Sweaty Guy at the Gym—What Does a Consultant Do?

I recently authored the following article, which will be published this month in the NWPPA Bulletin, a utility industry trade publication. While targeting utilities, it really applies to almost any situation where external expertise is invited in. For example, I see this at churches all the time. I hope you enjoy it and find a grain of truth in it. Comments are appreciated.

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Perhaps you've heard this one:

What's a consultant? A guy who borrows your watch to tell you what time it is.

One can assume the intention of this joke is to color consultants as people lacking integrity and usefulness, but it also suggests that we already possess the knowledge and tools required to tell the time. So why do we need somebody from the outside? Why can't we read our own watch? Let me respond by introducing you to a simple analogy: the Sweaty Guy at the Gym.

A number of years ago, my wife became an AFAA-certified fitness instructor to qualify for a job opportunity. The certification process was rigorous. It required in-depth knowledge of anatomy and exercise physiology as well as practical application of group exercise. Once certified, she knew a heck of a lot more about physical fitness than I did.

Today, when she and I visit the gym together, she’ll occasionally point out when I use incorrect technique or suggests another approach to achieve better results. My response is consistent: “leave me alone and let me work out.” Yes, she’s probably right, but I didn't ask for her advice.

Now, if I’m working out and a personal trainer (the proverbial sweaty guy at the gym) comments on my technique, I listen intently. I immediately put his advice into practice, occasionally glancing at him for approval. His guidance given may be identical to that provided by my wife, yet I'm more apt to receive it if delivered by this relative unknown. Why would I dismiss the expertise I have at hand for the opinion of a relative stranger?

We have a tendency, in both our personal and professional lives, to marginalize, distrust, or ignore the knowledge and experience we already have at hand. The result is the inability to “read our own watch”

So how is this inability manifested and how will the Sweaty Guy help me with it? Let’s explore a few scenarios.

What Do You Know?

If you spend enough time with a person, you make assumptions about their capabilities, their knowledge, and their limitations. You create a profile of them and view everything they do through a filter colored by it. You may respect their mastery of engineering, but what do they know about project management?

At utility A, a mid-level manager attempted on numerous occasions to expose issues with a software implementation project. She had extensive experience in her background which her current position did not suggest. Her concerns were ignored, and the project experienced significant delays, cost overruns, and resulted in an unusable product. It was ultimately considered a failure and was scrapped.

The Sweaty Guy doesn’t enter the scene with the same baggage. The team begins the engagement with the understanding that he is an expert, and is predisposed to listen. The Sweaty Guy arrives without preconceptions and is prepared to consider all viewpoints. He can validate an opinion and re-present it to your team in a way that is digestible.

I Don’t Trust You

Utility B started their project three times. Each time, it failed to produce the desired result. One simple reason: they didn't trust each other. The team was made up of managers, each representing their own departments. They assumed their peers could not be objective and would place their personal needs above those of the organization. They questioned each other’s motives and, therefore, could not agree on priorities, scope, or goals. They each held tightly to their position and refused to budge for fear that it would mean relinquishing something valuable. Stalemate.

The Sweaty Guy is viewed as impartial, because he doesn’t have a stake in the game. His job is to work with the team to understand individual needs and interpret where they align with organizational objectives. The Sweaty Guy actually gives the team members the freedom to make a case for themselves. He can then help present the case to senior management anonymously, without personal or political baggage.

I Can’t Tell You

Have you ever been asked a question that is difficult or awkward to answer? There are times when an uncomfortable truth needs to be communicated but isn’t for fear of retribution or damaging a relationship.

At utility C, they were limping along with an out-dated and ineffective billing system. It was universally recognized the system needed to be replaced. Unfortunately, the system was the “baby” of a well-respected and much-adored manager, and no one wanted to be the one to tell him his baby was ugly. So no one did.

