SMART goals: No concept is more important to being an excellent manager of groups or individuals. SMART goals can set you free. They can set your employees free. They are the key to successful delegation. However, their misuse can lead to senseless micro-management, planning overkill and employee ennui. I thought I’d write a reliable guide to walking the fine line between using SMART goals to free you and your peeps, and rendering them listless with managerial overkill.

Over the years, a couple of the letters in the SMART acronym have taken on a life of their own. I’ll do what I can to trim them back a bit. Here are the versions I’ve come across:
S = specific
M=measurable, memorable
A=Achievable, actionable
R=relevant, realistic
T=timely, time-bound

I’m going to start with T. For one thing, it’s the easiest to do. Even more important though is this: It’s the key to managing energy, and managing energy is the key to performance. Without a deadline, even the most specific, measurable, important goal flops around like loose string on Itzak Perlman’s Stradivarius.

Nothing tightens up a team like a deadline. And, nothing ensures a deadline will be met like setting a follow-up date. That’s all it takes, really: Give a specific deadline, like “Saturday, 10:00am,” then set a follow-up date to check on progress: “Let’s talk on the phone in 3 days - how about 3:00 on Wednesday?”

You’ll be astonished at how quickly things start to move.

I can almost hear your objections: “But, Liz, isn’t that treating adults like children?” Or, “Why should I have to babysit my employees? They’re professionals. They know what to do - they should just do it.”

Except:  You don’t set follow-up dates for them. You set them for you. Setting and keeping follow-up dates are what allows you to manage a project without having to step in and do it yourself. Follow-up dates give you all the opportunities you need to manage well. Here’s what I mean:

• Setting a follow-up date shows your commitment to the goal or task. Time spent is how you show people what’s important. When something is a high priority, you make time for it.

• Setting a follow-up date shows your commitment to them. Time spent is how you show people that they are important to you.

• Setting a follow up date gives you easy access to teachable moments. Regular contact makes this easier. The result is better alignment, early course correction and - best of all - the ability to express appreciation often.

• Setting a follow-up date keeps you both current. Has there been change in the priority of this project? In relevant information?  Regular follow-up dates make it easy to pass this information along.

You see? All the critical tasks of a manager, there in easy, bite-sized pieces, built right into the fabric of your day. No inertia to break through, no big hill to climb to reach your goal. Follow-up dates enable you to tag on to the energy and momentum of the actual work while working your management agenda. They are a twofer.

But the primary reason you set a follow-up date may surprise you: It will give you instant feedback about how clear you were in the first place. And, take it from one who knows: You weren’t nearly as clear as you thought you were. You weren’t as comprehensive either. You may have forgotten some critical detail, or failed to think things through to a logical conclusion. Follow-up meetings show you this with painful clarity. It can be embarrassing to respond to questions that arise during a follow-up meeting, but it will be some of the best time you’ve ever spent.

Next week: S is for specific.

As always, I welcome your ideas, input and stories.

“What work do you do?”  On a 3-hour van ride from Portland to Seattle, I’m getting acquainted with my traveling companion, a young man with cerebral palsy and an expressive face.

I look at him and quickly calculate:  late teens, smart, no corporate experience, disabled.  I think:  no jargon, no obfuscation, no complicated theory.  I’ve got to come clean.

“I teach people how to get along with each other and get things done.  At the same time.”

His eyebrows shoot up and his face brightens.  He nods.  He GETS it!   It may be the first time I’ve gotten it out in a sentence, and I’m grateful for the exchange:  Finally, the Cliff Notes version.

What I love about those two sentences is that they leave nothing out.  They describe what it takes to lead in a team-based world.  What it takes to succeed.  Get along with others.  Get things done.   Relationship and task, not one at the expense of the other. 

If work were a rowboat, you’d want to row with both oars in the water, pulling equally.  Pull more with one than the other and you go off course.  Row with only one and you go in a circle.

It’s so easy to forget this.

Right now, I’m working with an organization that’s in love with email and chasing a huge backlog of tasks.  They get a lot of tasks done via email, which is a good thing.  Email is good for tasks.   Face-to-face is better for relationships.  Too many transactions by email and you’re putting quite a load on relationships.

How do you know which oar to pull on?

In a rowboat, you face backwards – away from your goal.  You can’t see where you’re going.  What you do is pick a point on the horizon that’s opposite where you want to go and row so that you are moving away from that point.  When you pull too hard with one or the other oar, you veer off course.  In a rowboat, it takes commitment to maintain that unwavering focus.

