Same mud, different shoes
THE RUB
Over the years, I’ve reconnected with different long-time friends (I don’t want them to call me “old,” so I won’t call them old either). Some are great, some are okay, some are awkward. People change. Most of us aren’t the same person we were in high school. Reaching out to someone you knew 40 years ago is a coin-flip.
I met Marc the summer before my freshman year. He was the first chair tuba player, and I was just learning how to march with a sousaphone. He took me under his wing and taught me a lot including how to drive a stick shift.
He also introduced me to my wife of 37 years. He was dating her at the time.
Facebook helped us reconnect and stay aware of each other’s lives. After 9/11, he joined the State Department and served as a Foreign Service Officer for 23 years.
Twenty years ago, Gina and I connected with Marc and his wife Naoko in Washington DC and had a wonderful dinner where he ordered everything for us in Japanese. They swung by our house in Kansas City 14 years ago with their kids while on a cross-country road trip.
Both were brief “Good to see you” interactions. We’ve kept in loose contact — mainly us keeping up with him via his Facebook updates.
He lives in Hawaii, so when I was headed to Oahu for work, I messaged him. We blocked out an entire day to hike the Aiea Trail, drive up to the north shore, and celebrate our current greatness.
I was optimistic things would go great, but I’ve been wrong before with similar gambles.
THE FRAMEWORK
As soon as Marc pulled around the corner in his red six-speed GTI, I knew things were going to be awesome. The weather was a misty rain, and the trail was a sloppy mess. The conditions didn’t faze either of us. Marc slipped at one point, covering his shorts in mud and saying, “Well, at least I don’t have to worry about falling anymore.”
We drove along the north shore, snacked on fresh fruit, and feasted on prime rib, but the best part was the engaging conversation.
I’ve been reflecting on why this encounter was so ideal. The first thought is how Marc and I both love to deconstruct everything. Why is the restaurant so slow to seat us with so many open tables?
I’m firing off photos to him as soon as I edit them on my MacBook. It’s so easy! The analogy hits me like a 30-foot wave crashing on the shore. My iPhone and computer work seamlessly with each other because of their compatible operating systems. That’s Marc and me. Naturally, I had to deconstruct that further.
Marc and I are both curious, decent storytellers, and active listeners. Our temperaments are similar.
He told me about how over the years of partnering with Marines, he observed two consistent characteristics in effective leaders — grace and humility. I nodded in agreement. One of many examples where our values are aligned.
Marc’s and my perspectives varied and were shaped by our different paths, foreign service versus retail. Our curiosity helped us learn from each other. Our skills were built with different practices, but we both actively worked to develop as communicators, problem solvers, and influencers (not the social media kind, the meat and potatoes get shit done kind).
THE PRACTICE
I didn’t think any of this while I was with Marc. It just felt right.
I can’t manufacture what Marc and I have, but the next time something’s off, I’ll at least know what to look for. What’s out of alignment with our two operating systems? What values does this person have? What temperament is on display? What viewpoints and perspectives do they offer? What skills are their strengths?
I trust being able to articulate others’ values and temperaments will help me identify points of friction. Once identified, I can determine whether I want to invest energy in bridging that gap by finding common ground or simply choose to reduce time with this person.
Back at Marc’s house, we were hosing and scrubbing the mud off our shoes. His shoes were the same ones he planned to wear into the office Monday morning. Mine were trail shoes I had to shove in a suitcase without getting mud on everything else.