Being Heard

“Don’t you people have an office you can use? This is our space”, a spritely resident goaded us.

My colleague and I were sitting in one of the communal areas of a residential aged care facility taking with someone from head office about a project we’re working on. Being contractors we are used to being mobile
and working wherever we can find space.

Before having a chance to respond with anything more than a smile, she continued. “I’m sick of head office sending people down here and coming into our space and not treating it like our home”. She proceeded to tell us about how ridiculous it was that they’d changed the toothpaste to smaller sized tubes that ran out quickly and resulted in more waste. She spoke of her disappointment that the window cleaning contractors had changed. The friendly family team had been replaced by disrespectful buffoons. She berated us, maintaining a wry smile throughout.

Eventually we got the opportunity to tell her we weren’t actually from head office, we were pharmacists. And we would happily find somewhere else to sit. The woman who was from head office responded with a sympathetic ear and connected her with someone local to register her complaints officially. I asked of her name and suggested we come find her at some stage to talk to her about medicines. She was clearly a systems thinker and sure to have an ideas about what could be improved. She seemed delighted by this. “I used to be a nurse” she said as she walked away with a smile.

We passed her again later that day. This time we were doing the walking and she was sitting in the communal area preparing to listen to a performance of Christmas carols. She nudged the woman sitting next to her. “I told these guys off before. They’re alright”, she said with a smirk.

She gave us a good reminder that day. We are in their home and we should be respectful of that. We still use communal areas to work, but we make sure we ask the residents for permission now.


There are some ads that just speak to you. For me, it’s the Finish ad that has a montage of images of dirty dishes that monotonously says dishes…dishes…DISHES. It speaks to my dread and long standing hatred of this daily chore. The challenge for me is that I equally can’t stand dirty dishes accumulating next to the sink, so it’s a chore that fits in the non-negotiable list.

When I met my partner, this issue seemed to resolve itself. I cooked, he cleaned up. He even kind of enjoyed it. This was something I found bizarre, but I was more than happy to leverage. Then kids happened.

Kids bring with them evening rituals, one of which is bath time after dinner. The supervision of this seemed to fit neatly in the Dad category, leaving me with the dishes. Urgh.

For a good few years I loathed this time. It was like it triggered the memory of my Dad insisting that the cleaning up occur immediately after dinner and that no, I could not let it wait until the ad breaks so I didn’t miss Neighbours. Clearly I have some unresolved issues.

Then one day I woke up in the present and discovered podcasts and audiobooks. To say it changed my life may be overstated, but it certainly had a positive impact. I started to look forward to cleaning up after dinner. Dare I say it, I even started to stretch it out to try and make it last longer.

Reflecting on this, I can see what James Clear was talking about in his book Atomic Habits was true (which incidentally, I listened to while doing the dishes). One of the ways to make an unpleasant habit stick is to link it to something that you want to do. Something that contributes to you becoming the identity you want to create for yourself. It worked. I now have a cleaner kitchen and a broader mind.

The Right Stuff

This morning at school drop off one of the kids mum’s told me how she had to get her son to rewrite his Christmas card to my daughter because he couldn’t decide if he was saying ‘to’ or ‘dear’. I laughed and responded, ‘well I don’t have a clue what my daughter wrote in the card because she wouldn’t let me look at it’. Later my overthinking brain kicked in and I wondered if I came across as being a disinterested parent, leaving my daughter to her own devices like this.

I’m not really in to writing Christmas cards, but for my daughter they still have novelty. She’s almost six and nearing the end of her first year of school, so writing in itself has still got novelty. Our Elf on the shelf isn’t a spy for Santa, he helps us do the jobs to get ready for Christmas. So when he arrived this year he came via Big W with a packet of Christmas cards and a note to my daughter advising her to be generous to her friends. (There were also some Christmassy erasers but they seem to have mysteriously gone missing).

On the weekend she set herself up on the kitchen table and got to work. She got out her class photo to spell the names correctly and she was off. I wasn’t allowed to read them, only to double check that she hadn’t missed anybody. And to find her a suitable Christmas themed bag to carry them in.

Yesterday she excitedly delivered them to all her classmates (still sans Christmassy erasers). I was with one of the other mum’s when her son got his, so I was able to sneak a look at one of the messages. “Dear Zac C. You must call me a name and it must start with a C”.

I don’t care if people judge me as being a disinterested parent for not overseeing the Christmas card messages. I don’t think there’s a right or a wrong way to write a Christmas card. Scratch that, I do think there’s a right way – to write a message that means something to you, with the recipient in mind.