It’s like that at work too.  The minute you see that you’re headed off course – someone misunderstands you, HR or legal enters your project wants to add months to it, your team stalls and you don’t know why – the temptation is to pull harder on the task oar.  You send the email explaining the merits of the project, the necessity of the timeline, how you’re executive sponsor is bigger than theirs.  It’s a natural reaction to start pulling with the task oar.  Now your boat is going in a circle and you’re very tired.

This is the time to put down the task oar and put some energy into the relationship oar.  Call the person in HR and listen.  Get to know their point of view.  Make a connection with the person you’re talking to.  Listen for common ground.  Look for ways to move forward together.  If you can’t find any, admit it.   Impasses happen. 

If you’ve got to part company, do it face-to-face when you can, on the phone if you can’t.  Don’t do it via a snippy, self-justifying email.   I know you’ve got an impossible deadline and you think this will waste time.  Except it doesn’t.  Time spent honoring a relationship is never wasted.  It takes so much less time to talk to someone on the phone then it does to compose, send, then worry about the snippy email. 

Give it a try and let me know how it goes.

I’ve never forgotten reading about the architect who waited to pave the walkways in an office park until he saw where people walked. He simply paved the paths they created, figuring that they’d choose the most efficient route. And that they’d walk there anyway. I can’t remember his name, but the fact of it made quite an impression on me. I thought the idea of legitimizing where people walked was genius - and much more effective than trying to control their moevments through sidewalks. Now, whenever I see those little footpaths that get worn in the grass, often at the end of a paved pathway, I remember.

I’m reminded of it again everytime a group gets off the agenda and starts arguing about something, passionately, and with fire. I can either wrest them back on to the walkway, I’ve planned, or find a way to put a sidewalk right under their feet which will legitimize their passion and their disagreement. When I have the wit to choose the latter, I’ve got 2 ways to go: The first is to invite everyone to structure their dissent, which I’ll address here; the second involves the skill of resolving impasses, which I’ll cover next week.

Structure the Dissent
This is best used when the whole group is bubbling with dissenting points of view. Your group is ripe for this when several people are straining to speak, and are not building on each other ideas. In fact, they may not be hearing each other at all. Tension is beginning to build and some people are openly frustrated. Here’s what you do:

1. Stop the conversation and say: “Several of you have strong opinions about (your group’s issue goes here). So we can hear what each of you has to say, let’s structure our dissent. Take 60 seconds to gather your thoughts, then we’ll go around the room and hear from each of you in turn. You’ll each have 2 minutes to make the strongest possible case for your point of view, without holding back. The rest of you will be listening. Responding to someone else’s point of view during your 2 minutes is out of bounds. There is no interrupting and no arguing - either advocate your point of view or listen. What questions do you have about this?”

2. Time the preparation period and each of the speakers. Do not allow speakers to go over. Only one person speaks at a time. There is no cross-talk. Do not allow speakers to attack another’s point of view. This is a time for them to advocate their position on it’s merits.

3. At the end of this first round, summarize the areas of agreement. Ask if anyone has been swayed by anything they’ve heard. If not, restate the issue and ask participants to do another round of structured discussion. Time and manage it as before.

4. Again summarize the agreements you heard and ask if anyone has changed their mind as a result of what they’ve heard. Restate the issue/problem and conduct another round.

5. Summarize the points of agreement. By this time, one of two things will have happened. Either they’ll have come to an agreement or a very thoughtful open discussion will erupt and lead naturally to an agreement.

Why does it work?
Open discussion is the default process for most meetings. Unfortunately, in open discussion, the discussion happens before all the information has been revealed, and usually involves the extroverts in the room and those higher on the org. chart. Conflicts become ritualized and stay unexplored and unresolved as everyone seeks to not offend. This is the kind of process that leads to the the deja vu meeting syndrome: because the issues are not surfaced, explored and resolved, you will get to have this meeting again. And again. And again…

A better practice is to get all points of view heard and clearly delineated before discussing them. It’s a lot like eating the peanuts before you chew the gum rather than chewing both at the same time. Structured discussion separates the peanuts from the gum. It encourages listening, rather than simply waiting to talk. It legitimizes and makes welcome stridently different points of view. And, nothing sparks creativity like sharply divergent points of view.

Because of this, structured discussion much more efficient than open discussion, and will get your group to agreement quickly and cleanly, like a hot knife through butter. Even better, the agreement will be solid, well-informed and owned by everyone. Why doesn’t everyone use this, you ask?

