Be Of Service To Your Own...

Yesterday’s morning radio comm began with a rather impassioned call from our team up at Everest Basecamp imploring us to get a bird up to Camp 1 as promptly as possible. A close friend of one of our 5 super-stud climbing Sherpas was at Camp 1 in dire straights. The evening before, while carrying a load through the icefall, this mid 20’s, highly experienced climbing Sherpa had an acute onset of left sided chest pain. The story we were receiving was that Ongchu Sherpa was writhing in pain, clutching his chest and gasping for air. And this dude was a stud… not some middle-aged, guided, western climber. This lead climbing Sherpa had multiple 8,000-meter summits under his belt including standing on top of Everest twice. His Sherpa brethren surrounding him were extremely concerned for him as he was clearly in overwhelming pain and from their perspective, close to death.

We absolutely needed to go get him.

And here’s where things get a little complicated… both of our helicopters were grounded down in Kathmandu getting their regularly scheduled maintenance. So of course during our mandated 4 hours of down daylight time, we have a “do or die” mission requiring a helo evac from 20,000ft.

Perfect.

Luckily for us there is another helo operation basing out of Lukla with a badass B3 bird and an even badder ass Kiwi pilot named Andrew. I had been intermittently chatting it up and swapping stories with Andrew during the month the two of us have spent flying on separate operations in and out of the Lukla heliport.
Good dude.
Sick pilot.

So let’s get to work.

Once all the operations guys made their deals and we were confirmed a go, Andrew and I high fived and started planning. We would strip all the seats out of the bird here in Lukla, clip me in via my climbing harness into a fixed cabin bolt and fire up to Camp 1 to scoop up this fella.

I have to admit that I was just a twinge skeptical that a healthy, mid 20s, super fit climbing Sherpa was having a heart attack… but the approach to medicine is always to assume the worse and work backwards from there.

The weather was manageable with gentle winds as the patient was loaded into the bird.

Then I got my first look at this guy.
He was sick and this was no bullshit.

The report from up high was bang on… true to the tale, as he collapsed into the helo he clutched at his chest and squirmed violently in pain. As I went in to move his sunglasses aside so I could more clearly see his face, he took a wild, scared swing at me. He was in pain, frightened and delirious.

The last thing you want in a helicopter is to have a passenger goin all UFC in the back of the cabin. I managed to get a quick exam in with some basic vitals and promptly loaded up a dose of Haldol. This would shut him down for the length of the flight and allow us to safely return down valley.

The 10-minute flight felt like an hour. Every minute or two Ongchu would appear to pass out for a couple seconds, requiring me to press him with a solid sternal rub after which he would pop up in another confused thrashing session. The Haldol helped to sedate him but he clearly still had some fight left hiding inside his pain and delirium. Each time he dropped out I prepared to begin CPR on him…but each time he would spring back to life.

I alerted Andrew of Ongchu's tenuous condition and how great it would be to get down valley as quick as possible. Then Andrew gave me a choice… fly at a higher elevation and arrive a minute quicker or stay lower in the valley and take that extra minute in flight time. I chose to get lower as quickly as possible as my likely diagnosis was starting to take shape in my mind and the higher altitude was not helping his case. I began to get a sense that this was in fact not a heart attack but an episode of coronary artery spasm, which is not all that uncommon with exertion at altitude. The process is just like it sounds… the coronary artery goes into spasm, which intermittently occludes blood and nutrients into the heart. It hurts and robs a heart of the thing it needs the most… blood. Typically these episodes don’t last a very long time but my guess was that the excessive altitude exacerbated this whole process.

It felt like we were in a rocket ship. Faster than I’ve ever been in a helicopter. Andrew very nonchalantly radios back that he has the helo pinned. 
No shit.
We are absolutely nuking down the valley.

We make the call to bypass the helo pad in Lukla and head straight to the Lukla hospital landing pad. I knew the local hospital had all the staffing and equipment to handle a potential cardiac patient and was an hour closer than traveling all the way down to Kathmandu.

Andrew requested the tower hold all other aircraft as we blew over Lukla and dropped down onto the hospital LZ.

