Rants

Thoughts from the Green Building Trenches

“Leadership should be born out of the understanding of the needs of those who would be affected by it.” ~Marian Anderson

Green building has come a long way since the United States Green Building Council’s (USGBC) building standard, Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED), took hold about a decade ago. As the market transformed and more bold standards were realized, working towards the creation of truly sustainable buildings and neighborhoods proved to be an effective way to tackle our current environmental crisis. Yet, there’s still much work left to do and many voices to be represented. Until we are able to provide a heightened level of respect within our immediate circles and organizations and begin to truly start “walking the talk”, we will surely fail in our attempt to “save the world”.

The story I am about to tell is nothing new, and it repeats itself across boardrooms and cubicles every day. Workers are unhappy, from assembly lines to classrooms and office parks to city halls. You’d be hard pressed to look for business books without running smack dab into dense offerings on leadership, organizational improvement through narrative (a la Let My People Go Surfing) and explorations of overcoming workplace politics and angst. The book that has recently resonated with me the most is “The No Asshole Rule” by Bob Sutton.

Sutton, a professor of Organizational Behavior at Stanford Business School, as well as a professor of Engineering there, has dealt with his fair share of assholes, as he describes in his thought-provoking book. Sutton makes a comprehensive and solid argument for how assholes cost organizations, from lost productivity to the real costs of having an asshole on board. So much so, that many highly successful organizations – like Google and Zappos – have instituted the “no asshole rule”, requiring new hires to agree by signing on the dotted line. This deliberate act often ensures that unsavory behavior is not exhibited in the first place, and sends a message that if it is, it will not be tolerated. (Sutton warns, though, that simply acting as if you have this policy but not enforcing it, is worse than not having the policy at all).

So, are you, or is someone you love, a certified asshole? Admittedly, we have all exhibited the characteristics of an asshole from time-to-time. Try as we might, we all do the best that we can with the skills that we have in order to get by in this world, but often fall short of our aspirations. And that’s totally acceptable as we yearn to better ourselves. But I’m talking about certified assholes; individuals who allow their insecurities, bullying, and abuse of power to run amok, unchecked, ultimately infecting everyone around them with their noxious gases.

Suttons’ “dirty dozen list of everyday asshole actions” includes personal insults, rude interruptions, two-faced attacks, and treating people as if they are invisible, along with other highly repugnant behavior.

Sadly, the personality exhibited by this “dirty dozen” list paints the picture of an unhappy individual working from a place of pain and fear. The pain of feeling less than, or inferior, and the fear of being rejected and unloved. It’s an incredibly sad situation, and one that deserves immediate, sincere attention. More often than not, though, these sometimes subtle behaviors are never addressed.

I would know. My former boss isn’t a certified asshole, per se, but when I take the quiz to assess whether or not she fits the description, she “passes” the test with flying colors. Almost every question on that list is something she would answer yes to, if she were able to be brutally honest with herself.

Neither she, nor the organization that continues to celebrate her talents and promote her behavior, are unable to look at this bleak situation honestly, which is too bad. Because I believe that she could learn to address her wheelbarrow full of baggage, refocus her energies onto her many talents, and remove her incredible insecurities and scorn so that, ultimately, her gifts and the gifts of her peers could take center stage. Sadly, the organization seems ever positioned to stroke her ailing ego, thus nurturing her willingness to put her work first – above all else – ensuring that the leaders continue to shine, no matter the cost. Ultimately, this has helped to diminish the input of colleagues who offer alternate solutions or challenge the leadership in any way.

I used to imagine how our relationship could have been different if my former boss weren’t always competing with me and her colleagues. How it might help solve daily problems if she was willing to truly mentor and share her knowledge and talent, rather than speak down to her subordinates and make them feel lousy most of the time. Unfortunately, her willingness to work constantly outrageous hours (while wearing it as a badge of honor, of course), along with her incredible ability to produce, has enabled the organization to turn a blind eye to the serious problems that exist with her management “style”.

If the incredibly basic needs of respect and collaboration can’t even be met at a respected, progressive non-profit working towards tranforming the built environment and beyond, how then will we traverse from our current state to an enlightened one where truly sustainable goals can be realized? How, pray tell, will the requirements of transparency that are expected of manufacturers and industry be met when a small non-profit veils its upper-level decisions and overall day-to-day operations in a thick cloud of secrecy and deception? This Machiavellian approach to “transforming” the built environment will no doubt result in a place only fit for a Prince.

Imagine a truly professional environment, where an organization helps to support the “asshole” so that she can heal herself. This path would help to begin the “detoxification” of the group, allowing it and its employees to focus on the work at hand, rather than rewarding asshole behavior with promotions, more power, and more people to manage and infect with one’s own toxicity. These progressive values, so often expressed as a base level requirement in mission based/non-profit environments, is especially important to achieve, if only for the sake of not being so ironically contradicting.

Unfortunately, I’ve seen first hand the realities on the ground, and our collective hope of reshaping business-as-usual is currently falling far short from our ideals. We must nurture and respect the input of all involved, ESPECIALLY those on the front lines doing the hard work, rather than merely giving lip service to such a thing, ever maintaining the upper echelon of our beloved top-down models. We must put to death our fear-based proclamations of propriety, recognition, and entitlement. Then, and only then, will we begin the transformation, finally shedding the cocoon that protects the outdated, inaccurate view of reality that so many collectively, desperately cling to.