I have no idea.

I love this icebreaker: it works for any size group, participants learn something valuable about themselves and each other, it incorporates the latest research, and it’s so energizing and engaging, it’s difficult to get them to stop.

Strengths-Based
This icebreaker is based on the VIA Signature Strengths Survey found on Martin Seligman’s website. Focusing on people’s strengths is not only a genius approach to leadership, it’s a refreshing change from the deficit-based approach that has bedeviled corporate America and hindered performance and satisfatction for decades. It takes some preparation on your part, but the benefits are worth it. Here’s what you do:

Prep
1. Give participants about 10 days lead time to complete the VIA Signature Strengths Survey at (This is a 240-question survey that takes about 25 minutes to complete. They’ll have to register in order to access the survey. Although, free and easy, it will take some time.)

2. Ask participants to print out their complete results (all 24 strengths in order) and bring that print-out to the meeting.

3. Have each participant email you their top 5 strengths.

4. Compile the group’s top 5 strengths and put them on a flipchart page, butcher paper or Powerpoint slide for display. (I list all 24 strengths, tally the results of the group, then reorder the list so the strength with the most tick marks is listed first, the strength with the second most is listed second, and so forth).

Running the Icebreaker
1. 10-20 minutes. Have participants mingle and show each other their top 5 strengths. If you want more depth here, encourage people to linger; if you want them to mix more, let them know that too. In large groups where I want to encourage to get to know people they don’t work with, I’ll ask them to talk to at least 5 people they don’t usually work with. When I really want to push quantity over quality, I’ll time them and give a prize to the person who talked to the most people in the room.

2. 7-10 minutes. When I call the group back together, I ask them what they noticed. They’ll talk about how many of them have one or two strengths in common and you’ll see many heads nodding. Then someone will say “But no one else had this one.” Debrief by displaying the group’s top-5 list you compiled and asking for responses to that list.

That’s it for the icebreaker. I recommend you display the group’s top-5 list for the rest of the meeting (this is why I prefer a large chart to Powerpoint - it can serve as a visual reminder). I find that group members will keep referring to the list and thinking about the connections between their work and their strengths for the rest of the meeting.

Give it a try and let me know how it comes out. And if you’ve done something similar, I’d love to hear about it.

So often we want to convene a group to get the benefit of their expertise and differing points of view. So, we ask them to brainstorm. And, it starts out well. An idea is offered, then another, then 3 more. The next idea that’s offered seems to be a response to one that’s gone before and the the next “idea” is a response to that response, and pretty soon you’ve got an open, unstructured discussion among only a few of those present and it’s going nowhere. Not what you wanted at all.

You’re not alone. Most of the time, brainstorming devolves into exactly this: The extroverts talk to each other, everyone defers (sometimes resentfully) to those with the most status, and the conversation veers off course.

Which is why I almost never use brainstorming with groups. It’s too easily overtaken by group dynamics. The first time it happens, it’s not so bad. By the 5th time, no one in your group really believes that brainstorming will include them and some of them will sit it out. Not what you’d hoped for.

There’s another reason it’s not my first choice: Brainstorming is best used when a creativity is what’s wanted. Most of the time, in most corporations, creativity is the opposite of what’s wanted. What’s wanted is an action that will represent progress without rocking the boat. You can’t trust creativity not the rock the boat. Sometimes it seems as though creativity’s job is to rock the boat.

So what to do? How do you get what’s inside people’s heads out into the room without totally losing control. How do you get them thinking together, hearing the same information the same way, and not simply vying for air time?

Round Robin Does All This

Round robin is the process of choice when you need to hear from everyone and they need to hear from each other. No other process will erase the difference between introverts and extroverts or between levels of status and seniority. No other process enables - insists - that people listen to each other.

It’s simple, it’s easy and, once your group has experienced it, they’ll immediately grasp it’s utility and fairness. Here are the steps, all of which must be adhered to:

1. Pose a specific open-ended question (”what do you think is causing sales to drop off?) rather than a general topic (sales)
2. Set a time limit for the round robin. (10 seconds is a good minimum, 30 seconds is a good maximum. More than 30 seconds each will lead to open discussion.)
3. Give everyone a minute or 2 (time it) to come up with a response or list of responses. This greatly increases the quality of the responses.
4. When you are ready to start, establish a clear, simple order for people to speak in.
5. Ask people to give only one of their answers for each round.
6. Time everyone and cut them off if they go over. They’ll have another chance to speak in the next round. Do this with a sense of play. If everyone goes over, it’s your bad: Extend the time limit and try again.

