Searching for Subterranean Yellow Jackets

Every June, I begin a “fun” annual ritual: searching for subterranean yellow jackets.

It is an exercise that began four years ago, when I accidentally ran over a hidden hole with my push lawn mower. The whir of the blades and the roar of the mower's engine startled them and, by the time I had walked over the opening, a swarm shot through the air and into my shorts.

All I remember is running to the house at a seemingly breakneck speed, rushing into the bathroom and shedding everything as sting after sting set in. Twelve in all. I wrapped myself with a towel, shut the nasty creatures in the bathroom and rummaged around the house for the bug spray.

I’m sure the imagery is either comical or disturbing, but there is a lesson that I learned from the experience. Every year since, I am careful to first run a reconnaissance mission across the yard. I scout the ground for any hint of yellow jackets, identify potential holes and take care of business before I start to mow. I also wear jeans when I mow.

These are little adjustments that seem to help. Yes, I still get stung occasionally, but nowhere near as much as that first year.

The broader takeaway is that we all have setbacks: in business, life and competition. Some are more painful than others. I find that the truly successful people are those who take those setbacks, pause and reflect, and make the necessary corrections to either succeed or reduce the negative exposure. I have learned my best lessons during my setbacks.

When I was in my MBA program, I ended up on an (at times) dysfunctional team. We fought. We bickered. We actually had to ask someone to leave our group. But in the end, those who remained found a way to make things work. We learned about survival and compromise, often the hard way. When we completed the program, I would dare claim that there were members of our team who were tighter than members of the teams that seemed to have no friction.

I have tried to convey those lessons to my daughter. She plays in a weekly Pokemon league. It took me awhile to learn how to play, but I managed and we now play occasionally during the week. She hates losing. But I try to instill in her a mantra to learn from the losses and to ask herself questions. What did the other player do so well? Was there a new strategy involved? Could I have done anything different to change the outcome?

I tell my daughter that there is a lesson to be had from every single game she plays. The same is true in life.

I write all of these thoughts as I stare out at my front yard. The potential underground hazards have been marked. I am watching out for yellow jackets. The grass has been cut … and no stings yet. Wish me luck in the weeks ahead.