Congratulations to Morten

On Friday evening, our company had the kick off for 2009. It's a time for celebrating the long-service employees (5 years, 10, 15, 20, etc) as well as a party with food, music and a few drinks. This year, they added a new award.

We have a concept in the company which is all about how you as an employee act as a person in your daily work. This year, the company asked employees to vote for the person who demonstrated the qualities behind the concept more than any other. It was a great idea, and there were over 60 nominations, two winners in each of three categories, and one overall winner.

I was proud to get two of the nominations. Seeing my name up there, and hearing a loud cheer from part of the audience when my name was read out, meant a great deal to me. When those around you see that you are doing something in a good way, it's a tremendous feeling of worth. It's value is much higher than a boss saying "well done".

And the star of the show was Morten! He also got two nominations and won the outright award as THE employee who demonstrated great personal qualities in his daily work. There is no more deserving a winner.

Morten has, to my good fortune, been a business partner as well as a friend for over 11 years, so I feel it is fair for me to comment. Every day, he comes to work and treats people with respect, helps those around him, gives honest feedback and is constantly constructive. He works with principles and integrity. His only weakness (in terms of career improvement - it is a strength in terms of character) is that he is not a big-mouthed guy who says "look at me, look what I did". Therefore, he does not always get the recognition his work deserves.

But finally, the real recognition has come. The most valuable recognition of all, that of his colleagues. To his credit, and absolutely in line with his character, he was totally surprised and quite overwhelmed at this success. But nobody who knows Morten was at all surprised, and they hurried to congratulate him in their dozens.

As he stood on the stage receiving his award, it was one of those moments that restores one's faith in the belief that quality will always show. People who are good and do the right thing, with real principles, can win. Congratulations, Morten!

What is integrity all about?

The word Integrity keeps coming up. I have been wondering if I really understand what I mean by it and the experiences of the last few months at my company have given me some strong opinions on the subject.

Recently I said to a friend "I think integrity is about behaving in a way that is consistent with what you really believe in, and being prepared to stand up for what is right, even if it is not what is best or you personally."

As soon as the announcement of the re-location of 234 roles came, it was clear to me that I should stand up for my colleagues and friends in the company. I was already in the Works Council, and had intended to leave at end October due to some over-committing of my time. There were still a few small things to finalise in November, and so I was continuing when the announcement came on November 5th.

If I think back to that time 10 weeks ago, I wonder what it was that triggered me to remain a full member through this difficult process. The move itself is somehow understandable - but the reasons that were given for deciding on London just didn't seem to make any sense. I was reminded of being at school, and of a time when the teachers told the kids something that they knew was not true, and they knew that WE knew it was not true - but they told us anyway. Instinctively, I felt something similar on 6th November when all staff were informed of the four big reasons for the location. The reasons were delivered with such a lack of conviction that people were left completely doubting whether they had been told the truth.

My colleagues in the Works Council are full of integrity - they have stood up for a set of beliefs on behalf of the 100's of the people in the building. They believed the employees had a right to know more about the real reasons for the move to London, and that they should investigate whether the decision was being made for Business reasons. As a team, we focused on business first - is it really the right thing for our company to move to UK? Is there no alternative? What about moving the UK office to Amsterdam? All of this has been analysed in detail and resulted in an impressive business case and documentation around the subject which has made the Council and the employees proud.

As a dictionary definition, Integrity comes from the Greek words 'integritas' and 'integra' meaning whole. It enters into any aspect of one's life. It's a belief system without faltering no matter how dangerous, how unpopular the person makes themselves to others. It includes: sincerity, keeping one's word and agreements, honesty, truthfulness, ethics, fairness and justice and never faltering for what one believes in. A quote regarding integrity is 'It is better to have an enemy who keeps his word, than a friend who does not.'

I conclude it is like a permanent road-sign, telling you what kind of decisions to make. One of my key values is people, and this recent task has been all about supporting the people in the company. Another is honesty, and I wanted the truth to be clear. And another is fairness, and I wanted to contribute to a fair outcome for all my friends & colleagues in the building. These have been the guiding principles for me over these last months, and I am so proud to have worked in such a team of people in the Works Council, who virtually define the meaning of Integrity.

Gentlemen of days gone by

In the last few days, a piece of my past turned up completely unexpectedly. The members of my football team at University from 1988-90 suddenly all got in touch with each other.

