Tag: response

On The Fly

It started as a murmur.

On the police scanner, there was some chatter about an incident on the far side of town.

Seconds later, the newsroom phone rang. I picked it up, recognizing our resident tipster’s voice instantly.

Hey. There’s something going on across town. Might be worth checking out.

I assured the tipster I was on it. But that wasn’t entirely true.

You see, I’d danced this waltz plenty in my nine weeks on the job. Each day, as I compiled my newscasts, the police radio would buzz about some incident. The tipster would hear the chatter on his scanner. Then he’d call me — the evening producer — and ask me to look into it.

Initially, I did. I’d send a news photographer all over the area, following up on the cryptic words of a dispatch officer.

But those photographers rarely found anything of note at the scene. So lately, I’d stopped calling them each time the scanner buzzed.

Such was the case on this afternoon. Instead of redirecting a news photographer, called a police spokesperson. That spokesman had little to update me on, so I carried on with my work.

It only took a half hour to discover I’d made the wrong choice.

A rival station cut into daytime TV coverage, announcing that there was a standoff on the edge of town. Shots had been fired, law enforcement was involved, and that station’s news crews were on scene.

In an instant, our News Director appeared at my desk.

You see that? We need to be out there.

I sensed the intensity in his eyes, and I panicked. I nervously told him I’d call the news photographer.

The News Director was not having it.

No, no! We need to send a reporter there now. And we need to find a way to go live.

Oh yes, I’d forgotten that detail. Our station’s live truck had been out of service for weeks. It hadn’t been an issue before. But now our competitor was reporting from the scene of a standoff, and we couldn’t do the same.

I was up a creek without a paddle. I just didn’t know how far.

I ultimately did get a reporter to the scene. And we got a live report on our evening newscast via telephone.

But it was too little, too late.

It was the first breaking news event of my career. And I’d blown it.

For weeks after this blunder, I found it hard to sleep.

I’d lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for hours. I’d replay everything I did and didn’t do. And I’d grapple for answers.

I had to be better at breaking news if I wanted a career as a news producer. I knew that.

But I also tended to freeze each time I was caught off-guard. That trait was paralyzing my breaking news response. And it would continue to sabotage my goals if I let it.

How could I turn hesitancy into action? How could I become selectively impulsive?

I’d think. I’d pine. I’d strategize. But it all got me nowhere.

Then, one night, I remembered I’d faced this paradox before. I encountered it as I was learning to drive.

Most teenagers couldn’t wait to get their license and tool around town on their own accord. But not me.

I was so terrified of the unpredictable open road that I resisted getting a learner’s permit or signing up for Driver’s Education classes.

You see, I’d ridden in enough vehicles to know that sticky situations could arise suddenly on the road. Other drivers could stop short with no warning. Pedestrians and bikers might dart in front of moving traffic.

Most drivers reacted quickly to this mayhem. But I figured I’d freeze up and crash into another car. Or worse, I might run someone over.

Eventually, I did get that permit and those driving lessons. Still leery of the unknown, I tried to prepare for every road hazard ahead of time. Yet, despite my best efforts, a couple of those hazards did sneak up on me.

As I faced these situations, I could feel myself starting to freeze up. But I never actually did.

Instead, my foot hit the brake. Or my hands turned the wheel to avoid danger.

These were reflexive responses. My instincts were guiding my reactions more than my brain was.

I realized that if I harnessed those instincts while anticipating road hazards, I’d turn into a proficient driver.

I’d worked hard at that over the years. And as I lay in bed on this sleepless night, I recognized that I’d become that proficient driver.

Maybe I try the same thing for breaking news situations.

I could plot out my thought process ahead of time. And I could coax my instincts to come alive on the fly when needed.

This revelation changed everything.

I reported to work the next day with a new mindset. Instead of praying for normalcy, I embraced chaos.

There was still no inkling of when the next breaking news event might hit. But whenever it did, I’d be prepared to react.

Over the ensuing years, my plan did come to fruition. Breaking news events occasionally popped up, and they still caught me off-guard. But I got better and better at responding to them. And I gained more and more confidence throughout.

Eventually, I broke a story that gained national attention. A freight train collided with a parade float downtown, killing four people and injuring 16 more.

As soon as the scanner buzzed with word of a Possible train accident, I leaped into action. I was making calls, coordinating coverage, and updating text on the station’s website even before I’d personally processed the gravity of the event. I was acting on the fly.

