Tuesday, November 2, 2010

The Highway

Twice in my life I have had dreams that were so powerful, so intense that when I awoke, I was certain that the dream had come from God.  The first was in college, and involved a message about my own selfishness.  It stands with me today.

The second was several months ago.

Alex and I were on a dark highway overpass, after a rainstorm.  You have to understand--it began in the middle--in medias res.  Cars were barreling down at us--well, at her.  She was stumbling around right in the middle of the road, as if she couldn't see at all, calling for me, calling "Daddy," in a pleading, almost desperate voice.  I could see her as she was narrowly missed by one car, then knocked to the ground, crying, by another. But I couldn't reach out to her, I couldn't touch her, couldn't rescue her.  It continued with cars coming left and right, and the whole time she was calling my name, crying and screaming for my help, my protection.

All this time, there was a sidewalk to her left, one she could step on and be safe.  Then a car came straight for her.  I stepped out and waved both arms, and swirved it to the side.  It missed.  Then another, and another.  I waved one, had to push another, and at one point stepped right in front of a speeding bus and put both hands on it and flexed every muscle from my fingertips to my heels as I forcably stopped it just before it hit her.  The bus pulled to the side. 

All this time she is crying for me, taking bumps and being knocked down.  At one point she got onto the sidewalk and was able to rest and it was peaceful and she was safe, but then she tried to go somewhere--why not stay in the safe place?--and stepped back into the highway.

Awaking from that dream I was perhaps the saddest I had ever been.  Never in the course of human history has a man loved his daughter like I love Alex, and seeing her hurt, lost and scared was the most aweful torture possible for me.

I was visiting a customer that day, and also a potential funding source for the company.  As I got dressed and read my Bible, I kept coming back to the dream.  What did it mean?  Was Alex in some danger?  What could I do to protect her from that, to keep her from experiencing that fear, that horror?

Since then, every time she tells me she is scared, I come back to that night and I am immediately her protector.  I will cover her with whatever I can, even my own body, to rescue her from that fear, or any fear.

The meeting with my customer went well.  The General Manager was surprised to see me-he was expecting Loren, and we quickly established a relationship and a trust that goes on, despite our having spent only a few minutes together. 

While I was talking with him, and after, I kept wondering--what was God telling me?  Why did He send me the dream?

As I drove from the customer to the funding source, in the middle of a sunny Phoenix highway, it hit me.  The dream wasn't about me and Alex--that was just to help me understand.  In the dream, the person who Alex represented was me, and I was seeing her from the vantage point of Jesus--protecting me, loving me, saving me from my own blind choice not to step up on the sidewalk, from my own need to live a dangerous, sinful life in a dangerous, sinful world.  Protecting me even to the point of endangering his own body.  I couldn't see the dangers, but He could.  I could call out to Him, but in His answers, all he could do was protect me, sacrifice Himself to keep me safe--He couldn't physically reach me.

Realizing this as I drove down a ten lane highway looking for my exit, I broke down crying, huge shoulder sobs wracking my body as I pulled into the Arizona State University Research Park.  I was early, and it subsided quickly.  I cleaned myself up and had a great meeting. 

For the unbelievers out there--I've been under some stress, and it is very true that never in the course of human history has a man loved his daughter like I love Alex.  So maybe it was just a dream.  I don't remember what I had for dinner--maybe that, coupled with the stress of travel and sleeping in a strange bed gave me a really powerful dream and I reacted to it emotionally.  Maybe that's all it was.

For those of you who know better...well, we know better, don't we?

In either case, the effect is real, and it is the same.  If Alex says she is scared, I wrap her up and hold her and first help her with her fear, even if she is as wrong as wrong can be.  I can't leave her on the highway, and, different from the dream, I can reach out to her, comfort her and love her with real skin-on-skin contact.  She'll grow out of this and while I don't like seeing her scared, I do treasure playing this role in her life.

There is another effect, and it is just as real.  I am pushing, driving with my big thigh muscles, to get on that sidewalk, to eliminate sin in my life.  I can't fight the evil in this world, and I have to trust in the invisible Jesus to stop that bus and keep it from crushing me.  But I can fight sin in my life.  It is clear to me now that the sidewalk is the place without sin, without deceit, without malice or envy or hatred or jealosy; it is the place where love reigns.  I don't control those emotions in others.  I can't keep others from hating, from feeling jealosy, from lying, from hurting each other.  But I can fight them down in myself, and so I am, every day, every minute, except when I forget or fail or get lost or confused and try to do something that isn't quite right, and step back down into the highway.

Monday, September 20, 2010

The High Road

A week or two ago, I had an important presentation for a group of people, and when the meeting started, there were frowny faces all around the room.  Some were even dramatic, like, "Look at my face!  I wish I could tell you why I'm making this face at you!"  The tenor of the room never got above a low G.

Forgive, please, the absense of details here... Suffice it to say that someone interfered with that meeting before it started, causing a lot of frowny faces and an unsuccessful outcome.