I studied English Literature at Warwick University, and each year around 40 teams got thrown together among the 6000 or so students, competing for the Sunday League. It was the trend to to have an unusual name, and teams thought up titles such as "the Jimmy Hill Fan Club" (named after a famous TV football host), "HDFL" (short for "Habitually Drunk Fat & Lairy"), and "Squidge Not Squodge" (the less said about whose origins the better...)

Our team was called - for reasons I have long forgotten - "The Gentlemen of Warwick". Probably it was because, unlike the leading players of Squidge Not Squodge, we were not in the habit of swigging from a Vodka bottle at half-time. It was a complete breakthrough in my footballing life, since we actually used to win most of the time.

I was a pretty reasonable football player as I grew up. I was quite quick, could tackle, and on the school playground I scored a lot of goals, though for some reason I always got put in defence in proper games. Despite being an OK player, it seemed I was destined to play in crap teams. Yes, I know I should shoulder some responsibility too. But beatings of between 5-0 and 15-0 were standard, no matter if it was a school team, Sunday league, or Cub Scouts. I think my Mum hated having to ask me about the score when I trudged in, covered in mud. In one amazing game, my school team had held on to a 1-0 deficit until half time - despite playing up the considerable slope and into the wind (such things made a big difference at 12 years old). Surely we could win this one? And yet, somehow, we managed to lose 15-1!

In my first year at Warwick, I joined a Sunday league team and when they asked where I played, I replied "Centre Forward - nowhere else". Luckily that was what they needed, and I finally got the chance to score some goals. Then I got in touch with a new team in the second year, the Gentlemen of Warwick, and things went well from the start. We won an early season six-a-side tournament, and I scored the winning 2 goals in the final to get my first ever winners medal. The other players couldn't believe I had never won anything before! I still have that tiny, cheap bit of metal, it really meant a lot to me to be a winner.

One evening, fueled by cheap booze in the Union bar, we decided that we all needed a nickname. The ones I can remember are the skillful "Twinkle Toes", "Roaster" because he could run fast, and "Bomber", because he was Centre Forward and was named after the German Goal Machine Gerd Müller, whose nickname was "Der Bomber". And that was how I got my first ever nickname - for I was indeed christened "Bomber Beckett" (although therer was some confusion with my second name, thought to be Baxter, which led to me temporarily having the extended title of "Bomber Baxterini"). It felt really good to be walking across the campus and hear someone shout from across the road "Oi, Bomber!"

In the first season, after working out how to get Twinkle Toes, Roaster and Bomber to combine properly, we got to the semi-finals of the tournament. Somehow, I always had the feeling that we were missing something in the team, and I was also missing something - an open goal in the semi-final after 10 minutes when we were already 1-0 up! And that was when I came up against Andy Trew. He was one of those defenders who just seemed to play like he was on TV - knew exactly where to be and when, slammed into you when he tackled and scared the hell out of you with massive shouts of "Andy's Ball" when it was in the air. He played me out of the game, and we lost 2-1. I don't regret much in my life, but I do regret that bloody missed open goal!

The final year came round, and great news came - thanks to some clever transfer business, Andy Trew was joining our team (probably Phil, the captain, bought him a couple of pints of Newcastle Brown...). This, together with the revelation of Peter "The Cat" Wright transforming from a decent Right Back into a fantastic goalkeeper seemingly overnight, put a backbone of grit and agility into the team. It gave us the confidence that we could really win this year.

My own lasting memory - my second best ever footballing memory apart from being at Barcelona in '99 when Manchester United won the Champions League - was scoring the winning goal in the final season's Quarter Final. It was very tight, 1-1 in the closing and a game where you just ran like hell, hoped to get one clear chance and prayed you didn't miss it. I got that chance with about 8 minutes to go and whacked it into the far left corner. Goal!!! Cue pitch invasion and buckets of cider in the bar later that evening.

My biggest disappointment came in the semi-final, when I got myself injured through stupidity. One lad on the other side had kicked everything he was near for the whole of the first half, and when there was a 50-50 ball just before half-time, I saw he was going for it. I steamed in, no thought for the ball and one single aim - kick him hard. I missed, and twisted my ankle really badly. Bugger! Adrenalin kept me going as we won through to the final, but as soon as the game stopped, the swelling started.

