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The Habit of Winning

Page 11

by Prakash Iyer


  This happens to all of us, often. We get caught up in our own thoughts and expect the others to see the world through our eyes. It seldom happens. And when they can’t get it, we get angry. We get frustrated. And we lose the plot.

  While recruiting young salespeople, we tell them about the fabulous car scheme they’d be eligible for as managers, and generous superannuation schemes. As if they care. All the poor guy is worried about is how much cash he’ll take home at the end of the month.

  We also force our likes (and dislikes) on to others. I once suggested to my wife: ‘I have a fabulous idea for a romantic Sunday. Let’s watch the India–Australia game.’ Then I wondered through the rest of the day why she didn’t quite seem excited!

  That old master at winning friends and influencing people, Dale Carnegie, tells this powerful little story: ‘I often went fishing up in Maine during the summer. Personally, I am very fond of strawberries and cream, but I have found that for some strange reason, fish prefer worms. So when I went fishing, I didn’t think about what I wanted. I thought about what they wanted. I didn’t bait the hook with strawberries and cream. Rather, I dangled a worm or a grasshopper in front of the fish and said “Wouldn’t you like to have that?”’

  But we often go through our lives dangling strawberries and cream, wondering why the fish aren’t biting. And instead of switching to what might work, we try and push the bowl of strawberries and cream even harder. Make the bowl larger, more attractive. Add a topping … All to no avail. And when the fish don’t respond, we get frustrated. We scream. We shout. And we scare the fish away.

  Successful leaders understand the need to look at things from the other’s perspective. They seek to understand what turns others on. And then get to work on those levers. Not on what their personal outlook or passion might be. They also understand that while the worms will get the fish, if you go rabbit hunting, the worms won’t work. Different people have different needs. And understanding their needs is the key to success.

  The next time you find a teammate not quite warming up to your brilliant idea, pause. Swap the strawberries and cream for some smelly, squiggly worms. The next time you find yourself shaking your head in frustration at a teammate’s indifference to your goals and your targets, relax. The problem is not with the fish. It’s probably got to do with the fisherman putting strawberries and cream on the line!

  It doesn’t matter that you like strawberries and cream. To catch fish, you need to feed them worms. Not strawberries and cream!

  The Dahi Handi Way!

  Mumbai celebrates Janmashtami, the festival to commemorate the birth of Lord Krishna, in the ‘dahi handi way’. Legend has it that little Krishna was extremely fond of butter and would keep stealing it from the kitchen. His mother reacted by storing the butter (or yogurt) in a pot suspended high off the ground, out of her son’s reach. But Krishna, smart kid that he was, would round up his friends, form a human pyramid and climb up to reach the butter!

  Even now, across localities in Mumbai, Janmashtami sees a re-enactment of Krishna’s attempt to form a pyramid and get to the pot of yogurt—the dahi handi. All over town, pots filled with yogurt are suspended about twenty to thirty feet off the ground. Teams of enthusiasts—popularly known as Govindas—go around the city and form human pyramids to get to the pots. There are prizes to be won—and some of the tougher dahi handis offer cash prizes going up to lakhs!

  Adding to the fun—and the challenge—is the fact that residents in the neighbouring apartments throw buckets of water on the group trying to form a pyramid, making it a wee bit more slippery—and tougher to get to the prize. Accidents happen too, and some falling pyramids are known to have resulted in broken bones.

  Once, as we drove around watching the festivities and imbibing the competitive spirit amidst the strains of Govinda ala re, it struck me that the dahi handi is not just a celebration of Krishna’s childhood antics but actually a celebration of teamwork. Mumbai’s streets and the Govindas’ pyramids offer several valuable life lessons they don’t teach you in any B-school.

  Here are some lessons from the Dahi Handi School!

  1. It takes all sorts to make a team. Not all members of a team of Govindas are alike. There are some supremely athletic types who can climb on to other people’s shoulders in a jiffy. Then there are the overweight types, who too play a solid role in creating a strong base for the pyramid. A team made up of lean athletic types alone might look good on paper but would probably not be as strong as a team with a mix of different body types—to play different roles.

  Complementary skills make for winning teams. Diversity helps!

  2. The higher the pot, the bigger the prize. There are some easy-to-get pots, where a two-level pyramid (with perhaps a child perched atop a shoulder) can get the team a few thousand rupees. Then there is the almost six-storey-high dahi handi, which takes a nine-layer pyramid—and then some—to crack the pot. And the prize: Rs 1,111,011!

  The difference mirrors a reality of life: The tougher the challenge, the greater the payoff.

  3. It’s the challenge that drives the spirit of achievement. When we saw a bunch of people falling off one particular pyramid, my wife instantly remarked in anguish, ‘Why don’t they spread mattresses on the ground to ensure that people don’t get hurt when they fall?’ Well, one of the drivers of top performance is the fear factor. What if I fail? What if I fall? It’s this edge, or this feeling of walking on the edge, that often inspires us to do the extra bit, to take on the odds and deliver. Take away the fear, the challenge, and you take away the desire to achieve.