We carried Ongchu into the ER bay, got him settled into a bed, hooked up to monitors and I officially handed over care.

Yesterday afternoon I ventured back over to the hospital to get the final diagnosis. Dr K.C. confirmed my suspicion… no signs of a heart attack but we both agreed that his heart was indeed sick and he was in need of further cardiology follow up in KTM today. That quick 10,000ft descent relaxed that coronary artery and his heart began to normalize.

Our Sherpa crew felt this one. They were scared for their friend.
It’s another clear illustration… altitude is no joke. It’s the invisible assassin. Can take a strong man or woman and drive them to their knees.

I’m very satisfied looking back on this one. Our team showed how well it could perform at a high level with absolute situational awareness.
No down days in the Khumbu.
‪#‎beofservice‬

Never Say Never...

"I will never step foot on this mountain again." 

I said that the minute I exited the icefall for the final time down from the summit of Everest in 2001. We had just spent two and a half months climbing that mountain. Along with an extraordinary team of amazing fellas we had just stood on top of the world with Erik (Superblind) Weihenmayer.
I felt like we were gifted a window to pass through the gauntlet of challenges that Everest provides. We got lucky.

This was well before Everest turned in to the shit show it currently is. Before it was so heavily commercialized. Before there were fights on the mountain. Before major motion pictures were made of it.
There were only 150 climbers that year... now, 15 years later, there will be close to 800 climbers slogging up this season. All of this in spite of, and perhaps because of, the massive tragedies that have taken place the past 2 years. In fact more want their shot at the summit than ever before.
A few of them will have the experience and qualifications to step foot on the mountain. Many will not. There will be folks that will get in trouble. Big trouble. And although I'm a huge proponent of self accountability in the mountains... some will deserve help. 

So... in spite of claiming to never do so... I'm headed back to Everest.
Not to climb it. But to do what I am better suited for. To help people in need.
I have agreed to be the chief medic for a helicopter based Search and Rescue team operating on the mountain. I will be working ever so closely with 2 bad ass pilots; conducting daily SAR missions on Everest as well as surrounding peaks.
It's a 2 month commitment which will take me away from my family for way too long. My heart hurts with the thought of being away from MB and Jace that long.
But I feel the pull. The pull of adventure. The draw of the Himal. The wish to be of service to humans in need. 

I'll depart the first of April... back on May 31. My intention is to provide field posts, anecdotal stories and photos on my Facebook, Instagram and Twitter feeds.

So much for never stepping on this mountain again.

Summit Night… The Microcosm of Life

It’s 1:30 in the morning and you’re wide-awake. And it’s not because you’ve been partying balls and have the munchies. In fact, you’re lying in your sleeping bag, in a tent at 16,000 ft with a slight headache that just won’t seem to go away no matter how many grams of Tylenol you ingest. The guy in the tent next to you is crushing logs so deeply you are convinced he is wrestling a wookie…. which makes your lingering insomnia even more frustrating.

On top of the tossing and turning in your stinky sleeping bag, you are racked with a cocktail of feelings and emotions.

Excitement, Fear, Uncertainty, Nervousness, Self doubt.

All percolating in your sleepy head.

This is a typical scenario for most folks as they prepare for a summit attempt on a mountain with any substance to it. I have seen it play out for over 20 years…including last weeks Kilimanjaro expedition.

This was another good one…

As I typically do, I had planned out the staggered times of departure our team based on observed pace over the previous week. Alpha team would depart at 3am and I would depart with Bravo team at 4am. I downloaded expectations for the clients, established contingency plans for potential evacs, arranged my African guide team in the order that seemed most effective… and so on. Dot all the “I”s; cross all the “T”s.

Then we step off…and it all changes. As usual.

Within 10 minutes from camp I noticed that one of my strongest returning vets from last year’s Whitney expedition was dropping off the “peloton”. I spent 30 minutes with him, trying to get him fired up and coax him into lock stepping with me as I watched the rest of the 24 clients slowly pull away up the hill by the light of their headlamps. His legs just felt heavy and his motor wasn’t firing. We’ve all been there. It just wasn’t his day. We both knew it.

But this wasn’t the guy I expected to drop off early.

Alas… strange things happen up high.