My wife may not be willing to tell me that I've packed on a few pounds over the holidays, but the Sweaty Guy will. It's his job. The Sweaty Guy is a temporary resource without long-term personal or professional relationships to protect. He acts as your intermediary, a confidant to whom you can reveal those politically sensitive yet incredibly important truths. They need to be heard if you have any hope of moving forward.

I’m Too Busy

Like it or not, projects that are supported solely with internal employees are frequently put on the back burner. It's even worse if the project lacks executive sponsorship and a strong, respected project manager. If the utility doesn't actively support the project, people will find other ways to be busy—they all have regular jobs.

Utility D attempted several times to facilitate their own software selection, using an IT resource as the lead. Though recognized for his technology expertise, he wielded no administrative power. Stakeholders did not participate, and he was left to produce most of the deliverables with little or no input from the business. The project went nowhere. Bring in the Sweaty Guy…

There is a certain accountability that comes with a project led by the Sweaty Guy. You value his time. A company that is willing to pay for expertise communicates that it takes the initiative seriously—this isn’t just another reboot of the same project. People get excited. Team members show up to meetings.

Wrap Up

Ideally, we hope that our corporate culture provides an environment where all voices are heard and all perspectives are considered. We should certainly be working to that end. But we also need to recognize cultural change doesn’t happen overnight. We can’t take a time out—we need to continue to perform and serve our customers.

Yes, you would prefer your business to be self-sufficient. You would rather not rely on outside expertise. Until we get to that point, however, there is a place in this world for that Sweaty Guy at the Gym. You may occasionally need to hand your watch to that consultant!

Joe Brookhouse, PMP

Joe Brookhouse is consulting team manager for Accent Business Services. He is careful to shower prior to consulting engagements. Please visit www.accent-inc.com to learn where to send your watch.

Vicky Beeching and I Invade the Hood To Coast

In about six hours, I’m going to be hitting the road for my first leg of the Hood to Coast, the largest relay in the world. When all is said and done, my team of twelve will have run 197 miles in less than 30 hours of non-stop running. Of those, I am responsible for nearly 18.

So at approximately 9.30pm, I will step out of the van, warm up, stretch, and queue up Eternity Invades by Vicky Beeching on my player. You see, throughout my training for the relay, Eternity Invades has been my jogging soundtrack. When I head out the door, I queue it up on Rhapsody and let it play.

My introduction to this album fell fairly quickly upon my return from the All About Worship Retreat (www.worshipretreat.org). At first, I just wanted an excuse to listen to the album and evaluate it without too many distractions. But it wasn’t too long before it was my album-of-choice for personal worship. I was ripe for an album of worship music that had a depth of lyrical content and authenticity – this one fit the bill.

Eternity Invades offers at least three anchor songs: Deliverer, Breath of God, and Glory to God Forever. I found that I gravitated towards these tracks and looked forward to their location in the queue. Deliver was especially motivating as I climbed that awful one-mile hill.

In the midst of my listening, Break Our Hearts became my theme song. It’s a challenge to Christians to step beyond platitudes and to move into action. For me, it is a constant reminder to live the life I have dedicated to Christ and that faith is not a bumper sticker.

Vicky is great at pulling scriptural references into songs without making them unnecessarily heavy. In other words, you don’t feel bludgeoned with clumsy, inelegant lyrics. As such, one can easily visualize many of these tracks making their way into your worship set.

Now before I sound too “rah rah!” about the album, it’s not perfect. Sonically, it can be sometimes difficult to differentiate one song from another - I’d like to hear stronger hooks. I’d like the production to step outside the standard fare. I think Vicky’s songs deserve production as unique as she is. Maybe she can talk to the guys who produced Joel Augé’s recent offering, Invisible Things, another album I’ll be queuing up for my 6:30am 7-miler tomorrow morning.

If you don’t own Eternity Invades, do yourself a favor and pick it up. You could do much worse, and I expect that you’ll come away inspired. In the meantime, if you’re awake tonight at 10.15pm, as I’m entering the fifth mile of my leg, consider saying a quick prayer for me. I’ll be worshiping with Vicky on a dark road with 12,000 runners, hands raised in the air.

