All posts by Dorothy Nesbit

There were riots outside my front door today

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There were riots outside my front door today.  This is not something I ever thought I’d say.

As I left my home office at the back of the house at about 6pm this evening I was surprised to notice the number of people lingering outside in the normally quiet side-street in which I live.  Looking down the street I was shocked to see police in riot gear.

The scenes that followed were not pretty.  The police were significantly outnumbered by the people on the street, who looked young, included many black men – and white men and women, too.  They started to seek out items they could throw – the local dustbins, wheely bins, items from front gardens (including mine).

Most of the projectiles were aimed at the police.  Soon, though, the small number of cars parked on the street became targets.  First one window was broken.  Then another.  Over time the cars went from being a side show to becoming the main attraction as it became increasingly clear that there was a determination amongst the rioters to set them alight.  Soon they had succeeded and, given the fire hazard, it was time for the rioters to move on.

For a while I sat indoors wondering if it was safe to be in the rooms overlooking the street.  Then I ventured out to ask the police if it was safe to pop down the road for some food and fresh air.  They encouraged me to stay safely at home, in case the rioters returned.  As I returned home, two young men were in front of my gate and I asked if I could come through and encouraged them to get away from the proximity of the still burning cars.  We got talking.

Were you involved this evening?  I asked.  No, not us, we’re good boys.  We’re just covering up our faces because we don’t want to risk losing our jobs if we’re seen.  But they (pointing to the police) – they’ve got to understand that if they keep taking our jobs away, we’re going to do something – they’ve got to understand.

When they announced there were riots in Lewisham on the 7pm news bulletin I knew to give my Mum a ring and to pop a status update on Facebook.  People have been leaving messages all evening and the phone has not stopped ringing.  It’s a touching reminder of the love people have for me.  As the evening has unfolded I have been watching the BBC 24-hour news of riots in Lewisham, Peckham, Hackney, Croydon, Birmingham.

The phrase “mindless thugs” has been used so many times.  The risk is clear.  Young people crying out to be heard are dismissed by the simple use of a label.  And because they are not being heard, they shout louder.  The police, seeking to do the best for their community, are also not being heard.  Neither side is able to see beyond the label – “police”, “rioters”, “thugs”… with each new label we become a little less human in each others’ eyes.

I want to be clear.  I do not favour the kind of action these young people took this evening and I want them to be held accountable.  At the same time, I want them to be heard.  It seems to me that this is a time for sorting the wheat from the chaff, until we have stripped away the acts of mindless destruction – perhaps even the violence on both sides – to understand the real concerns on all sides.

For me, though, right now, it’s time to sleep.  My dreams cannot be any stranger than the reality of this evening’s events.

What’s going to waste in your organisation?

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Recently I have been finding new pleasure in gardening.  Last year I planted courgettes and tomatoes in my back garden.  This year I have added runner beans, broccoli, cucumber and more besides.  I find a joy and stillness in the daily activities of watering the vegetables and attending to the weeds.  Nothing is more satisfying than the twilight slug raid.

This has been reflected in my reading, too.  Last night I read the first 30 pages of Bob Flowerdew’s book, Composting, and yesterday I tried an intriguing recipe – using beetroot leaves – from Monty and Sarah Don’s Home Cookbook.  The Dons’ recipe involved taking the leaves from some fresh beetroot, blanching it for five minutes and then gently frying it in olive oil with some chilli and garlic.  I added some seeds – a favourite! – and also some beetroot which I’d boiled separately before cutting it into eighths and adding it to the remainder.  I served the lot on fresh toast.  It was totally divine.

“I hate waste, especially wasted food”.  This was the first sentence of the preface to the recipe.  It made me wonder:  what’s going to waste in my life because I don’t recognise its value?  And yes, it made me wonder, in the organisations I work with, what’s going to waste because nobody can see its worth?

Do you have any thoughts about the hidden treasures that might be going to waste in your life or organisation?

