Going Out on a Limb
Taking chances is something most of us try to do in some sort of measured way. Weigh the pros and the cons, then leap or duck. The trick is to take leaps and learn to duck while you’re doing it.
My old company, TTF Aerospace, probably couldn’t have purchased its building with anyone but our current local banker. She had seen TTF start from essentially nothing and thought we could do no wrong. Certainly, she liked the volume of money that was going through her little Auburn branch. If she had looked closely though, we might not have passed the smell test. In any case it didn’t matter – we had a building! The building was owned by an independent LLC we had set up and TTF was the tenant. What TTF paid in rent was less than what we were paying for the 4 buildings we had been leasing under my partner Brad’s risk-averse style. It was all well and good to prepare for unexpected disasters, but at some point we had to take a leap of faith and commit to growing and keeping ourselves competitive. This was another example of our new President, Phil, being able to sell Brad in ways I couldn’t. It helped Phil had daily operations authority and that I openly backed the idea. It took us less than six months to finish all the building improvements and become operational in the new building. I was ecstatic and so was Phil. Now we had our own brick and mortar, a new logo and marketing effort to go with it, and had somewhat diversified our TTF investment. We had the efficiency of having everyone in a single building and things laid out largely as we wanted. It was a great step forward.
By this time, I had resigned myself to the roles of cheerleader and strategic advisor. I also concentrated on aerospace-related advocacy and education through membership on various boards and public speaking. While many business people don’t see the value of public speaking and policy involvement, I found the exposure for TTF was positive. I believe it helped contribute to a more favorable business environment for our company by actively advocating for the aerospace industry with the legislature and our elected officials.
At the time there was also a state and industry emphasis on STEM education – science, technology, engineering and math – but I felt it missed a very important element: communication. My business experience allowed me to understand how important a liberal arts degree was for my career. I was not an engineer by degree. I think I had a very balanced education that included an emphasis on math, science, trade shops and the humanities through high school. From that, I knew enough to later learn engineering as a trade. My General Studies degree exposed me to a broad range of disciplines, including business, science, technology, education, and more humanities.
It helped me develop an eye-pleasing aesthetic for shape and color, something engineers didn’t normally possess. The interdisciplinary approach allowed me to understand the importance of communicating well, projecting a positive outlook and seeing the importance of individual contribution to the human condition. Even though I tended to be ambitious, I came to understand a little humility and a spiritual perspective helped tremendously. I was convinced there was something out there much greater than us driving the universe. Whether one subscribed to a religion or the latest conjectures from quantum physicists and the theories of chaos and self-organization, it was becoming clearer to me God was not dead.
This brings me, quite obliquely, to an aside conclusion regarding man’s arrogance towards nature. Bear with me for a moment.
In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries man was convinced we could control nature. We moved huge mountains of earth, re-arranging the landscape to fit our needs. We built monstrous dams, canals and dykes for irrigation, power, flood control and transportation. We blew things up to build roads and satisfy our urge to travel. We created machines to predict the weather, seed clouds for rain, control forest fires, and predict tornados and hurricanes. We cut down and re-planted forests. We even engineered plants and chemicals to increase food production. Moderation with regard to nature had rarely been part of our lexicon. And yet we still could not control storms, floods, earthquakes, eruptions – we were not even very good at predicting them or mitigating the damage they did.
It didn’t seem as if we had learned much from the experience. We would rail about global warming and how man’s use of fossil fuels was the cause. While I don’t dispute the earth has been warming, I also see the conflicting science; the computer models make so many climactic assumptions almost any outcome can be predicted if a few of the variables are altered. And the variables themselves are too often subject to hypothesis. So the science is inexact, at best. Yet we still have this supreme arrogance we can somehow control Mother Nature.
Change has been the only constant in our planet’s existence. Yet many people believe if we drastically cut our ‘carbon footprint’ we can reverse the global climactic trends. What then, will we do when the next Ice Age looms – burn more carbon fuel? We have never controlled nature before and, honestly, I hope we never will. To do so would mean the end of the creative wisdom of the cosmos. For man to believe he has the ability to even approach the homeostasis of the universe is deeply disturbing. It’s an absolute conceit I have great trouble with.
We conveniently ignore the earth has cyclically been warming and cooling over many millennia. As a living planet with an active, magnetic, liquid core it will in all probability continue to do so. To take statistical samples from the past 100-odd years and whatever geological data we have and claim to know quantitatively what will happen climatically defies common sense – the sample base is too small; hence the unmanageable number of model variables. For me, it doesn’t pass the smell test.
So, how does all of this relate to TTF and my experience? It’s an observation of the fallacy of human nature. From our experiential learning, we develop misconceptions not only about the world we live in, but of ourselves. Where is the humility? I have also learned valuable lessons about what’s important to me and what’s provided me emotional certainty. It’s why believing in what my gut, my intuition, tells me is important.
Like most of us, I develop an impression of people within a few seconds of meeting them. If I sense something’s off, I tend to withdraw or tell myself I’m imagining it. I discovered later what I was really sensing was compatibility to my way of thinking. From a business standpoint, it can be the difference between an honest, profitable relationship and one that cannot succeed. It can be nothing more than a difference in business philosophy. Either way, there must be a bond formed with a like vision in order to succeed. If I can’t find that, then any association will be a struggle and distract me from my ultimate goal, no matter what that is. The only problem is my compatibility meter isn’t infallible… and that’s also where TTF got into trouble. Trust is good and a required part of business. But too much trust can be lethal. Root around the business section of this blog and you’ll find out how TTF learned that the hard way.
