Help that helps

I have been a teller of uncomfortable truths for such a long time.

Asking for help is a superpower

I don’t even remember when it started. Whether I hesitated before embarking upon this life. Whether a small, sane, sage voice within said, “This is exhausting and thankless… are we sure this is what we’re going to do for a living?”

You never get to say I told you so. Not even to yourself.

At best you are Cassandra.

At worst they don’t remember you told them so. And there is no joy in being right about something being wrong.

I was there when my CTO said public cloud was dangerous.

I was there when my CTO said open-source tooling was dangerous and, check this out: lazy.

I was there when my CBO said APIs were dangerous and not useful.

I was there when they said digital wasn’t for us… first it was not for FS at all… then it was only a problem for retail banking… then it was only a problem for IT.

I was there.

I was batting for the other side.

And it would be fair to say that our side has lost some battles but is winning the war, and has the scars to prove it.

I was there, but I don’t rub anyone’s face in it – the guys who were adamant this didn’t apply to them. What’s the value in that? But I do occasionally have to refer back. Not to remind myself but to perhaps remind others that we’ve been here before. In this place of denial and resistance.

It’s no use, though.

It doesn’t help.

You know what helps? Help. Help helps.

Since going independent, I find there are two types of organisations that reach out to me.

The first have decided they need help with something.

They have decided I am the person they want help from.

And then they accept the help.

It’s bliss. It’s balm. It’s creative and energising and wonderful.

And, incidentally, accepting the help doesn’t mean doing what they are told. They don’t always take my advice. They often don’t even ask for advice as such. They ask for perspective.

And they listen and reflect.

Even if they don’t do the thing I suggested, what they will do will be more considered as a result of listening and reflecting. The listening and reflecting is as much their work as the doing, and I am honoured to be part of the journey.

Honoured and humbled, because this is hard work.

The second kind know they have a problem largely because they have a diagnosis. Plummeting share price, aggravated client feedback, resignations in droves, uncomfortable employee engagement verbatims in the engagement survey, an inability to deploy capital in a way that doesn’t always leave them out of pocket, panting their way to a finish line that just moved as the trend they backed falters and dies and another one takes its place and the race starts again.

And they explain all this to me, usually with humility and self-awareness.

And then I play it back just to test the language we are comfortable using and the reaction is visceral.

No, no, no, no. We don’t actually have those problems. It’s not as bad as that. You don’t understand.

My old boss used to say, “You are not allowed to tell me my ginger baby shouldn’t wear pink. Only I am allowed to say it.”

He didn’t have a ginger baby, but he had a valid point.

Not about what ginger cherubs should wear. They should wear whatever they want. They are the cutest things around. But about the fact that even if you believe something to be true, you may not want to hear it said by anyone else.

The reality is… I can still help. Even if I am not allowed to repeat back what you just said. There are always ways.

Weirdly, there is a lot of job satisfaction in navigating this landscape.

I know it’s learned behaviour I can’t unlearn after decades of corporate life. But I have a lot of sympathy for this. I know how it goes. So I can help dance around certain words and certain issues and certain… truths.

I also know this.

Asking for help is a superpower.

Putting the work into identifying where the help… would help… and the right person to deliver it is immensely difficult and valuable work.

If I have the honour of being the person you ask for help (big or small) then it is incumbent upon me to find a way to be helpful. And that does mean helping navigate the realities you inhabit. If there is a defensiveness in your organisation, that’s part of the deal. Working around the baby wardrobe choice sensitivities, so to speak, is part of the deal. And I accept that.

And you probably accept that I will suggest the baby is cute beyond words in anything and maybe that is not the problem here.

Asking for help is a superpower.

Reflecting on advice is selective work. You are not committed to anything you are told just because you asked.

You just need to listen. And reflect. And act. And reflect.

And that is not once-off heroic stuff. That is constant, consistent, patient work.

And it will be uncomfortable.

Change always is.

Accepting you need to change is hard. But it’s the beginning of the journey, not the end.

And the person or persons invited to help can only share the journey and the load. It’s still your journey, your load.

So the uncomfortable truth of the day is: it is brave to ask for help. It is brave to know you need it and accept you can’t do all and know all and go all the way alone.

It is a braver thing still, once you have bravely asked for help, to accept it.

#LedaWrites

Leda Glyptis is FinTech Futures’ resident thought provocateur – she leads, writes on, lives and breathes transformation and digital disruption.

She is a recovering banker, lapsed academic and long-term resident of the banking ecosystem. 

Leda is also a published author – her first book, Bankers Like Us: Dispatches from an Industry in Transition, is available to order here.

All opinions are her own. You can’t have them – but you are welcome to debate and comment!

Follow Leda on X @LedaGlyptis and LinkedIn.