The Next Thing is Next!
Early in my career I accepted an offer from a camper parent (an investment banker) to assist us in improving some of our systems. He was so impressed with what we had done with his two sons, he wanted to give back. Over the course of a day, multiple white-board scenarios, and more biz-jargon than I had ever heard, we deconstructed (and re-built) many of our core processes. Never mind that this individual later ended up in a federal penitentiary for financial fraud, one axiom has stuck with me: “Do the Next Thing Next”. As someone who has always been drawn to the shiny object it was appealing, since often, that shining thing was not the next thing that needed fixing.
As simple and straightforward as this sounds, in the run up to the start of summer sessions it can be hard to practice. This past Sunday 70 young men and women arrived at Mishawaka for a week of staff training: practices, principles, and preparations to help us get ready to welcome our first campers. Each of them arrived with their own set of hopes, dreams, and concerns, whether veteran counselors or first-time Mishawakans. Within the first few hours, the to-do list grew. “We need a clothes line.” “Can I get an extra broom?” “What if our campers get their mail before lunch instead of after?
Our administrative staff was bombarded with questions, ideas, and innovations. Many of them were good suggestions, many were not, but all of them were well intentioned. I liken it to inviting 70 people into your home to conduct a survey of little imperfections! It can be hard to do the next thing next, when the next thing generator is so active!
One year we had a young trip director, who, upon arrival at Camp, decided that the first thing he would do was to make the GORP, that delicious mix of M and M’s, nuts, and granola that campers long for on the trail. It probably was not the first thing to do. We were weeks from sending out a trip, and there were certainly more pressing tasks. I held my tongue, but suggested that he not manage to eat it all before we actually needed it. That scene plays out this week in an endless stream of variations. The cart gets put before the horse constantly. Sequences get advanced, and we often go backwards to go forward. Efficiency experts would shake their heads, but I have come to accept this, too, as part of an important process.
The truth is, sometimes we just don’t know what the next thing to do is. We know that the GORP does need to be made, so we do it. It’s an accomplishment we can see (and taste.) Eventually we discover that some tent’s packs have too many poles, some too few. Sometimes we sweep the floor before we have wiped all the dust off the shelf, causing us to have to re-sweep the floor. We’ve even been known to launch the boat before we put the plug in, a non-sequitor that can lead to a moment of panic and later ribbing. I have done it myself, many times.
I can attest that I would certainly want my surgeon to do the next thing next. Everytime! Just as we need all campers to don their harness before ascending the aerial park! But as we work with these young men and women this week, and our campers for the following 8-weeks, there is some benefit in letting them make mistakes in low-risk situations, to put the cart before the horse. I have found that this experience is a great teacher and helps avoid repeated errors. The writer Ernestine Ulmer is credited with coining another axiom, “Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first.” Sometimes it is OK to make the GORP first. It can give you the energy to do the next thing, whatever that may be. Just don’t eat it all.
This Sunday, all the questions about what to do next will vanish when the first bus pulls in. The child in front of us takes the top spot on the list. All of the “other” falls by the wayside. Things come into focus and the real job begins. It defies any business term. It’s just pure joy.