The following day I was on crutches and the doctor said "forget the final in four days time, you need some weeks before you play again". Of course, I ignored him. I spent four days with ice on the ankle and started the game, but I couldn't really run properly and only lasted until early in the second half. I do regret it because it was the biggest game I ever played in, and I wish I had been fit. But we won and took the prestigious Sunday League title! It was followed by quite a celebration. I seem to recall us dancing the Can-Can on the stage in the Union MarketPlace at some stage during the evening.

The final act of the Gentlemen was to have an awards evening. I am proud to say I was recognised with the Goal of the Season for my Quarter Final winner - the prize being an old, well-used gym shoe from Vegan, with "Goal of the Season" written along the side in felt-tipped pen. I remember filling it with lager and drinking it at some stage during the evening. I woke up with the taste of old rubber shoe still in my mouth - disgusting, but I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

And then we all went our separate ways and time passed. 18 years have passed, to be precise. Then one day last year, I happened to see a message on the University website from Peter "The Cat" Wright and wrote to him. Soon after, he posted some pictures of the old team on Facebook, which triggered a couple of other contacts. Suddenly, more have got in touch with each other, and now there is serious talk of a reunion. It's great to see the names and emails going backwards and forwards, and I look forward to the reunion a lot. It's just great.

I have been wondering a basic question - why now? Why not 5 years ago, or 12 years ago, or on a 10 year anniversary? Is it just that things like Facebook make this easier? Is it some kind of Zeitgeist, that we are all around the 40 year-old mark and it's a moment for reflections on the past? No answer will come, but certainly the magic of the Internet is a factor here. What a great thing to happen.

It's nice to be a Gentleman once more.

Running for the mind

It’s –8 d-d-degrees and I am running. Why on earth do that?

I notice that there are far fewer runners than usual. Dziki and I run along the Donau canal in Vienna, and it’s a popular place on a Saturday morning. But today, it is just the die-hards – the ones who are addicted to running.

Many years ago, I read that it is good to do something difficult and solitary. This is one of the reasons I run. It is tough to run 10km in cold weather, or rain, or heat. It challenges you and makes you question yourself mentally, it makes you develop strength of mind and character.

In the last 2 months since the company’s announcement of intended relocation, I have been challenged more than I can ever remember in my working and personal life. Being in the Works Council has been a deep experience, because it has been working on behalf of something I feel truly passionate about – the people who make up the company.

We have been pitched up against a situation where the company’s management have made a decision with what looks like very little back-up or data, which affects 100’s of people’s lives. Moving 233 people’s jobs to another country is not a light decision, and the impact for people is huge. That has put a big focus on the Works Council. All of us have heard at the coffee machine a half-joke of “my future is in your hands” from one colleague, or passing comments in the corridor like “you are my firefighter” from another. The meaning behind is support – a recognition that you are doing something on their behalf – but naturally it has put pressure on.

I felt the pressure as heavily as anyone. I am a Director of the company, and therefore although I was not a part of the decision, I had a chance to influence events so that this move of 233 people would not have been needed. I feel responsibility. And among the 233, there are many friends and colleagues. So it has been hard to separate the personal issues from the task.

Before Christmas, I got out of the habit of running, and realise now that I was very emotional about everything. As soon as I got moving and running again 10 days ago, I was able to look at things in a different light and to be more objective. That has helped me personally, and I believe others in the Works Council had similar feelings. We focused on finishing the job of mitigating the decision, recognizing that no matter what our emotions, we are not the ones deciding, and we cannot control the final outcome. I believe we can be proud of the work we did as a team, and the documentation and alternative business case we have created is professional, carefully worked out, and based on real data rather than opinion.

The best we could do was to ensure our management know what the consequences are, and to represent people’s feelings and circumstances. The reactions from our Management have been a big surprise to me at times – but that is for another time. I realized the best thing to do is also detach a bit from the personal side of things and get finished with the process. Running helped me clear my mind and be strong enough to do so.

Dziki said after 4 km “let’s just run a bit further up here, half a km, then we can turn back” A bit further meant another 2 km in addition to the planned 8 that I had programmed into my Nike+ iPod. When we got home, I couldn’t feel my ears, but inside I felt strong and clear-minded. I know that the running will help me plan my next steps.