When we discover areas in which we need to develop

Developing as a leader, Emotional Intelligence, , ,

On Tuesday, I wrote about playing to our strengths.  Today, I’m wondering if I’m going to contradict myself.  What if you have an accelerated career and then, suddenly, you bump up against a limitation that could trip you up if you go any further on the path you are following?  This was the experience of one client I assessed recently.

After our initial feedback session he did all the right things.  He tested the assessment feedback against the perceptions of a variety of colleagues, recognising the value of diverse perspectives.  He looked for ways to bridge the gap in his repertoire, seeking out a mentor with strengths in the areas in which he needed to develop.  He started to explore a wider range of possibilities for his next career move, recognising that there could be benefits to moving diagonally rather than straight up the ladder.  These benefits include:

  • Broadening his experience and in this way broadening his understanding of the business;
  • Building on his strengths whilst opening up opportunities to close the gaps in his repertoire;
  • Broadening his understanding of the range of roles in which he could succeed.  This in turn carries the potential to build confidence and self esteem by reducing the pressure that comes when you have only one target role in mind.

As a result of his actions, what looked for a moment like a full stop turned out to be something quite different, opening up a broader range of possibilities than my client had previously had in his sights.

How does this work to his strengths?  How might it work to yours?  Taking action to develop in areas in which we lack strength may reveal an as yet hidden talent.  This can lead to a new injection of energy and momentum in our careers as leaders.  And yes, in truth, it can lead us to discover an area in which we lack natural ability.

Initially, this doesn’t always feel good.  Some high performers, faced suddenly with a situation in which they lack the skills they need, start to weave a story about how they were never as good as they thought they were, how they lack what it takes to succeed… suddenly, their self esteem takes a dramatic tumble.

Others, though, recognise that they can’t be good at everything.  The most canny amongst them are able to weigh the likelihood that they can bridge the gap and assess the benefits if they do.  Perhaps they will decide that it’s essential to bridge the gap and easy to do:  clearly, this is a “tick yes” scenario.  Perhaps they will recognise that it’s essential to have these skills and hard for them to develop in this area:  this can be a “tick delegate” scenario.  The best leaders know when to delegate and they also feel comfortable about sharing their limitations openly as well as their strategy for plugging the gap.

When in your career have you come up against areas in which you lack the skills you need to succeed?  What strategies have you used to plug the gaps?

Playing to our strengths

Emotional Intelligence,

I have been carrying out a number of assessments in recent months.  By the time of the assessment the people I interview, who already hold senior roles, have been short-listed for a new job.  From time to time, I interview someone who, whilst he or she has everything it takes to succeed in the role, lacks a certain clarity about what s/he wants.  S/he can’t answer the question “is this job for me?” because s/he doesn’t know what job is for him or her.

It’s not uncommon.  Many of us develop skills along the way and get good at all sorts of things.  At the same time, we may be unaware that the skills we have developed do not match our natural strengths.  Indeed, some of our natural strengths may lie dormant – barely developed, let alone used.

I was reminded of this recently, when I received an e-mail from a client with whom I have been in correspondence about a potential coaching client in his organisation.  “Do you know of a suitable venue for the two of you to meet?” he asked.  I was taken by surprise:  I didn’t know that we would be meeting away from the client’s offices.  I scanned our correspondence and quickly found this request, which I’d completely overlooked in a previous e-mail:  “And, she’d prefer to meet off-site, can you recommend a suitable location?”

My first response was:  “How did I miss that?  It’s not like me to overlook something like that.”  Perhaps, though, it is like me to overlook the details – except for the fact that, over the years, I have learnt to be meticulous in following things through.  Is it a natural strength for me to pay attention to detail?  I don’t know for sure.  I do know, though, that a moment like this offers an opportunity to step back and ask:  “Is this strength innate or acquired?”

What’s the significance of this?  The bottom line is simple:  the more we are developing and using our innate strengths, the more likely we are to be in the flow, working successfully and with ease.  The more we are using strengths we have developed though they are not innate, the more we may find our work hard and be prone to errors.  In the case of the people I interview who don’t quite know what they want from their next job, well – they may be doing something they’re good at, something even, in which they excel.  But somehow it’s not giving them joy.  And because they lack practice of connecting with their true strengths, they feel somehow at sea – lacking a sense of connection with themselves via their innate strengths.

