Where are you risk-blind?

A financial advisor once told me that when she takes on creatives she makes them do the risk profile first. It’s faster, apparently. Otherwise they bang on about being risk-averse when they’re clearly not. They weren’t disingenuous, she said. Just too used to rolling with risk to notice it’s a choice.[1]

They’re not alone. Many of the leaders I work choose risk over safety, and are encouraged to do so. It’s enabled them to achieve great things – from cross-industry collaboration[2], to launching businesses, to producing life-saving vaccines.[3]

These are big wins. But there’s a flipside to rolling with risk. It can become harder to devote attention to the risks you can’t choose, or that don’t loom large but still consume energy. Or indeed, to those that don’t seem in the least bit risky to you, but but absolutely do to your team. And whether you notice them or not, they all feed into your overall capacity for risk.

Notice what you choose

Noticing is the simplest and least glitzy of superpowers. But it can prove revelatory. So pay attention to the risks you’re taking, or asking your team to take. What are they? How risky are they? And were they chosen or imposed?

That balance between chosen and unchosen matters. It can influence not just how many risks you take but their nature, as well as the effort you invest. Plus it’s hard to take more of the risks you want if you’re already at capacity with ones you don’t.

🧐 Get curious about your unchosen risks

Some unchosen risks are a response to uncertainties beyond your control. Like how far to embrace AI.[4] Whatever you choose is risky, no one knows all the risks, and we're probably worrying about the wrong ones anyway.

Some risks will be consciously chosen – just not by you. Like the restructure that landed one of my coachees with an extremely risky strategy. They hadn’t chosen it, but were still responsible for its successful delivery.

Either way, get curious about where you’re experiencing unchosen risks in your work, home, health, family, community, environment, or elsewhere. Look beyond the obvious, too. What’s slipping under your radar? What are you downplaying even though it’s consuming energy?

Get curious too about where you can exercise choice within unchosen risks. How might you influence their progress or outcomes? And which risks might even give you unexpected space to play?[5] (Like that coachee of mine, who capitalised on that risk-everywhere moment to chase a different market.)

🧐 Get curious about your chosen risks

Intentional risk can be thrilling. So get curious about where you’re choosing to take risks. What are your big fat gambles? Where are you running test—learn—adapt style experiments for swift, incremental progress?[6] How are they shaping your capacity for risk? How are they strengthening your resilience?

Get curious too about the balance between those big and small risks. Which might you dial up or down? Where might you dial up your chosen risks in response to fewer unchosen ones?

🧐 Get curious about your team’s risk slate

What feels risky to you might not to your team. But also: vice versa.[7] So get curious, about the team – together and individually. How much risk are they navigating? What’s the balance between chosen and unchosen? Who is drained by unchosen risk outside work? How might you reduce or redistribute some of their chosen risks?

Get curious about where the team lacks risk, too. Which risks are they aching to take? How might you be getting in their way? How might you deepen their resilience to unchosen risk? Who is craving a risk beyond your team? And who is choosing risks for whom?

Give yourself a risk assessment (not that sort)

You’ll find chosen and unchosen risks everywhere in response to this VUCA, post-pandemic, gen AI world. And since merely being human comes with its own mess, delight and tragedy, there’ll be plenty in the analogue world, too.

So what are your current risks?[8] Which apply to you, which to your team? Which are chosen, or not, and by whom? What’s the balance between them? Getting curious might not change the risks in front of you, but it might help you respond with greater clarity and intention.

Keen to get curious and fancy a spot of help?

Get intensely curious about who you are, who you’re not, and what actually matters with Impertinent Questions. My nosiness meets your context each weekday for a month.

Get curious with The Curious Leader newsletter direct to your inbox. Longform, practical, personal opining on curiosity in leadership. Like today’s on FOBFO-busting, or this one on owning your success.

