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A few weeks ago, my Winter cohort of Power and Love for Managers had its final session in Oakland. We closed the training with appreciations, and one participant said how much she valued being in an “intentionally intergenerational space.” That comment struck a chord for me. It was an accurate description, but I had framed my goals around diversity more generally and around experience rather than age. I’ve been pondering why I haven’t been more explicit about bridging generations in my work, when it’s been an important value for me from the beginning.
I started going down this professional path in 2002 when I was 27. The early days were rough, mainly because the economy was bad and I didn’t have a track record, at least not the kind most people were looking for. The professional field was also small and mostly ill-defined. Saying I was a “collaboration consultant” drew blank stares. There were a few similar job titles, such as leadership and organizational development consultants and facilitators, and although there was plenty of overlap, none of those things described exactly what I was trying to do or how I was trying to do it.
It was a struggle simply to survive the first few years, and I could not have done so without many mentors, including Doug Engelbart, Jeff Conklin, Gail and Matt Taylor, and many others. They were generous and encouraging, but they also didn’t treat me as a charity case. They valued my experiences and how I thought about the world and the work, and they wanted to learn from me as much as they wanted to support me.
These early experiences strongly influenced my theory of change as well as my personal practice. I knew what my mentors had meant to me, and I wanted to pay it forward. But I also recognized that we wouldn’t see better collaboration at a planetary-scale without many, many more skilled practitioners. Unfortunately, many who are drawn to this practice (often women and people of color) feel isolated and invisible. We don’t realize that trying to help groups collaborate more effectively is a “thing,” and that there are many others who are doing the same.
If we could make the practice more visible and connected, we would all benefit. This would also mean making it easier for new people to enter the field, not just by sharing wisdom, but by creating professional opportunities where people could make a living while honing their craft. If the path to doing this work professionally is as hard as it was for me when I was younger, it will deter folks we badly need.
Throughout my career, I’ve done my best to build the field through my work. I hire associates on as many projects as I can. Their roles are largely operational, not because senior practitioners are above this work (everybody on my teams “work the line”), but because I want them to value the importance of doing logistics well.
Associates are also part of the design team, which means they are in most of the meetings I have with clients. I encourage them to speak up in those meetings, explaining that there is no mistake they can make that I can’t fix and that I will be more upset if they withhold an important observation or insight.
Because I revoke all of my intellectual property, people who work with me are free to integrate any of our tools and practices into their own work without worrying about fees or credit. I also pay associates more than market rate, because I’ve realized that your previous paycheck has an outsized impact on how future clients see you and how much they’re willing to pay you, especially when you’re young.
I’ve tried to encourage my peers to adopt some of these practices, with mixed success. More than a few colleagues have told me, “I don’t have time to train younger practitioners.” My experience with associates is that any time I invest in my them comes back to me in spades. They add a useful dose of perspective, and they provide backup in case others have to step away. They also inject energy and joy into the work, and they bring their own unique skills and perspectives, providing the rest of the team fresh opportunities to learn.
More recently, as I’ve tried to shift more of my focus on training, I’ve had fewer opportunities to hire associates. I’ve tried to make up for this by making my trainings free to folks who are 26 years old or under.
Despite my emphasis on supporting less experienced practitioners, until recently, I didn’t think of myself as an “older” practitioner. I think what’s different now — besides turning 50 last year — is that many of the kids in my life are now young adults. Before, I didn’t really look at people in their 20s much differently than I looked at myself. Sure, I was older, but they were essentially still peers. Now, I can’t help seeing them and thinking, “Wow, that person is the same age as my nephew!”
I’m also acutely aware of how different the world is now from what it was a quarter century ago — darker, more volatile, more uncertain. I can only imagine what it must be like to have to face this as a 20-year old, and I feel a greater responsibility to support them. It was so much easier when I could just blame the Boomers!
Fortunately, the benefits of being in intergenerational spaces are bidirectional. In this month’s Staying Strategic workouts at my Collaboration Gym, I had two people in their 20s participate. They also happened to be children of friends and colleagues, one of whom I’ve known since he was 10. I loved having them. They were thoughtful, earnest, vulnerable, eager to learn and engage, but also willing to contribute. The energy was different with them in the room, and I could see how much everyone else loved working out with them. The same was true with my Winter cohort of Power and Love for Managers, where a third of our participants were in their 20s.
Being around younger practitioners lifts my mood, challenges my thinking, and gives me hope. If they are this smart, this curious, this good, then we have a fighting chance to make things better in this world. It behooves the rest of us to do whatever we can to help them. Intentionally creating and being in intergenerational spaces is a great way to do this.
Photo by Zoha Raza.