Worship Leader As Victim

I've continued to track Integrity Music as they attempt to recruit Review Bloggers. I submitted my information for consideration a couple of weeks ago. They indicate they will respond to your application within 24 hours. I haven't received a response yet. I was beginning to feel rejected and ignored. Rather than follow up on it, however, I decided to just play the passive-aggressive and do nothing.

Today, though, just a few minutes after returning from a particularly productive and satisfying workout, I decided to see if anything interesting had changed with my access to Blog Worship. A few random clicks seemed to suggest that nothing had changed. In fact, nothing had changed.

What I did notice, though, was a small but significant typo in the profile information I provided. My blog's URL was off by one letter. The word "site" was inadvertently spelled "sute". I'm guessing that the good folks at Integrity Music found nothing waiting for them at http://nobloginsute.blogspot.com. Not much for them to do but wait for me to make that correction. I expect they will have better luck now…

Something for all of us to consider: it's much easier to wring our hands and shake our fists in the air than take control of our situation. It's easy to point the finger at others than to accept responsibility for our actions (or inactions). As worship leaders, it's very easy to play the Victim card. I have done it very well myself.

Over the number of years I have led worship, I have constantly struggled for acceptance from my congregation. It has been very easy to criticize perceived narrow-mindedness and the romanticism of traditional worship. What hasn't been easy (and has been slow for me to realize) is the significant role I play in the lackluster reception.

Let me equate it with food.

I love pizza. Done well, pizza can be extreme, beautiful artistry. Now, just because I love pizza doesn't mean I love ALL pizza. A poorly made pie is cause for some (melodramatic) grief.

All too frequently, I have delivered sub-par pizza to my congregation. There are plenty of people who aren't pizza fans, and regardless of how well it is prepared, they will not enjoy it. But there are also a great number of pizza lovers that would gladly indulge if the product were of a certain standard.

My worship team is great. And our music is very good. The quality of leadership, unfortunately, has been inconsistent. In case you weren't already aware, I am the leader.

Recognizing that I have been a weak link, I have consciously focused on honing my skills as a leader of worship over the past nine months. I am only now truly beginning to see the fruits of my labor.

God requires my best, and it is time for me to step up and ensure He receives it. Will you do the same with me?

Introducing “How He Loves” to the Folded Arm Ministry

I suppose there has been plenty spoken about John Mark McMillan's song "How He Loves". Many folks have been fixated on the "sloppy wet kiss" vs. "unforeseen kiss" controversy. I understand why – it's provocative language that is often left to a listener's interpretation.

In leading worship for my youth group, "How He Loves" (sloppy wet version) is a treasured, oft-requested song. Our youth director actually used the song as the basis for a sermon series for our youth worship time. Until yesterday, I had not presented this song to my congregation.

I have recently unfairly represented a section of my congregation as the "folded arm ministry". The suggestion is that they are closed to contemporary worship music and cross their arms in an illustration of their disapproval. While there is a grain of truth here, one could argue that their worship leader has not always presented songs in a manner that permits them to appreciate the songs.

During the summer months, our choirs (handbells, chancel, and worship) go on hiatus. We sing our three hymns, accompanied by organ, but the anthem is offered by a congregant in the form of "special music". I was tagged to provide special music yesterday (Sunday, June 27).

My wife encouraged me to sing "How He Loves". I was skeptical. She argued that, because it is important to the youth, it should be shared with the congregation. They should understand that our youth group doesn't just gather, play games, and plan on new ways to spend the church's money – our youth regularly and thoughtfully worships. She was right – she's usually right (don't tell her I said so, or I'll deny it).

Last week, as I traveled for work, I spent the evening time in my hotel room working on the song. I did something different this time, though. I dedicated a large chunk of time to considering and practicing my introduction for the song. In my opinion, "How He Loves" is a great song, and to just "dump" it in their laps would be unfair both to them and to the song.