As I left my guy in the competent hands of my assistant African guide, I charged up the hill to join the rest of the team. And all was back to normal. The cacophony of folks pressure breathing. The shuffle of the dirt and rocks. The chant of Swahili song. All sounds that are so familiar to my ears on Kili summit nights.

And then…

“Shit!!! Shit!!! It’s out again!!!”

From 10 meters up above, I knew immediately whose voice it was and exactly what he was referring to.

It was Rick and he was reacting to the fact that his wife, Tina, had her shoulder dislocate. Again. This time at 17,500 ft.

A week before, in the midst of the pre departure excitement of arriving at the gate and preparing to step off on this grand adventure, Tina had lowered herself down from the Landcruiser using her left arm in a stressed angle and suddenly…

Pop!

It was out. First time ever.

Now I've put a lot of shoulders and hips back in place over my 20-year medical career but never on Day 1 of an expedition at the entry gate, literally minutes before we were to step off on a 7 day expedition.

With about 2 to 3 minutes of manipulation, I was able to reduce the shoulder back in place. She showed her grit and strength during the procedure and once she was slinged up and and her pack was handed off…she acted as if nothing had even happened.

The women are stronger. No doubt.

Back at 17,500 ft the sun had just crested over the horizon, Venus was glowing red in the low sky and the coldest hours were behind us. The backdrop couldn’t have been more magnificent… but the levity of the dislocated shoulder was significant.

We all breathed together. Calmed down as best we could. Situated our bodies to get good position on the shoulder and arm. And I got to work. There are several approaches and techniques for reducing shoulders and sometimes they are all needed to finally get it back in. This was one of those cases. I attempted the approach I was successful with 7 days prior. Nope. No matter how hard I yarded on Tina’s shoulder and how much pain I subjected her to… still out.

She went to a deep place. A deep meditative place that takes skill and experience to reach. A place that most of us won’t know. I watched my wife go there during her 18 hours of natural childbirth.  I’ve seen a handful of climbers go there during rescue operations off of Alaskan peaks back in the day when I was working SAR in the Range.

But a weaker person would have crumbled into a sloppy pile of blubbering shit. Tina did not. She stuck with me as I changed my approach. Again and again.

Thirty minutes went by and it was still out. I had run through my bag of tricks.

Forty-five minutes now and I was getting scared. Every minute that went by meant that the musculature and tissue around the shoulder joint were clamping down and making it progressively harder to reduce. If we would have been in the safe confines of an emergency department, we would have sedated Tina and administered some muscle relaxants to drop the head of humerus back into it’s joint space.

But instead, we were leaned up against a rock in the dirt at sunrise close to the summit of one of the “7 Summits”.

In somewhat of a last ditch effort, I positioned Tina head to head with me, standing, facing me. I held her forearm with one of my hands and with the other I slowly continued to manipulate her shoulder. I closed my eyes. I prayed. And the Great Spirit, she listened.

Clunk.

It was back in.

Slowly I applied a sling and swath and started into the conversation with Rick and Tina about the next steps.

Clearly Tina was headed down. But what about Rick?

Rick is a tough dude. He is like me in the sense that his character is to summit. When he attempts something, it will get done. This is who he is. He was born to summit.

I offered to take Tina down and let him go up with the team on stand on top.

After a quick consult with Tina, he told me there was no question… he would accompany his wife down.

I was more than impressed with this decision. He chose commitment to his wife over his own aspirations. He chose to be a servant leader.

Bad ass.

OK…get them packaged up and set up with an African guide for the descent and get back to work with the team… who were now an hour above me on the mountain.

As the adrenaline of the shoulder incident ebbed from my body, I kicked it into a high gear and caught the team within 20 minutes.

And it was then that I realized I was smoked. My heart pounding out of my chest. My energy levels clearly effected. Not something I wanted my clients to take note of.

I shelved it as best I could and methodically walked the remaining steps to the summit of Africa.

The joy and satisfaction was palpable. Within our coalition we had a blind vet, a vet with 1 foot, several other injured vets, a 66 year old woman that had never camped before and over another dozen folks that represent straight up Americana.

I was proud.

