Follow Those “Funny Feelings”
Last week as I worked on my LinkedIn profile, I decided to answer a couple of the questions posted on the site for people’s ideas and feedback. I chose one which asked “What did your father teach you, that helped you in your career and your life?” and wrote the following:
My father taught best by approaching every situation with a combination of quiet empathy and dry humor. He had the ability to develop rapport with anybody in a matter of seconds, whether it was a parking lot attendant, a client, a colleague, or his prospective father-in-law. He put people at ease, made them laugh, and created instant friendships that endured for years.
I strive for this kind of relaxed, confident communication in my own life. Whether I am buying groceries, making a business call, or approaching a new group of people, I think of my dad and how he always found a simple comment that bridged difference, soothed conflict, and made everyone feel that they were on the same side.
It was all true, but there was something funny about it: I had written it in past tense, as though my father were no longer alive. True, at 81 he was long since retired, but it seemed odd that I had written it that way. I tried to change it, but a part of me resisted, so I let it be. Four days later, he died suddenly from a massive coronary.
As my family gathers to deal with his death, several of us have shared similar stories—call them premonitions, hunches, intuitions—which gave us a moment of preparation for the shock of his departure. I am reminded of a client of mine who fights fires, and said that in his training he was always instructed to follow his “funny feelings,” which often warned of dangers that weren’t immediately apparent.
I think it is good advice no matter what field we are in. Those moments where we find ourselves compelled to do something that seems odd but feels right, are a chance to connect our inner knowing with our outer actions. They can save our life, and help prepare us for unexpected turns in the road ahead. These hunches can appear in our dreams as well as in waking life. In a year fraught with uncertainties, the good news is that we have more help than we imagine.
My father taught me to work hard. He taught me how to instill loyalty in those people who I supervise. He taught me that work is important.
He also taught me (by observation) that work is NOT everything, work is not worth killing myself for, that work is NOT my identity and that doing a good job instead of being the best is ok sometimes. He taught me that family should not be put at risk because of work.
I am a lot like my father. I am the main bread winner in my home, but I am the mom. I am easily stressed by my job and I bring my job worries home with me way too much. My father died before his 65th birthday. I hope to live longer.