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When Autopilot Goes Haywire
“You should call Tyler and make sure he’s up,” my wife said. It was just after 8 AM on one of those late-start school days that throw off everyone’s schedule and drive me nuts. My wife and I had already left the house and were at the gym.
Now, for some background: my wife has usually left for work by the time the kids get up, so getting them into a routine—doing what they need to do when it’s supposed to be done—has been largely my responsibility.
“No need. I’ve got this thing humming on autopilot,” I said. “The kids are good. Just don’t interfere and everything will be fine.”
My wife soon headed home while I stayed at the gym to work (they have a very nice work lounge area), and all was right with the world.
Then, at 9:30—after Tyler should have caught the bus—I got the text.
“HE’S STILL HERE! HE JUST WOKE UP. I TOLD YOU TO CALL HIM!”
Now, for better or worse, I think I have pretty low requirements for my children. I don’t need them to be straight-A students. I don’t need them to go to Harvard. But I do expect them TO GO TO SCHOOL, ON TIME, ON THE BUS, EVERY SINGLE DAY THAT THEY DON’T HAVE A FEVER AND HAVEN’T THROWN UP IN THE LAST HOUR.
Is that bar too high? I don’t think so. So when I learned it hadn’t been cleared, I was livid. I was also a bit embarrassed that all my bravado about “autopilot” had been shown to be worth less than the paper it was printed on.
So what did I do? The worst thing we’re all susceptible to: I reacted immediately, called the boy, and let loose a torrent of anger and rage. Good stuff, I know. That’s exactly what they prescribe in the parenting manuals. Of course, he made it worse, much worse, by first blaming us for not waking him up (cranking up my rage) and then blaming his phone alarm for not working (rage up another small click).
After about half an hour, I had calmed down enough to do a post-mortem on my reaction and was left wanting. Now, it’s a little complex. Regarding the initial “missed the bus” element, I overreacted. If your kid makes a mistake with his alarm and misses the bus for school, absolutely losing your mind on him is definitely the wrong path to take. I should have done better there. On the second part—when he blamed us—I find my displeasure much more justified.
I started thinking about this in the context of “What is my job here as a parent? What am I supposed to be trying to achieve?” What I came up with was pretty much the opposite of what I probably accomplished. My job in that role—and your job as a leader of people—is to lead, guide, teach, encourage, inspire, and course correct. Not to diminish, destroy, dampen, depress, hinder, or handicap.
And I thought back to the best example of this happening to me. I was an editor on the staff of Wall Street & Technology magazine, working for a great boss—Kerry Bowbliss (Massaro at the time). Kerry had told me earlier in my tenure that she saw me moving up and becoming, in effect, her right-hand man—a managing editor type of position, something I definitely wanted.
But I was young, and I took my eye off the ball, so to speak. I started focusing more on going out after work and enjoying myself than on doing a great job, and my work definitely took a nosedive. Kerry called me into her office one day, pointed out my recent shortcomings, and made the point that the trajectory she had described was very much in doubt because of them. She expressed concern and disappointment—no anger—and I was embarrassed and ashamed, not angry. She pressed all the right buttons, and I subsequently righted the ship. It was probably the most impactful “intervention” I ever received, and it sure tells us a lot about the right way to course correct someone whose performance we’re responsible for.
So considering my aforementioned performance in light of this gold standard shows I fell short of the mark. Parenting, to me, is a pendulum where you often swing between being angry at your kids and being angry at yourself for how you expressed your anger at the kids. A real hoot.
But there is a way—there is Kerry’s way. Want a good, almost fail-proof trick to start? If at all possible, never react when you’re red-hot angry. In that state, you can almost guarantee you’ll regret whatever you do.
Calmness has now returned to the Guerra household. The kids are at school, the wife is at work—because, as you can see, I’ve got everything on autopilot.
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