When I run into situations like this, I feel as if I have been mule-kicked off the high road and am drawn to fight back, get revenge, maybe even plant a bruise or two on this other person's lanky frame.  I know when I feel like this that it's wrong.  "Vengeance is mine," and "turn the other cheek," and all that.  It is still a tough climb, with the most meager of toe- and finger-holds, to claw back to where I focus on creating value and showing love for others...

I do wonder sometimes the motivation of these purely negative acts.  There is no good that can come of it, nothing created, made, improved, nobody loved or nourished...  Why throw those hand grenades?

It may be that the way I do my job, declaring publicly that the most important things that the company does are to love our constituents and to create and deliver value--I'm afraid this has the effect of polarizing people, making them either extremely loyal or extremely ticked-off. 

The ones who are ticked off would prefer I made decisions based on personal financial, gain, rather than letting personal and financial gain be the natural consequence of creating value and showing love and respect for others.

The ones who are loyal are so much so that I am humbled and grateful beyond imagination.

I have two stories, and then I'll close.  The first goes back to when we had a law suit with an ex-employer.  Early on, I told an old friend from high school about it, and then declared, "They think they're going to get me to roll over and quit!"

"Have they met you?" she asked.  Her answer said it all.  I saught a win-win, but finding none, stood by the company's principles. We didn't quit and now the fiber is already in a position to save lives.

The next story has to do with my employment agreement, which has a clause in it that essentially declares that, as long as the job of CEO of Innegrity is a crummy, high stress, low reward job--it is mine.  Once it gets to be a high paid, high profile look-at-our-success-and-how-great-we're-doing job, then my board is free to fire me and put someone else in.

I know my gifts, and I was not put here for the easy job--that one I'll hand over.  I was put here to lead during these crazy chaotic early days when all others would quit, blame it on some external factor, and move on.  My chief value is my vision and my stubborn adherance to it--every other skill can be hired. 

In the church world, we call this the spiritual gift of faith.  It is the ability to stay the course no matter how strong the gale blows in another direction.  It is David, having been hunted for months, still declaring his loyalty.  He cut the corner of Saul's robe of when he could have killed him.  Wouldn't he have been justified in exacting a little revenge--maybe just a flesh wound?  This gift comes with the unfortunate circumstance that it will be tested, or, well, "used" I guess is a better word.  "Used" to get someone or something past that gale.  Even if some tend to blame me for the gale rather than giving credit for the progress made against it.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

What is Right

One of our employees asked me, “Is this a personal blog, or a corporate blog?” They went on to say, “If it’s corporate, then it must represent each and every one of us.”

This stumped me for a bit.

Our little company is blessed with a lot of different perspectives, which we try to take advantage of when solving problems, understanding customers, building relationships, etc. In that sense, there is no way I can represent each and every one of them—so of course, the blog is personal. I am the only author, though anyone is welcome to comment. As such, I’ll say things that some employees, some owners, some customers, some others would disagree with. I welcome the disagreement because talking things through is how we find the truth, and what is right is much more important than who is right.

That is the crux of the matter: the what—the stuff, the things, the details—are much more important than who gets credit or who authored the what. Let's work together to find the right thing to do and not worry about the scorecards. 

Here’s an outline of a conversation I had with a customer. He was hesitating to introduce an Innegra product to an old friend who builds boats. “But Doug is going to get all the credit and John won’t know it was me who made it happen.  I’ll be stuck where I am while Doug gets the raise.” (I’ve changed the names.)

I know this person and his heart well, so I responded, “Let’s just pretend for a minute that John doesn’t hold sway over all the rewards. What if you introduce this product to your friend and they put it in their boats and somewhere down the road a little girl is riding one of those boats and it gets in an accident and doesn’t sink, and she lives instead of dying, and goes on to give birth to someone who invents a way to grow corn in the desert that saves all of Africa from starvation a half century from now? John wouldn’t know and wouldn’t give you a raise, but maybe there is someone out there who does know and that’s why we’re having this conversation. The rewards may come a lot later, or may never come, but shouldn't you do the right thing anyway?"

I always get mad when someone tells me, “It’s not what you know that’s important, it’s who you know.” Not that there isn’t truth to this, but the depth is missing. One could mistake this to mean that it’s okay to do the wrong thing if it gets you in with the right people. In this case it could be interpreted to impress John rather than make the boat safe regardless of who gets credit.

Or it could lead someone to believe that the number and relationships and societal standing of the people matter, rather than the strength of the relationships and mutual respect and loyalty that are shared. Relationships are very important, but I tend to think of them in a how-can-I-help-or-be-of-value-to-this-person kind of way, regardless of their status, rather than a I-wonder-if-I-can-work-this-in-my-favor-later kind of way, which is sometimes how that original statement is used

I also find that doing the right thing consistently (and I fail sometimes) has a way of bringing about some pretty wonderful relationships, some of which would fall into others “important to know” category, and some of which would not.