  Truth is, life’s tough. If you fall, you get hurt. No mattresses cushion your fall. Success lies in ensuring that when you fall, you quickly pick yourself up, dust your elbows and get right back to work. Just like the Govindas.

  4. What you achieve is determined by how high you set your sights. Teams train and practise to reach a predetermined height. Some teams plan to make a three-level pyramid, for instance. If the pot is suspended beyond that height and requires an extra level, they just walk away to the next pot. They’ve set their sights on pots that can be reached with three levels of the pyramid. Anything above that is out of bounds.

  Our lives are like that too. What we achieve is determined largely by what we plan to achieve. Some goals may look more attractive but it helps to know your limitations, and play to a plan.

  5. Others will try to spoil your plans and make the road seem difficult. It is symbolic that people watching from the comfort of their homes throw buckets of water on the Govindas. The trick in the pyramid—and in life, indeed—is to stay focused, not get fazed by detractors.

  Be prepared for critics, for spoilers, for roadblocks.

  6. You should be proud to be part of a team! The Govindas are regular men who labour through the rest of the year on mundane, often physically taxing jobs. But on the dahi handi day, they use some old-fashioned team-building tricks to create the winning magic. They all wear team colours (no fancy attire, just red vests for instance). They give their team a name, an identity, and make sure it is emblazoned across their chests, preferably over their hearts. They travel together. They eat together. There are no hierarchies. The man at the top of the pyramid is no different—and no more important—than the several men at the bottom. And they all have fun while they are at it!

  Passion and teamwork can turn a bunch of ordinary folks into an unbeatable, winning team!

  7. You may be higher up but don’t forget the shoulders you stand on. The pyramid becomes possible because there are people who are willing to stay on the ground and allow others to climb on to their shoulders. They carry the load. They are the enablers. While all eyes are fixed on the man at the top, to see if he can reach the pot, spare a thought for the guys at the bottom who make it happen. And remember, if they all clamoured to be the man at the top, there would be no pyramid, no team, no reward.

  Never forget the frontliners and the foot soldiers. They make the real difference!


  8. You gotta get your target. When a team manages to break a pot, it wins the prize. But if it fails to break the pot, it gets nothing. Zilch. Whether you fall short by a whisker or by a mile, it makes no difference. Not getting to the target equals failure, never mind whether you came close or gave up without trying. That’s the kind of target consciousness any leader would like to infuse in his or her team. Often, far too often, teams confuse effort with achievement, and expect rewards for coming close to achieving their targets.

  Break pot, get prize. No pot, no prize! You have to demonstrate results.

  9. If you only go where others have gone, the pot is already taken. The interesting bit about each dahi handi is that there is only one pot at any location. Once it’s broken, it’s all over. So if your team is following another winning team’s tracks, you will get nothing. Wherever you go, you’ll find that the prize is already taken!

  Learn to go where no one else has been. Chart your own course. As Bob Dylan wrote, ‘Don’t be afraid not to follow the herd/Because where the herd’s gone, the food is already eaten!’

  10. Finally, never mind how high the pot is, you just can’t get there alone. The dahi handi symbolizes your life goals—money, relationships, projects, happiness, fame, whatever. But the message is clear: Never mind what your goal, you need a team to achieve it. You need other people. You need support.

  Lone rangers may make good film heroes. In real life, teams win. If you can’t work with a team, your goals will probably remain elusive. Think about it!

  Never mind what your goal is, you need a team to achieve it. You need other people. Teamwork works. Always!

  IX

  OTHER PEOPLE

  The Twenty-one People on a Football Field

  You’ve probably heard of Professor Randy Pausch and his book, The Last Lecture. Randy was a professor of computer science at Carnegie Mellon University, which hosted a rather innovative series of lectures called, well, ‘The Last Lecture’. They invited a professor to spend sixty minutes or so talking to students, imagining that it was his or her last lecture, ever. If they knew it was their last lecture, what would they tell their students? What messages would they want to convey before they vanished from the face of the earth? Professor Pausch was invited to deliver this lecture in September 2007.

  There was one small difference, though. He didn’t have to imagine that it was his last lecture. He had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and the doctors realistically gave him only about six more months to live. It was, in fact, his last lecture. Figuratively speaking.

  It turned out to be quite an amazing lecture, delivered to a packed classroom, and subsequently went on to become one of the most viewed videos on YouTube. Randy titled his talk ‘Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams’ and it was all about him dreaming big dreams as a child and then working to make them come true. It was laced with humour, poignancy and brilliance. It brought smiles to the faces of those present and tears to their eyes—simultaneously.

  Randy revealed that he had always nurtured the dream of becoming an NFL footballer. In fact, my favourite little story from Professor Pausch’s life concerns his first football coaching lesson. (Randy Pausch passed away in July 2008.)

  It was the first day of football practice in school. All the kids were very excited and eagerly looking forward to their date with the school team coach. As the tall, well-built coach walked up to join them, the sense of excitement only increased. All eyes were on the coach but there was also a growing sense of unease as the students noticed that something was missing. The coach had come but he hadn’t brought along a football! One brave kid ventured to ask the coach about the missing football.

  In response, the coach surveyed his brood and asked: ‘How many players on a football field?’

