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.