Fuel for thought through life’s mistakes
WordSmith
Gerard Smith
Fuel. Everyone else is writing about it, so I figured I would, too. The fuel protests were ongoing when a friend and colleague picked me up for a morning meeting, “We’ll take the back roads to avoid the blockade and back-to school traffic,” she said, turning onto a narrow b-road.
It’s a road full of hills and bad-bends, like a rallying-road, but of course it’s public and not special-stage. My friend and I chatted about the world and our day ahead – then our world STOPPED.
Over the hill ahead of us flew a car; it literally took off, airborne for a second or so. Back on tarmac the driver hit the brakes, which were useless as the car continued to speed-skid onwards with its residual power. When the driver lost control and the car began barrelling towards us, I had a moment's panic! Then came that calm as my life flashed before me and I thought, ‘I hope the end doesn’t hurt too much.’
Mercifully, my friend’s instincts and driving skills were razor sharp. She braked then thrust the car into reverse, and thus avoided what could have been a potentially catastrophic head on collision.
Drivers, take it easy on minor roads because after all, rushing might divert you to the after-life instead of delivering you to your haste-driven destination.
Now, a little diversion on my part (but there’s fuel along the way, too). The evening after our close-call, I was rooting through draws and cupboards looking for a document. I found it along with a corporate brochure showcasing the company I worked for and part owned. I’m one of three directors featured in the brochure. I stared at my corporate head-shot with a mix of horror and disbelief. I literally didn’t recognise the man in the professionally taken photograph. My face is taut and strained, l look deeply uncomfortable – I was never a natural fit as a business director, and the photographer perfectly captured my discomfort.
I began a flitter back to those days with a focus on my relationship with a fellow director, in which the strain between us is all too evident in my portrait. In fact, the only times I was without the ‘strain’ was when this person was on a plane and I knew I had a window of a few hours wherein their name wouldn’t flash up on my phone. It was their management style that bothered me, particularly a penchant for punishing people for mistakes, which were most often minor. Consequently, people worked in continual fear of ‘mistakes’, which inevitably lead to them making ‘mistakes'.
One day after said colleague had reprimanded a young lady for a minor misdemeanour, I confronted them and said, “You need to manage more like Bob Hoover.” Let me tell you about this legend of a man. Mr Hoover was an American Stunt Pilot. One day he was readying for an air-show. Considerable crowds, mostly young families began to gather, while a young ground crew member (line boy) was tasked with fuelling his plane. When Bob was airborne, he soon realised the line boy had used jet fuel instead of gasoline, and subsequently both engines failed. Bob’s sharp instincts and flying skills managed to glide the plane away from the thronging crowds to crash land in an empty field.
The line boy, realising his life-threatening mistake, shook with guilt, remorse and terror as a very shaken Bob approached him. Bob looked the lad in the eye, placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “There isn’t a man alive who hasn’t made a mistake; and I’m positive you’ll never make this mistake again. That’s why I want to make sure you’re the only one to refuel my plane tomorrow. I won’t let anyone else on the field touch it.”
It's a brilliant example of how to motivate through trust, and advocates for giving people a second chance. It also illustrates the power of transforming a near-fatal mistake into one of managerial leadership.
The morning after, I checked my Twitter (it will never be X for me). It’s a platform that can be incredibly toxic, but I’ve found a group of people with whom I positively engage, a proper life-enhancing bunch. One such person is a brilliant lady who has the same professional background as myself, she knows the score. I smiled wryly with resonance when I read her message to me, “I’m in the bold corner Gerard, for putting diesel in our lovely new *petrol* mower…” It happens, and I’ve no doubt she’ll not repeat that mistake.
So that’s it for this week, I hope I’ve given you some fuel for thought.