I have been lost more times than I want to admit. Both mentally as well as physically. If I take this question literally, it would have to be in early May of 2014. Our family was up in Rocky Mountain National Park hiking the Deer Mountain trail. In the middle of the summer, it is a moderate trail, 3.0 miles one way. The trail starts up on long switchbacks along the southern slope. You eventually plateau out on the top ridge, where you traverse through the trees for a bit until a stair-step trail to the summit veers off to the right. I have hiked that trail about 10 times.
Early May, in the mountains at 10,000 ft elevation, was a lesson in understanding climate. Back in Michigan, we got snow in April at times, but by early May we start to plant vegetables and flowers outside. A different story in the Rockies.
The hike started out as a leisurely stroll, steadily climbing as we gazed at the beautiful views of the front range. Birds, early flowers, and animals averted our eyes as we caught our respective breaths during the ascent. Light patches of snow began to appear on either side of the trail. When we reached the top ridge, the trail suddenly disappeared under a thick blanket of snow, left from winter's precipitation. We knew to follow the ridge for a while. But, what's a while when you are plowing in knee-deep snow? At one point we thought we had to have gone far enough and did not want to make this hike any longer than it needed to be. Several of our climbing party were not prepared for the deep snow. Even those of us with proper footwear had snow finding its way into our boots, dampening our socks, as well as our spirits. So we hatched a half-baked plan to split up into teams and spread out to the right and find that golden staircase to the summit. Plowing through snow, sometimes up to our hips, we stayed with this strategy for almost an hour before succumbing to defeat. With no phone service, we had to locate all the parties and make sure we were all in agreement. Wet and cold we made our way back to the warmth of our vehicle, summitless.
There is a moment of helplessness when you first realize you are lost. It certainly helps to have someone with you. When you are the patriarch of 6 family members, you also feel a responsibility to protect them. How could I be lost in a familiar place? That doesn't make sense. However familiar the trail, I had never hiked it in the snow. That changed everything.
As a leader during times of transformation, we may have similar feelings. Our team members might have performed certain tasks, but because we changed a process, the task is now totally different. We continue to expect the same results from our experienced team. That is not fair. When we experience a change, we should alter our expectations. Stop, evaluate the current environment and collaboratively determine the right approach. During this time we might look for similarities to the old process, to assure that everything has not changed. Encouragement and support are valuable here also as your team probably feels inadequate. The growing pains will eventually pass as they gain confidence through repetitively successful results.
On our Deer Mountain adventure we did not:
Stop and really survey the area for familiar landmarks
Ask for everyone's input on a plan
Assure that everybody was feeling safe (maybe cold, but safe)
Feeling lost, not in control, can be devastating for people who are used to being confident and competent. Whatever we can do as leaders to give them control of their responsibilities, and confidence in their work, is going to be returned inefficiencies.
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