I want to add that this is one perspective, with which not everyone would agree.  Whilst I have not read Alex Linley’s The Strengths Book:  Be Confident, Be Successful and Enjoy Better Relationships by Realising the Best of You, for example, I am aware that this posting reflects the theory he and his co-authors put forward.  (I am aware of this because I have had the experience of having feedback using Linley’s theory with the help of Gill How at Buonacorsi Consulting).  Equally, I was recently told about Matthew Syed’s book Bounce:  Mozart, Federer, Picasso, Beckham and the Science of Success by someone who had just started reading it and whose understanding was that this book highlights the importance of practice in creating successful outcomes.

Perhaps the place both theories meet is in the area of flow – that place where we are both happy and successful because we are cultivating the gifts that come to us most naturally.

I wonder, what do you think?

Taking it personally: the other side of the coin

Emotional Intelligence,

So, you’ve decided the last person you want to talk to is your colleague Sandra.  You can’t stand her.  If you see her coming you change your route (the last thing you want to do is get in the lift with her).  You can’t see the good in anything she does.  And as the leader of your team, you have made it very easy for your team members to ignore any directives that come from her department.  Perhaps Sandra is in your Finance Department (why can’t we process invoices the old way?) or HR (let them choke on their policy handbook!)  You don’t care.

You think your dislike is all about Sandra.  Who does she think she is?!  She turns up out of nowhere full of new ideas and expects you to jump to her tune.  You notice every little thing you don’t like about her (that she’s female, a “dumb blonde”, too posh, unjustly promoted… the list goes on and on).  And all the time you’re thinking about Sandra, you don’t begin to notice what’s really going on for you.

A start in this direction would be to use a few phrases that take ownership of the way you’re thinking about your colleague.  I notice that when I think of Sandra, I have really strong feelings – of anger, frustration, hatred…  I’m telling myself that there are all sorts of things wrong with her:  that she’s female, a “dumb blonde”, too posh, unjustly promoted…  The more I tell myself these things, the more my feelings intensify.  The more I tell myself these things, the more I feel justified in behaving towards her in ways I would never behave towards anyone I respect.

Noticing what’s going on on the surface is just the beginning.  What’s going on underneath?  My guess as your observer is that behind the anger and hatred lies some fear – and it is just a guess.  Perhaps you’re afraid that you don’t have what it takes to organise your troupes to respond to her requests, even though, deep down, you know you need to.  Perhaps you’re finding it hard to accept that people younger than you (and women, too) are starting to overtake you in the hierarchy of the organisation.  Perhaps… perhaps…

Perhaps you find Sandra a little intimidating.  You’re putting on your best brave face and doing your best to stay safe and formal but underneath it, you’d love to know that she’s as human as you are.  You’d love to know it – and you’re waiting for her to show some sign.  You hope that if you push her just a little she might just crack – without you having to reveal your own fears and vulnerabilities.

Some readers might imagine that you’re a junior member of the team, old and unsophisticated.  I have sometimes met you at the most senior levels of organisations.  Sandra knows who you are and in what capacity you – and she – work.  What’s hardest for you and Sandra – at what ever level you work – is to see that your current behaviours are simply your best attempts to meet your needs, needs that you probably don’t even recognise.  They’re not the most effective strategies for meeting your needs but that hasn’t stopped you from continuing to use them.

What would I say to you?  It’s time to get under the skin of your needs and really understanding them.  That way you can begin to find ways to meet them – ways that work.  Perhaps, in order to do so, you need to face your fears.  I know that’s hard for you.

What would I say to Sandra?  Perhaps she, too, needs to get under the skin of your needs and understand them.  She needs to understand her own needs, too.  A first step towards understanding your needs and hers may well be to know that your behaviour is about you and not about her.

And as for you, as reader of this blog, I wonder, what does this blog posting evoke for you?