Finally, I Know Why

Ever since I’ve moved to the land of outlet malls (well disguised outlet malls, thankfully), I find myself especially drawn to the Banana Republic outlet.

This may not be odd to most, but I never quite found myself to fit the “B.R.” demographic. Ever since I realized I was never gonna take that African Safari and make like Meryl Streep in Out of Africa back in 8th Grade, the “B.R.” dream of wearing khaki short suits fell by the wayside.

The original draw was that this place has really GREAT deals, and clothes that, mostly, fit me well. Add to that the fact that my black and more funky clothes never quite worked within the Southern environment (not the only thing that doesn’t work, but I digress…), and I found myself more and more drawn to “B.R.” to fulfill my functional, mostly business, fashion needs.

Now that I work from home and don’t find much need for business casual clothes, I still find my car heading straight to the local Banana Republic. I have also found that some of the things I think are FANTASTIC for the brief moment while I’m in the store turn out to lack that luster once I get them home. But this week, I experienced an epiphany to explain my (unknown) initial draw to the place.

The epiphany is this, dear friends. The music. EVERY time I am in there, I am groovin’ on the tunes. I sing, hum, and even sometimes semi-groove – publicly – to the music that is played. EVERY TIME. Of course, this is where I fit the demographic. Which seems a tad disconnected to the clothes, I might add, but I think I realized that I subconsciously go there for the music. Because in the last 4 visits, I have purchased nothing, but not been disappointed in the least by not finding anything.

Instead, I have come away, almost gleefully, not even realizing why until the other day. When I was all, like, what is this song? I know this song? But it’s not the song I think it is. But it is. All this within the first 5 notes…and it is a remake of one of my favorite Ryan Adams songs, called Amy. And I have discovered Mark Ronson in the process, which I am quite thankful for. This is an incredibly beautiful song, originally, and this remake takes it to a different level. I would put the MP3 here for your listening pleasure, but it is SO INVOLVED (especially since I only have the MP4 version, etc., etc….)

Go get it. It’s 2 bucks, if you get the original Ryan Adams’ version AND the Mark Ronson remake. SO WORTH IT. Trust me.

P.S. I was also re-invigorated with New Order’s Love Vigilantes during my recent Banana discovery, too. Reminded me of my high-school friend (and prom date), Matt Vidmar. He owned and sported the classic Substance all-white t-shirt back in the day. I love the 80’s.

Paralysis

Photo courtesy of Roujo

As I unloaded the last bit of our groceries onto the belt this morning, David prepared to pay as I got our bags together and helped collect our overpriced produce and organic goods. Moments before, I walked past this happy, upbeat young girl riding in the seat of one of those car slash grocery carts, smiling and sweet. When I looked at her and smiled, she beamed.

She and her mom, I suspect, were ahead of us in line, and I had come from the other end and jimmied myself past them and their many bags of groceries. When it came time for them to pay, the mom began to present a check, and the cashier informed her that “starter checks” were not accepted there. The mom asked if the woman knew anywhere that they were accepted, but the cashier said no. The mom went and collected her daughter from underneath the cart. The daughter, not knowing any better, started to push the cart away, seemingly excited for all of the goods inside. Except that they would be going home with nothing.

Breaking and debilitating emotions coursed through me, and I thought, “maybe she could write me the check and we could pay for her groceries.” Then the cashier asked her if she was coming back for her bagged cart full of groceries. The woman said, calmly, “this is all the money I have. This check. So no. I won’t be coming back for these groceries.” As she and her daughter quietly left the store, the staff began to dismantle her cart in order to get it back on the shelves for the next paying customer.

It was a rude awakening, and it made me truly sad. As we continued to bag our wine and cheese and chips and salsa, the whole thing seemed somewhat surreal. By the time David and I got to the car, I couldn’t stop thinking about it – the woman and her daughter and the idea of them going home without anything. He said that he also thought to pay for this woman’s groceries. So, what stopped us from acting? That answer is not an easy, nor quick one, to come by.

Partly, the fact that we feel pretty far removed from our community here definitely does not help us to act when our neighbors are in need. But more than that, it seems to be a sign of the times. Somewhere along the way, I, too, must have become infested with the apathy bug. And as white houses are stolen, wars are waged, and neighbors may not have enough available cash (if any at all) to feed their kids, I, simply, do not act.

The issue of this mom being legitimate or not isn’t relevant, in my mind. Once, today, I was given the opportunity to reach out and directly help somebody. Instead, I chose to do nothing. By doing nothing when given a glaring opportunity to do so, it is as good as not voting, blindly consuming, and not speaking out against injustices. All to remain seemingly “safe” in an apathetic, or at least, non-active, state.

This needs to change, and this message today brought it home, as hard as a bed of nails. No longer can I choose, every day, to pretend that I am not affected by what is happening in the world around me, merely because of the fact that David and I have the means -today – to pay for our groceries. One of these days, it very easily could be us. It has been me before, so I should know better.