But then came the descent. Often times the hardest part. Physically and metaphorically. We must return home and share the story of the journey with those who weren’t with us. This is not easy. How do you capture the feelings and emotions that are only gleaned from battle with yourself and the elements?

Summit night captures the spectrum of the human condition.

That’s why we keep searching for it. We need to feel alive. And when the landscape changes in spite of our best efforts, we feel the most alive.

Upward

Jeff

Music and Mountains… A Binding Force

The third weekend in June…

It just has a ring to it.

Just to utter the phrase fires me up and has me reflecting on all of the countless memories I have collected over a cumulative 50 + days and nights on the Rocks. 

For close to 20 years now the third weekend in June has been carved into my calendar with a permanent sharpie.  It’s as constant as my ever hastening birthday and my painful IRS payout. My expedition and work schedules always have a mandatory block out over this sacred holiday.  For the most recent nine of those years the grandparents get a UPS delivery of a little kid that needs a home and food for a week.

You see, the third weekend in June means 9,500 of my friends descend on Red Rocks for a multi-night run of southern rock & roll music that we know as Widespread Panic.

Panic, as well as the Grateful Dead and the Allman Brothers, have played a constant soundtrack to my life…  I have taken them with me on every climbing expedition and adventure I’ve ever been on. They’ve coaxed me up big hills and lured me back home again. They’ve lifted me up to far away places and then gently lowered me back down again. They’ve provided me the venue to meet some of my dearest, lifelong friends… in fact this is how I met my best friend, who happens to be my wife and baby-momma. These bands have been with me since the beginning and they’ll be with me till I die.

The live jam band music experience is very precious to me. Each show is like a mini adventure with my friends.  We put our team together… trustworthy and solid participants all of them… carefully vetted from years of sharing experiences together. We plan and strategize on how to optimize our experience, delegating logistical responsibilities amongst the group. We establish all the gear and equipment we will need to execute the weekend… professional style.

We enter the venue with a mysterious sense of the unknown, hoping the band takes us to the place we are looking to go. At times we reach the summit and bask in the bliss that only a highly functioning band can provide. Other nights, the band takes chances and comes up short. We are left shy of the elusive summit…knowing all the while that all summits are not achievable every time you head out. We will try again tomorrow and perhaps the winds will take us in a different direction and we will stand on top. When we descend from our journey we are excited to discuss, dissect and critique our experience… by doing so we relive some of the most precious moments. Then we are faced with the task of trying to explain our experience and rabid approach to our friends and family that don’t quite get it.

“You went and saw the same band three nights in a row?”

“Umm… yeah. It’s different every night.”

“OK…whatever you say.”

And suddenly it dawned on me… this whole live music experience and what goes into it is fundamentally kindred to the other constant in my life… climbing mountains.

I have been strategizing, planning and executing large scale climbing expeditions for 20 years now. Putting together teams, strategizing routes, compiling necessary gear and equipment, getting excited about the potential of summits and understanding the expectations of sometimes coming up short. Sharing an experience with my teammates that is binding and pure. Returning from big trips and trying to provide a thoughtful answer to the ubiquitous question, “How was your trip?”

Sounds familiar, right?

I find that many of the things I love about adventuring and guiding expeditions are also found during the third weekend in June.

The adventure we share together… whether on a 26,000 ft peak or seeing the band at Red Rocks… is about that shared experience. We go through it together and come out the other side a bit changed. We look to our left and right and know that even though we are in the same venue, the person next to us is having his or her own subjective journey. And we are doing it together.

The third weekend in June is quickly approaching. Hard saying how many Panic shows this will make for me… lost track around 200.

The Monday after the shows I will depart for Africa to guide my 14^th expedition up Kilimanjaro. Then directly to the Andes of South America for my 12^th time in that range.

I keep going back to the same places… because each time, it’s a unique adventure. I’m guaranteed to have a different trip…each time. The venue stays the same but the people make the experience.

The music and the mountains bring us together and provide the backdrop. The backdrop where the real magic happens… the fellowship and the camaraderie. We go for the experience… we stay for the people.

Climb High

Jeff

Avalanche Of Life

It’s that time of year again.