Taking it personally

Emotional Intelligence,

Taking on a new team, my client* faces a wall of resistance.  The signs are sometimes subtle, sometimes open and obvious.  How is it that you are never able to get through to one colleague by phone, except when you phone from a number other than your own?  How many times have you seen colleagues take a sharp left rather than join you in conversation as you leave the building to walk to the car park?  How is it that meetings are always formal and never friendly?  How is it that it’s Team A’s members who are always late?

The obvious signs of resistance are far easier to deal with than those which leave us to infer.  An open statement of resistance allows us to ask questions and find out what’s going on.  The hidden signs – perhaps the quasi hidden signs – are more challenging.  We can observe the behaviours and notice the patterns and still, without more information, we can only guess what they denote.  Are they signs of resistance or dislike?  Or are they simply signs that Jo is an introvert and prefers not to walk to the car park with his colleagues?  Or that people from Team A are more likely to be late to meetings – to any meetings – than colleagues elsewhere in the building.

We can of course, ask questions.  “I notice that five members of your team have been late to meetings in the last three weeks and that members of other teams have been on time.  Is there a reason for that that you know of?”  It can be so easy.  It can be so difficult.  Sometimes these patterns of subtle resistance stimulate feelings of vulnerability, leaving us slightly off balance.  (Perhaps, we think, they’re intended to do this).

Trusted colleagues join us in wondering what’s behind the behaviours.  He doesn’t like it that you’re female (a “dumb blonde”, too posh, got promoted over his head etc. – the list goes on).  And of course, if you are, there’s nothing you can do to change your inherent characteristics or the circumstances in which you find yourself.  You start to feel stuck.

It’s time to step back and remember:

  • Your own conjectures or those of your colleagues may be right – or they may be wrong.  You don’t know unless you check them out.  (And yes, even then, you may not get an honest answer);
  • Insofar as your colleague does think you’re female (and that’s a problem) or a “dumb blonde”, or too posh, or got promoted over his head – well, that’s about what your colleague thinks rather than about you;
  • Underneath your colleague’s thoughts lie some unmet needs that even he has not yet identified.  I say this with confidence – if he has, it seems to me he wouldn’t be mentioning your gender or the colour of your hair;
  • If you’re feeling vulnerable or off balance it’s a sign that there’s something about the way you’re thinking that has you feel that way.
It’s time to do your work:  to tease out what you know to be true and what is pure conjecture on your part (or the part of your colleague).  And if it feels hard for you to ask the questions that will lead you to the truth, well “hard” is where your work begins.
I wonder, what does this posting evoke for you?

*This example is a composite from the experience of multiple clients and all identifying information has been changed.

Revealing the secrets of the boardroom

Developing as a leader, Emotional Intelligence,

Thursday lunch.  My friend Len and I are sharing our thoughts and experiences about working at board level with client organisations.  What are the secrets that reveal themselves as the layers slowly peel away?  Even as I write I find myself scanning so many experiences – of directors who are afraid to give feedback to their CEO about behaviours which limit the effectiveness of the board, of CEOs who were good before circumstances changed and are unable to change to meet the needs of the circumstances, of individuals quietly sidelined in a conspiracy of silence by men and women who don’t want to address the issue of board level incompetence, of people who, at root, know this role is not for them and yet who dare not admit it for fear of the implications of seeing what they know to be true.

Len loves helping senior leaders to engage with problems and issues that look insurmountable.  I love helping senior leaders to improve the bottom line whilst nurturing and maintaining a healthy ecology – personal, team, organisational.  Boardrooms fascinate us both – because (for Len) so many problems look insurmountable which actually are not, because (for me) so often the barrier to improving bottom line results is the ability of individuals to engage with themselves and with each other in ways which make things happen.

In the end, so many of the secrets of the boardroom are human secrets – including the secrets that board members hide from themselves.  When did we tell ourselves that it’s somehow desirable to be anything other than human in the boardroom?  This is not, after all, a fate we can escape.  Addressing challenges in the boardroom involves engaging in a level of dialogue with ourselves and each other that is uncommon in our culture and, at the same time, a pre-requisite of outstanding leadership at board level.  Perhaps, though, this is a subject for another day. 

