The wheel keeps turning.

Jack Kerouac wrote a grim poem during the 1950s entitled "211^th Chorus." The poem had existential images, Buddhism, and slaughterhouse references. The most bleak portion of the poem comes at the end with the assertion that the "wheel of the quivering meat conception" kept spinning. Nothing could stop it. Kerouac is one of my favorite poets and novelists from my youth and often pops up in my consciousness during business dealings. I am laboring through several difficult transitions and feel compelled to discuss them.

Two things that have demanded my attention have happened within the last month. I am returning to work consulting for a major software company. I am dealing with the death of my father and settling his affairs. It would be an understatement to say I feel overwhelmed.

The new job requires new computers and network permissions; it also includes navigating the politics and bureaucracy of the organization. I have plenty of new names to learn, lots of training videos to watch, and tribal knowledge to acquire. I am a rookie working with other seasoned professionals who have spent decades working with the organization. I understand agile, but everyone else understands the organization's culture and operation. It has forced me to be more passive. I also make mistakes, so I must accept coaching and instructions with humility and good humor. I also acknowledge that I will not be a rock star out of the gate and must slowly and steadily earn the respect of the people I work with.

Coaches often tell the teams they work with to fail fast and frequently. We can apply this same approach to agile professionals. We usually do not get it right initially and must inspect, adapt, and adjust. It also helps to show some personal forgiveness because being a professional is a life of constant criticism and self-recrimination. Business is tricky enough without having to battle your self-doubts.

I am also helping my mother settle my father's affairs and get her to move into my home. Fortunately, we have room for my mother, and soon, four generations of people will be living in my house. I will be a blended heritage version of Encanto. What struck me as I began to clear out my father's office and personal belongings was how many habits I quired from him. He has coffee cups filled with pens, highlighters, and red felt tip pens. The printer paper is sorted by color. He saved old computer cables in case he needed one. My father keeps the junk drawer in admirable order, with labeled bins holding staples, stick pins, and buttons. I am my father's son when it comes to office organization.

It is also clear we had a similar attitude toward work. If any job was worth doing well, you would go far if you treated people with respect and dignity. My father sold homes for twenty years and helped banks recoup their self-inflicted losses during the Great Recession. He dealt with difficult people and maintained a good sense of humor. His most recent job was getting elected to the homeowners associate board to make it more responsive to the community and less dogmatic.

I had a chance to meet those fellow board members, and they are small and petty people with the self-awareness of a terrier. They appear more interested in exerting power over others than being good public servants. My father would have been an excellent counter-example to their venial behavior. I wish I had my father's ability to navigate these difficult people, but it gives me something to aspire toward. I have hired a career coach to help me with this process, and someday, I can succeed in working with difficult people.

I have not had the proper time to grieve my father, but I am taking time out of each day to spend 15 minutes in a quiet place to reflect in silence and think about my father. It has been good for me, and I recommend it to anyone with a demanding job. You can find a quiet room, set your phone timer to 15 minutes, and clear your mind. It might be the best thing you do all day.

I am painfully aware that time and tide wait for nobody in the business world. The wheel of the quivering meat conception keeps turning. However, taking time for yourself, even as little as fifteen minutes, understanding your family's inheritance, and exhibiting self-forgiveness will make life less bleak.

Until next time.