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FOOTNOTES

1 Unlike making pension plans, apparently. 🤷‍♀️

2 Like, memorably, music streaming and healthcare – bewildering, but genius.

3 Being able to pass on the thanks of the medic who vaccinated me was an unexpected delight amidst pandemic awfulness.

4 You could not use it, but how and how much are more common quandries. And most of us are already using it anyway.

5 Which I attempt to make the case for here. I’ll leave you to your own conclusions on its success.

6 Intriguingly, it’s not uncommon for teams to head straight for the Massive Risk because de-risking it with smaller experiments feels… too risky. 🙃

7 Conversation with social media manager the other day:
Them: I’m terrified of public speaking.
Me: I’m terrified of social media.
Them: 🤦
Fear isn’t the same as risk, but it’s often provoked by perceived risk.

8 A quick, frequent and current audit is often more insightful than the big, unwieldy review. Besides, while it’s tempting skip ahead to the sunlit uplands, what you’re experiencing now will inevitably influence what comes next.

How do you show the love?

The other day a client asked me to define how I work with leaders.

“I show them the love.”

It’s true. And often why clients hire me. But it still feels bold to say it out loud.

Which is odd, because showing the love is a leadership superpower. One that’s powerfully enabling: it channels you to elevate everyone. And I love showing, feeling, and seeing others show the love. But it doesn’t get nearly the recognition or analysis it deserves.

Why is that? And why do I feel bold for owning it? Perhaps it feels safer to stick with Certified Leadership Credentials(TM). Or perhaps it’s another, related reason: showing the love is tricky to pin down. You know it when you feel it. But what does that mean? It is touchy-feely-yuck? (Let’s just get this out the way: no!) But also: wot?

Well, exactly. Which is why it’s only in recent years that I’ve fully embraced it.[1] And only now that I’m writing this.[2]

What is showing the love?

Showing the love isn’t something you do. It’s a feeling you communicate. But it’s hard to quantify a feeling. And even harder when it can be created differently by different people. But again: you know it when you feel it. Which is exactly what happened last week.

I was observing a workshop. My colleague was in the thick of it, delivering to a polite if wary crowd of senior execs. But as the session began to unfold I noticed their reticence give way to a kind of, well, exuberance:

Enthusiastic chipping in instead of waiting on (other) volunteers
Intense curiosity about where they aligned or diverged instead of just skimming the surface
Having an actual conversation instead of just saying answers[3]
Speaking honestly instead of keeping it safe

What was behind that shift? Right from the off, she showed them the love. She dialled into who she is: upbeat, irreverent, unafraid. She showed up with total clarity of intention: she wasn’t vague or hesitant. And, although showing the love isn’t without risk, she embraced that risk and leaned right in.

Let’s be clear: she also had great content, buckets of experience, and trusting sponsors. But the commitment from those leaders wasn’t just down to what she delivered. Or to buy-in from the big boss. It was a response to the feeling she created – by showing the love.

But how do you show the love?

Not necessarily like someone else. Which, again, makes it hard to quantify. Let’s dive into another example, this one with a very different vibe.

A mate of mine regularly tutors on a residential, application-only course. The tutors are experts, the attendees cock-a-hoop to be there, and unsurprisingly it’s all marvellous.[4] Except last time, the final exercise flipped his group from triumph to freak out. A week of excited thinking, talking, doing then:
S I L E N C E.

He could have ignored their discomfort. Or rescued them. Instead, he showed the love. What did that look like? Enabling them, with all of his compassion and acuity, to get curious about their discomfort. What was its texture? Where might it have come from? Where might it take them?

The love was there in his choice to lean right into who he is: perceptive, compassionate, kind. It was in his clarity of intention, and the feeling of safety he communicated.[5] It was there in his willingness to risk his own vulnerability. And because they felt the love, the group managed to swim with their discomfort and get home safely.

How and why they showed the love was different for my mate and my colleague. But I think they exercised similar muscles to help people feel it:

Leaning into who they are to create a personal connection even in a crowd[6]
Leading with clarity of intention instead of being vague or intermittent
Dialling themselves up to be a bit extra instead of doing extra
Meeting people where they are so they feel seen, not unsafe
Embracing the risk of showing the love, with no guarantee of the response[7]

What does it feel like?

