The Freedom to Be Real

I adopted a co-worker named MoMo. He spends his days playing with his toys, slowly pulling at the threads of my beautiful rug... as much art as a cozy place to cradle your feet. This morning I laid down with scissors, cutting back fluff and loose threads and had a flashback. I was in my early 20’s and my (now ex) wife and I owned a tweed chair. It was a place to sit and a symbol of our ever-expanding adulthood. Our cat Pete liked to pull the tiny weave apart bit by bit with his claws. Before guests would arrive, we’d take turns, weaving it back together with toothpicks. I picture that now and laugh, able to see the absurdity in my desperate presentation of perfection... but that’s how I was raised. I’m sure many of you were too. Yesterday I spoke with a candidate for a role on my team. She asked me to describe my leadership style. I told her many things besides this, but made a point to say flawed. “I’m a fallible human who will let you down,” I said. “I will do my best and make mistakes and some days I will drive you crazy. I am not a perfect boss or human. I hope it makes it safe for you to be fallible too.” More and more, I care less about rugs and chairs, about the projection of perfection... and a lot more about the freedom to be real.

#psychologicalsafety #leadership