  ‘Twenty-two,’ was the response.

  ‘And how many footballs on a football field?’

  ‘One!’ yelled the kids, in unison.

  ‘Right,’ said the coach. ‘At any point in time, only one man has the ball. Today, we are going to learn what the other twenty-one people on the field do then.’

  That’s a great lesson in how teams work! Life is, in many ways, like a game of football. While all eyes are usually on the man with the ball, it’s the other twenty-one people who really make the difference. While people admire the individual dribbling skills of a footballer, it’s important to know that games are won by teams that play as teams. If every individual just tried to control the ball all the time, the team would almost certainly never win.

  Also, at times, the biggest contribution to a team’s success comes from the contribution and support of players who are not the cynosure of all eyes. Not the guys with the ball. Think about it.

  The next time you talk to your team, remember that the ‘other twenty-one’ guys make a difference too! Don’t get too caught up with retaining possession of the ball. Remember, your role too could be as one of those twenty-one others, in making a difference.

  Life is not only about what you do when you have the ball—it’s about what you do when someone else has the ball.

  Charlie Plumb and the Parachute Packer

  Charlie Plumb is an incredible guy. A decorated US war veteran, a navy fighter pilot. And a fabulous example of the indomitable human spirit. You may not have heard of him but he is just the kind of hero we all probably fantasized about as little kids. And his life story makes for a fascinating read.

  He flew the F-4 Phantom fighter aircraft on seventy-four successful combat missions over North Vietnam. With five days to go to his return home, on his 75th mission, disaster struck. His plane was shot down. Luckily, Captain Plumb managed to eject out of the aircraft and activate his parachute. That saved his life. Unluckily for him, he was captured and jailed, confined to a tiny cell—8 feet by 8 feet. He spent the next 2103 days—that’s six long years—being tortured and humiliated as a prisoner of war before he could finally return home.

  Charlie now spends his time sharing his story with others, helping people discover the strengths they need to tap into to overcome challenges in their own lives. He talks of the fear and the loneliness, the stench emanating from the bucket that served as his toilet, the darkness and the gloom in his cell. And he talks of surviving, of not letting the spirit take a beating, of never giving up.

  But my favourite Charlie Plumb story is set in happier times. It’s not about the six years of misery in a Vietnam jail but about a calm evening in a restaurant in Kansas City, several years later. Charlie was enjoying his meal when he noticed a gentleman seated a few tables away. He had to notice him. The gentleman was staring at him.

  Charlie didn’t think much of it until, a few minutes later, the man walked up to him and said: ‘You’re Charlie Plumb?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Captain Plumb, standing up and extending his hand in greeting.

  ‘You flew jet fighters in Vietnam. You were on the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down. You parachuted into enemy hands and spent six years as a prisoner of war,’ continued the stranger.

  ‘How in the world do you know all that?’ asked Captain Plumb.

  He replied, ‘I was the guy who packed your parachute.’

  Captain Plumb was left quite speechless, a sense of shock mixed with awe, even as the man continued with a twinkle in his eye, ‘I guess it worked!’

  Captain Plumb thanked the man again, and again, and before parting, he couldn’t help asking: ‘Do you remember all the parachutes you packed?’

  ‘Not quite,’ came the reply. ‘It’s enough for me just to know that I have served.’

  Later that night, as Captain Plumb tossed about in his bed, his mind flashed back to his days as a fighter pilot. He wondered how many times he may have passed by the ‘parachute packer’ without even acknowledging his presence. He wondered if he ever said ‘Good morning!’ or ‘How are you?’ to the man. After all, Captain Plumb was a fighter pilot and the other guy was just a sailor. He couldn’t have cared less.

&n
bsp; We may not all be fighter pilots but we all have our parachute packers. People who build our safety nets, encourage us and, in their own small ways, make our successes possible. They remain unsung but somewhere inside, you know they made a difference. It could be that teacher from primary school, that salesman in a faraway town, that workman in the factory, that super-efficient secretary or that accounts clerk who always seemed to have the information you urgently needed … Through life’s challenges, through the take-offs and crash landings in your career and life, they were the people who made it all possible. When the going got tough, they kept you going. They just did their jobs—but boy, they sure made you look good. Who do you turn to when the chips are down? So who is packing your parachute?

  Unlike Captain Plumb, we aren’t always fortunate enough to come face to face with our parachute packers. So we often don’t get the chance to say thank you. Good idea then to think of the parachute packers in your life, and pick up the phone to thank them. Today. Now.

  More important, it’s also a good idea to ask the question: Whose parachute are you packing? Who are the people you provide strength and encouragement to? Which people will put your name in the list of folks who made a difference to their lives? Real success and happiness often emerge not from the personal glory of winning but from the joy of having helped someone else win. Making a difference to someone—that’s really what makes the difference in life. Time to practise your parachute-packing skills!

  And finally, it’s hard to miss a trait in Charlie Plumb that’s the hallmark of all great leaders. In their biggest triumphs and greatest victories, they always, always turn the spotlight on to the unsung heroes. The ordinary folks who made a difference. The parachute packers.

 

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