This was all critical in getting the story out first. And it helped my station share new developments in real time.

I’d come a long way. The days of dropping the ball were over.

As I write this, I’ve been out of the news business for nearly a decade.

Those frantic breaking news events are distant memories to me now. But the protocols for handling such chaos are not.

It turns out those skills are as useful outside the walls of a TV station as they are within them.

Indeed, there have been plenty of times in my second career when I was caught off guard. The same goes for my personal life.

My employer might shift priorities for my segment, put the kibosh on a major project I was working on, or even lay me off. All have happened to me in my time in the business world.

And outside of work, I might get a concerning medical diagnosis, hear something worrisome from a friend, or learn of the death of a loved one.

Each of these scenarios is a jolt to the system. And we tend to respond to them in one of two ways — stunned silence or a wave of emotion.

But that’s not quite true for me anymore.

Now, I spring into action.

I ask follow-up questions. I coordinate logistics. I think on the fly.

I’ve already done the legwork to respond in this way. I’ve taken little for granted in my life. And I’ve imagined what it would look like if what I cherish was taken from me.

I haven’t done all this to soften the blow. I’ve done it to sharpen my instincts and to hasten my response.

It might sound calculated or cold. But it’s effective.

Not just for me. But for all of us.

Yes, it’s important for all of us to consider this approach.

For there is a time to process the information that knocks us to our knees. To pause. To grieve. To absorb the emotional blow.

But there is also a time to respond. To take the tactical steps needed to move forward.

If we insist on acting in sequence — in processing everything before taking our next steps — we’ll be left behind. We’ll remain a shell of ourselves as we attempt to pick up the pieces. We might not recover at all.

It’s imperative that we not let shock preclude us from action. That we prime our instincts to work, even when our mind is overrun. That we maintain our ability to respond on the fly.

It’s not a desired assignment. But it’s a needed one.

Let’s heed the call.

The Spiral of Doom

It was a treasured childhood ritual.

I would sit quietly while my grandfather regaled me with stories.

Sometimes, these would be fanciful tales, generated by his endless imagination. But more often they’d be full of truth.

My grandfather had plenty of material to work with. For he had seemingly seen it all.

He grew up in the throes of the Great Depression, enlisted in the Navy in World War II, and attended college on the GI Bill. His adult years were marked by the Cold War, the Civil Rights Movement, and an inflation crisis. There were stories for just about all these events.

I cherished these tales because they gave me a window into history. The Berlin Wall fell in my lifetime, but I was too young to remember the occasion. And all the other crises had long ended before I was around. My grandfather’s stories were all that was left.

It was hard for me to imagine a world with such tumult. After all, the era I was experiencing firsthand was full of stability and prosperity.

And yet, I listened intently. For while it seemed unlikely that this turbulent history would repeat itself, there were plenty of lessons to be learned from it.

Fast forward a few decades. My grandfather no longer walks this earth. But his stories are still with me.

I’m especially thankful for that these days.

It’s no secret that the last couple of years have been difficult.

We’ve been saddled by a brutal pandemic, a battered economy, a contested presidential election, a racial reckoning, and a war in Europe. Nearly all the low points of the 20th century have reemerged in a singular period in the 21st.

Such a development has shattered our assumptions. We once believed that we had insulated ourselves from disease, political instability, financial strife, and strained race relations. We once believed that threats of nuclear war were off the table and that America’s global clout was assured.

No longer.

As we wade through these suddenly uncertain waters, we find ourselves asking the same question: How did we get here?

We were supposed to have protections against all that’s befallen us. Our technological capacity is far beyond what was imaginable even a generation ago. Medical breakthroughs have helped us manage ailments that were once devastating. We’re more enlightened — individually and collectively — than we were decades ago.

And yet, here we are again — finding ourselves blindsided as history repeats itself.

Such dissonance between intentions and outcomes can make us fatalistic. It can lead us to conclude that this spiral of doom is inevitable.

But such a conclusion misses the mark.

Globalization.

It’s a word that’s everywhere these days.

When times are good, globalization is the key to our expanded possibilities. When things are going poorly, it’s the scapegoat for our problems.

We act as if globalization is a newfangled concept. As if it’s something conjured up in recent years.

It’s anything but.

Known efforts to connect the world stretch back at least to the Roman Empire. And they likely go back far earlier.

