Old Fashioneds with an Old Miner

By Scott Knutson and Shawn Snyder

People inherently search for connections in their lives - connections to other people, connections to experiences, even connections to their organization and its leaders. We love to help our clients' organizations create the powerful connections that drive discretionary effort within teams. Discretionary effort is the secret sauce in the Optimal

• Language: English
• Publisher: Looking Forward Consulting
• Release date: Apr 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9798985368901

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Your team is sloppy, you aren’t getting any good results, and I regret the day I ever agreed to hire you. You’re fired!

Kendra woke up with a jolt, taking a moment to realize that she had fallen asleep at her desk yet again. Exhausting days like these, when the work never seemed to end and she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself to get things done, give her nightmares. She had them anytime she felt like she was letting someone down, and she couldn’t deny the fact that she had been sorely letting her boss down recently. I wish my employees cared that they were letting me down, she thought to herself as she looked outside her office window, noting that not a single employee remained even though they were all weeks behind schedule.

The nightmares had started a few months ago, when it had become clear that her team wasn’t just going through a slump, but rather was the definition of slump. Every time she had them, she felt transported back to her childhood bedroom, clutching her blanket and wishing someone, anyone, would show up to let her know that everything would be alright. Of course, those nightmares had been about disappointing her father, an upright military man who only grew more disappointed in her each time she came to him with her troubles. If I don’t get out of here, Kendra thought to herself as she gathered up her things I’ll be disappointing him all over again by being late.

As Kendra drove, she did her best to shake off the nightmare. You’re 35, not 5, she said to herself as she drove through the open Arizona air. It won’t kill you to be a few minutes late. Still, her anxiety caused her to speed more than she probably should have, but it resulted in her arriving at Joe's Bar before her father, and that’s all that mattered.

As she took in the familiar atmosphere of her best friend’s restaurant, she felt a tiny bit better. However, the feeling was short-lived as other thoughts caused her to become tense with worry once more. Today had been another grueling day of work in a job she wasn’t sure she was right for anymore. As she sat down at her usual high-top, she thought about all the tasks her team should’ve accomplished by now. For her first few months as team lead, her team demonstrated record-breaking performances. Two years later, it felt like everyone had suddenly run out of steam, and she just couldn’t figure out why.

As she waited for Joe to come take her order, she wondered whether or not she could return to her old job in Seattle. There, she had worked twelve years as a civil engineer, the best her company had. She received glowing recommendations from her bosses when she decided to move to Coaltown, Arizona to become a manager for a small mining company. Her Washington superiors wrote in their letters how ‘take charge’ and ‘no nonsense’ she was, convincing both Kendra and her prospective employer that there was nothing she couldn’t handle at a small mining company. But two years later, she felt like every other day she was having to step back and wait for her team to catch up. It just wasn’t working out.

Rough day, huh? Joe’s question interrupted her haze of thoughts and she forced a weak smile. Joe leaned against the high-top across from her and waited patiently for her answer. He had been Kendra’s first (and practically only) friend in Coaltown, and they regularly checked in with one another.

No worse than usual. In fact, my father will be joining me today.

Joe looked at Kendra in surprise. You’re meeting your dad at a bar? You realize the only food we serve here are burgers and fries, right?

Kendra smiled back sheepishly. If you’d ever met my dad, you’d know he’d be unimpressed no matter where I took him. At least here I know you can keep the drinks coming.

Joe chuckled in amusement and stood upright. Your stories make me feel like I’ve met him. Strict military type, right? I’ll never forget the time you told me he got you a dry-cleaning gift card for your birthday.

Kendra shrugged and shook her head. She remembered telling that story, but hearing it out loud reminded her of how little her father truly knew anything about her. Well, apparently my slacks weren’t ironed well enough. She looked down at the current state of her pants and realized that she’d probably get another card this Christmas. She sighed and felt another knot of tension add to the many straining her neck these days.

Joe and Kendra continued to chat until the little bell above the door sounded. She glanced across the room and saw her father step into the bar and take in the casual atmosphere. Maybe it was just her imagination, but it seemed as if his permanent frown got slightly deeper as he scanned the room. Kendra took a moment to look around herself, trying to see what he saw.

As Coaltown was predominantly a mining town, there were miners scattered here and there, most still in unkempt work clothes. It was also a Friday, which brought in a couple more people than usual at 5 p.m. on a workday. She knew that her father probably hated everything about the place, from the wall full of rusty, old license plates to the sticky, miner-filled bar. Even Joe himself wouldn’t be free from her father’s intense scrutiny. As she took in the room, she began to rethink her decision to meet him here.

When Kendra turned back to the door, her father was already taking strident steps towards her. While the two friends were chatting, Joe had regressed to leaning back down onto the high-top, but with Hugh Gilbert coming in hot, he stood ramrod straight.

When Hugh arrived at the table, Joe looked to Kendra for an introduction, but Kendra knew to stay quiet until she was addressed. After a beat, Hugh spoke. Good evening, Kendra. I did not realize we would have company tonight. With this, he took Joe in, probably noting his unbrushed hair, faded jeans, and white T-shirt stained with what Kendra hoped was ketchup.

Before Joe could intercede, Kendra jumped in to say, This is my friend, Joe. He owns the bar. He was just coming by to take our order.

With that introduction, Joe held out his hand. Hello, General. I’d just like to say thank you for your service. Kenny sure talks a lot about you. Could I start you off with something to drink?

Kendra could tell that manners alone forced her father to tightly shake Joe’s hand. Whiskey neat for me. Kendra?

Hugh Gilbert didn’t suffer fools, disrespect, or messiness. Knowing this, Kendra decided to take a pass on her regular order of a beer and asked Joe for an Old Fashioned.

Coming right up. If Joe was nervous, he was doing his best not to show it. With his regular easy gait, he walked off to the bar to prepare their drinks. In his absence, Kendra had no choice but to look her father in the eye and wait for whatever criticism he had for her.

You let him call you Kenny? No wonder you’re having problems at work. You let your subordinates refer to you that way, too?

Kendra shut her eyes in frustration and took a breath before replying. No, sir. Joe is a friend and it felt nice to have a nickname. The problems I have at work have nothing to do with authority, or lack thereof.

They clearly do, otherwise your workers wouldn’t be so far behind. When we spoke last, you told me that you didn’t have a single team member who was keeping up with the workload. Has that changed?

Hugh’s eyes bored into her, and she felt like a small child again. No, sir. They’re still behind. She looked down at the table, waiting for her rebuke.

Kendra, I didn’t raise you to be spineless. A company hired you to be a manager, and it is your job to ensure that your workers are doing the work you assign them. Production is everything. If you’re not producing measurable results, you might as well pack up now. No company is going to support a manager, a female nonetheless, when she cannot hold authority over her own employees.

By the end of Hugh’s tirade, Joe had returned with the drinks. Sensing the clear tension, he asked cautiously, "Can I bring