Participation Award

This year my daughter participated in her first ever school sports day. The final event was the sprint. All the kids lined up in their age groups and (most of them) ran their little hearts out.  The top three got the blue, green and yellow ribbons as they crossed the finish line and everyone else got a red one that said ‘competitor’.

Situations like this almost always spark discussions amongst parents and grandparents (or more accurately, broadcast of opinions) like “kids these days need to learn how to lose!” and “what’s the point of playing if no one wins?”

You see evidence of this attitude everywhere. Reducing everything is a zero sum game – designed for one person to win, and another to lose. Supposing that your individual worth is determined by bettering an opponent. Maybe in some circumstances, perhaps this is valid. But I kind of doubt it. I’m not really one to use sporting anecdotes, but I’m pretty sure there are plenty of AFL footballers who had very fulfilling careers and never won a premiership. I would even dare to say that some of their most memorable and satisfying games were ones that they may have ended up losing, but were a well fought out match.

A guy named James Carse refers to these as finite games. These are games where there is a winner and a loser, the rules are defined, and there are a specified number of players. The game usually goes for a specified amount of time and it’s based upon a model of scarcity. But he also talks about another type of game – infinite games. In an infinite game the aim isn’t to win, it’s to keep the game going. To enjoy the experience. You are reliant on other players to keep the game going. You want the people you are playing with to be capable players, otherwise the game will end prematurely or it will all fall in a heap.

This is the subject of Simon Sinek’s latest book The Infinite Game. It’s still on my ever growing to read list, but I’ve listened to him talk about it and I like what he has to say. He places this game theory in the context of businesses, and suggests that it’s the business who have an infinite approach that will lead us into the future. And I tend to agree with him.

If we take Pharmacy as an example, I think its fair to say that the reason we are in this position a profession is because for so many years we have been positioned within a scarcity model protecting community pharmacy. And it has failed us. It has not led to a profession striving for quality standards, it has led us to a race to the bottom. I don’t think it’s too late to turn it around, but it going to require some pretty strong leadership. And by leadership, I’m talking about the genuine type of leadership demonstrated by individuals taking action. Not the other kind.

My daughter got a red ribbon and she couldn’t have cared less where she finished in the race. Well, that’s not entirely true. There were a few super slow runners and I’m pretty sure she would have felt disappointed if she finished behind them! What mattered to her was that she went out there, ran as hard as she could and there was a crowd cheering her (and everybody else) on. It was fun! With the school’s encouragement, she was able to have the mindset of an infinite game, and felt much happier for it. And she went to bed that night with her tokenistic red ribbon pinned to her PJs and a big smile on her face.




On Friday I got some feedback and it got me a bit riled up. Before I knew it I reverted to my traditional behaviour of venting my fury. Picking it apart. In that moment I was pissed.

You see, I’ve been making an effort in recent years to put myself in positions where I can receive feedback on my work. This blog is a prime example. I’d use the old line “it never gets any easier” but I’m not sure that accurately depicts the situation. I have found that it very much depends on the circumstances. And interestingly , the circumstances aren’t related to the positive or negative nature of the feedback itself. It relates to who is giving said feedback.

I’ve found that when the feedback is from people who are known and identifiable, they can be as critical as they like and I’m cool with it. Because in these circumstances it is almost always in line with the goal that I’m striving to achieve. They are simply helping me work toward that goal. Their feedback is an act of generosity. Or they’re just being an asshole. But they are being an identifiable asshole, and that’s ok.

The feedback I have difficulty is the anonymous kind, where there is an underlying essence that the person trying to give the feedback is striving to prove their expertise, rather than test mine. And  the reason I have great difficulty with it is that every time I’ve been in this circumstance the anonymous expert has delivered feedback that illuminates their blind spots as well as mine. Their area of unconscious incompetence. In trying to look clever, they have made one or two remarks discrediting something I have written that makes me doubt their credibility.

My immediate reaction is to let them have it and cut them down with academic angst. But this consumes a high level of emotional energy and at the end of the day does very little to help me achieve my goals. It also means I fail to face the elements of their feedback are valid. And there is always something that is valid, even if it’s just that I failed to be able to effectively communicate my message to a pain in the ass reviewer. That’s still valid.

I find this sort of thing really difficult to get past. But the reality is that I have to if I want to achieve my goal.

So yes, I did have a moment of fury on Friday, but it went down with the sunset. I was able to divorce what is needed to achieve my goals from the credibility of the process. It’s still not going to be easy, but that’s ok. I can save my emotional energy for systems that may be amenable to change.