So yesterday morning, I took the stage, picked up my guitar, and adjusted the microphone. I greeted the church. I introduced the song. I spoke about the All About Worship roundtable discussion last Fall where I first learn of "that" song. I told them about Jared Anderson's beautiful cover from his "Live At My Church" album, the version I shared with our youth director. I described introducing the song to the youth group and the importance of the song to their worship time. I prepared them to hear "sloppy wet kiss" by providing context. I encouraged them to not shy from the lyric but to embrace the intent. Finally, I played the song…

I had to fight the urge to cry when I sang the first line…"And He is jealous for me". I was already overcome and fully engaged in worship. I had to continue to remind myself to worship horizontally and to include the congregation. I had to step away from the microphone as I belted "We are His portion, and He is our prize". Blood rushed to my head as it only does when I feel a distinct and visceral connection with God and with my fellow believers.

When the infamous kiss lyric came, I didn't shy away, but I did take an extra moment to observe the reaction. No shock. No folded arms. No heads shaking in disapproval. Instead, people were nodding. People were engaged in worship. I invited them to sing the chorus with me as the song was winding down. And they did.

I played the final chord and thanked the congregation. I placed my guitar back in the stand, turned the volume down on the pedal, and took my place in the house next to my wife. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. I didn't understand why, but I suspected it had something to do with the song.

After the service, I was approached by a number of people of all ages. Many were people who have been openly critical of contemporary worship music in the past. They thanked me for sharing. They remarked on what a beautiful song it was. One gentleman commented, "It was nice you finally let yourself go". I didn't get a chance to ask him what he meant, but I think I know: I had stopped apologizing and just worshipped, honestly and openly. And it was contagious.

Later that day, as Vanessa and I were going about our Sunday errands, I asked her why she appeared upset when the song was over. She replied with something that I found extraordinarily kind. She commented that she felt had just witnessed a glimpse of our future. She felt she had just participated in a real worship experience, led by her husband. She no longer doubts that this is my calling. We held hands.

The Deterioration of Quality

A few months ago, while flying to Dallas as part of my day job, I found myself sitting next to a fellow believer. We spoke at length about our faith and our respective congregations. For the majority of the flight, however, we spoke with great passion about the general mediocrity of Christian artistic output and the attending apparent lack of discernment among Christian consumers.

What do I mean? It is my opinion that we, intentionally or not, tend to lower the bar when it comes to assessing Christian music, literature, and film. We are disposed to hold Christian artists to a different, lower standard. We often choose to consume an inferior product merely because it bears the "Christian" moniker.

I am part of the problem. I am not an exception. I am probably one of the worst offenders.

When I have a personal or emotional stake in a person, I will exhibit a greater tolerance for an average or substandard performance. I reward these people with praise beyond what their work warrants.

Because I am guilty of this myself, I find it difficult to accept commendation from other believers. I believe most will error on the side of "being nice". So how, in this environment, do I judge whether my efforts are truly worthy of their compliment?

Thankfully, I have friends that I trust to speak truth to me – friends who will, in an honest and loving manner, tell me exactly what they think. I don't always like to hear it, but I'd prefer a difficult truth over well-meaning insincerity.

I wonder: do we validate or affirm out of fear of being perceived as unkind or un-Christian? Or have we become so cloistered within our safe, spiritual world that we can no longer judge between excellence and the "just OK"?

I fear that, in an attempt to appear polite and supportive, we fail to temper and refine our art. By neglecting to critique, in an honest and loving manner, we promote a culture that endorses a continuous and accelerating deterioration of quality. When we avoid speaking truth, we not only hinder an artist's growth, we diminish and call into question the abilities of his peers.

Do you agree that this is an issue? Have you witnessed a lack of discernment at your church, in your ministry? How do you suggest we "right the ship" and rededicate ourselves to excellence?