The Roman Empire might not seem globalized to our modern eyes. After all, the Romans didn’t have international wire transfers, instantaneous news delivery, or asynchronous supply chains at their beck and call. But ultimately, that’s just window dressing.

Through systems, edicts, and innovations, the Romans made a mark on the affairs of the world. Some of their initiatives — such as a representative government, and networks of roads and utilities — were a net positive. Others — such as robust a system of slavery and rampant religious persecution — are viewed with disdain.

Both the good and the bad are marked in the annals of history. All that knowledge has been passed on through hundreds of generations. And much of it — whether exemplary or shameful — has been repeated, long after the fall of Caesar.

The wheels of history keep turning, for better or for worse.

Why do we believe that the bad outcomes of our past won’t reoccur in our future?

It is our belief in our own enlightenment? Our faith in innovation? Our investment in robust protection?

It doesn’t matter.

Truth be told, we cannot bypass the spiral of doom.

For part of what sends us forward is also what sends us backward. The two forces are inherently linked.

Forward momentum involves change. Yet, change is something we’re notoriously bad at dealing with.

As such, a series of missteps and bad outcomes are almost inevitable as the world moves forward.

Don’t believe me? Consider the 20th century.

The world took a massive leap forward in that time. But it was also roiled by a series of devastating events, from global wars to financial crises to a flu pandemic.

These events might seem disparate and random, but they’re interconnected.

A period of rapid industrialization at the turn of the century opened the door to new opportunities. But it also threatened the world order – which mostly consisted of empires at that time.

Such tensions led directly to World War I. And the mobilization of troops helped spread a nasty flu strain, intensifying the Spanish Flu Pandemic.

In the wake of that war, Germany was in shambles. A combination of punitive sanctions and hyperinflation left that nation open to far-right influences, spurring the rise of the Nazis and the horrors of the Holocaust.

After the Nazis were vanquished in World War II, tensions over how the fallen Reich would be divided ultimately led to the Cold War. And runaway defense spending — on both sides of the Iron Curtain — led to even more financial instability and the eventual end of the conflict.

These events played out over the course of eight decades, leading to a slow burn of misery. But despite that long timeline, there was little that could be done on the individual level to stop the carnage.

So yes, perhaps it was inevitable that we’d end up here — withstanding a hurricane of bad outcomes. But ultimately, that’s not what’s important.

What matters most — especially now — is how we respond.

Will we wave the white flag, and bury our heads in the sand? Or will we work toward building a brighter future, no matter the speed bumps that might lie in our way?

There really is only one sensible answer.

The spiral of doom is real. But it doesn’t have to define us.

Let’s not let it.

Read and React

According to plan.

We cling to these words like gospel. We strive to stay on schedule, on point, on task. To proceed down the path we’re intended to follow.

If everything goes according to plan, life is good. But all too often, it doesn’t. After all, the saying goes, “God laughs at your plans.”

When things go awry, we find ourselves in a world of trouble. Suddenly, we have 99 problems and can’t even solve one.

Why do we put ourselves through this dance? In part because we can’t bear the alternative.

We can’t stand to live in the moment.

There’s a stigma to living in the moment. One that states those who choose to live this way must throw all cares and responsibilities away.

This couldn’t be further from the truth.

Sure, there are some people who approach life with a Key West attitude. But most people don’t have that luxury. Most people have families, occupations and other pressing concerns to tend to.

Yet even with these concerns, these people can adopt a Live in the Moment mentality — assuming they approach it the right way.

How so?

By following the Read and React framework.

If you’ve played chess — or football —  you’re likely familiar with the Read and React framework. It requires looking at the situation around you and then reacting accordingly in the moment.

While Read and React doesn’t prepare you for what’s coming ahead of time, it does the next best thing. It helps you control the outcome.

By practicing these principles time and again, we become more proficient at reacting to an increasing number of situations — or Reads, if you will. We become seemingly unflappable and action-driven.

Even in the wake of unpredictable outcomes, we can remain prepared. Prepared to respond. Prepared to capitalize. Prepared to lead.

Many of us practice the Read and React framework in our occupations — particularly if we work in a volatile profession. For example, I used it daily while working as a TV news producer. Practicing the framework helped me better adjust to the unpredictable nature of news — and therefore become better at my job.

So why not carry the same principles over to our lives?