With all of that in mind, this blog can only be personal and I take sole responsibility for what's in here.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

83% Full

My pastor recently talked about divorce statistics:  40% of first marriages fail, 60% of second marriages, and 70% of third marriages, averaging the 50% statistic that we all hear.  He went on to say how this does not differ from Christian to non-Christian, churched to non-churched.  All well and he made a good show of it, but...

What he failed to say was that 83% of the people who get married do find a marriage that sticks until "death do us part." 

(Math alert:  Those who never find a happy marriage among their first three spouses are 0.4 * 0.6 * 0.7 = 0.168, or 17%.  The rest, 83%, have at least one marriage that "succeeds.")

So why put this into a blog about entrepreneurship?  Because that--turning a 50% failure rate into an 83% success rate, is one of the key skills of an entrepreneur.  Central to the job description is the ability to make silk purses out of sows' ears.

Here's a quick story:  In developing the fiber, I was trying to make a "high tenacity, high modulus thermoplastic olefin." That was the original business plan.  Unfortunately, it wasn't very high tenacity, wasn't very high modulus, and nobody really understood nor cared what a "thermoplastic olefin" was.

But we had a scientist working for us (another Brian unfortunately--I guess you can't make this up) who saw the fiber and said, "There's something different about this fiber."  He tested it for ballistic properties and found it worked reasonably well.  Then he put it under an electron microscope and found that he microstructure was full of millions of little crazes and holes. 

You could take that and go, "oh crap," and wonder how a fiber that is full of little micro-breaks and defects is going to have any strength. 

Instead, our group combined that with the ballistic data and what the Formula 1 race-car guys had found and saw that the fiber really had millions of little pillows inside it, which made it the lightest structural fiber in the world.  And, when we learned that those pillows were all connected, then we realized that when each one took a hit, it would blow a tiny micro-puff of air into the ones near it, and all these millions of little micro-puffs would dissipate a lot of energy, each one acting like a nano-shock-absorber.  The shock of a bullet would dissipate and on a race track, when a car is tapped by a neigboring car at 200 mph, the energy of the "tap" is absorbed so that the part remains intact, keeping the car in the race.  This feature is being taken advantage of in bullet proof vests and panels that are lighter and less expensive, in race cars that are faster and more durable, in aircraft, in surfboards that "reduce the chop of the wave," in hockey sticks that "feel more like wood."

Instead of having a fiber that is full of micro-defects and micro-voids, we have one that is the lightest fiber in the world, among the toughest, and the only advanced fiber that naturally dissipates energy through it's microstructure.

In any entrepreneurial endeavor, there are a million reasons to quit, a million ways to look at your product or your market or your team as a sow's ear, and give up.  The difference, I believe, between success and failure is being able to shoo away all those folks who are "just being realistic," or "trying to show the practical side," and somehow adjust, adapt, change, twist, or frankly just make up that those reasons aren't right, and perhaps magically turn the sow's ear into a silk purse, even if only by the sheer force of will.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Take me to your leader

Brian is a good friend and a Christian. In the last fifteen years, I have seen him struggle with portions of his Catholic upbringing and then through the help of a friend, come to know God on a more personal level.  He is a good scientist, a better businessman, and a great friend.

Despite his firm base, I had the opportunity last night to startle him.

We were talking about our businesses, using the shorthand of a two-decade friendship. I told him about our recent struggles, and how it appeared (again, for about the eleventh time) as if the little company I founded might run aground. Then a solution appeared that was clearly beyond my power. His eyes went wide as he asked "how did you do it?" expecting some story of conference-room heroics. "There is only one explanation," I answered, pausing for effect with our wives, "divine intervention."

My wife is used to this, and in our house it is no joke. We have everything bet on this little company, and founded it solely to do God''s will.  He intervenes all the time.  Daily, it seems.

Brian, on the other hand, looked at me as if I had turned green and said, "Take me to your leader."

"What other explanation could there be?" I asked. "was it done through the power of Brian?" (Thats me, Brian Morin, CEO of Innegrity LLC. Unfortunately for this story, we have the same first name.)  Ignoring his surprise, I said, "some people in our company act like it's fine to talk about God, but 'You don't run your company that way, do you?'. They get uncomfortable, because this is their MONEY they are talking about. For others, it's like eating manna every day, only having one days supply and never really knowing that it will be there tomorrow."  I stopped, his look having turned more normal, though perhaps touched with a dab of respect, and we went on to other topics. I could tell the conversation had affected him.

This is my first post, and you'll forgive the vagueries--the intent of this blog is not to give you the secrets of our company, but rather the secrets of what I call "Living With Vertigo," that is my recent six-year walk through the desert, living on manna, starting and growing Innegrity.

I asked a good friend, one who had run a large public company for two decades and served on my board for several years, "Does the drama and stress ever go away?".

"No," he said, "it just changes."