In home videos, the ones taken on my dad's 1988 camcorder device, you can often hear instructions or rather pleadings for me to get out of the shot. The camera would try to maneuver around my round head only to have it pop back into the frame moments later. Poor Adam was in the background, and my dad just wanted to shoot his cute button face and squeaky new words. Okay, okay, okay ... I'll move over for a second. But just a second.
I loved the camera, the stage, and the cue to put the spotlight on me. I still do. And perhaps because of my eagerness to take the lines and the bows, I've built a fanbase over the years. A following that has been rooting for me to succeed; a group that I never want to let down.
I saw one such fan at our annual pool party a couple weeks ago . As I was walking out, I spotted him sitting under the tent. He was smaller, humbler in stature than I remembered, but he was also 20 years younger last time I saw him. We used to exercise in the work out room together. I would have been 22 or 23, and not very happy with myself. It was my dark period - synonymous with Picasso's blue period. I was the woman with the iron, hunched over the ironing board, unable to look up and stand tall. But this guy, perhaps 65 at the time, took an interest in me. In my past and in my present and encouraged me toward a brighter future.
I walked over to him and said, 'Jack. It's me.'
He lit up, and responded, 'I've been following you. You went to business school. You got married. Five kids right? And you've been in Chicago, working for a big company. You're back now, huh?'
I nodded. That's right. That's right.
'Well done, he said. 'You've had a great run.'
'A great run?' I replied.
'Yes, that's what you call it.'
I smiled. He was right, it's been an incredible 17 years. But there was something finite in his statement that made me worried. It was the tense he used. I've had a great run. Was this the culmination of it? I told him I was playing in the Club Championship tomorrow. And he said he would be rooting for me.
The next day I lost in the finals. End of the run.
***
A couple weeks ago, I was given some homework before a meeting. In corporate America we call it a pre-read. And this one was lengthy. I like a good one or two-pager, but this one was 10 dense pages, and I debated skimming. I would read the headlines, pull a couple juicy sentences out, go back to email. But I couldn't. The material grabbed my attention - it was too good.
The title of the article was 'FANness'. And the premise was that people are different and leaders tend to fail being inspirational because of that fact. The coaching in the article asserts that leaders need to reorient their thinking away from traditional motivation tactics and toward fandom of their people. And there are a collection of ways to do that. For instance, just listen to them and engage, have someone tag along with you on a special experience, give someone exposure that will help them grow, or just agree with someone in public, demonstrating they have sound thinking skills.
I thought back to Jack. He would listen to me as he steadily rode the exercise bike. Like really listen. I don't even know what I said, but he did. He would tell me about the restaurants he had been to in New York as inspiration for my budding career in the food industry. He introduced me to his friends - made me someone to know at the Club. A fan, for sure.
In the meeting, we discussed the homework and were asked to reflect on a person in the company and a person at home that needed a fan. We were asked, 'who needs your fandom most of all?'
I was pretty quick to jot down a person on the company side. Yep, that guy.
And then I started making a list on the home front.
The twins. While many times it's all about them, it also feels like it's never about them. I smother them with hugs and kisses as much as I can, but I debate if I've given them the same kind of thoughtful attention that I gave Mary or Bobby or even Margaret when they were that age. It was their birthday recently, and it finally felt like a day for them, by them. And I vowed to design more days, or more hours, when I can give them by all.
Mary, Bobby and Margaret all need more time with me - there's never enough of it. And at their age, they are ripe with feedback on how my schedule prevents me from being there as much as I want to. For them, it's taking an interest, bending an ear, seeing the event that's central in their week, and giving them the hugs that they still desperately want morning and night.
My parents. They've been such fans of me - something that I've come to expect. But have I been as enriching as a fan to them?
My siblings and friends. Aunt Dee, Patty, Charles. I could be a better fan to all of them. There were a lot to list, but then only one that I circled.
Peter. Ever and ever a fan of me. Have I been fan enough to him?
I have often thought that my center stage persona is a derivative of being a middle child. But Peter is a middle child as well and defies my theory. He is never one to seek out the attention, never one to ask or expect recognition, not motivated by the trophy or applause. In our relationship, he balances out my crazy.
And in this new chapter of our life, he has assumed a (temporary) new role of stay-at-home dad. My job and the travel that came with it over the past year were just too much for us both to be working, so, he took a step back. And has instead dedicated his time to ensuring our household functions day in and day out. He does the very difficult, exhausting, and unglorified job of taking care of five kids, the house and all its chores, chauffeuring here, there and everywhere, and all the paperwork, accounting, filing, scheduling and rescheduling that our lives demand. And in the evening, he acts as coach and cheer leader for me as we huddle to debrief on the drama of my day. He has never strayed in the faith that I can do a job and has given me countless pep talks on how to navigate the world of contentious conversations, deal making, lawyers, bankers, politicians, and work out situations that involve all three.
Besides thanking him for making dinner, I thought back on how many times I've applauded him for all he is doing to keep the family unit physically and emotionally well, especially when I'm on the road. The answer is quite simply, not enough. I circled his name again and thought of the ways I can be a bigger, better fan to my husband.
The article listed three that best fit Peter's personality:
- Listening and engaging with the person
- Finding opportunities for the person to learn and grow
- Trusting the person with a prize responsibility
The realization at work and at home, is that sometimes the most unassuming players, are the ones that need a little more fandom. Especially when they are the ones that enable the whole play to hang together. Because behind any woman who appears to be a super mom, there is someone offering invaluable support that enables her to soar. Or as Jack says, continue the run. Thank you for all of it, Peter. I'm your biggest fan.
Lo.
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