Day 5: Discouragement and My Daughter (#215800)

Wednesday morning, 7.47am. Writing my 800 words. I ended yesterday feeling disappointed and discouraged – all for reasons well within my control. Will I do better today? I hope so. My resolve, in so many things, melts away much too quickly.

I finished reading 2 Kings today. I wasn’t ready to jump into Chronicles yet. I decided to rewind and go back to reading Genesis and work my way back to Samuel. They’ll get to Chronicles again. I’m looking forward to reading Ezra and Nehemiah. Love the Biblical history, but the violence – I tell ya’. They were some killing people. I found some comfort in seeing how the struggle to remain faithful is a universal one. Even our great Biblical heroes, David and Solomon, had some monumental screw ups. There is hope for me yet.

Started listening to the new series at Willamette Christian Church this morning via podcast. Their pastor, Joel Dombrow, is speaking about doubt. What a timely subject for me. Appreciated his discussion of the three kinds of believers: the simple-minder believer, the scientist, and the skeptic. I admit that I generally straddle the scientist and the skeptic. But I’m a seeking, hopeful skeptic. I want to believe and I want the roadblocks to belief (doubt) removed. But it is human to doubt. I suppose that my lack of follow-through may have something to do with my little faith and how I’m impacted by doubt.

OK, at this point, I’m finding myself to be uninspired. There are a lot of things to write about, but I’m afraid many of them aren’t interesting enough or are too ambitious for the space of these 800 words. Both assume that somebody might be reading this. I should let that go. Not only is no one reading this, but the point is to write – not to write for an audience. Let’s try again.

Marisa is earning a D- in two classes. This frustrates me to no end; however, I’m also aware that the very reason she’s struggling (missing assignments) is the thing that challenges me at work. Sometimes we just don’t WANT to do the work and will go to any length to find something else to work on. Still, we supported her as she studied for one of the finals, Marine Biology. She felt confident before and after the final. Mathematically speaking, there is a chance she can pull that grade up to a C. I hope so. We’ve worked hard with her on her study skills and homework. We let up on the reins some in this past semester - something that we really need to do. She needs to start taking responsibility. Yet I can’t completely let go. In the other class, English, she was missing a lot of assignments as well. Thankfully, the teacher was kind enough to allow her to turn her missing assignments in for full credit. Very generous. She actually has the potential to bring her grade up to a B. I’m hopeful…

Marisa also received her learner’s permit on Saturday. She is so exciting and anxious about driving. I’ve let her drive quite a bit in the past four days. I’ve decided to make her a deal, though. She needs to work out on any day that she wants to drive. If you’re wondering why, here’s the scoop. Marisa, when she gets bored and has time on her hands, tends to eat…a lot. Yesterday, for example, she made herself a lunch of chicken wings and French fries. She gained a lot of weight last summer when she was bored and alone at home. Therefore, I’m trying to leverage her excitement about driving to get her to be more active. She’s a little annoyed by it, but she understands that this stipulation is borne out of our desire for her to be healthier.

I’m ridiculously proud of my daughter. I’m so blessed that she was able to move in with us last year. I know that she continues to struggle with the changes that led her to change households. Her relationship with her mom is strained. There is little enthusiasm for visiting Mindy’s (her mom’s) house anymore. I would like to give credit to Jason, Mindy’s husband, for being the peacemaker and the bridge to keep the chasm from widening further. He picks her up at the start of weekend and ensures that she gets to her games, whether soccer or rugby. Yesterday, Marisa and I texted about her relationship with her mom. While it would be easy for her to dismiss her mom and allow that relationship to whither, she isn’t ready to do that. I’m glad that she’s not. I’m not a huge fan of Mindy, but I encourage Marisa to stay connected with her. That relationship is much too important to ignore it.