My yard is full of glistening snow. A handful of my fellow Colorado drivers act like they’ve never driven on icy roads before. Flames in the fireplace are a nightly occurrence. And my backcountry skis are practically vibrating at me from my gear room.

It’s time to hit the big hills, climb up them and then ski down them. And I’m not talking about shushing down slopes at Vail and Aspen dressed in your pastel unitard.

I’m talking about earning your turns.

Ski sweat equity.

Tele till you’re smelly.

Skiing in the backcountry with friends is absolutely one of the most pleasurable activities that I pursue. Even when the conditions are less than ideal… i.e. bullet proof, wind blown or just cold as balls… it’s still so much stinkin fun to go out with good peeps, skin up the flanks of some big hill and scoot down steep glades amongst the rocks and trees without the mayhem of an overcrowded ski area.

And other than the occasional gear malfunction or annoyingly painful foot blister there is only one potentially ass whoopin issue that is ever-present.

Avalanche

It’s a fact… sliding down large faces of snow is very much fun.

Another fact… these same large faces of snow react to the laws of physics in a powerfully beautiful yet devastating way as they collapse and tumble on themselves.

I’ve been in two. That’s two too many. I am making it my mission to never be in another.

This morning as I was reflecting on the potential for this season to be fat…and I’m talking phat as in phluffy… I started to consider the massive amounts of precipitation we have received here in Boulder County over the past several months (the same flood that walloped my downstairs). The hope is that this trend will continue into the winter providing us with blankets of fresh pow all season long.

I also dove in to my annual avalanche data review…just to brush up on the nature of why and when a group of innocent snowflakes up and decide they are just tired of sitting where they are and take a fast ride down because all of their millions of snowflake buddies are doing the same thing.

It was then that I began to realize the interesting parallels between the nature of avalanches and the nuances of life.

A few of the snowflakey pearls…

Understanding recent weather patterns…

            Months of history play in to what is happening right in front of you.  It’s always easy to just look at things (people) for what they are on the surface when in reality there are many issues that lead up to how things are manifesting right at this moment. There have been storms. There have been sunny blue-bird days with excessive heat. There have been days with high and swirling wind. Each day is it’s own component that create the picture that we all bring to the table. Acknowledging the past provides us more compassion in dealing with the present.

Weak layers lead to fracturing…

            It’s easy to forget that we all have layers upon layers of personality that all surface from time to time.  Although each layer sits in close proximity to the others, they are all exquisitely unique from the others. In the case of a big ripper avey… it’s always the hidden layer that is the catalyst for failure. As much as we try to hide our unstable layers…those are the ones that require the most attention. They are the ones that break.

Wind deposition can load a slope…

Wind can deposit snow 10 times faster than actual snowfall from storms. Wind will drive snow into sheltered parts of the mountain in many different directions during a storm and deposit significantly more snow in otherwise unreachable terrain. Wind is sneaky. It picks up those sweet little innocent flakes and lays them down in a spot they didn’t intend to lay down in. It’s the mystery variable that is unpredictable. Erratic behavior that leads to dangerous conditions. It's just part of it.

Being smart when traveling through sketchy terrain…

            Just because you’re not on a slope doesn’t mean all is safe. Many accidents occur to parties that are down in a drainage or run off zone. It’s the slope that’s way up high and off your radar that can sabotage you.  Being aware of surroundings and out-of-site terrain is critical.  It’s easy to become complacent in a “safe zone” and fail to recognize that the peripheral issues can slap you down if you neglect to stay vigilant.

Knowing when to stand down…

Sometimes the pieces of the puzzle just say STOP. Go home. Many climbers and backcountry skiers have an internal voice that occasionally will beckon that it’s just too sketchy today. Live for tomorrow. Ego and pride can take you up a steep slope and place you precisely in the sites of a Howitzer machine gun of a slope that doesn’t give a shit how bad ass you think you are or what mountains you’ve climbed in the past. Humility and recognition will place you back at your truck so you can plan for the next day out.

