because of the pictured scenario promise to be painful, litigious, lengthy and costly. This is not what we want when we change the game. We want change that is productive, agreeable, fast and inexpensive to implement.

Clearly, we need a new metaphor to capture this meaning.

It’s like that old Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon intro, where Bullwinkle pulls a monster out of a hat and says “No doubt about it, I’ve gotta get another hat.”

We’ve gotta get another hat.

Leave it to Jobs

Thursday, July 21st, 2011

Over the past three and a half years at GameChangers, we have gone through Cirque du Soleil-like contortions  to explain improvsiation and its value to business in the Networked World.

We have defined it as “A process for producing consistently positive outcomes from unforeseen circumstances.” We call it “serendipity by design.” “A game, a theme, and an exploration.” “Collaborative problem solving.” “Acting on environment and letting environment act on you.” Listening, Learning and Transformation.” “Agility + Ability.” “Freedom within Structure.” “Creating a cosmos out of chaos.” “Openness to opportunity.” “The Big Yes-And.” “Flexible Vision.” “How Tina and Amy Got Their Grooves,” and “Not comedy.”  Among others.

Leave it to Steve Jobs, interviewed in The Pixar Story, Leslie Iwerks’ 2007 feature documentary, to phrase it with the assured elegance of an Apple design.”Unplanned collaboration” is the phrase he uses.

“We wanted a place that would encourage unplanned collaboration,” said Jobs in describing the design of Pixar’s new studio. He repeatedly cites this this as the architecture’s objective.

He didn’t connect this phrase to improvisation, per se, but it’s as good a definition as we’ve heard. Improvisation is unplanned collaboration. And even though it’s unplanned, it’s all part of the design. In the architecture of improvisation, you fully expect to run into someone unexpectedly. When you do, you are prepared to exchange information, find an agreement, and build a scene together or continue one that had begun earlier. You expect that others might jump into this scene with you, and you are prepared for anything they might add. Through this process, in thousands upon thousands of such unplanned increments, each filled with its own unique potential to be productive, you move your narrative forward.

It’s hard to imagine a better case study for the value of improvisational design than Pixar’s studio, or a better model of what it means to be a GameChanger than Steve Jobs.JobsCirque1

Jobs also said it took ten years for Pixar to make any money. We’re just going to ignore that one. Play on.

A GameChanger Visits Disney

Wednesday, July 20th, 2011

Yesterday, our friend and business partner, Jonathan Franklin, the author of 33 Men, a beautifully-observed account of the Chilean Miners dramatic 2010 rescue, and I did a one-hour presentation for 40 people at Disney Animation.

Actually, Jonathan did the presentation. He told all the stories. I designed a game that engaged the audience with the material in a way that it would not have if Jonathan had used the standard format of ‘45 minute speech + 15 minute Q&A.’

Jonathan Franklin in conversation with Disney Animation

Jonathan Franklin in conversation with Disney Animation

The game was called ‘15 Themes in 45 Minutes’. Here’s how it went:

I dumped images from the Chilean Miners’ rescue that we have permission to use (abt 90 of them) into Prezi.

Then I arranged the images by Theme. We settled on a number of themes, 15, that divided evenly into 60, because that would give structure to the hour.  (10 would have worked just as well, or 12) The Themes were ideas like, ‘Extreme Conditions,’ ‘Top Drill,’ and ‘Flexible Vision’  which I know, from knowing him and reading his  book, Jonathan can illuminate with great story after great story.

Then I added animation to the images, which is super easy to do on Prezi and showed some respect for the animators in the Disney audience. A presentation with no movement is an insult to animators.

So now we had three of the four elements of what we call the ‘ERGO’ structure for a game: Environment (Disney Animation Theater, Prezi); Roles (Storyteller, Audience, Prompter); and Objective (explore 15 themes). We still needed the ‘G’ in ERGO: Guidelines. I gave the game three:

1) Audience member can at any time request a description of an image (by calling “Caption”)

2) Audience member can, at any time ask a question (by calling “Question”)

3)  Audience member can, at any time, request a new Theme (indicated by calling “Scene”)

For most audiences, I would have added another guideline or two, to encourage editing by everyone in the Audience, not just a few people, but because these were professional storytellers, there was no need to do this.

It was an excellent experience for all of us. The game took 55 minutes to play, which left 5 minutes for a few follow-up questions.  Our time together had a much better flow, it was more of a conversation with the Audience, than if everyone had tried to save their question for a 15 min. Q&A at the end.

In exploring the 15 Themes, the conversation danced through subjects like President (of Chile) Pinera’s leadership strategy, NASA technology, the physics of hard rock drilling, Chilean culture, post-traumatic stress psychology, blow-up dolls, chocolate, tactical news leaking, the saving grace of humor, the fickle nature of celebrity and similar stories of people  trapped underground or underwater (Ace in the Hole, Jessica McClure, the Soviet Sub,  Kursk). The ideas for what to talk about belonged as much to the Audience as to Jonathan. And even though we were free to explore in all directions, we did it within the structure of the game.  We never lost track of where we were because we always knew what Theme we were in.

I made a couple of adjustments to the game while we were playing it. Initially the role of Prompter (mine) was only to explain the game structure to the audience and click through the Prezi images. Once or twice, when I felt the editing by the audience was lagging relative to the time we had left, I’d call ‘Scene’ myself.

Jonathan, his wife, and their six daughters, are in Southern California for two weeks, courtesy of Oakley, who is returning the favor Jonathan did for them when (without any kind of quid pro quo) he got Oakley to design and donate the sunglasses for Los 33 to wear and protect their eyes from the severe reaction they’d have to daylight when they were freed from mine last October.

Five of the Franklin girls–Fancisca, Kimberly, Amy, Susan and Maciel–accompanied Jonathan to Disney. Afterward, the director, John Musker (”Little Mermaid,” “Aladdin,” “Princess and the Frog”), along with Howard Green, Stephanie Morse and Kelsi Taglang of Disney, treated us to lunch in the ABC commissary and a tour of the Disney Animation studio. John drew little sketches of characters from his films for each of the girls.

A good game was had by all.

Legendary Disney Animation director John Musker draws for the Franklin girls

Legendary Disney Animation director John Musker draws for the Franklin girls

IMG_4869