Persistence
The current heat wave had me thinking of the persistence it must have taken for the early pioneers to cross the desert in the American southwest and reach the goal of the promised land in California. Few succeeded compared with the numbers who tried - similar to the success rate of new technical ventures. Another similarity is the critical nature of persistence among both leadership and the team, and the benefit of having “skin in the game.” I don’t necessarily mean financial investment, although that’s important, but to me it’s more important that the leadership is personally invested emotionally. That they are passionate about the problem they are trying to solve, driven to achieve their goal, and can inspire their team to follow them on the quest.
This also reminded me of a short story I wrote. This is a true story of persistence in the face of unexpected events, and the importance of getting out of your comfort zone every so often. I hope you enjoy the story, and see the metaphor.
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In a small community such as St. John, with approximately 4,000 year round residents, most people know each other. We had bought a small sail boat, a 1985 Beneteau First 29, which we kept on a mooring in Chocolate Hole. Between buying the boat, and joining the St. John Yacht Club (primarily a social club, but they do hold a few races each season), everyone else in the sailing community became aware of who we were, especially those who also had boats moored in Chocolate Hole. It was still a surprise when early one summer morning I got a call from another boat owner, Henry Mongie.
It was not yet 6 am but already light out. It was also pouring rain, with the wind blowing and the sky filled with gray and black clouds. I picked up the phone.
“Stan, this is Henry Mongie calling. So sorry to bother you at this hour, but you have a dinghy in Chocolate Hole, right?”
“Yes” I replied, not really awake and still wondering why he was calling.
“Okay, well you need to get down there. Meet me there in 5 minutes.”
“Henry, there’s an awful storm blowing out there. What’s going on?!”
“We have no time to lose! Impala has come off her mooring and is headed to St. Croix!”
I was still a bit groggy, and trying to take all this in, but I knew that Impala was Henry’s sailboat.
“Uhh, okay Henry. Give me a few minutes. I’ll see you down there.”
I jumped out of bed, threw on some shorts, flip flops and a long sleeve tee shirt. Elise said “what’s going on? Where are you going?”
“That was Henry Mongie. Impala came off the mooring and he wants to use our dinghy. I’m going down there to start it up for him. I’ll be back shortly.” With that I headed out into the rain. The dogs had no interest in following me. They knew better than to head out into a rainstorm.
I ran up to the kitchen and grabbed the keys to the Jeep, and then out to the driveway. The rain was really pouring down at this point, with a little river flowing down our driveway. Nonetheless I drove the short ride down to the beach where Henry was waiting. “Do you see her faintly out there in the distance?” Henry said, pointing to the south. I really didn’t see anything at first, but after straining a bit I could see a boat bobbing way out beyond the head of the harbor. I had no idea how far it was, but the rain was driving sideways at this point and we were both already soaked.
“Come on, let’s go” said Henry.
“What do you mean ‘Let’s go’?”
“I can’t go alone. You need to drive the dinghy while I grab the boat.”
“Well shouldn’t we call someone and tell them what we’re doing?”
“There’s no time, Stan. She’ll be lost at sea if we don’t get going NOW.”
Henry was born in South Africa. While in college he and a band of friends had decided they could no longer live under apartheid, and designed and built a boat so they could leave – having never designed, built or sailed a boat before. They sailed up the western coast of South Africa and then turned to cross the Atlantic. Following the old slave trading route, these refugees first encountered land in Venezuela, and then made their way north from island to island up the chain of eastern Caribbean islands.
When they got to St John Henry had decided that he had found paradise, and stayed behind to build a house and a new life there. That was forty years prior, around 1960. Henry was a wonderful man to simply sit with, have a drink, and hear stories about what the world was like back in those days. He had survived a lot more threatening situations than the one we were looking at, so I decided “okay, let’s go.”
We jumped in the dinghy, I pulled the cord to start the outboard, and threw it into gear. Off we went straight into the driving rain, squinting to see where we were going. In spite of the rain it wasn’t that tough at first, but as we exited Chocolate Hole the seas turned pretty rough, with rolling waves at four or five feet. It felt like we were in a washing machine, and I held on tight to the rope line of the dinghy.
As scared as I was, I knew I had to stay focused. My adrenaline kicked in at full force, and I tried to hold on, stay calm, and keep the dinghy moving towards Impala. Slowly but surely she started to come into clearer view. I didn’t dare turn around to see how far away from shore we were. We finally came up alongside the boat, both of us bobbing in the rough seas. Henry stood up, grabbed onto one of Impala’s railings, and when one of the rolling waves lifted the dinghy he jumped for it and pulled himself aboard.
Now I was sitting in this dinghy alone, bobbing in 100 foot deep water, in the midst of a storm. My worst nightmare come true. “Stan, throw me a line” Henry yelled. I tried to move forward in the dingy to grab the line without letting go of the rope I was holding onto for fear of getting tossed into the sea. I finally was able to grab the rope, coil up enough length, and toss it to Henry as we both bobbed up and down. Henry caught the rope, tied it to the boat, and then motioned to me to come aboard. I gingerly moved forward, making sure to keep at least one hand holding a rope, and then watched and waited for the right sequence of waves such that the dinghy would raise when Impala fell.
“Come on Stan!” Henry yelled with urgency. At some point I just needed to take a chance, so with the next set of waves I let go of my safety rope, grabbed the boat’s railing with one hand, got my foot up and pushed off the dinghy. I made it. We both scrambled inside the cabin and out of the rain. Soaking wet and exhausted, I turned to Henry and asked “Henry – does the motor work?”
“I don’t know” he calmly replied. “I haven’t turned it on in months.”
Just great. Now we were out at sea in a storm, possibly with no motor. I suppose I could get back in the dinghy and try to tow us into Chocolate Hole. That’s when I first looked back and saw how far out we had come. I really hoped I wouldn’t have to get back in that dinghy. Henry opened the hatch to the engine compartment and spent maybe ten minutes fiddling around while I just waited and tried to stay calm. The rolling waves didn’t bother me at all. There was nothing we were going to bump into.
Finally I heard the sound I was hoping for, as the engine kicked in. Henry emerged from the compartment, went to the helm, threw her into gear and turned us back towards Chocolate Hole. In less than an hour we were back at the mooring, secured the boat, and motored the dinghy back to shore. The wind was still blowing hard and the rain pounding, but I was calm, and even a bit elated. We had literally just ventured out into a storm to rescue a boat and made it back to shore safely.
It’s hard to describe the sense of satisfaction and the general confidence that experience gave me going forward. Facing my greatest fear directly, and saving Henry’s boat, was an experience I’ll never forget. It showed me what I was capable of doing under extreme pressure. There were many times later in my business career where it felt as if things were not going well, the clock was ticking, and the future of the business was on the line. We needed to focus our thoughts, think out of the box, take some risk, leverage our relationships, and get the job done. I needed to rely on the same mindset I had when going after that boat.