Business owner Doug Wagner didn’t expect to learn 3 important lessons of leadership from grieving the loss of his best friend. But that’s exactly what happened.
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I am not sure time heals all pain. In this case, I think time has numbed the pain enough that I can talk about it. And derive some lessons from it.
I am not really sure we would really want to forget the pain in our past; because often that pain is caused by the very things we cherish most.
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Around two and half years ago, I attended The Go-Giver Retreat in West Palm Beach, Florida. I hadn’t done a lot of travelling for business, and any conferences I attended were local. Being that it was happening in April, getting out of Calgary seemed like that vacation that I had not taken as often as I would like.
I am not sure time heals all pain. In this case, I think time has numbed the pain enough that I can talk about it. And derive some lessons from it.
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Running a small business is sometimes like that. If things are tight, you may not be able to afford a trip. If things are going well, sometimes you are too busy for one. So I had extended the trip with a few days on the back-end.
The evening before the retreat there was a pool-side meet and greet. The world has become much more connected, and I had already met a few of the attendees on a live training call, and a few others through social media. For an Introvert, having a few people you already know makes a networking event in a distant location all that more enjoyable.
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The first day of the event was amazing.
That evening I went out to a really nice Italian restaurant right on an ocean inlet. The food was fantastic, and afterwards we had an impromptu Zumba dance class to a live Latin performer in a corner of the restaurant.
Admittedly I was on a bit of a high; with not a drug in me.
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The high continued with a great day listening to speakers and pushing myself out of my comfort zone via networking between talks, followed by a great meal. Add that to the contrast of the Florida sun versus the wintry weather we had left behind.
On the night drive back, the heavens opened up in one of those freak thunderstorms that you really don’t like to drive in at the best of times. Visibility was close to zero, it was an unfamiliar highway in a strange location, and driving a rental car made it even further from ideal.
After about 30 minutes of driving in the downpour blinking at the bright flashes of lightning, we managed to find the hotel and, as seems to always happen, the rain stopped just as we arrived.
It was a warm humid night with the water vapor rising off pavement, so we welcomed the air conditioning of the hotel lobby and the accompanying reduction in humidity.
Then my cell phone rang. I glanced at the phone and saw it was the friend who was taking care of our dogs while we were gone.
I answered, surprised he was calling, and thinking that it was likely to do with food portions or some other trivial thing.
But he was calling to break the news that Calvin, my best friend and 14 year old Border Collie, had just died.
He went out to do his business; their home backs onto an off-leash park, and he had just peed on the gate (bit of a rascal) then took a few steps and collapsed. He was dead within minutes.
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I stood motionless. It hadn’t really hit me yet. I was still trying to comprehend what had happened and what could be done to change things.
I thought everyone could tell I was a blubbering and unprofessional male businessman, not the pillar of success I wanted to be.
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In that moment of fog, we got him to put Calvin in the freezer so we could take care of his body when we got back. Afterwards, you realize how much of an inconvenience that sort of thing is on a friend. In the moment you are just “dealing with it”.
Finally we went to our hotel room. It was a really rough night. I’ll spare you (and myself) the details.
Calvin was dead and nothing was going to change that.
That thought alternated with wanting to leave right away and get back to… do something.
On the other hand, I had come all this way for a conference and it wasn’t just any conference. I was interested in enrolling in the Certified Go-Giver Coaching program in addition to the content. It had cost a lot of money and time to get there and I was trying to make a decision that would cost even more money and time.
As a compromise we ended up moving up the flight a few days and still finished the conference and had a day to explore Florida.
By the time the flights were rearranged and I had “stabilized” my emotions; I had missed the first presenter of the day. Which was a shame, because it was one I was really looking forward to.
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So I spent the rest of the day attending presentations, walking back to my room passing strangers in the hall, holding it together, then crying for 10 minutes, getting cleaned up, and returning to the conference room.
Men don’t cry. And successful businessmen are rocks.
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It felt somehow inappropriate to put on a public display of emotions, and I didn’t want to talk about why I was upset if someone did notice. I thought everyone could tell I was a blubbering and unprofessional male businessman, not the pillar of success I wanted to be.
A few months later, I posted on my blog about my gratitude for the friend Calvin had been and the healing I had learned to do. I found that I actually had kept it hidden from the people in the conference. They hadn’t seen my pain, yet, they told me that it would have been OK to talk about it. They would have understood.
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But I did not yet understand.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered the few times I cried as a youngster in front of the other kids. Let’s just say they did not react compassionately.
Men don’t cry. And successful businessmen are rocks.
Yet, after I got back to the office things were not easy to hide. People knew me a lot better.
They could see that I was not OK even when I tried to hide it. They wanted to ask questions and offer condolences. I didn’t really want to talk.
It was extremely uncomfortable to talk about it. Yet it was strangely healing to be able to do so.
I have finally realized that this event in my life taught me three lessons that apply to both leadership and running a business.
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So, although I really just felt like crying, a lot was happening with my business right then and I needed to get back to leading. You don’t always have the luxury of taking time to heal when it’s up to you to take the business where it needs to go.
Being busy was probably good for healing too. Too much time contemplating loss can lead to other issues.
A few years later, one of my long-time employees lost a pet. He felt comfortable talking to me about it because he knew I had gone through the loss of a pet myself.
I treasure that.
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Not everyone gets it. But for those of us blessed to know the strong relationship with a pet, we understand that loss is loss. Grieving is grieving. Everyone deals with things differently. Yes, we know it is not a person. But it doesn’t feel any different in the moment.
It’s taken some time, but I have finally realized that this event in my life taught me three lessons that apply to both leadership and running a business:
- It is OK to have a business where people can share their emotions, feelings, wins and losses. This makes us human and makes the team stronger.
- It is OK for a leader to be human. You can’t always share everything, but being human creates a stronger team, not weaker. You can cry if you need to.
- Your team needs to be able to run things without you. Don’t set up your business so that you can’t take time to heal or deal with health issues, or other events in life.
Of course you don’t want to spend your days talking about all the negative things going on in your life. But it is great to know you can when it matters.
And you won’t lose the respect of your team. You don’t have to carry all the burdens alone.
Showing humanity increases respect.
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Photos of Calvin courtesy of the author
Good article. It illustrates well the emotional pressure men feel when they think they’ll be looked down on if they cry, or they have to hold it together for everyone’s sake. I know women experience this pressure to some extent, but generally they aren’t expected to be SO in control. I miss my little buddy Mari, who died last year, a sometimes grumpy but sweet little dog who waddled around, made pig noises, and lived to take walks to smell things and pee on them. It’s never easy to lose such a meaningful soul. My wife still talks about him… Read more »
Oh my! I know the grief of beloved pets far too well. My heart goes out to you. It doesn’t go away. And I don’t think I’d want it to, even as hard as it was. And losing two in less than 4 months time back in 2011, (one expected, the other a total shock), as your Calvin. They were my best friends, and companions like no other person has been to me. We had three beautiful Golden Retrievers for less than 2 years after the youngest came home with me in late 2009. She’s still with me, and i’m… Read more »