Noticing how you feel the love can help you figure out how you show it. So here’s an example from a recipient of the love – me.

I was leading a precarious project. Think: widespread reluctance, endless provocation, dysfunctional everything. We weren’t burdened with problems so much as relentlessly bedraggled. And through it all, the client showed me the love. I couldn’t quantify it in the moment, but I absolutely, unmistakably felt it.

What did it feel like? Unstinting trust. Trust that we’d get there, trust in fast iteration, total trust in me – in who I am and everything I bring.[8] How did they create that? By being themselves on full beam – not inadvertently but with clear intention. And they never wavered. They never ran from the risk. I knew where I was with them: safe.

So when they eventually asked me why I hadn’t run for the hills, my answer was instant:

You showed me the love.

It wasn’t nice, or kind or cheering. Showing me the love was powerfully enabling. I didn’t need someone to hold my hand. I needed someone to have my back while I rebuilt the ship, held off the storms[9] and steered us to shore. And we got there. Verrrrry bruised, but with success in our sails. The power of love? I think so.

Impertinent Questions

Intrigued by the love? Feeling it, showing it, what is it? Let’s get curious with some impertinent questions. (Click here for an expanded, downloadable version.)

🤔 When have you felt the love?
How did you experience it? What did it enable in you? What did safety feel like?

🤔 Where do you notice the love?
Who elevates an interaction? What feelings are they channelling? How do people respond?

🤔 How do you show the love?
When do you make a difference by being, not doing? Which qualities do you dial up? What vibe are you creating?

Of course, you might show the love and… nothing. If so, don’t be downhearted. (But do get curious.[10]) Because whatever happens, showing the love sharpens your mettle. It exercises your muscle for risk. It clarifies who you are as a leader. It builds your confidence to show up with that clarity. Not hesitantly or inadvertently, but deliberately and courageously.

You can’t show the love indiscriminately. You’d be knackered. And probably too much. But also: there’s no need. So preserve it for moments that call for a different, deeper quality of connection. Like with those wary leaders, or that freaked out group, or me on that hazardous project. Because showing the love is special. It’s extra. It’s a hard-to-quantify superpower. What’s love got to do with it? Everything.[11]

Keen to get curious and fancy a spot of help?

Get intensely curious about who you are, who you’re not, and what actually matters with Impertinent Questions. My nosiness meets your context each weekday for a month.

Get curious with The Curious Leader newsletter direct to your inbox. Longform, practical, personal opining on curiosity in leadership. Like today’s on FOBFO-busting, or this one on owning your success.

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FOOTNOTES

[1] I used to send it to Coventry. Which wasn’t entirely silly then, but I’m glad I don’t now.

[2] With thanks to the very kind people who supplied feedback, examples and helped me wade through the mess!

[3] There’s a difference between actively figuring out and passively saying.

[4] Plus: every evening starts with sherry hour. What’s not to love?

[5] You can’t just announce a “safe space”. You have to create it, not least by communicating a feeling of safety. Showing the love really helps, because it asks you to be clear in who you are – and to meet people where they are (bleugh, brilliant, wherever).

[6] Which doesn’t mean taking up all the space. Or being an arse. (Personally, I like to save that for my family.)

[7] Being not just you, but you on full beam, can be terrifying. But ultimately, there’s less friction in being who you are than who you’re not. It’s clearer. It builds trust faster because people know what to expect. It’s probably what people value in you anyway. And you get further because the effort of masking can be redirected somewhere more useful.

[8] This was everything. I’ll never forget it.

[9] Other ‘s’ words spring to mind.

[10] It’s an excellent antidote. Refer back to your impertinent questions. What still sounds right? What doesn’t? How can you gather more evidence?

[11] What a woman, 100% showing the love. 🔥💪💔

How could you be less rush, more roll?

The other day a colleague told me they weren’t going to rush. Not only then, but ever. Why? They’ve spent their life rushing. To work! In work! From work! At home! With friends! All rush. 😫

So they’ve decided not to. Time for a micro-task? Leave it. Running late? Saunter on. Caught in a queue? Meh.