After all, everyday life is chock full of unpredictability. Aside from the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, it’s one of the few things we can count on.

Why waste our energy and effort planning every detail of our lives? All that guarantees us is angst and stress when things inevitably go off track.

Instead, why don’t we live in the moment? Why don’t we change our approach to read what’s going on around us and then react accordingly?

It takes less effort to do this than it does to make plans that might never come to fruition. And we’ll be better prepared to handle life’s frequent surprises with poise and precision.

This process will make us more Zen. More relaxed. More pleasant to be around.

In short, it will lead to more positive outcomes.

What’s not to like?

Now, of course, we can’t live in the moment all the time. Planning remains critical for several aspects of our lives.

But let’s keep it to that.

Let’s plan only in situations where it’s only absolutely necessary, and Read and React to everything else.

We’ll be better for it.

Don’t Punt

When I was a teenager, I spent many a Friday night playing Madden with my friends.

(Madden, for those who don’t know, is a video game simulation of the National Football League.)

And whenever we played, we made sure to follow one particular rule: Don’t Punt.

Why? Because only wimps punt in Madden.

This, of course, is ridiculous. Punting — or dropkicking the ball down the field to pin your opponent close to their own goal line — is an odd quirk of football. But it’s also a strategic one.

In fact, teams with weak offenses and dominant defenses use punting as a strategic advantage — as it can be difficult for opponents to score points when they need to go the length of the football field to it. The 2000 Baltimore Ravens even won a Super Bowl championship with this formula.

But punting is unacceptable in Madden. It’s part of guy code. Which is also the code that demands that a man leave a one urinal buffer between himself and the next guy while relieving himself in a public restroom.

(And yes, I do realize there are plenty of female gamers out there today. But this Madden tradition goes back to when video games were “a guy thing.”)

So, we never punted in Madden. Instead, we gave each other short fields when our offense sputtered. We scored a lot of points. We had a grand old time.

Then, when the game was over, we turned off the console, went to the kitchen and downed glasses of Cola-Cola.

Of course, life’s nothing like Madden. It ain’t a game, it ain’t always fun, and you can’t just turn it off at the end. (It does, however, feature bountiful amounts of Coca-Cola.)

But I do think the Don’t Punt rule should still apply to life.

Why? Because off the gridiron, punting is not a strategic advantage. It’s bailing out, giving up, abandoning ship.

It’s acknowledging that something didn’t work — and cutting all ties with it in that same instant.
I get why people do this. Sometimes it’s just better to have a fresh start than to let a poor experience weigh you down like a boulder.

But still, it’s incredibly shortsighted.

You see, I’m a firm believer that something can be gained from every experience we encounter in our lives. But we have to go out and seize those lessons and that silver lining.

Punting doesn’t allow us to do this. It shuts out an initiative that didn’t go to plan, effectively expunging it from our life story.

While it’s more comfortable for us to face failure this way, punting away our misses leaves a silent trail of collateral damage. All of the effort, time and heart that was poured into an experience is lost forever — and those losses compound over time. This can lead to “Golden Years” pockmarked with emptiness and anchored by regret.

It’s far better to pivot than to punt. Pivoting ensures continuity between one venture and the next. It allows us to build off of our prior experiences — good or bad — and create a future that’s continually vibrant and well informed.

This is a worthy goal to strive for. And all we need to achieve it is the right mindset.

So, when you fail, take a moment. Collect yourself. Then, get up and dust yourself off.

But whatever you do, don’t punt.

Strength in Adversity

There are many qualities we look at when classifying others. Social skills, personality, smarts, looks — these come to mind instantly. A far more uncommon consideration — at least outside the niche of job interviews — is resilience.

Yet, it just might be our ultimate defining quality.

Think about it.

When things are going well, we’re in control of our lifestyle. We get into our comfort zone, things work out for us, and we have the ability to project those good vibes towards others. This is the warm, fuzzy zone where the theory of Being Our Best Self comes from.

But life is more than just sunshine and rainbows. It’s storm clouds too.

There are times in all of our lives when we find ourselves in adverse situations, when things don’t go our way. And it brings up questions.

How do we respond? Which vibes do we project in these moments? What do we take from the experience?

The answers can be telling.

This is why I pay close attention to how the people I’m acquainted with handle adversity — and why I’m sure others pay close attention to how I handle tough times.