Being solid with rescue skills and traveling with capable teammates…

            I owe my life to the couple of guys I was roped up with in Alaska when I got tumbled down a hill towards a massive, bottomless crevasse. They knew how to self-arrest. They acted quickly in digging me out. They were reliable. Surrounding yourself with trustworthy and knowledgeable teammates is the only chance you have in the case that you are hit by a wall of snow. Also of importance here is for you to be reliable and strong for the other folks in your party. Careful with who you put on your rope team. A time will come when you will need them…and they will need you.

Risky but worth it. The ROI is high…

            The funny thing about avalanche prediction is… the more you know, the more you realize that avalanches are very hard to predict. You can only arm yourself with some fundamental knowledge and skills and be sure that the folks around you are also capable. Avalanches are like the funny adventure of life… they are unpredictable at best… but simply a part of the overall journey. Nothin worth doing is without consequence.

But in the end…it’s worth the risk. Some of my very best days of every year are spent skiing down mountain slopes with my buds… even though we all know the risk. The joy is deep and fulfilling. The risk is apparent. It’s just a matter of acknowledging the contributing factors and embracing them.

Find Your Bliss

Jeff

Servant Leadership...With a Cappuccino

Heading home after a wonderful couple of days in the Great Northwest feeling stimulated and content from an engaging visit with the Starbucks team. Whenever I return from Washington or Oregon there seems to be this warm and compelling emotion that cool shit is going down up there…like a secret that the rest of us are just not let in on. It’s rugged, hip and proud up there. My kinda place.

When one thinks of a truly global brand that is recognizable both in it’s logo, product and atmosphere… a brand that has succeeded in demanding a universal standardization for all of its employees to follow in order to achieve a destination for community and fellowship within it’s walls... Starbucks has to be in the forefront of any list. In my travels all over the world there is one thing for certain… when I encounter the ubiquitous Starbucks store (essentially guaranteed at some point in any journey), the soy chai ice coffee I order will taste just as delicious in Chengdu, China as it will in Boulder, CO.  You know what you’re getting both with the coffee as well as the warm coffee bean smell and soft music that fills the building.

It goes without saying that in order to pull this off there must be a solid quarterback making the calls for the team. I was aware of Starbucks CEO Howard Shultz and his creation and guidance of the global icon over the years. I was only slightly familiar with the fact that he gave up his role as CEO at the turn of the millennium and coincidentally or not, Starbucks lost it’s unique character as well as a large portion of it’s share value. I had heard that he had returned to his role as master executive in mid decade and the ship had been recently righted. I really knew nothing more than this on the Starbucks saga and was quite oblivious to the mystique that surrounded its founder and leader.

Once I arrived in Seattle to provide a keynote to the Supply Chain team, I was alerted that Howard had requested a meeting with me in his office with a couple of his trusted leaders. I was honored and thrilled to meet such a legend of brand development but didn’t really think much about it as I prepared my keynote and breakout sessions for the team. So I thought it somewhat comical when, the night before the meeting, my Starbucks host asked me “Have you thought about what you are going to talk to Howard about tomorrow?” I chuckled a bit and said no, which prompted a very visible nervous twitch in my hosts manner as she was the one that set up the meeting and knew her “time with Howard” reputation would be deeply influenced by the success or failure of this unknown dirtbag, redneck climber dude and his ability to be engaging with one of the worlds leading executives. A bit of a roll of the dice for sure.

The next morning as I strolled down the hall towards the CEO’s office I see this tall, gangly fellow in khakis and a casual button down shirt walking towards us with a gracious and inviting smile. This guy looked happy and affable but not exactly how I would draw up the master chef of a global entity that had $22 billion in sales last year.

“Hi there Jeff, I’m Howard.”

And with that simply greeting, I immediately got it. This guy surely had more important tasks to tend to that morning but he found time to carve out 30 minutes for me in his office and he had done the research to know my name and my bio. He wanted to get to know who this guy was that was coming to potentially influence his most important commodity…his team.

He was inquisitive, required a lot of eye contact and focused on listening to me speak… even when I constantly tried to circle it back and inquire about him and his story. He wanted to know about my background, what drove me to climbing and adventuring around the globe. He was interested in my family, how old my son was. He wanted to know what components of leadership that I felt were the most critical. He asked how my life experiences had crafted my message. He asked and he listened.