Day 4: Behind Schedule (#215800)

I haven’t written for several days. No excuse. I allowed other, less important things to distract me. In fact, my output for Friday and Monday (last two business days) was just poor. I know better, but I continue to let myself be taken off tasks, saying to myself that I can catch up. And then I find myself under the gun and swearing that I won’t allow myself to get there again. I’m back on today. It might take 30 minutes to write this morning, but at least I will have something accomplished that I can hang my hat on.

I’m all about ritual. Must be something about being raised Catholic (love Catholic mass, by the way). I appreciate when I’m able to build myself a ritual that is not boring but stable. I suppose that’s been part of my struggle since Sammy was born and Marisa moved in. I wouldn’t change the opportunity for anything, but it has been awfully difficult to establish a ritual for myself. I mind that I’m just jamming activities into whatever time slot I can find, ignoring any rhyme or rhythm. And more than infrequently, I’m choosing activities that really don’t benefit me at all. They just allow my mind to shut down. While there is a time and place for mindless activities, I almost always regret them. I reflect on the things that I wish I had been doing, the things I always say I want to do but never have the time.

So this is my current morning ritual – not perfect but certainly predictable and comforting. My alarm goes off at 5.00am. Much too early for most people (and for me, frankly). I don’t snooze. I get up, grab a t-shirt, underwear, and my phone and head to the bathroom. I brush my teeth with my SonicCare toothbrush. I leave the water running so that it can get warm in advance of my shower. During my two-minute tooth cleansing, I catch up on email and Twitter. Then it’s shower time. Soap, shampoo, and prayer. Seems like a good place to start my praying. I dry off, shave, and then head downstairs.

Downstairs, I prepare Sammy’s morning milk with vitamin drops, fill-up Vanessa’s and my coffee cups, and feed the dogs. I’m predictable when it comes to food, too. Currently, I’m enjoying maple and brown sugar shredded wheat. I was using whole milk, because that’s what Sammy uses, but this week I switched back to skim. Not as satisfying but healthier.

I return upstairs and eat breakfast while I read the Bible on my phone. Vanessa wakes up at 5.48am. I take a break from reading to chat with her before she jumps into the shower. I’ll set out clothes for myself and Sammy, then go back to reading. When Vanessa finishes her shower, I’ll iron my clothes. Sammy wakes up around 6.30am. I give his bottle, change his diaper, and get him dressed. He and I cuddle for a few minutes before the family goes downstairs (Marisa is awake by this time). We all pack lunches. I give everyone individual hugs and, at around 7am, I walk out the door to start my day.

Over the weekend, I began to consider that in about a month, I will be at Great Wolf Lodge with my family and my best friend’s family. It’s a water park. I will be in my swimsuit most of the time. I have not been getting to the gym on a regular basis, choosing instead to occupy myself with mindless activities (see above). I’ve decided that I need to use my fear of looking flabby in public as motivation for refocusing on fitness. I did a short bike ride on Sunday with Sammy. Pretty short, but better than doing nothing. Yesterday, I did good. I made it to the gym. I ran two miles on the treadmill, completing in just under 15 minutes, which I feel pretty good about. I expect I could’ve gone another mile, but I planned on running when I got home. I did some weights to complete my workout. When I got home, I changed into workout clothes, strapped on my new running shoes and socks, and hit the road. I put in three miles. A short road run, but combined with my treadmill work, I ran five miles yesterday. I’ll have to up that mileage significantly if I’m going to avoid torture on the Hood To Coast in August.

I’m currently sitting at my desk at work, laptop between me and door, listening to the Glee soundtrack. They are singing U2’s “One”. Great song. I love these guys, but they aren’t doing the song justice. I remember how important that album (“Achtung Baby”) was to me during my lonely times in the early ‘90s. I loved that song “Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses”. Reminded me of my girlfriend at the time, Heather Merrifield, who turned out to be a lesbian. That’s a story for another day.

800 words in less than 30 minutes, interrupted only by the mindless activity of playing Mafia Wars on Facebook. I have REAL work to do now.

I love you, Lord. Please help me focus today, on you and on being a man of integrity.