The Chicken Chase: Finding the Fun in Problem Solving
I was sitting in the backyard in the late afternoon, soaking in the sun after staring at the computer screen all day. There was a tentative rustling in the bushes. Great, the racoon has decided to resume his squatter status under the deck again. I looked around and didn’t see anything, so I went back to lounging. A few minutes later, an entirely different visitor materialized. A chicken stepped into view, all white with an impressive tail plume and fancy fringe feathers down its legs. She looked like Elvis, if Elvis was a hen. Her slow confident saunter and the fringe reminded me of Las Vegas Elvis, in his all white bell-bottomed jump suit. All she needed were sequins.
Elvis the chicken was nonchalantly checking out the flower bed, uncharacteristically quiet for once. My neighborhood is a suburban chicken farming haven, and one such “farmer” shares a border with my backyard. The henhouse just on the other side of the tall hedge normally emits a pretty steady commentary. Maybe Elvis knew that if she made too much noise, the field trip would be cut short. My kids emerged from the house and stood starstruck, staring at our glamorous and unexpected visitor. Big grins split their faces as they gingerly stepped closer to the chicken.
After admiring her for a few beats, they decided there was urgency in the situation. “Mom! Catch the chicken!” they hollered at me. How am I supposed to catch a chicken? “Put it in a cardboard box!” was the next command. Now, would the neighbors really want me to put this creature in a box? With a lid?! I stood there, searching my mind for the right protocols for chicken capture. “I’ll text the neighbor!” I announced, pleased to turn to technology amidst crisis. As I was texting, the backyard action began to heat up. Elvis was onto her two little super fans, ditching the slow strut for an all-out sprint towards the hedge. The kids gave chase, and the chicken popped through a hole and into another neighbor’s yard. The girls next door were home, and I heard little shrieks of delight as they greeted the visitor. “There’s a chicken in the yard!” the three-year-old announced wondrously, followed by joyful whoops from her sisters.
Coordinated efforts kicked into high gear. My kids started rooting through the hedges, calling out to their counterparts next door. “She’s over here!” “I see her!” “Send her over this way!” Their faces were alight with excitement and their little voices were nearly manic as they called out directions. Such was the racket, that the chicken farmer himself was alerted to the situation. Or maybe it was the text message. At least I could say I’d done my bit. The farmer’s son unexpectedly rolled out of the hedge into our yard. Nice trick. The three households’ kids worked in earnest to corral the chicken. Poor Elvis was no longer enjoying her day out, and now looked more like Harrison Ford in The Fugitive. Who doesn’t love that movie?! She was bobbing and weaving, seeking to confuse her would-be captors by running the circuit of hedges in four different yards. The kids stuck with her, working cooperatively to drive her towards home and the safety of the coup.
Finally, Elvis was captured and stowed away. I was informed that her name was really Iceberg, and the happy, spent kids resumed their regular programming in the back yard. It had been so much fun watching them in action, that I was a little sad it was over. They were so excited by the drama, so intent on solving the problem. They hadn’t even noticed the scratches they earned from rooting around in the bushes, or the exertion from running here and there after the chicken.
It made me think, when was the last time I approached a problem with such enthusiasm? When had I found that much fun and delight in solving a problem? This question brought to mind a big customer service team I used to provide HR support to. Some days, you’d walk through the call center floor and see a cloud covering of shiny mylar balloons floating jauntily above the rows of earth toned cubicles. The balloons were there to celebrate problems. That’s right, each person who saw a problem and submitted a process improvement idea received a balloon. It was a highly visible and important reminder of the organization’s commitment to Lean processes improvement. In order to solve problems and continuously improve, they first had to identify them. And pointing out problems in a big, structured company can be tough to do, unless you know that it will be celebrated. This team was embracing the problems and tackling problem solving in a way that sometimes looked close to the joy and fervor with which my kids chased that chicken.
When’s the last time someone brought a problem to you at work, and your face lit up with excitement? When you jumped up and down like Will Ferrell in Elf and said “Yessss! Let’s do this!” I know, I can’t say that it’s happened often for me either. But how cool would it be if it did? I want to run around and chase down a solution with the same joy and collaboration as my kids did when they rescued Elvis. Ok, Iceberg.
I’ve thought hard about how I could achieve this kind of zeal for solving problems. Do I buy myself some balloons? Pour myself a glass of celebratory champagne when a problem comes my way? Tempting, but probably inefficient. I think it comes down to reframing problems as opportunities. I can think of many examples when a big problem ended up being a chance to strengthen my relationship with a client. Often when I go through a bit of an ordeal with a colleague, I come out of it with a shared experience that strengthens the trust between us. Problems also call for creativity. Maybe not finger-painting kind of creativity, but thinking-about-doing-it-differently creativity. Trying something new can feel satisfying and empowering.
So what can you do to embrace and dare I say it enjoy problems? Here are some ideas:
Think about the last problem you solved. How did that turn out? What did you gain from it?
Consider the current problem. What’s the opportunity here? What could you gain from this problem?
If you were embracing a problem with Elf level enthusiasm, what would you be feeling, thinking, and doing? What impact would that have on you and your colleagues?
I’m not sure if it’s realistic to expect that every problem will feel as exciting as the chicken chase. But wouldn’t it be fun if some of them did?
A coach can be a great partner in thinking about how you respond to the problems that come up in your personal and professional life. For more information on coaching and what it can do for you, contact me.
