I set aside time this morning to research burnout and retention in an industry that is new to me. This industry is a potential niche for the organizational/group work I do with a partner.

My business partner and I had agreed to review a dozen documents as part of the research, ranging from studies on retention in this industry to best practices for addressing burnout. I noticed that I was having trouble focusing and was procrastinating by making tea, having breakfast, reading the paper. What was wrong with me? Why was a simple research task so hard? 

It hit me. In my last corporate job at Avaya, I had taken on the role of "retention leader" within the R+D community. I had been down this road before, doing the research, making presentations to decision makers and being an advocate for improving workplace culture. I was not alone in this work. I had allies and colleagues who believed that making a better workplace was not just a noble thing, but a doorway to higher productivity.

Photo by rick

Many years later, I feel a sense of failure. (I left Avaya in 2002.) Many of the improvements I helped to implement (e.g., meditation room, yoga classes, career development talks, a group of volunteers dedicated to community-building) are no longer at Avaya, not because the need has gone away, but because the winds have shifted. Deep down, I know that I had some impact, if only on the people who took advantage of the short-lived improvements.  Yet, there's an emotional wound of having worked so hard on something that meant so much, only to see the tide turned back years later. Friends and former colleagues have told me in recent years how the current workplace, under new management after being bought by private equity, bears no resemblance to what I knew when I worked there.

I couldn't stop crying as I told my business partner how I was already feeling discouraged on applying what I knew to this new industry. I kept going back to the idea: "I'm not sure I can have an impact."

Intellectually, I know that it is my Gremlin talking. In the last six years of having my coaching and consulting business, I have developed a more effective toolkit for creating transformation–inside companies and individuals. Yet emotionally, the Gremlin's grip is iron clad and makes my heart unbearably heavy. I am surprised at how raw this feels, after so much time.

Over the last few years, I have been playing it safe, by focusing on
work that involved team dynamics, secretly hoping that better teams would
eventually spill over to creating better culture. One does not
necessarily lead to another. It's a lot easier to claim the territory of transforming teams. It's a hell of a lot harder to embrace head-on work to transform a culture.

At some point in our journeys, it is the rare individual who will go back into the fire–the place he/she entered long ago and emerged, with emotional scars, but spiritually stronger. The crucible in which the fire burns will call us back, not as punishment, but because we can be of service to others. At some point, I will go back into the fire, hoping to play a role in creating better workplaces, with cultures that are congruent with our most cherished human values.

I just don't know when that will be. 

Photo by sharlenescom