***

It takes internal fortitude to get through adversity. I recognize this much better now than I did earlier in life.

Growing up, I was resistant to change, and I didn’t respond well when things didn’t go my way. I wasn’t much of a risk-taker, and I planned things out in my mind well ahead of time; that way, life could be predictable and within my comfort zone as much as possible.

But then, things changed.

In the past decade, I’ve moved to a new city three times — each time, hardly knowing a soul in the place God had led me to. The first move was a comfortable one — I was on a college campus with a bunch of other freshmen, and I made friends quickly.

The second move was far different — out to the West Texas desert, and the real world. A world where being simply being new in the neighborhood built no bridges to the surrounding community.

I remember the afternoon my dad left town after getting me settled. I went back to my new apartment, lay down on my new futon in the living room — and slept for 10 hours. Then, I went to my bedroom and slept for 8 more.

I was so lonely and scared, I didn’t want to wake up.

In that moment of extreme adversity, I gave myself a mental pep talk.

This is not who you are. Go out and be yourself.

Those words got me out of my apartment that day. No matter how apprehensive I felt inside, I was going to prove to the world — and myself —that I was exactly the same person I always had been.

I learned a lot from that experience, which is why I keep it in the back of my mind. Those lessons have come in handy many times, including during my move to the Dallas area and subsequent career change.

***

While I don’t expect others to face so many adverse situations in their lives — or to willingly put themselves in those situations, as I did — I would advise those who come across adversity to stay consistent and true to themselves. It’s also important to use the lessons from that experience productively moving forward.

For there will always be more moments of adversity down the road. Moments when it pays to heed the following words.

Show me adversity. I’ll show you strength.

Adapting Our Expectations

Another Super Bowl has come and gone.

Our biggest sporting and television spectacle brings its quirks with it — commercials people actually pay attention to, a halftime concert featuring a bizarre mix of artists, political statements and semi-elaborate sets, and a hefty amount of overindulgence. It also brings us some memorable moments, and a newly minted National Football League champion.

The NFL’s Most Valuable Player, Cam Newton, was not that champion this year. But after the confetti rained down and the Vince Lombardi Trophy was raised up by his opponents — the Denver Broncos — he became one of the game’s memorable moments.

Meeting with the hordes of media — as is his obligation after the game — Newton looked morose. So often bold and outspoken, the 6’5” quarterback seemed to be hiding under his Carolina Panthers hoodie, quietly giving one or two word answers before storming off.

It was not what anyone was looking for from the new face of football. Even in his early days in the league, when struggles and frustration were commonplace, Newton spoke candidly about his need for self improvement. Now, on the game’s biggest stage, Cam let his emotions get the best of him. And he got roasted for it.

I don’t believe that’s right.

It’s easy for the media to demonize those who don’t play by their rules or expectations. I know this innately, because I used to be in the media. But what I don’t know is what it feels like to fail in front of 115 million people and then candidly answer tough questions about how I’ve failed.

I can’t imagine how brutal that would feel — even though I have a folder in my inbox filled with 150 job rejection emails I received three years ago during my career transition. I was out of work for 3 months back then, living week by week in a hotel in a strange city, with no friends nearby to keep my spirits up and job rejection after job rejection eating into my soul as my savings were slowly depleted.

Needless to say, it was a low and frustrating time for me — but I didn’t have to answer pointed questions about it in full view of half the country.

Think about it. We all have times where we felt like that, where we wanted to be left alone. So did Cam. But he couldn’t be left alone, so he did what he could to power through the situation and move on. And he damn sure did a better job than I would have done in that situation.

It’s time we adapt our expectations. Not everyone can be like Newton’s Super Bowl opponent, Peyton Manning — who, after a brutal double overtime playoff loss in 2013, answered every question thrown his way before quietly going to the opponent’s locker room to congratulate Ray Lewis (who would retire after winning the Super Bowl weeks later). That’s the standard the media sets, but it really should be considered above and beyond.

Cam Newton is an amazing talent, a phenomenal athlete and a heck of a football player. He’s a leader, an inspiration and, by all accounts, a great person. He’s brash and flamboyant, but also strong and determined. He’s the face of football for years to come.

We caught him at his lowest in the aftermath of Super Bowl 50. He’ll learn from it, he’ll adapt and he’ll grow.

When it comes to our expectations, it’s high time we did too.