That’s it. Try it and let me know what you think.

We’ve all done it: We’re running a meeting and someone says something that just floors us, something like “That will never work - we’ve done it before and it failed. It will fail this time too.” You want to say something…pointed. But you know better. It’s your job to stay calm, cool, collected and above it all. To lead. To keep things moving. After all, there are 8 other people in the room and they are all looking at you.

So you say everything but what’s on your mind. You say, “I understand your point of view, but” Or “Thanks for that, John. Let’s get back to our…” Or: “I think it will work and here’s why.” Or “Things are different now and I need your help.” Or, you say “That’s great, John, we’ll explore that in a minute,” but your palms are facing John and pushing toward him. Pushing him and his ideas away. Running right over him.

Everyone of those tells John to shut up. He hears it, and so do the other 8 people in the room.

There is another choice, and it works better. By better, I mean faster and you get to take John with you into the rest of the meeting.

Tell rather than show. Instead of showing your irritation, anxiety and time pressure, just say it. But not just part of it: Tell John all of what’s on your mind. It might sound something like this: “John, I hate hearing that. I find it discouraging and that makes tense up and want to push right past you.” (Pause here and exhale. Notice that John has not exploded or expired from the force of your rage.) Then say the rest: “And, I know you’re trying to tell me something that’s important to you, so I’m going to do my best to listen. What is it you want us to know?”

Several things are possible now: John has a much better chance of articulating the information concealed in his unskillful first attempt (it is in there, and may have little to do with what he said at first), and you have a better chance of feeling more sane, human and connected as does the rest of your team. Chances are good that someone is smiling, maybe even John. Maybe you.

Even if John stands by his original complaint, it will have less bite. And, no one will be squirming.

Two things make this effective:

1. Say both sides of what you’re thinking - share both sides of your dilemma. You hate hearing it AND you know you must. Leave the first out and you risk sounding insincere; leave out the second and your risk sounding hostile.

2. Keep it in the present. This is not the time to let all your frustration at John’s past — and probable future — negativity spill out. It’s a moment - a moment for John, a moment for you. That’s all the weight it deserves. Staying in the here and now keeps it at the right level of intensity and lightness.

The careful reader will notice that I only listed 5 ways to say shut up. I was hoping to get your help with the other 45. I’ll start:

Refusing eye contact, saying nothing, looking at our watch, multi-tasking, reading anything, turning away, shuffling papers, talking over someone, interrupting, saying “I hear what you’re saying…”

Some mistakes you can only make with a computer. That’s how a draft of this went out well before its time. My apologies. Here’s what I meant to say:

“Give people a fact or idea and you enlighten their minds; tell them a story and you touch their souls” -Hasidic proverb

Lately I’ve been thinking about how disconnected a work team can get while each member is pursuing their separate responsibilities. Nowhere is this more evident than the in an executive’s team of directors. Each director has more to do than they can handle, and oversees a function that is wildly different from and independent of those of their peers. Add distance to this mix and building cohesion gets even more difficult. That’s why staff meetings can become recitations by the boss - tidbits of information, detailed reports from the boardroom - one endless, boring presentation after another. Rather than break down silos and territoriality, these meetings reinforce it.

Let’s face it: These middle and senior management teams have no common work product that they can come together in service of. Saying they all work together to realize the company’s annual goals is too abstract. And, the cost of gathering these groups together for face time necessary to build cohesion is significant.

So, if your group doesn’t realistically work on a common task, how can you build esprit d’corps?

1. Lower your expectations. You’re not failing if your group isn’t going bowling together every Friday night. You’re not getting substandard results because some people work best alone. Teams have been over-hyped and oversold. Instead of thinking your team has to join hands and sing Kumbaya, adopt this standard instead: No injuries, no deaths = a successful team.

2. Treat them like adults. They buy and sell big ticket items, make life and death decisions, balance their own budgets and work within limitations every day. Is it realistic to think they can’t handle the truth about a budget cut, a lay-off or be undone when they hear the word “no?”

3. Suck it up. Rather than swinging wildly between faux-sensus (get them in a room, ask them to come to agreement about something that is a foregone conclusion, but may prove unpopular, and call it “coming to consensus”) and dictatorial emails that infer the decision is someone else’s fault. Instead, notice that these are the same thing: You not owning a decision that is yours to make or announce. Eventually, your group will notice this is a game and they’ll stop playing it.

