PREPARING FOR THE DAY

Practice for the day when you’re thrown into the deep end. You don’t want to find yourself in the suck without the means for survival.

Marjorie was proud of her American upbringing in a blue-collar town. Her parents taught their nine children the values of citizenship and service. Then in September 2001 the terrorist attack happened. It spurred Marjorie to choose the military—leading at the front line—instead of attending grad school:

My older sister had joined the military to pay for college. She was in Germany when the Berlin Wall came down. At seven, I remember watching President Reagan on TV saying, “Tear down this wall!” I was thinking, Wow, my sister’s over there. This is huge! She brought back a piece, and I was allowed to touch it. It made me believe that the world can be what we hope it to be.

That’s why I had such a call to action. We had to stand up for ourselves and others. I didn’t want to sit on the sidelines. I had to be part of the story because America was going to change. Everything was going to change.

Marjorie served 10 years in the Army Reserve, including two combat deployments. Advancing to frontline commander, she encountered the suck often. For example, right when her husband returned from a 15-month deployment, she was called up. They had wanted to start a family, but instead, Marjorie headed to Afghanistan:

I thought, Can’t we just have a break? “Suck” is what you don’t want in your life. No one wants to be told they have to live for three years away from their partner. No one wants to be told cancer, or they didn’t get promoted. It’s bad. You can bitch about it and you can complain. It isn’t what you wanted, but hell, you can’t deny it. Get comfortable embracing the suck. You’re there. You feel uncomfortable, but you have to do it.

If you’re driving a convoy and you’re ambushed, all of a sudden people are shooting at you. Some people might think you have to stop and find the enemy who is shooting. Others might want to back up and go away. But in the military we learned that you stomp on the gas pedal and push through. If you push through, the likelihood of your survival is exponentially higher. It feels counterintuitive, but that’s how you survive.

After completing her military service, Marjorie was recruited by the board of a large nonprofit. After 18 months as president and COO, expecting to become CEO, she landed in the suck:

When I walked in the door, I thought I would stay for 10 years. The board had created my position as part of the succession plan. The CEO had been looking to retire in three to five years. Then her story changed to five to seven years. She had a case of “Founder’s Syndrome.” I started to see boomers not retiring, everywhere. She was not going anywhere, and I knew I was going to leave. I didn’t know when, but I wanted to leave the organization as tight and as well as I possibly could.

The needle doesn’t move for me—in life and in stress. I stay where I am naturally predisposed to be. I thought, I’m not going to battle. I love my job and my work, but I’m going to let her figure this out.

It wasn’t about becoming the CEO. I didn’t need the prize.

So Marjorie shifted her measure of success to leaving the organization in better shape. And when she left, Marjorie felt like she had prevailed. Resilient, she turned to her next chapter in a life of service.

A SIMPLE TWIST OF FATE

Ask a problem question and get problems.

Ask for new ideas and get solutions.

Geoff’s life changed in 2001, when his father was let go and struggled to find stability at work for the next decade. There were entire years when Geoff’s dad was unemployed:

That’s when I shifted my mindset. I realized that, for the things I wanted like college, I had to do it on my own. I might need to support my parents. That had me in a scramble to get ahead, to feel financially stable as fast as possible. It was a tremendous amount of stress. Today, the economy has rebounded. I feel I have options, but I’m still paying off student loans.

Motivated to look for a dependable career (engineering), a stable industry with steady growth (consumer goods), and an established company with strong values and good prospects, Geoff turned down 10 offers until he found what he needed. Happy ending?

Not quite. Within months, management was debating whether to close the plant where Geoff worked. With reduced staffing, the frontline managers—Geoff included—were stretched to the breaking point:

I was working a hundred hours, seven days a week. At first it was exciting, but as people left, our workload increased. I had an overwhelming feeling of being burned out before the year was up. I set four alarms to wake up and get out of bed. I downed two five-hour energy drinks a day. It was so bad. I remember coming home to get ready for the third date I had with the woman I later married. I fell asleep and missed it entirely.

I was living with a roommate, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone after work. I would go to my room and lock the door. I was physically drained, and I didn’t have emotional energy either. We used to joke that we would bring beer to work because we enjoyed being together, but now, no one asked to go out. We were all exhausted. We even had a fatality.

One of the guys told me about a recruiter. I had been networking to find opportunities inside, but I went to see her. She said, “Look, you’re early on in your career. Go back to your company and have more conversations.” I didn’t want to hear that. I had had a lot of conversations; nothing was being done. The recruiter threw up a roadblock. I didn’t see anything changing.

