It’s been quiet here for a while. We’ll see if that changes at some point. Meanwhile, you can visit my fairly new Mastodon profile.

I recently spent a couple of days in lectures on innovation and motivational leadership. I didn’t tell them my very simple, very secret and definitely hyper-effective method: bake’em a cake!



Vacationing in northern Norway is a risky venture if you’re looking for sunny, warm weather, and this year, it seems we’re getting our fair share of rain and wind, usually as the local specialty, the “Horizontal Rain” combo.

So imagine our delight when the rains let up this evening and we caught a glimpse of this round, shiny thing in the sky that we’d almost forgotten the name of (and before you ask: yes, sunny summer evenings are completely natural up here north of the Arctic Circle. That is, as long as the aforementioned horizontal rain doesn’t get in the way) Out we go, taking the kids for a late stroll along one of the local farm roads. After a little while, the kids start pulling me by the arm saying “Daddy, can we walk to the top of that hill?”


I make a quick assessment. This is a 350 m / 1000 ft hill, and with the legs of a five and a seven year old, the round trip would take a couple of hours along wet, largely unmarked trails. Not the kind of thing you feel enthusiastic about as a parent when the usual bed time is less than an hour away and you know that the kids have had a busy day. I picture having to carry two exhausted and crying children through the woods, so I lay out all the strong and obvious reasons why we can’t do it tonight. “You will be so exhausted that you won’t be able to walk back down” … “We don’t have the right clothes and shoes on for this” … “We didn’t bring anything to eat in case you get hungry” …

No response. Just a couple of backs getting smaller as the two stubborn little creatures start walking away from me into the woods. Well, I have no choice but to follow them.

Half an hour later, as we are about to start on the steepest part of the climb, I launch another offensive, restating my objections in my usual “Daddy knows best” tone of voice. I even consider throwing in a “there are mountain trolls up there”, but think the better of it at the last minute. Again, no luck, and before I catch my breath, I have to run for a bit to catch up.

After another half hour and a couple more halfhearted attempts to make the kids see that they really aren’t able to do this, this is what I see when I reach the top.


So what did I learn tonight? Apart from the observation that this performance on my part doesn’t qualify me for a Nobel Prize in parenting, I learned that I should spend a lot less of my energy on telling people why something can’t be done. Unless something is downright impossible or dangerous, everyone will probably be better off if I spend more time thinking about how something can be done instead.

Probably just as valid in a professional setting as in family life. We’ll see if that lesson sticks until I am back from vacation in a couple of weeks…

Finally, the trip merits a few additional pictures:


A babbling brook by the trail. So beautiful that it stopped my nagging for a little while.


Just starting on the way down, and the kids are about to learn their lesson for the day: a steep descent is often both slower and tougher than the ascent.


On the way down. More horizontal rain on the way?

Why Change Management Matters

Our family of five needs more space, and we’d really like to find a new house, but every time we find an interesting property advert and ask our eleven year old daughter whether this is a house she would want to move to, her gaze hardens and she gives us a hundred reasons why this won’t do. Even if it were just to the house next door, she refuses to even think about it.

Then one day, she comes home from school and tells us about a “for sale” sign in the neighborhood. And she wants to move right away! She has dreamt up long stories about how we can decorate the house, which room is going to be hers and how the big room in the basement is perfect for slumber parties. She has had a complete change of heart, and she is totally motivated for change.

In my office, I have a drawer full of little boxes of business cards. I have had eight different titles, and there are four different company logos on the cards. The only thing that hasn’t changed at all is the office address: I’ve been in the same place for thirteen years. Some of the people are the same, but my tasks and responsibilities, and just about everyone else’s, have changed radically. We’re developing something very different now, for an entirely different market, and we’ve gone from a being a tiny company of 20 engineers to being part of a multinational giant of over a hundred thousand people.

I’ve been a manager for eight of these years. It has been like being in the middle of a river of change. Sometimes I’ve been like a life guard; a big flood is washing over us, and the best I can hope for is to save as many people as possible from drowning. At other times, it is more like being in a sturdy boat: We’re sailing along, softly and quietly, and good oars and strong arms get us to where we want to go.

Calm waters ahead?

Calm waters ahead?

What is the difference? Why does change sometimes feel like an uncontrollable flooding and other times like a safe boat trip? And why did the eleven year old’s attitude change so suddenly?

I believe that a good chunk of the answer lies in two words: involvement and control. Virtually every kind of business relies to a certain degree on what is inside people’s heads, and at least in my line of business, which is absolutely dependent on unlocking people’s intellectual potential, change by decree is extremely risky. Imposing change without consultation and without the involved people having at least some sense of control over what is happening is a sure fire way of locking away a lot of that potential.

Isn’t that what happens when you feel like you are being washed away by that river: you feel paralyzed and powerless against an overwhelming force? And couldn’t that also be why the eleven year old changed her mind? She started a discussion based on something that she herself had discovered and started thinking about; yes, the basic “we need to move” didn’t come from her, but when she gained a clear sense of control over aspects of this change, her attitude turned around completely.

And for me, this is the essence of why change management matters. Wikipedia defines it as “an organizational process aimed at helping change stakeholders to accept and embrace changes in their business environment or individuals in their personal lives”. If mastered, this is what can make participants in a change process feel involved and give them some control. There are countless techniques, tools and frameworks for change management; each organization and situation may require a different approach, and different managers may take different paths towards learning about it. But take it from someone who has spent a good deal of time both in and on the water:  Do change management well, and you may be in for a rather calm boat ride. Do it badly or not at all, and you better make sure those lifebelts are within easy reach.

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