4. Use processes designed for groups. These make a place for the orderly expression of conflict which enables your group to disagree without becoming disagreeable. They allow you to get exactly the kind of participation and interaction you want out of every meeting. That’s what you want. The road to “teamosity” goes right through the town of conflict and returns there often. Having a clear path to walk ensure you’ll survive the trip. I’ll write more about these in next week’s post.

5.Stories. Tell each other stories about what touches you, what challenges you, what inspires you, what you’ve learned, what you’re grateful for. Tell your story. Tell them the story of the department you’ve always wanted, the vision you hold but need their help realizing, the reason you came to work here, took this particular job. Make yourself visible and vulnerable, then see what happens next.

I have this persistent idea for an icebreaker: Each time you meet, a different person has to bring a story, poem or quote that has touched or changed them. They tell the story, read the poem or quote, then say what it means to them. I’m looking for an on-going group(s) who will be my guinea pig on this. Any takers?

After the exciting beginning comes the inevitable complication. Isn’t that the way? It’s the hero’s journey. It’s always the hero’s journey.

After you resolve the initial complication comes the really big complication: The collaborative organizational change project where you realize that you’d underestimated just how little your managers know about sharing leadership. Oops. The new car that doesn’t fit in the garage. Oh, no! You don’t have time to do it the way you’d envisioned it. Uh-oh. You fall a little less in love with the whole idea. If the really big complication is really, really big, you reach a decision point: declare it a failure and end it, pretend it’s working and find someone to blame, or figure out how to move forward. This latter option always involves transformation. Of you, the hero.

I’m pretty sure this is the really big complication: When we realize we’re about to be inconvenienced. Mightily.

Many change projects founder here. We start arguing for the problem (”they’ll never…” “we should have realized…”) or decide that something was wrong with the whole idea (”well, THAT was a mistake”).

It’s as though no one has read The Two Towers. Do you remember it? It’s the middle book in JRR Tolkien’s trilogy, The Lord of the Rings. Reading it is like being flayed alive. The fellowship is split, the initial pact spoiled, flaws and hidden agendas revealed. All the fun is gone and all seems lost. The book details - excruciatingly - the separate journeys of the characters. There are long marches through barren landscapes, deprivation, hunger, terror, attacks and remarkable encounters. Everyone undergoes a transformation. Destroying the ring is that big an idea, that compelling a purpose.

Whatever you’re involved in may not be as big as destroying an evil ring. But I bet it’s important. The middle of anything is always like The Two Towers. The mistake we make is thinking that something is wrong because it’s no longer easy or simple. We pull back and then wonder what’s wrong with them. We get tired.

The middle of anything is about recommitting to it. Not to what’s wrong with it, but to the ideal behind it - to the purpose. It’s fine to change the details, or lop off entire sections. It’s fine to scale back. Just don’t equate the discomfort with being wrong or failing. Don’t panic. You’re not failing. This is normal. You just look for the next toehold and lean into it. This is how you find out the true nature of what you’ve committed to. And how committed you are. And to what. Is your commitment to the way you initially decided to do it, and now that that’s not working, you’re outta there? Or is there something bigger that still holds you and enables you to re-vision your involvement. The only way to fail at this point is to quit.

My ukulele was no different. I bought it to have fun, to enjoy its beautiful sound. I was seduced by that sound. I conveniently underplayed the nerve damage in my left hand that’s kept me from playing guitar for the last 16 years, although I’ve tried many times, and been to many physical therapists. I’d been a classical guitar major in college, and I’ve never stopped missing that sound. I thought: The uke only has 4 strings - surely I can play it.

And, for two weeks, I could: I dove right into difficult jazz and classical arrangements because that’s what I loved. It was fun, it was easy, it was…OUCH! My left elbow was on fire. Physical therapy seemed a logical next step, but not for treatment. I needed a decision: Can this left hand be rehabilitated, or do I need to learn to play with my other hand?

Ada Wells, an extraordinary PT, tested the pincer grip in my left hand. I failed miserably and the fire in my elbow intensified. My right hand passed the test easily, with no pain. Now my decision was: What do I want to do?

Took me a couple of days to decide, but I committed to making those sounds I love, and let go of the way I thought I’d get it. I restrung the uke and started learning to play left-handed. I’m quite a bit further from my goal of making sounds I enjoy, but I’m noticing something unexpected. I used to love playing guitar; in college, and later as a music therapist, it became my job and much of the pleasure drained out of it. Now that that I’m a beginner again, I can let go of all that performance pressure. Mostly I sound terrible, but what can you expect?