Stymied, Geoff tried another route. He reconnected with the person in HR who had recruited him. Their regular conversations became his lifeline. Eventually, a new plant director arrived and asked Geoff to join his transition team:

The plant director and his production director coached me to view this situation as more of an opportunity instead of an overwhelming burden. They taught me to step back and look at the overall picture, not getting caught up in the intricate details. They asked, “What can we do to turn this plant around?” They showed me that I had the tools. They were open to my input. They helped me see that making the changes was within me.

An early initiative was establishing a process for cleaning the machines. It seemed impossible. They said that with my strength to connect, people would trust me. All I needed to do was design the right process. I took six months to put it together for the machine operators. We had tremendous improvement in efficiency. It was thrilling!

Putting my ideas in play and seeing results got me out of my funk. It was night and day. I knew we would have a great impact. I knew people would follow me. I was more excited to get up and go to work. I felt more energy at the end of the day. As I started to grow and the plant started to turn around, the production director said, “Look at the opportunities you have. You are entirely capable of doing them. You are smart enough to figure it out. You know.”

That experience changed Geoff’s fortune and his outlook. He advanced to production director in time. Better yet, he dreams of running his own company someday.

PUTTING OUT THE FIRES

Be sure that your guiding principles are not just good for a poster.

They’ll come in handy when you land in the suck.

Jonathan’s start in life was promising: he was a bright kid with a terrific education. He also had the good fortune to land in the suck early on:

My first year in college, I played on the lacrosse team and was influenced by the group. I adopted their world view of being cool. One night I got hazed, got drunk, peed in public, and got in a ton of trouble! It was truly embarrassing. My parents and I had to talk to the dean. That was the best thing. It snapped me out of my teenage arrogance and got me to appreciate school. I started focusing on interesting things: history, race, and politics.

Then I went to work in government partnerships in a finance firm. The financial crisis happened, my group folded, and I was moved to mergers and acquisitions. That work and the people were not inspiring. I remember flying on a private plane to Miami with the head partner, just us. He was totally focused on his wealth. If I ended up like him, I’d be a real loser. I thought, You couldn’t pay me to be this guy!

I was going to private equity next, and I realized it wasn’t what I wanted to do. I decided to leave.

Jonathan and a friend started up an innovative digital media company. Three years later, they landed in the suck unexpectedly. The company’s second employee had been steadily plagiarizing. Jonathan’s decision would have been straightforward had that employee not sacrificed blood, sweat, and tears from the beginning:

It had crossed my mind, like How did he write three articles in the last hour? But we were trying to reinvent the business, trying a hundred things an hour! As the company got more serious and had more standards, he was lifting, writing, and not crediting. Intentionally hiding what he was doing.

I felt responsible for what he had done. He was like my brother. The signs were all over, but it was something I hadn’t cared about. But 40 other people were in the way of serious harm. The process was the way it was. I had fired people before. It was about coming to grips with it.

That weekend, I felt bad. You know the way you feel it in your stomach when something is wrong? You can’t ignore it. I felt uncertainty about how we would bounce back, what this meant for the business in an uncertain time. We were not on super stable financial footing. We couldn’t just double down on reporters. It was hard to figure out what we would do next.

There was no time for grieving. For all of us, careers equal life. I had to tell the company what had happened. It was as big a shock for them. As a leader, I carry the energy for the company. If I’m down, everybody is down. I knew that the only response was to give them the game plan: “We did the right thing, and we’re moving on.”

The company survived, strengthening Jonathan’s capability to lead through the next crisis.

BRINGING YOUR A GAME TO PLAN B

We all wish for working lives without pain.

That’s not realistic. But in the fullness of time, wounds heal.

Samantha had wanted to lead a startup since she was a kid. Her first one was in ninth grade—a nonprofit to help underprivileged kids. Even before that, Samantha was already building the skills of an entrepreneur:

We moved from Texas to the West Coast, and then nine months later, we moved east! I was 10. My parents did a great job making these moves into an adventure. In the West, I had no friends; in the East, I was popular. I realized this was fickle and stupid. That year was transformative.

My parents raised my brother and I to think we could do anything but that it wouldn’t be easy. I joined the soccer team, and the girls hated me. When I wanted to quit, my parents made me stick it out for the season. We learned we would try things and sometimes fail.

As an entrepreneur, you know you’ll be an idiot and fail at some things in order to get where you want.

A few years ago, Samantha and her friends planned a pioneering online business. Well-placed people loved the concept and paid attention. But even before it got out of the gate, there was trouble. The team could not agree on the strategy, the economic model, or even the website look and feel. As the team fractured, conflict almost destroyed Samantha:

Everyone knew it was doomed to fail, except for the people in it, me included. I overlooked clear problems. I really didn’t want to quit. I couldn’t imagine letting go. I was sensitive to how it would look. Other people told me we would have conflict, and I felt we could handle it. When we initially had some, I got several legal threats and was pretty scared. My parents said, “Be thoughtful, and do what’s right. Don’t provoke. These just may be threats.” It became “the strongest one wins.”