You could tell that Starbucks, it’s employees and what the entire brand represents is critical to him. He lives it.

I have been blessed over the years to meet and spend time with some truly transformational individuals who, upon meeting them, you get the sense that they are paradigm shifting, world churning folks… Tom Brokaw, Dave Matthews, George W Bush (disliked yes, transformational and charismatic, also yes), Colin Powell, Sir Edmund Hillary, Tom Robbins (my favorite author), George Bodenheimer (ESPN CEO) and Phakchock Rinpoche (2^nd in line to the Dalai Lama) amongst others. Each of these individuals ooze charisma and clearly have that not-easily-quantifiable skill of leading and influencing the masses.

I have also met and spent time with countless executives that, although they carry the prestige and power of a big title and paycheck that comes with it, don’t incite enthusiasm and a “willingness to go to battle” from their team members. They wear their fine Italian suit and slicked back hair so as to look the part but seem to wield very little real influence except for that of fear.

After 30 minutes with Howard, I understood why the Starbucks team regards him as somewhat of a messiah. He lives for them. He asks them to join his family and represent his love child. He feels strongly that Starbucks represents diversity and community.  He has a history of telling his shareholders that there are more important issues than the bottom line…as he succinctly told a conservative, anti-gay-marriage stakeholder at a meeting last year. “Take your investment elsewhere if you don’t value diversity and inclusion” is essentially what he encouraged the narrow minded suit and tie douche. A testimony to the company’s ethos driven home.

The 30 minutes I spent with Howard that day wasn’t really about content and discussing how either one of us facilitates or conducts ourselves when leading teams. I walked away from that encounter understanding the value that a revered leader places on human interaction and dialogue. So much of our interface these days takes place in the buffered and sterile digital world. We are losing the face-to-face encounters that define our relationships and build trust. I for one am making an effort to do more face to facing instead of type to typing.

As I was leaving the Starbucks headquarters I recognized one of Howards assistants strolling my way trying to catch my attention. He handed me over Howards most recent booked titled Onward: How Starbucks Fought For It’s Life Without Losing It’s Soul.  Inside the front cover was a sincere personal note from Howard that he clearly compiled based on our conversation. He was listening.

As I have poured over the book…which is the perfect balance with the other book I’m currently reading, Greg Allman’s, My Cross To Bear (these two guys have lead very different lives by the way)… I have already dog-eared and underlined multiple pages and paragraphs that are very synergistic with my style, message and life approach.

A few of the jewels:

“There are moments in our lives when we summon the courage to make choices that go against reason, against common sense and the wise counsel of people we trust. But we lean forward nonetheless because, despite all risks and rational argument, we believe that the path we are choosing is the right and best thing to do. We refuse to be bystanders, even if we do not know exactly where our actions will lead.

This is the kind of passionate conviction that sparks romances, wins battles, and drives people to pursue dreams others wouldn’t dare. Belief in ourselves and in what is right catapults us over hurdles, and our lives unfold.

“Life is a sum of all your choices,” wrote Albert Camus. Large or small, our actions forge our futures and hopefully inspire others along the way.”

“Dream more than others think practical. Expect more than others think possible. Care more than others think wise.”

“People want guidance, not rhetoric. They need to know what the plan of action is, and how it will be implemented. They want to be given responsibility to help solve the problem and authority to act on it.”

“In times of adversity and change, we really discover who we are and what we're made of.”

That meeting inspired to go on to deliver a very impassioned keynote to the Supply Chain team. Once the smoke settled from that event I was given the opportunity to facilitate a breakout session for the SCO leadership team based on…you guessed it, servant leadership. Providing key characteristics of servant leadership to the team in order for them to enhance the way they interact with their various teams.

The day was a home run.

Leading teams is a unique and subjective process that can be achieved through countless styles and approaches. Some are effective. Some are not. Some influence partners and teammates through inspiration and buy-in. Others coerce subordinates through fear and manipulation.

I can tell you that my approach and style have been profoundly impacted by a brief, simple 30-minute meeting I had a few days ago with a guy who listens and deeply cares about the people around him.

That... and a really well brewed cappuccino.

Climb High

Jeff