You know how sometimes you feel kind of itchy, but you don’t know why? You’re not unhappy, or dissatisfied with anything in particular, you’re just not all in. That’s how I was when I got off the plane in Maui. So, when Rex got me singing in baggage claim, I started smiling deep inside, and that got my attention.

I woke up the next morning with one thought: I want a ukulele.

So I went to the local music store and bought one. I’m in love with it.

Until I notice that it won’t play in tune. Back to the store it must go, but not before I head to the shop of the guy who made it to make inquiries.

The maker’s shop is a room full of ukuleles. There’s an old/ageless man in the corner playing amazing uke and another sitting across from him strumming along. I plop down next to the strummer and make my confession about buying one of their ukes with bad intonation. I ask for help. They assure me that their ukes play in tune and that my new uke is hiding in that shop. Soon, one ukulele after another is being put in my hands and the old/ageless man is teaching me song after song. My partner, Carolyn, (who initially hoped this would be a quick transaction, gives in and) supplies the vocals in her lovely lilting soprano. 2 hours pass in ukulele bliss, but without a resolution to my problem: I love a ukulele that won’t play in tune. What to do?

In the morning, clarity dawns: Though completely besotted, I am unable to play anything out of tune, so I return it to the music store and confess to having perfect pitch. One of the owners is similarly afflicted. One after another, he puts all the expensive ukes in my hands to prove that they can play in tune. They can, and beautifully.

But, $1600.00 seems catastrophically expensive for a vacation whim. And, even in that price range, I’m still not besotted.

Finally, the owner hands me his own uke, an 8-string Kamaka tenor, made by a Hawaiian family for 3 generations. I like it, but I’m not in love with it. It’s cheaper than $1600, but still quite a bit more than I want to pay. He says “we’re getting a shipment of Kamaka ukes in two days. I might have one that isn’t already sold.”

I spend the next couple of days playing every tenor uke on Maui. Though I find many that play in tune, I do not fall in love. I fall slightly in like with one, but it’s go one of those 4-digit price tags. I’m starting to think I’ll be going home ukulele-less.

When the Kamakas comes in, I figure I’ve got nothing to lose, so back to the store I go. The ukes are stacked in their cases on a table in the back of the store, at least 30 or them and in all sizes. I start with a tenor and fall in love on the first strum. I hear myself say “I’ll take it.”

I’ve got a ukulele, and I’ve been invited into several stories now - the real estate agent wanting everyone to love Maui as much as he does, the music store owner wanting me to love my ukulele as much as he loved his, the guys in the maker’s shop, wanting me to love playing the as much as they do - and to join the worldwide community of ukesters. I resonate with each of those stories. I’m drawn to them. And I’m still not sure what my storyline is here. It’s no longer “I bought a uke on a vacation whim.” After several days of focusing exclusively on it, I’m way past the whim stage. I think it’s now officially a project. Because what is a project, but a story? And what is a story but a description of a journey? Project, story, journey, initiative - all synonyms.

And, at this point, the story is so far from being over.

I’ll bring you up to date in a day or two, then get back to my regular Monday posts.

I wasn’t in Maui 2 minutes when the uke bug bit me. Waiting for our luggage, I heard a light, resonant strumming. Turning to find the sound I locked eyes with Rex, a local real estate agent, who invited me to sing along. Why not? His friend handed me the lyrics: “Tiny bubbles…” our little group warbled. When we got to the end, we started over. “It’s the only song I know,” Rex said with a grin.

When we stopped for a breather, Rex explained how much he loved Maui and wanted to make sure his high school friend, visiting for the first time in 45 years, felt welcome to the island. Rex was so full of aloha, he pulled us all right in. Another couple made eye contact with Rex and I handed them the lyric sheet. We all sang the only song Rex knew. Before we parted, I had his card and a great lunch recommendation and - best of all - I was part of a story.

All that from one guy being willing to sing his song and invite others to join him.

That got me thinking: What’s the story I invite people into? It’s the storyline I’m always telling no matter what I do, just like Rex with his ukulele. It’s the thing about me, about each of us, that affects people most. I don’t know about you, but people’s storylines captivate me.

More about this in my next post as this one is already late (!) and finding your storyline is a big topic. Not to mention ukuleles.