I didn’t quit until June, when I woke up to find that I was locked out of the company website. I felt humiliated in front of all the people I had brought on. I also felt the loss of everything I had built, my life savings included. I e-mailed a hundred people and told them what had happened. I was in such pain that I needed other people to be aware of what I was going through. I won’t pretend it was quick and easy.

I spent three weeks curled up on the floor, staring at the ceiling. I wondered how I could face people. My cofounder, Hannah, helped me through. She encouraged me to devise a new business plan. We recruited our entire old team. We had a furious brainstorming session and shaped the new brand. It began to feel real.

Samantha and Hannah put that new plan into action. They launched a new business that had more success in its first month than the original. By the third month, things were humming. After four months, Samantha had her confidence back, vital to a CEO and cofounder. She realized they were going to make it.

ESCAPING THE BLACK HOLE

You can’t fix a bad situation at work without helping yourself holistically. You’ve got to face the $64,000 question: Why am I here?

When he was young, Scott began a lifelong obsession with science and engineering:

My earliest dream was to be an astronaut. I was four when the space shuttle Challenger exploded 73 seconds after liftoff. Most parents would try to shelter their children from those risks, but I wanted to become the first man on Mars.

In college, Dr. Richard Smalley, the Nobel Prize–winning scientist, gave a talk on the need for a hydrogen economy, and I was sold. I wanted to work on the “single most important problem facing humanity today”: new sources of sustainable energy.

Joining an automotive company after graduating, Scott followed that dream. He was assigned to help commercialize zero-emission electrical vehicles that could be powered from any energy source. The challenge was enormous:

This was leading-edge technology with a lot of opportunity for new inventions and solutions. It was revolutionary—freeing up some dependence on oil, making our air cleaner, and fighting climate change. It was taking the stuff from rockets and putting it into cars.

But the program kept getting delayed, postponed, and pushed back. If you don’t hit the targets, you miss the gateway. I remember being at the supplier when the program was canceled. Someone said, “Don’t be discouraged. It will be our life’s work to develop this.” I was excited but terrified. It’s a story I could tell my grandchildren, but we were in the middle of a recession. I had no idea where I was going to go. If I went elsewhere and said I was a hydrogen fuel cell researcher, they would say, “What’s that?”

So I sacrificed my dream for my family.

Scott transferred to a new role as the liaison between the power train and manufacturing functions. Three years later, he was burning out. Landing in the suck, Scott had no option but to embrace it:

I had a lot of stress being a middleman. It was like getting punched in the face by both sides. I was stressed at home too. All the earning pressure was on me.

I wanted to take a winter vacation for my birthday, but my wife told me to go alone. I was gaining weight. I was having panic attacks at work. I was stressed at home. We fought about money. My doctor told me to diet, exercise, and go to therapy. The therapist told me to diet, exercise, and try breathing techniques.

My supervisor relied on me heavily, but I had to move on. I’m driven and ambitious and capable of more. I started looking for jobs internally; my mentor invited me to work for him. Then I looked at how I spent my time and my commitments: to be a good provider and earn my engineering master’s. Also, I made a commitment to my health. I told myself every single day that I was going to exercise. Instead of going out to lunch, I went for a walk and ate a sandwich at my desk.

I did think about suicide. Many people succumb to the overwhelming feeling of insignificance. The love I have for my kids stopped me. And thank goodness for my therapist. As much as we American cowboys want to be the rugged individual, everyone needs help once in a while.

Scott secured a better position to provide for his family. He achieved his academic goals. He restored his health and fitness. But instead of growing together through this dark period, he and his wife grew apart. Their marriage ended. Step by painful step, Scott took back his life.

TAKING ON YOUR

SUCK CHALLENGE

Pushing through the suck at work takes grit.* Many popular expressions describe it: the nauseating “Suck it up,” the ironic “Grin and bear it,” the laconic “Man up,” and the suspenseful “Grit your teeth.” Each adage amounts to the same thing: just hang in there because time will pass, and if you’re still standing, you’ve survived! Lucky you.

That’s unhelpful advice. I cannot imagine telling 10-year-old Lev to suck it up, although he was heroic. When Marjorie landed in the suck for months on end, advising her to take it like a man would have been offensive. Geoff gritted his teeth, but that got him nowhere. When Jonathan and Samantha were slammed, suggesting that they grin and bear it would have been cruel. Sucking it up was the last thing Scott should have done.

I’m certain of this: You will land in the suck sooner or later. You don’t get to choose when and where. If you quit right away, you’ll lose the opportunity to learn. Better to stay for the learning and then decide. Hopefully, these recommendations will be more useful.