Good, no? Except… the whole thing made me feel incredibly antsy.[1] Until I realised that actually, they’d end up more efficient by not rushing. Multitasking = multifail. Etc.[2] And even if they weren’t more efficient they’d probably be more mindful. Or something. Phew, order restored.

Their take on my insight?

🙄

I’d missed the point. Not rushing wasn’t a sneaky scheme to cheat productivity. Or be an indefinably better person. It was just what it was: not rushing. The end. 🤯

And hey, that makes sense. Consider the lilies of the fields…[3] Etc. But then what? I love an intellectualised concept, but what does it mean in practice? Where’s the line between not-rushing and not-getting-on? Or between being fast and being rushed? How can you tell one from the other? And how do you cope without the sweat-drenched, brain-focused WHOOSH! of a deadline?

What’s the rush?

Let’s step back a bit. Why are you rushing in the first place? I'm not suggesting you channel your inner sloth. Just get curious. What is the consequence of not racing ahead? Is that really true? Does it matter?[4] Fan of nuance that I am, I’d venture that it probably depends.[5] Some things are time-bound. I’d still rather catch the train than not, for example. So there’s that.

But lots of things don’t have inherent so much as imposed deadlines. “I’ll get this done by x time, so I can fit in y before I do z. And then tomorrow I can crack on with a.” But again, why? What’s lost if you don’t? What’s gained if you do?

Ugh. Such boring, obvious, coachy questions. 🙄 And honestly, who has time to live their life in constant ponder?[6][7] But actually, I don’t think you always need to answer those questions – so much as ask them. It’s a sort of mental intervention: pausing the rush in your mind to rush a bit less in practice. If nothing else, it gives you a bit of choice: rush, or don’t. Just make sure you own what you choose.[8]

What do you rush?

A funny thing: the leaders I work with don’t rush everything. Most of them won’t rush strategic decisions. Or budget forecasts. Or tricky conversations with the team. Etc.

But most of those leaders will rush themselves. How? Sometimes by rushing the stuff that makes life calmer. Like time to decompress after one of those tricky chats. Or by squeezing the stuff they love so there's more time for stuff they don't.[9] Which is odd, really. Because who has time to dispense with joy?

If you are going to rush, you might as well rush everything equally. Except you probably won’t. So why do you rush some things and not others? And what about the reverse: what do you savour, for good or ill? If you audited this day, would you be content with what was rushed, or not, or savoured?

What’s your post-rush recovery time?

We don’t really think about this mid-rush, but rushing isn’t finite. The reason to rush might end with the deadline, but the effect of rushing tends to hang around. And hey, that’s not necessarily bad. It might be a sense of delicious triumph, of having made it against the odds. In which case: hurrah for you! 🙌

But mostly, I reckon it’s just tiring. Because it’s actually quite hard to pull your attention away from the deadline that's been consuming your energies. Or to feel calm, or present, or ready for the next thing. At least for a while.

What if you added up the rush time plus the recovery time? Would you end up in the same place as if you hadn’t rushed? My strong hunch is: yes. Not always, and not for everyone. But often enough to give one pause.

Want the whoosh without the weep?

Maybe you need a deadline to channel your inner brilliance. Maybe, like me, you actually enjoy that glorious sprint to the finish. In which case, might I commend One Step Forward to chunk the madness? That way, when the deadline looms you can hurtle on with the hard yards done.[10] And focus more (not entirely) on being your brilliant self. And less (not entirely) on panic-ploughing through the mud. It’s not about trying to turn yourself into someone who doesn’t respond to deadlines. It is about giving yourself the best chance to be you. Slowly, slowly, catchy bum rub.[11]

Keen to get curious and fancy a spot of help?

Get intensely curious about who you are, who you’re not, and what actually matters with Impertinent Questions. My nosiness meets your context each weekday for a month.

Get curious with The Curious Leader newsletter direct to your inbox. Longform, practical, personal opining on curiosity in leadership. Like today’s on FOBFO-busting, or this one on owning your success.