When heads roll

Developing as a leader

It’s the season of high profile resignations in the wake of the News of the World phone hacking scandal – but are such resignations a sign that the individuals concerned are being held (or holding themselves) accountable?

Rebekah Brooks was amongst the first to go (though, in the view of some, not before time) when she stood down from her role as Chief Executive of News International.  Sir Paul Stephenson followed just days after, resigning from his role as Metropolitan Police Commissioner.  Sir Paul’s resignation was followed just one day later by the resignation of his direct report, John Yates.  In public life, such resignations are not uncommon.  Big news stories are often accompanied by cries of some modern equivalent of “off with his head”.  A waiting game ensues.  Can I hold on to my job or is it time for me to go?  When the head rolls some appetite is satisfied and still, I wonder if such resignations really equate to the true execution of accountability.

One of the reasons I hold this doubt is because such big name resignations can lead us to imagine that failure is a “one problem, one person” affair.  So often it isn’t.  Andy Coulson’s resignation in January of this year from the role of Director of Communications to the Prime Minister happened not because he had done something inappropriate in his new role.  Rather, it followed a long chain of events, including stories of phone hacking under Coulson’s watch at News of the World and David Cameron’s appointment of Coulson in the first place, despite pressure not to.  Coulson’s resignation had the appearance of accountability whilst also appearing to let others off the hook (at least for the time being) whose actions were also questionable.

Another reason why I question whether such resignations equate to the true execution of accountability is because they are rarely accompanied by a full investigation of the facts.  Without this, there is no getting to the root of – and addressing – the problem.  Coulson’s resignation from News of the World, for example, stemmed the pressure – at least temporarily – for a full investigation into phone hacking at the News of the World.  The decision not to investigate more fully looks extremely naive today – and possibly even then.  It’s also interesting to wonder if, in the wake of Coulson’s resignation from the post of Director of Communications to the Prime Minister, David Cameron got off rather lightly.  As long as there is no investigation of the facts, the problem lies dormant and unsolved.

Are Britain’s businesses any different?  I confess that as I ask myself this question I notice many times from my life as a consultant in which there was quiet collusion in ongoing problems in business.  There may be quiet complaints about the failure of senior management to address a problem (even quiet complaints by senior managers) and yet it is a brave man or woman who speaks up.  (As I write this I am acutely aware of the death this week of Sean Hoare, who broke the story of phone hacking at News of the World).  Perhaps it is for this reason that the phrase the fish rots from the head has become such common parlance in business.

True accountability involves many things.  It involves creating clear agreements up front about who will do what and by when.  It involves knowing up front how you will check in on progress and how you will address any problems as they arise.  It involves following through to find out when things are on and off track.  So far, so good.  Crucially, it involves having the courage to hold conversations that are testing for everyone involved when things go wrong and holding them in the awareness that everyone involved in the conversation may in some way be found to have failed.  Creating the environment in which such conversations are possible requires skill and determination.

Even as I write I recognise that there is so much more to be said on this topic.  For now though, I wonder, what is your experience of accountability?  And what challenges do you face in holding yourself – and others – accountable?

Going Gothic

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We did it!  Nine choirs (including three youth choirs), four soloists, a rather large orchestra (circa 120 players, subdivided into smaller orchestras and brass bands) and Maestro Martyn Brabbins:  together, we performed Havergal Brian’s Symphony Number 1, the Gothic Symphony on Sunday, 17th, July, 2011 at London’s Royal Albert Hall.

It’s about thirty years since it was last performed in the UK (and yes, a scattering of singers in our midst sang at that last performance).  It may be thirty more years before it’s performed again.  The sheer scale of the piece (and attendant costs) make it a major undertaking to bring it to the concert hall.  Even in the Royal Albert Hall, the stage has to be extended to accommodate the performers.

No doubt the audience comprises fans of this little known composer and a whole load of “musos” – especially composers, curious about such an audacious piece.  There is a sense of excitement and curiosity at the beginning of the concert.  Even amongst the performers there are many who have not yet heard the whole piece.  The choristers have not yet heard, for example, the first movements of the piece which are purely orchestral.  Nor have we heard the soloists in full.

