In 2006, I was walking alone on the streets of downtown Portland, Oregon, when I had an experience that terrified me.
I was learning to navigate the world with a new set of tools: a white cane with a red tip, which helped me probe the world around me, a talking compass, a mental map of the city core. My task, as handed down to me from my Orientation and mobility (O&M) instructor from the Oregon Commission for the Blind, was to exit the MAX light rail at a specific train stop and find my way to the downtown library.
It was a sunny afternoon, which meant there were thousands of people out and about, enjoying the vibrant downtown scene that Portland used to be known for.
My task should have been simple. I knew the library was just a few blocks from the train stop. All I needed to do was head in the correct direction, take a turn at some point, and keep going. The problem is that I didn’t know exactly which street corner I was on when I exited the train, and I couldn’t read the street signs.
I had to stop someone and ask them for help. That was the terrifying experience. If you’ve ever had social anxiety, you probably know how I felt.
Up to that point in my life, I hated talking to strangers. I hated asking for assistance. I hated the idea of imposing on someone’s day and making them stop what they were doing to answer my inane questions.
I hated those things, but more accurately, I feared them. It was a level of social anxiety that was almost paralytic.
That was the real point of the exercise. My O&M instructor knew I’d be able to easily find the library. It was asking for the help of strangers, and the fear of doing so, that I needed to overcome.
I stood around for a minute, hoping someone would stop to ask me if I needed help. At least then, I’d know that they were open to talking to me. But nobody stopped to offer.
Eventually, I noticed a blue blob (later identified as a man wearing a blue jacket) that wasn’t scurrying about like everyone else. The figure was standing in relatively the same place. I figured they’d be the safest bet to walk up to, since they obviously weren’t going anywhere fast and, in my mind’s justification, wouldn’t be as bothered by my attempts to stop them.
“Excuse me,” I asked. “Do you know which way to the library?”
A man replied with a smile in his voice, “I’m sorry. I’m not from around here. I’m kind of lost, myself.”
That was okay. I had a mental map of the way the streets of downtown Portland were laid out. If I knew which street I was on, I could figure it out from there.
“Oh,” I said. “Can you tell me which street corner I’m on? I can find my way once I’m oriented.”
He gave me the names of the two cross streets we were standing at. Instantly, I connected the dots from my current location to the address of the library.
“Thanks,” I said. “I know exactly where I am now.”
“Oh, great. Um, you wouldn’t know how to get to the downtown mall, would you?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied. “It’s about four blocks that way, then take a left. You can’t miss it.”
That simple interaction, which frightened me to the core at the time, changed the trajectory of my life.
It was the first time ever that I realized I was more than just an imposition on people I talked to. I actually had information that could help them, too. I also found that strangers are, by and large, happy to help.
Since then, I’ve grown immensely as a person. I obtained my degree in organizational leadership 11years later, joined a high potential leadership program at the company I was with at the time, participated in Toastmasters and learned the art of public speaking, and fell head over heels in love with growth and development.
Could I really be “high potential?”
In 2018, I joined Wells Fargo’s “Rising Stars” leadership development program for high potential employees. I had already been through their facilitator certification program and Rising Stars was the next step I saw on my path toward success. Since I was fresh off receiving my degree in organizational leadership, it seemed like the right fit for me.
Yet if anyone had known me just 12 years prior, they never would have seen high potential in me. I was shy, socially awkward, and terrified of speaking to strangers even in broad daylight. So what made me worth the investment?
It was a series of life experiences, chance encounters, and people who saw something in a nobody that led me to the place I was in 2018. I wasn’t a born leader with natural charisma, a drive to get things done, and a knack for rallying others. I was just someone who kept putting one foot in front of the other every day until I had an “AHAH!” moment that changed my life in ways I didn’t even understand at the time.
Eventually, I found my drive and my purpose. That’s what led me to be included in a pool of “high potentials.”
But what about everyone else out there who was still waiting around for their “AHAH!” moment? Do they somehow have less potential than others? Or can they be cultivated to grow into the people they’re destined to become?
Cultures of Genius vs. Cultures of Growth
I’ve recently been binging the “Leading Up podcast by Udeme. In one episode, the interviewed Mary C. Murphy, PhD, author of “Cultures of Growth. In the episode she talks about fixed mindsets vs. growth mindsets and, more importantly, fixed mindset organizational cultures vs. growth mindset cultures.
Fixed mindset cultures, or “cultures of genius” as she calls them, have a habit of holding up superstar performers as if they’re champion athletes. Top performers receive the majority of recognition and leadership opportunities, while anyone who isn’t a top performer is destined for mediocrity. These organizations find their superstars, flag them as “high potential,” and work hard to retain them.
It isn’t just Wells Fargo that has high potential leadership programs. As a learning designer at Hive learning, I worked with many different corporate clients who wanted to run leadership development programs for their high potentials, too. There’s a good chance that, if you work for a medium to large size organization, they have a similar program.
High potential programs are so common, in fact, that there’s a common shorthand people use to talk about participants: high-po. If you’re high-po, you’re part of the superstar group.
But I argue that the very term “high potential” is problematic. It’s a misnomer. It says “this person has what others don’t.”
It’s a fixed mindset term. Either you have the goods or you haven’t. It doesn’t care whether you could be high-po in the future. If you’re not high-po right now, you’re not one of the superstars.
That fixed mindset does a grave disservice to everyone else in your organization. It ignores the possibility that there may be hundreds of other people just like me who are still waiting for that “AHAH!” moment to change the trajectory of their life.
Changing the Organization’s Trajectory
Murphy has studied organizational psychology and found that cultures of growth outperform cultures of genius. That’s not surprising, given that countless research has proven that people with growth mindsets tend to be more creative and productive as people without.
That’s why it’s important to shift our organizations from genius cultures to growth cultures. To do that, we can start by reframing our high potential programs. Instead of being designed for superstars who show high potential, we can open them up to anyone who shows an interest or aptitude for leadership.
That’s just the start though. We must also unlock every person’s potential through access to learning opportunities that can help them develop their skills and develop as people.
For some organizations, that might mean investing in training and skill development programs. For others, it may mean making less costly investments in peer coaching, knowledge sharing, and stretch assignments. The point isn’t to throw a bunch of money at the problem to see what sticks. It’s to intentionally tap into each person’s needs and dreams, and helping them find their own way. That growth is good for the individual, and it’s good for the company’s bottom line.
The precise nuts and bolts of how to do these things are topics for another day. Each strategy could (and probably does) have entire books and training programs dedicated to their implementation. But without any additional research or study, we can immediately start doing this one simple thing to start changing our trajectory:
We can start viewing each individual, not just our current superstars, as a person worthy of our time, effort, and investment.
If you enjoyed this post or know of someone who might, please share it with others. You never know when something simple might have a major impact.
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