---

[1] I hate being late. But I love other rush-related stuff that I won’t mention in case I sound like a twat.

[2] Also, the notion that women are brilliant at multitasking is one of the most insidious excuses for the quantities of unpaid labour dumped on them. Everyone’s shit at multitasking. And, like all things patriarchy, it does a disservice to men as well as women.

[3] “Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” (Matthew 6:28, The Bible: King James Version)

[4] These are two of the most helpful questions you can ask, imho. A question (or two) for all seasons.

[5] I imagine there are examples where being in a rush is preferable to being quick. I just can’t think what they might be. CPR came to mind, but even that needs to be steady rather than racy – roughly 2 compressions per second, according to the British Heart Foundation. Btw, they offer free CRP training on your phone or tablet. It takes just 15 minutes. It could save a life.

[6] Which is why it’s much more sensible to be consistently curious. Constant anything is pretty exhausting.

[7] Then again, who has time not to?

[8] It’s much more powerful to own your own decisions than to pretend they’re someone else’s. You’ll come across as clearer in yourself, as well as in your motivations. Which also means colleagues (or friends and family) are more likely to know where they are with you.

[9] Is all this selective rushing because they’re kinder to other people than to themselves? It’s a coaching question so tremendously clichéd I hesitate to commit it to print. But lots of leaders I know really wouldn’t treat their teams the way they treat themselves. Which is intriguing for all sorts of reasons. Do they consider themselves more able than their teams? Or more deserving of mistreatment? Discuss.

[10] I should add that lots of my clients use One Step Forward to avoid running up against deadlines altogether. And that’s cool too.

[11] I love this phrase, which I think was born of a malapropism-cum-mondegreen. You’d have to ask its originators, those marvellous folks at Advai, for the full explanation. It is entirely irrelevant to what they do (clever things that stress-test AI). But a phrase like this deserves to be out in the world!

Why we should lean into risk in Brexit Britain

"Brexit tea" by frankieleon is licenced under CC BY 2.0

I was going to write a blog about risk. I’d whip through the theory, focus on the practice, and back it up with science.

Then the EU Referendum happened. And now, depending on your view, the UK is either deep in the mire or free to succeed. The markets have crashed but might bounce back. Hate crime is up but might be a blip. We're living in uncertainty and we don’t even know how long it’ll last.

All of that feels uncomfortable and risky. So to write about risk without acknowledging the uncertainty around us feels somewhat absurd. (At least in Britain.) Since we’re already awash with political analysis I won’t add mine. But whether you’re delighted, devastated or unmoved by these events, it’s an interesting moment to take a look at the parallels with organisational and personal change.

Major change throws the status quo in the air. Before it settles, as it inevitably will, we can get curious about the choices open to us. We can pretend it’s not happening. We can choose to step back and see where the pieces fall. And we can choose to take a risk and lean into uncertainty. These are decisions organisations are making now – as they’ve done before and will again. Individuals are doing the same.

Unless you’re very lucky, pretending nothing’s changed will leave you baffled, and your colleagues disengaged. It’s also, counter-intuitively, a lot of effort. Our ability to adapt is part of what defines us as human. So while adapting might be hard, refusing to do so is exhausting. Sometimes, of course, the wisest move is to hold your horses and wait for a new normal. But you forfeit the chance to shape it – and risk being left behind.

Choosing to shake hands with uncertainty can be complicated and uncomfortable. It can also be profoundly creative. If you can lean into that, there’s scope to experiment with new ideas and products, have different conversations and make unexpected connections. You might fail, you might succeed, you might create something a bit… ‘meh’. But you only find out if you take the risk. And whether or not it’s sparked by external events, embedding a culture of testing, adapting and improving will reap benefits well into the future.  

Thing is, it’s not easy. There’s a gap between intention and doing. And however much you want to, crossing it can seem boring, painful, hard work. Even once you do cross, there’s no guarantee of success. Ugh. Why bother? It’s somehow easier to feel disrespected than to challenge in the moment. To share feedback for your team with your mates instead. And to hang out in stasis rather than venture an alternative.

