Opinion The LinkedIn Dudebro went on a trek. Now, you don’t have to
Standing before Himalayan peaks makes one appreciate the transience and triviality of human existence. The grandeur of the snow-capped ranges brought home to me the grandeur of my own mind
Lastly, the most vital thing the mountains teach you is humility As someone who is a thought leader (in my own thoughts, at least) and a productivity guru, I never let an experience pass me by without wringing some learning out of it. When I go to buy vegetables, for instance, I know all 47 of my LinkedIn connections will benefit from knowing how my interaction with the sabziwaala honed my negotiation skills. I consider it a duty to share my #Management insights, indiscriminately, with the public. If this makes me an influencer-cum-philosopher, so be it.
While routine life can offer many lessons to keen observers such as myself, it is also important to take on new challenges that can provide fresh perspectives. It was in this spirit of enquiry that I embarked on a trek last month to see what the Himalayas could teach me about workplace culture. Now, you can benefit from my experience without ever having to go on a hike, because frankly, what you see below is all the wisdom the mountains have to offer.
Always Delegate: When trekking in Nepal, you can offload your rucksack to a porter. You are then able to walk unburdened, while someone with the requisite skills carries 20 kg of your luggage on their back. This stellar service reminded me why it is important to delegate. As a middle manager, I need to have mindspace for strategic thinking. I cannot fulfil my potential if I’m bogged down by petty deliverables. So, I allocate all work to my direct reports and then urge them to finish it quickly. Illustratively: On the trek, I would engage in banter with the porters and ask them why they took so many breaks. My leadership style ensured they always reached our destination many hours before me.
Lie Without Regrets: Speaking of leadership, another crucial fact I learnt on our trek is that truth is overrated. Every day, after many hours spent climbing, we would ask our guide how much longer we needed to walk to reach our stop for the night. Thirty minutes, he would say with conviction. It never ended up being less than a two-hour hike from that spot. The lies, he later told us, were meant to motivate. It was for your own good, he declared. As a trekker, I wanted to poke his eyes with my walking stick, but as a leader, I applauded his policy. I, too, often lie to my three subordinates. I give them fake deadlines, and sometimes even fake assignments. Our guide’s comments convinced me that my actions are justified. After all, my ploys keep my team on their toes, and therefore, they are for their own good.
Embrace Jugaad: On the first day of our trek, my hiking boots tore. The damage was beyond repair, and I had no time to buy boots. Lesser men may have panicked in such a dire situation, but I am a master of jugaad. Eleven years ago, I prepared a presentation that I still use during client meetings — after updating the client name, of course. In that moment of crisis, I removed the ruined boots and donned my sneakers. I’ll finish the trek in these shoes, I calmly informed my companions, proving, yet again, the virtues of optimising available assets and finding innovative solutions. (I did step into an ice puddle and, since my sneakers were not waterproof, my socks were soaked, and I’ve since lost all feeling in my toes — but that is neither here nor there.)
Capitalise on Opportunities: Even when you’re in a remote village in Nepal, shivering at an altitude of 15,000 feet, you are never too far from the internet. Teahouses sell Wi-Fi cards, and the lure of connectivity helps them make a killing. Some people grumbled about the cost, but I admired the acumen of the local businessfolk. The Internet is a basic human need, as important as food and water on the trails. Without it, I could not have published a LinkedIn article about the importance of going offline and being in touch with nature in the middle of my trek. Being able to post my pictures on social media in real time was worth more to me than the few thousand I paid for the Wi-Fi cards. It dawned on me that some things are so crucial to our existence as to be almost priceless — like, indeed, my expert views. I will, therefore, soon be introducing a paid subscription model for exclusive access to my content.
Be Humble: Lastly, the most vital thing the mountains teach you is humility. Standing before Himalayan peaks — monuments of ice and rock that have been towering towards the sky for millennia — makes one appreciate the transience and triviality of human existence. The grandeur of the snow-capped ranges brought home to me the grandeur of my own mind. It also made me recognise that I may be many things, but I am not immortal. The Himalaya will remain long after I am gone, and this realisation has lit a fire in my belly. I have returned from the highlands with renewed passion. There is so much I have to teach all of you, so much gyaan I must disperse. I have resolved to double my LinkedIn posts and start a weekly newsletter. You will now see a lot more of me, and I know what you’re thinking. It’s okay.
You’re welcome.
The writer is a lawyer
Share
