Chapter 4      

Get out of your depth — it's a great way to learn to swim

In Ballarat I continued my practice of seizing every available acting role and this time I focused on senior management positions. My boss at the time was Chief Ranger of the Grampians district. He oversaw massive tracts of land, hundreds of staff and millions of annual park visitors. When he announced he was going on extended leave for 12 months I quickly applied to act in his role. The highest number of people I had had reporting to me up to this point was 12, so this would be a massive step up.

Headed for Chief Ranger

I spent the next year learning the ropes of being Chief Ranger. If I was surprised at the amount of paperwork at Jells Park, I was absolutely floored by the paperwork a Chief Ranger must manage. Fortunately, I was surrounded by a professional and skilled team who took on most of the drudge work, enabling me to work on the relationships with staff, stakeholders and media and to oversee our large projects.

After successfully managing the programs in Ballarat, it wasn't long before I caught the attention of Mark Stone, then CEO of Parks Victoria. The organisation, from inception through its multiple different incarnations, was male-dominated, particularly out in the field. At this time approximately 90 per cent of park rangers were men. The organisation had been aware of this for a long time, but without a good case for gender diversity it struggled with practical ways to address it. On the surface, recruitment was roughly 60 per cent men, but most women ended up either in head office or in corporate services roles in the regions, or they left the organisation.

What is the case for gender diversity? Or any diversity for that matter? It's a question that is dear to my heart, and I would gladly spend the next five pages setting out my views. But there are others much more qualified and erudite than I am who are better placed to do this. Suffice to say, I believe in equal opportunity for all — irrespective of gender, religion, race, age, you name it. I think that's uncontroversial, but sometimes it's hard for people and organisations to understand why it's important and what needs to be done — and then to actually make the transition.

Parks Victoria knew they had a problem and were actively looking for answers. They recognised that having competent and capable women in senior management roles would provide role models and mentors for the younger women starting out. So our CEO, Mark, took a special interest in how I was going. My willingness to be seconded to locations far away from home showed Mark I was serious about my career and prepared to work hard. Subsequently I was lucky enough to have very good access to him and his guidance. I often advised him on the organisation's key gender issues while he acted unofficially as a mentor. I felt flattered to be on the CEO's radar, but I also felt that I had something valuable to contribute. Mark would come to be a terrific mentor as I made the transition from staff to management and then into formal leadership positions. His guidance and confidence in me would soon be the catalyst for my decision to lead the Antarctic expedition.

Knocked back, but a new opportunity emerges

A year later a full-time role came up as Chief Ranger for the Basalt Plains district. This district borders Melbourne to the west and north and consists of mainly metropolitan parks, with a new national park thrown in for good measure. I desperately wanted this job. It would let me move back to Melbourne and reconnect with my friends and family. It would put me firmly in charge of a full district. It was the logical next step, so I put everything into my application. I was devastated not to be chosen. Chief Ranger roles don't come up very often, and I was at a loss as to what to do when my current acting Chief Ranger arrangement came to a close. I felt rejected and defeated. I knew who got the role and truly believed that I could have done the job just as well, if not better, than him. Certainly he was highly experienced, a good 25 years older than me, and would be a ‘steady hand’, but I thought the district needed me — young, energetic, passionate, driven and ambitious!

While I was licking my wounds and feeling sorry for myself I was very surprised to see another Chief Ranger role become vacant, in the West Coast district. This district is one of the most complex in Victoria, combining iconic locations such as the Twelve Apostles and the Great Ocean Road, buzzing coastal resorts like Lorne and Anglesea, several rapidly expanding towns and a vast number of parks, including newly established marine parks. The West Coast was the jewel in the crown for Parks Victoria and was internally classified as ‘Level A — Most Complex’. It's the region that attracts large funding, has millions of visitors every year, contains international tourism icons, and has many very passionate and engaged locals. It is also geographically huge, spanning 400 kilometres from Torquay (south of Port Phillip Bay) to Nelson on the South Australian border, and employed 90 staff to manage the portfolio. I felt underqualified, underskilled and still demoralised from my last rejection, but I applied anyway. To follow my motto, I felt I had to try.

