Quicksand Survival

Garbage-picking raven, with admirer (see lower right corner of the shot), Beacon Hill Park, Victoria, July 2014

Things at the Ministry of the Environment and Climate Crazy have been picking up torque. There's lots going on and, for every person tasked with actually getting things done, there are at least a half a dozen more with an opinion (almost always helpful) about how that should happen.

There are documents, consultation plans, announcements, media plans, issue management plans, reactions to things the Premier said, things the Minister said, things the opposition said ... all running with the orderly progression of stampeding ducks.

People are, understandably, showing some signs of stress. Since I've been back from Niagara on the Lake, I have witnessed myself or heard of second hand, weeping, yelling, displays of anger and panic. 

For example:

My phone rang late Monday afternoon. My otherwise pretty calm boss was angry with me because of something he had been yelled at about. 

My freshly-minted other boss (it's a long story) was in my office the next day, also late in the afternoon, also angry with me because of something he had been yelled at about.

They were upset because they thought my branch was responsible for avoidable delays. My team was vindicated, of course, when further delays for which we were still clearly not the cause kept the items at issue from their deadline.

When I am in situations like this, I recall the TV westerns I spent hundreds of hours watching when I was a kid. The schoolrooms of Wagon Train, Gunsmoke, Rifleman, Bonanza and, to a lesser extent, F-Troop, taught me that you can survive a rattlesnake bite, go for five days without food, three days without water, and, if you find yourself in quicksand, don't struggle.  

My advice to my staff is "fighting it just makes it worse." 

I'm not sure the message has sunk in.

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen