Be Curious

I could feel it pulling back on my chest as I pushed ahead. It was a strange new feeling. It was restricting me, holding me back from my goal. I wanted to find out what was happening ahead of me. I could see the bright colours and interesting outlines. But as I urged forward and tried harder, more resistance. I ran my hand down my chest to the restriction to see what was holding me back. It was then, about 1978, as I tried to run ahead to the toy aisle in the SAAN store, that I realized the source of my restriction – I had been put into a baby blue polka-dotted harness, and my mother was holding the other end of the leash.

Some of my earliest memories aren’t all that fond really, because I was usually pushing the envelope of my parent’s ability to cope with my curiosity. One of the first words I learned was from my parent’s native tongue, Low German (Plautdietsch): “Tachloten”, which roughly translates “don’t touch” or “take your hands off”. I was a curious little gaffer, and more than once left a store with my mother, tears running down my cheeks as we had been victim to the store policy of “You break it, you buy it”. Our collection of broken glass gift store items grew as I did. Growing up in a rural area, we had lots of opportunity to explore and push the boundaries. The emergency room procedure for stitches became a somewhat familiar routine, so much so that I recall one occasion where my mom stopped on the road to get a recipe from Aunt Betty while I held a dirty shop rag up against my face soaking up the blood and holding my skin together. Now don’t get me wrong in any way here about my folks parenting skills – they just were dealt a handful in this curious little boy. Example, one of my favourite things to do when my parents weren’t looking was to mix up whatever flammable items I could find in our shop, pour the concoction into a bottle with a rag stuffed in it, light the rag, and shoot it with my pellet gun, “just to see what would happen”. I was largely disappointed although sometimes the ancillary damage was exciting.

I managed to make it through my teen years without losing a limb or burning down our house, and as I studied and began to work my curiosity followed me. I can think of many, many times where a supervisor or co-worker would laugh at my ideas, and then again at my failures. But every once in a while, something would work. And every time something worked, I would tuck that little bit of learning away somewhere, hopefully to be recalled again when needed.

I remember one time when I worked for Kroeker Farms in the late 90’s. We were trying to figure out how to get better and faster bruise testing results so that we could more quickly react to changes in the harvesting process and troubleshoot issues. It was right at end of the season and I had an idea and was curious if it would make a difference. I thought instead of putting potatoes in the “hot box” which uses warm air to accelerate the test, what about hot water? Maybe the water would transfer heat quicker and more thoroughly, maybe not. There’s only one way to find out.

Our lab was connected to our office down the hall past the restrooms. I loaded up the sink with potatoes ready to be tested, filled it with hot water, and left, without much of a plan for how long to leave them, but it would need to be long enough, and really for that matter they could sit in the hot water overnight and it would cool off and be ready for testing in the morning. Right.

Now I can’t recall exactly what it was, but something more important must have come up. Being the very end of harvest we had lots to do but not lab work. About 3 weeks later, the office girls really cranked up their complaints about a smell in their washroom, which wasn’t all that out of character for them. But for about a week, despite their best efforts in air fresheners and who knows what else it just wouldn’t come under control. I remember Shirley (our office maven) politely asking me if I might know of any reason for an odour coming from the lab. I’m guessing my eyes must have instantly popped out the size of basketballs, and I think my heart jumped through my throat in panic as I ran to the back. Opening the door to the lab the stench first hit me like a tidal wave and after I recovered I saw the snot-coloured mucus and foam of rotting potatoes flowing over the sink, along the counter, and onto the floor. I ran back to close the door to the office but it was too late, and Shirley’s eye’s drilled into my soul as she pinched her nose in horror. I actually had to use a chemical respirator to keep from upchucking my lunch while I quickly worked to clean it up. Three bottles of bleach and half day of scrubbing wasn’t enough to completely rid the smell. The building has since been renovated into an accounting office and if any one from GTP is sitting in what’s now their lunch room choking on their coffee thinking “there’s so much that makes sense now” I wouldn’t be surprised!

Being curious about how others do things has been central to any success that I can claim. I haven’t done anything or invented anything on my own. I’m just good at watching what others do, taking bits and pieces and experimenting until I find which bits and pieces work and which ones don’t. Going beyond the boundaries of my community has given me a perspective that has completely formed how our businesses moved ahead. The process that plays out repeatedly: watch, observe, learn, experiment, fail, refine, implement. Or abandon. And all of this is preceded by two things: travel – get out of your rut and expand your view; and question “I wonder how this would work…”. I am constantly shocked and amazed at how many times I hear other business leaders make comments about “that would never work here”. Maybe exactly in that format it wouldn’t, but if you tweaked it a little, maybe it could work better than what we’re doing now? We won’t know unless we try.

Curiosity has struck me hard again. After 17 years of starting, growing, and running our own businesses, I had hit a point where I felt that I was pushing up against the constraints of the harness. Something was holding me back, and it was just time to get out of my rut and look around at what other people are doing. The aroma of my rocket fuel was wafting over me, and I was being stirred and moved by it. I didn’t know what it would be. My wife and I had many conversations about how we felt we were open to something new. We didn’t know what. Then a new journey began. What started as an inquiry to start a new business moved and morphed toward something I had never considered would ever happen again: becoming an employee. My first response to the idea was pretty reactionary: “Thanks for the consideration, but I’m really not looking for a job here”. I mean, who goes willingly from being a business owner, doing things the way you want, on your own schedule, to being an employee again? It’s a ridiculous idea. But, I became curious again. The opportunity was incredible. I could go back to working in the potato industry, a place I truly love to be. I could work with BIG things, another place I love to be. And I could experience another place and culture, a trifecta of my favourite things! But… bosses. Co-workers. Politics. Policies. SOPs. Expense reports, ugh! How could I? Can it even work to go back? My mind was flooded with questions and I processed it internally, and externally with my wife. We thought long and hard, we prayed, we asked our friends. This would be a monumental, life-altering change. We would be putting the last 17 years of our hard work and track record to a new risk – the risk of us not having our hands gripped firmly on the wheel. There were so many things to think about and consider. But the more I thought about it, the more curious I became about what I could all learn in the process of making this change. Getting a front row seat into a large, successful company would give me opportunity to learn and observe. I’d be in a role where I could draw from my experience to help propel another company forward, and at the same time sharpen my skills and learn new ones. I’d be really stretched and forced to grow and hone and get better at a myriad of things. But above all, I’d be an employee again, and I’d be able to see, touch, and feel exactly what my employees go through daily.

The journey to get to this point was in itself an experiment and the learnings are being filed away daily, ready to be recalled when needed. There are several themes in this, but three big ones: Transitioning out of our companies, becoming an employee again, and trying not to fail as a husband and dad at the same time. There are some really, really big things to unpack here. My goal is to share some of the bits and pieces that I pick up along the way, and perhaps someone will find something in there that they want to file away for future use.

My absolute favourite diversion early in the pandemic was the NBC Comedy-Drama Ted Lasso. There’s another blog post entirely in the leadership lessons that can be picked up from Ted, but one of my favourites is this scene, where Ted demonstrates the principle of “Be Curious, Not Judgemental”. If I could do it over again, I’d be more curious about the office ladies chatter over the restroom odour and less judgemental about who and how it was made.