Grant me serenity

“Wise men speak because they have something to say; 
fools because they have to say something.” 

--Plato

Part of my morning ritual – particularly during this pandemic – has been to quietly repeat the Serenity Prayer to myself every morning.   I’m sure you know it:

God, grant me the serenity 

to accept the things I cannot change,

courage to change the things I can,

and wisdom to know the difference.

I take these words to heart, and I find that it takes a while for me to achieve serenity.   I often want to get people to see, what I see.  Quite often, they just don’t.   Learning to achieve serenity is a lesson I’m still learning, which implies I'm still trying to achieve some wisdom, too!

It reminds me of one of my stories - best piece of advice I ever got and probably the first time I truly understood the lesson I continuously need to learn.

Here's my story:

For many years I worked for a global consulting firm.  Its organizational structure was a partnership with a definite pyramid: staff  => managers => partners.   The culture was “up or out” so most folks aspired to some day becoming a member of the partnership.   In general, I loved working in that environment.   It was project based, so some projects were wonderful, others not quite as interesting.   But there was lots of variation and I had the opportunity to work with dozens of partners. 

Joining a partnership is not a sure thing.   In some ways it’s a bit like joining a private club.  You not only have to be able to do the work, but you also have to “fit in.”   For women, it was even more challenging since less than 10% of the partners were women.

While being a woman in this environment made me a bit of anomaly, I also had a different way of dealing with other people:  I wasn’t terribly deferential to a person’s rank.  I wasn’t a big fan of the chain of command – I liked the networked organizational structure better.   A person’s title meant little to me.   I respected some of the secretaries more than some of the partners.   If I admired a person’s words and deeds, then I was respectful and supportive.   If I didn’t… well that’s another story.   I think some of my peers thought I was a bit of wild card.

When I was a senior manager, I had the displeasure of reporting to a tyrant I’ll call Brent.  He was one of those guys who had achieved a level of success through schmoozing and effectively communicating upward.  He was able to get the work done; by staffing his jobs with bright people and then bullying them into believing they were idiots.   He was rarely loyal to his subordinates and there were times, when it seemed like he easily would "throw them under the bus" if necessary. Most managers hated working for him.

In my opinion, Brent was terrified of his peers finding out, who he really was.  He was one of those people who “worked long – but not smart.” He felt that his presence at the office was an indication of how able he was and how hard he worked.

Given this belief system, Brent felt the people working for him should also put in as many hours as possible.   He was a micromanager who second-guessed everything you did.  The net result was overwork and wasted time.  It was a nightmare.  I would argue with him constantly and my frustration level was at an all-time high.

At that stage in my career, I was in line to attend an internal training school, “Advanced Manager Seminar.”   I had been looking forward to the school and taking a break. 

Repeatedly, Brent canceled me out of the school.

 “Waste of time,” was his assessment of the training. 

But I knew I needed that school; that it was a required training class for further promotion.   I was determined to take that seminar.

Again, I signed up again for the school; only this time I didn’t tell Brent about it, until it was too late for him to cancel me out again.    He was pretty angry, but resigned to the fact that I was going to be out from under his controlling ways for a week.    I was thrilled to be able to get away from him and move out to our training facility for a time.

It was a wonderful few days.  I was in class with other senior managers from our offices around the world.  There was a camaraderie and spirit – we were all working in the trenches and feeling the stress of being the senior managers on our respective projects.

The role of senior manager is analogous to being the rope in a tug of war.  People are pulling you from every direction and the expectations of withstanding the pull are tremendous.    We were all weary and needing the break in our schedules.

Each day a new topic was covered culminating in the final session, “Balancing Work, Family and Self.”   The speaker was Dr. David Morrison, a consultant and psychiatrist, who the firm hired to help employees and partners.  We called him the “Firm Shrink.”   He was a good speaker, his subject matter was different and his lectures were always a favorite.

Dr. Morrison spoke for about a half hour about balancing one’s time and life.  I could sense the cynicism in the room.  He was talking to the wrong audience.  There was a communal disbelief and dismissiveness in his words.  It all seemed so naïve and ridiculous to us.  He had no idea about the stresses with our jobs and the expectations put upon us.

When his talk ended, he asked for questions.   Most of my peers were already mentally out the door, but I was game and raised my hand.

With some sarcasm in my voice, I asked the question: “It’s all fine and dandy to balance your life.  But how do you balance your life, when you have to work for someone who has never learned to balance their life?”

I could hear sighs of encouragement and support throughout the ranks.

Dr. Morrison paused for a moment.  His “shrinkiness” ever present, he empathized with the situation and then added,  “I understand it’s difficult, but all I can say is this.   There is only one person in the world you can change, and that’s you.

“You can’t change the behavior of the people of those around you, but you can change how you react to them.”

It was such a simple answer and one that has been recommended by many through the years.   It’s essentially the Serenity Prayer.   But for me, it was the "aha moment."   Dr. Morrison’s answer changed my life forever.   That one piece of advice has stayed me ever since.

Without going into details, it changed the way I dealt with Brent and all the other difficult people in my life. 

* * *

Why do I share this story?  I find that the media and social media are filled with thoughts and articles and pictures coming at us with a point of view.   The intention of most is to "change" someone else's beliefs and thinking.  I'm just as guilty of perpetuating this.   Dr. Morrison's words resonated with me again this week.   I can't change someone else's beliefs or behavior.   It's up to them to want to change. 

While I want people to recognize what character, competence and compassion look like -- I can't make them change their opinions.  They have got to want to see things in the same way and right now they don't.   

So, Lord, grant me serenity.