There are many surprises.  A glockenspiel solo in the early movements takes my breath away.  Surely it’s the percussionist’s dream – an opportunity to show both the full range of the instrument and the skills and panache of the performer as well as to bring this music to its audience.  It would bear hearing again.  Susan Gritton is superb as she sings from the distant heights of the Royal Albert Hall, requiring a steely confidence as well as fine tone.  She has plenty of both.  Even in the midst of the choir I enjoy the stereophonic effects as different singers sing their separate parts.  I am full of admiration and respect for Martyn Brabbins for taking on a challenge of epic proportions.  (In an introduction to the piece by musicians in Brisbane, Australia, entitled The Curse of the Gothic Symphony, one person describes it as “the musical equivalent of climbing Everest, trekking to the South Pole, sending a man to the moon”).

To reach this point is the culmination of a long journey.  As one of the singers, I am aware that I have joined the road after many miles have already been travelled and still, it’s been hard work.  In the end, the response of my colleagues varies, from those who are glad to be done with this abominable piece to the (albeit tiny minority) who are truly elated.  I sit somewhere in between:  I am totally thrilled to have had this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to perform this piece.  It has taxed me, yes.  It has intrigued me, yes.  I would certainly sign up to sing it again, with all its strange quirks.

Above all, I celebrate this rare opportunity to showcase Britain’s rich choral tradition.  Even without Harvergal Brian, this has been a rare opportunity to bring together a dedicated population of amateur singers and we have collaborated with a great spirit of cooperation and respect.

Now though, it’s definitely back to business.  The ladies of the London Symphony Chorus have a break now, and I’m glad of it.  If you’d like to hear the performance you can follow this link to find a recording.  I’ll be resting my vocal chords and – for a while at least – writing about other things.

Reflecting on A Simpler Way

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It’s Tuesday afternoon as I write and I find myself reflecting on the cycles of nature and how they play out in our work.


Last week, for example, I was at home on Monday, as I usually am, coaching by phone.  The weather was so glorious that I had breakfast in the garden before starting my work.  Later I enjoyed lunch outside in the shade.  I notice how being in nature settles me so that I feel more grounded.  Later in the week the sunshine was followed by rain and a different rhythm to my schedule though the afterglow of a sunny day was with me for several days.


This week, I’m still tired after a demanding weekend.  I was all lined up for a meeting this afternoon, cancelled at short notice.  I get to write this blog posting and to catch up with other tasks.  My body is calling out for sleep… sleep…


The industrial era made machines of us all.  The introduction of mechanisation gave a steady rhythm to manufacturing work and we organised ourselves around the machines that served us.  It was important to start on time, finish on time:  important because the machines needed our care and attention to do their job.


How does this play out in our post-industrial society?  There is a risk that we organise ourselves around needs that no longer exist, measuring our contribution by the number of hours we work.  Anne Wilson Schaef, author of  The Addictive Organization: Why We Overwork, Cover up, Pick up the Pieces, Please the Boss, and Perpetuate Sick Organizations, sees this as a symptom of addiction in organisations and outside of our collective conscious awareness.  Tim Ferriss, author of The 4-Hour Work Week:  Escape the 9-5, Live Anywhere and Join the New Rich, is an advocate for a different way of life and so are Margaret J. Wheatley and Myron Kellner-Rogers who, in their book A Simpler Way, draw parallels with nature to invite us to a life that is less arduous and more delightful.


When we check in with our own rhythms as well as the rhythms of nature we know that there are times when we are raring to go and times when we need rest and restoration.  When we check in with the rhythms of our work we know there are times we need to go flat out to meet a deadline and times when such effort is not needed.  How often, though, do we act from this conscious awareness?  How often do we work hard because, somehow, it’s the done thing, looks good, scores points with the boss… even when, deep down, we know it’s costing us and even know it brings no benefit in terms of the quantity or quality of our output.


I wonder, how do you respond to Wheatley’s and Kellner-Rogers’ call to a life that is less arduous and more delightful?