But that 'ugh' is worth the bother. Because it’s when you bother that things shift. And when you learn. Plus you reinforce the sense that, whatever the outcome, you have the agency to create change. You’ll be more likely to do it again, helping build a culture of creativity in yourself and others.

So where to begin? Here are three initial suggestions.

1. Acknowledge fears, but don’t draw them out. Give yourself three minutes to project the potential range of outcomes from best to worst. Then begin, ditch or adapt. You’ll only find out what actually happens by taking the risk, so don’t waste time on the fundamentally unsound, or delay the great.

2. Solicit feedback; ask, listen, learn, adapt. And be specific: work out exactly what you want feedback on, and ask questions within a clear remit. This shifts the focus away from egos (easily crushed, despite denials) and towards ideas. Seeking feedback can feel like a massive risk in itself. But the more you do it, the easier and more useful it becomes.

3. Build networks. Taking a risk on your own is exhausting and takes ages. It’s maximum ‘ugh’. Talk to people who help you elucidate your ideas. Talk to people who disagree, too: diverse opinion makes for robust ideas. And test the idea as soon as you can, drawing on your network for support. Make sure your network also includes people who are unconnected to your idea, so they can help you reflect on progress and remain resilient. Action learning sets and peer mentors are ideal.

I’m not suggesting all ideas are sensible or risks worth taking. But change is definitely coming. New systems, new products and even new industries may emerge. I hope that as organisations and individuals we’ll be inspired to lean into risk when we encounter it. Get curious. Start experimenting, adapting, innovating. The status quo has been shaken, and will rebuild. The space between is yours to shape.

Risk series: Melanie Harrold on how we experience risk

In the last of our podcasts on risk (at least for now), Kamala spoke to the artist Melanie Harrold. They talk about the risks Melanie's taken in her own career, and how she helps other people to remain grounded while reaching forward into the unknown. Melanie also explains the central role your voice, breath and body can play in building your capacity not only for taking conscious risks, but also for managing them resiliently.

You might want to take a breath before reading on, because Melanie is... a singer-songwriter who's performed with artists including Gerry Rafferty and Don McLean, a teacher, choral director, body psychotherapist, Voice Movement Therapist (and professional trainer) and founder of The Singing Body who has worked and performed across the world. Phew, and breathe... Which is appropriate, really, because much of Melanie's work explores how our breath, bodies and movement can help us to take more conscious risks and push the boundaries of what we think we can achieve. Alongside her private practice working with individuals and small groups, Melanie directs several choirs including Trade Winds and Vocal Chords.

Learn more about how to embrace risk, innovation and experiments with our free Chirp Guide. Sign up to receive your download.

Risk series: Julie Noon on working in the world's most dangerous places

Our latest podcast on risk features the acclaimed journalist and film-maker, Julie Noon. A world away from a day at the office, Julie's work has risk at its very heart – personal, professional and physical. In this podcast Julie talks about what draws her to this work, and how she weighs up the risks, both potential and terrifyingly real. She also explains why the person who isn't scared is the biggest risk of all.

Julie Noon is a freelance journalist and documentary filmmaker who specialises in foreign affairs and filming in hostile environments. Her career has spanned live political programming and documentaries in politics, current affairs and news. Julie has worked, lived and travelled in over 60 countries around the world, from the Democratic Republic of Congo, to South Sudan and Afghanistan, where she spent months embedded with British Forces in Helmand over the duration of the campaign.

Julie has produced, directed and series produced on award-winning series and critically acclaimed strands including Channel 4’s Dispatches and Unreported World, and the BBC’s This World. Her work has been nominated and shortlisted for awards including the Rory Peck Award for Impact and Broadcast Award’s Best Current Affairs Documentary. Many of her films have been shown in Parliament and some have prompted policy and legal change. Passionate about developing new talent in foreign affairs, Julie also teaches filmmaking for organisations including One World Media, and on Hostile Environment training courses.

