Tree versus Tunnel

Have you tried a Jappa Dog? Would you?

In my last post, I talked about learning from the career model put forth by Olympic athletes and it was basically a post full of awe and, to some extent, envy for the way Olympic athletes can delay career gratification, focus on smaller goals on the way to a big goal, persevere in the face of adversity and put all their career eggs in one basket. (I also wouldn't mind getting my hands on one of the Canada jackets that they wear to the medal ceremonies but that's a wish list for another day).

One reader, Carly Goldsmith (blogger of "Success Without a Suit"), wondered about that last point -- advocating putting all your career eggs in one basket. And she's right -- I don't really advocate that. That point (poorly articulated no doubt due to the constant ear worm of the Olympic theme song, "I believe", that's been tormenting me these last 2 weeks) was meant to be about how I am in awe of people who put all their career eggs in one basket because it's not something I could ever do...nor is it something I normally advise others to do. I just think the ability to do it is interesting, incredible and yes, possibly sometimes gold/silver/bronze-medal producing. It's a career model that shocks me with its bravery and also, to some extent with its limited scope because for many of us, that singular focus might cause us to miss out on some really wonderful and unexpected opportunities.

So let me step down from my podium of Olympic athlete awe (and outfit envy) and clarify that I usually suggest the model of a career tree, rather than a tunnel. Working with many students and new graduates as I do, I hear from people frequently who seem to have an expection of finding the track, getting in the groove, leaving the starting gate and then coasting along for 40 years in some sort of mythical career tunnel. And I spend most of my days trying to talk them out of it.

This week, the reasons why were illustrated stoically, if not enthusiastically, by Ben Mulroney and the Jappa Dog. I'll explain why but first, more about my tree analogy (cue the laughing by those who know me as a plant killer from way back).

Thinking of your career as a tree rather than a tunnel is much more practical, flexible and yes, even fun. What I mean by a "tree" is if you grow your interests and skills out through a variety of branches, you not only keep your career interesting but you also offer yourself many options if one branch gets closed off because of career fatigue, firing, flirtation, fate or any other obstacles that may or may not continue my love affair with alliteration. Got a great job? Got one you don't love? The tree works for both situations. Keep those branches growing by volunteering, joining boards, spending time on hobbies, taking on different projects, signing up for classes and so on and so on. Hang sparkly ornaments of cool experiences and new interests on your tree's limbs whenever you can. Stretch your branches to the sky and wiggle in the wind.
And once you've stopped rolling your eyes at my analogies, come back to this week's example.

I'm pretty sure that Ben Mulroney wasn't too enthusiastic about trying one stylin' Vancouver street vendor's version of a hot dog (The Jappa Dog) with all its seaweed shavings and miso-mayonnaise toppings. And I'm pretty sure he didn't like it when he actually tasted it on camera. But he's got another interesting experience on his tree that he would never have had if he had refused to venture down a new branch.

So while we may admire those people who put all their career eggs in one basket, you may want to consider a tree instead. Because, whether it's a maple, birch, magnolia or joshua (mine resembles a banyan), your career tree can be beautiful.

Even if the Jappa Dog ain't your kind of thing.

Career Patience of "Olympic" Proportions

Interesting thing, this Olympics.

3 billion of us are estimated to have responded to the invitation to revel in our national pride, determination and fitness by doing...um, yeah...nothing.


There we are watching elite athletes sweat and strain and compete for gold and what are we doing? Sitting/lying/sprawled perfectly motionless, (except for the odd groan or cheer) sometimes for hours at a time, our only exertion that of the hurculean effort it takes to bring the snacks and beverages not normally found in an Olympic athlete's diet up to our mesmerized mouths.


The juxtaposition of elite athletes with MacDonald's as the "official restaurant of the Olympic games" strikes me as more than a little strange too.


I've also been struck this week by what a unique career model an amateur athlete is. Take Kelly Vanderbeek, ski racer for the Canadian Olympic team, for example. She tore her ACL (yeah, I'm not sure what that means either, but I know it's bad) in December, thereby ending her 2010 Olympic dreams and it got me thinking: what if, instead of being bored, demanding or impatient with our careers, we followed the model of an amateur athlete?


What if we...


1. gave our best and worked towards a goal years and years in the future, without any guarantee that we would ever reach it--but we kept working and believing anyway?


2. delayed big financial rewards now and for years, doing training, paying our dues, building our skills so that when the big opportunity came along, we'd be as ready as we could be?


3. satisfied, nourished and celebrated ourselves with small goals (e.g. races/time improvements/new technical prowess) along the way...while we waited and waited and waited some more for our chance?


4. put all our career eggs/loves in one basket and worked consistently and happily towards that goal?


and perhaps hardest of all...


5. recognized that some of it is simply not in our control--torn ACLs happen and change everything in an instant--and instead of giving up, we started working towards a new goal?


Kelly Vanderbeek had a major career goal just weeks from her grasp. She had presumably done everything right and worked very, very hard toward her goal. And now she must wait...and work hard some more--four years more. How many of us do that when things are stagnating or worse--go that terribly wrong in our careers? I acknowledge that elite athletes are often from comfortable, if not wealthy stock and have a significant basis from which to harness opportunties that we might not all have. I still think the career model they follow from there is something we can learn from.

Kelly has a career she obviously loves but it's not without its moments of heartbreak and yet she doesn't abandon it or forget the joys it brings, even when the going gets really, really rough.


And, despite all her training and good fortune and disappointment, Kelly is, at her core, just a woman like you (okay, maybe with slightly whiter teeth) with a career to deal with. And like you, when you've had a bad day on the job, she might console herself momentarily with a cheeseburger and chocolate milkshake.


It's okay. We're all allowed a moment of decadence and self-pity and besides...


I've heard the "official restaurant of the Olympics" is welcoming customers.

A Valentine for your Career - from Career Cupid

Career Cupid is all about how finding a great career is a lot like the process of finding a great romance. Whether you love the whole hearts/chocolate/flowers thing or not, Valentine's Day is the perfect time to re-commit to a current career you love or get inspired to find one you really do want to spend some significant time with.

For some ideas, check out my Valentine's Day interview with Cathy Keates: www.careerconsiderations.ca/blog/?p=161

Happy in your career or not, tools from the dating world can help up the romance and endorphins quotient and can make the process feel more manageable and fun. So go on--open up that box of cocoa treasures (after all, it is the universal day of guilt-free chocolate indulgence) and cozy up to the career you love.

Happy Valentine's Day from Career Cupid!