A week later I was again despondent. What are the chances of that district coming up again in a few years, I mused … probably bugger all. If the executive team didn't trust me with a small, uncomplicated district like Basalt Plains, why would they trust me with a massive operation like the West Coast? So I called Human Resources and withdrew my application, poured a glass of wine and threw myself a pity party.

That night my phone buzzed with a message from the CEO. He wanted me in his office the next day. Like all great CEOs, Mark knew when to reach out for specific expertise and I felt good and valued that once again I would be called in to provide a ‘woman's perspective’ on a situation, whatever the situation was.

I arrived at the Bourke Street offices expecting a round-table discussion, but Mark pulled me into his office, sat me down and gave me a questioning stare.

‘What, Mark?’

He relaxed into his chair, gave me one more long look then told me he'd heard I had withdrawn my application for the Chief Ranger role.

I was stunned. I had no idea he was involved or really that interested. While I fought to remain poised and calm I explained to him my rationale — that I was just setting myself up for more disappointment and wasting the interview panel's time. I was still so bitterly disappointed and my self-confidence had taken a huge hit.

A glimmer of hope

Mark looked at me sagely, giving me a moment to recompose myself, and told me that sometimes we don't get what we want. He knew how much I wanted the role in Basalt Plains but was very firm that the executive team had put the right person into that job. He agreed that it would have been a nice introduction to a full-time permanent Chief Ranger role, but reminded me his job was to put the right people in the right place at the right time.

We talked about what the West Coast district required and what skills the new Chief Ranger would need. We both knew it would need someone who was prepared to live in isolation, prepared to put in very long hours with lots of travel, and prepared to restructure and turn the district around.

He asked me to reconsider applying. He believed I had all the necessary qualities and had already demonstrated my willingness to work hard and learn. Mark was very honest and frank with me and while he acknowledged I understood people and knew how to set a vision, galvanise a team and make things happen, he also reminded me that I didn't yet have all the technical skills. I knew that if I succeeded in the interview process and took the role I would be out of my depth. It would be an enormous personal challenge. A big restructure like this was bound to get nasty and I suspected it might even get personal. But Mark is a firm believer in stretching people and letting them show just what they're capable of.

His final advice to me still rings loud in my ears and he was absolutely correct: when you have a disappointment in your career, people will be watching you to see how you react. Do you take your bat and ball and go home, or do you learn from it, move through it and get past it? There was one big problem I immediately foresaw. I was dating the regional manager of the West Region! David was on the executive team and carried direct responsibility for all operations within that region, including the West Coast district. I already had first-hand experience of nepotism, and my mistake in employing my friends way back in the early days had shown me how favouritism, or even just perceived favouritism, destroys teamwork. I didn't want a whiff of that around my career.

It all just seemed too hard, as I started to explain to Mark, but he calmly responded that he had already spoken to David. He told me David would not be on the selection panel. In fact, no one from Parks Victoria would be on the initial selection panel. Because it was such a critical, high-profile and politically important role, the organisation took the very rare step of advertising externally, both in Australia and internationally, and Mark personally interviewed the final two applicants. The recruitment consultants would handle the selection process and, quite simply, if I didn't get shortlisted by them I wouldn't be interviewed by the CEO.

Appeased, I agreed. I threw myself optimistically into reapplying for the role. I was shortlisted and sat through the panel interviews. I knew I was up against many others, some of whom were great friends, some who were tried, trusted and experienced, some who had amazing track records of success in internationally sensitive areas. After a two-month process I was awarded the role. It gave me great confidence to know that I was selected on merit. I was not a ‘token’ female Chief Ranger, the CEO's pet project or the Regional Manager's girlfriend. I had won the job fair and square, because of my energy, passion and skill in dealing with difficult people. I had just one month to prepare and there were a lot of decisions to make.