Learn more about how to embrace risk, innovation and experiments with our free Chirp Guide. Sign up to receive your download.

 

Risk series: Roway Gray on risk and resilience

The second of our podcasts about risk features a conversation between our Director, Kamala, and Rowan Gray, a business coach at Relume. Ahead of their workshop in the Spring, Kamala and Rowan explore definitions of risk, and why understanding your response to it can help you lead and work more effectively. They also talk about the balance between risk and resilience, and why you might be better off not cramming exercise/mindfulness/healthy eating into your routine.

Rowan Gray is a business coach at Relume. He works with leaders who are looking for a different perspective. He challenges and supports them to find new ideas and the breakthrough they need. He uses movement - such as cycling, running and walking - to generate insights, enable more creativity and give people an increased feeling of energy. These are qualities needed to adapt and thrive in organisations that are increasingly complex, uncertain and fast-paced. Rowan brings curiosity, energy and a sense of fun to his work. He keeps himself inspired by exploring new places from the saddle of his bicycle.

Learn more about how to embrace risk, innovation and experiments with our free Chirp Guide. Sign up to receive your download.

Risk series: Helen Walton on gaming and business

In the first of our podcast series about risk, we talk to Helen Walton, Co-founder and Marketing Director at Gamevy. As an entrepreneur who runs a gaming start-up, Helen encounters risk in different guises on an almost daily basis. We talk to her about the human urge to gamble, the importance of knowing your bottom line, and the biggest risks she's taken. We also hear about one of Gamevy's less conventional investment decisions!

Helen Walton is a writer and marketing manager who enjoys solving problems, trying out ideas and making things happen. She started out in Unilever, (back in the glory days when advertising budgets meant long, boozy lunches). Since then her work has included a column in the Daily Mail, naming lipsticks, saving literature (a game that won a NIBBIE) and writing an IT course. Helen is Co-founder and Marketing Director at Gamevy, an award-winning company whose games combine skill, chance and life-changing jackpots for the ultimate in fun.

Learn more about how to embrace risk, innovation and experiments with our free Chirp Guide. Sign up to receive your download.

 

Is risk the secret to success? We could always ask Prince...

'Prince!' by Scott Penner licenced under CC-BY-SA 2.0

I’ve been running some workshops lately to help colleagues be bolder, experiment, and take a few risks. And they've neatly coincided with the return of Prince. Or 3rdEyeGirl, or TAFKAP, or TAFKASquiggle. Now there’s a man who’s danced with risk/reward ratios in his time. Of which more later.

At each of these workshops the individuals were lively, capable, and pretty confident. They were good at their jobs and high achievers. Yet even the most assured had something outside their comfort zones. Some task or action perpetually consigned to ‘to do’ list purgatory.

It’s not really about productivity, nor whether you do your job well. And, luckily, these unappealing tasks are rarely the same for everyone – be they ringing clients, making new contacts, or pitching fresh ideas.

Most of us get by surprisingly well without having to do the things that make us nervous. We use e-mail instead of the phone. We network within established spheres. We take a deep breath, get on with it, and avoid a repeat for as long as possible.

Yet, as Prince arguably knows, change is often integral to success. Rather than stick to a reliable formula, he has continued to experiment, change, test, and play throughout his long career. Not simply with music, but with his very identity. Not every risk brought rewards – many did; others didn’t. Nonetheless, those bold decisions have been instrumental in his continued success.

Thoughtful experiments won’t always pay off – though experiments that don’t work can prove equally as valuable. Either way, it’s only by giving it a bash that we find out how much better, more exciting, even easier our work could be. By shaking things up, taking the odd punt on a possibility. (Don’t fiddle the LIBOR rates, though. There are limits.)

So, while no one’s looking, why not fish out that neglected ‘to do’ list? Pitch your barmy-yet-brilliant idea to the CEO. Pick up the phone to new clients. And long forgotten ones, too. If nothing else, you’ll at least be able to tick it off that list. I will if you will!

Learn more about how to embrace risk, innovation and experiments with our free Chirp Guide. Sign up to receive your download.