How to travel in Amsterdam

Anyone who has tried to drive or park in Amsterdam can see it's not designed for cars. Many people get "I-could-never-drive-in-Amsterdam" syndrome when faced with more hazards than any other major city. Forget trying to find the last parking space in the city after trawling endlessly along canal after canal - just getting from one place to another in one piece is task enough and scares more and more people off.

First, and most dangerous, are the cyclists, convinced of their right to GO at any moment. Going could mean cycling down one-way streets, jumping red lights, riding 3-4 deep across 3/4 of the road, or just generally appearing in the middle of the street for no apparent reason. One false move as a car driver and you're treated to a half-turned bike, stopped in the middle of the way, followed by a twin eye-barrel stare from its rider and a barrage of righteous abuse.

Then there are the tourists. They wander aimlessly into cycle paths, and when trilled by oncoming bikes, they wander instead out into the road where safety seems more likely. Red or Green men at pedestrian crossings are more of a distraction than a strict guideline - huge bodies of tourists keep flooding across busy crossings leaving the driver no choice but to hoot, and this time he receives his righteous abuse in a babble of languages.

The hazard easiest to avoid, but usually least familiar, is definitely the tram. At least they stick to fixed lines. And the buses, well, as long as you don't try to overtake them it's OK, they also keep a pretty straight path. Oh, and don't forget the other cars - put the bikes, tourists, trams, buses and other spooked drivers together on one street, and you are on the way to mayhem. I once stood watching the traffic at an averagely busy crossroads near the centre of Amsterdam for 10 minutes and was truly stunned that there were no accidents as I watched.

Solution? Don't be beaten by all this chaos, add to it! I did - I bought a Scooter.

When I considered coming to Amsterdam, I asked myself whether I really needed to get a car, knowing about the 6 year waiting list for a parking permit and all the afore-mentioned nonsense of driving in the city. Around the same time, I saw "An Inconvenient Truth", which pushed me over the edge to thinking "I will do my bit for the environment and save some money - let's see if I can live without a car."

But thanks to my friend Morten, I went one better. He took me one Saturday to a Scooter shop, and I fell in love immediately with an Aprilia Mojito. Any scooter named after a drink is good enough for me, I thought...

It has been great. The Scooter enables you to whizz in and out of the traffic, upset the cyclists and ride on past them, skim past the trams and buses, and hoot the tourists out of the way. I listen to my iPod under my helmet, and ignore any screams and shouts from those trailing behind. Better still, the impact on the environment is minimal, and it's cheap. I pay 6 Euros per fill, and it lasts me almost a week.

I've ridden 10,000 km on it in the last 18 months. And I have only fallen off 3 times (twice yesterday - hmm, a bit foolhardy, admittedly, heading off in freezing fog at minus 8 degrees as if there was nothing slippery about the roads...). I have been all over the place on it, and loved every minute of it. Even the trip in hail and snow to Heerhugowaard was an experience.... but that's a story for another time.

Running Resolutions

As I started to recover from the seeming-permanent Christmas and New Year Holiday hangover (around 2pm on Sunday 4th afternoon...) and I began to clear the huge area of my kitchen floor covered with empty bottles, it came to me. Somewhere in the haze of alcohol and food, I had made some New Year's Resolutions.

This year, it's simple. Write every day. Run once every two days. No Booze for one month.

I also realised that I had accepted/allowed myself to fix on the 4th January as a clean-up day, and that 5th January would be the starting day for exercise. Fine! Start the year afresh!

As I scootered home from work this 5th Jan evening, banging my hands against the handlebars because they were frozen despite two sets of gloves, I felt my resolve turn, Bridget Jones-like, to cold jelly. "It's really cold, David. Maybe you will get yourself sick. Work out a plan to start tomorrow. It's the first day back at work, give yourself a break..." etc, etc...

Luckily, the night before I had read a bit more of Haruki Murakami's book on running - his words on Focus and Concentration reminded me to keep to my plan. I find him very inspiring.

Then (to take my mind off my frozen feet) I thought about the real meaning of a "Resolution". I was pretty sure the true meaning comes from Latin and I checked at home in my Latin-English Dictionary to find that the root word Resolvere can mean many things, but the translation I like most is "Gain Release From". Any New Year's Resolution seems an attempt to break out of a pattern or habit, and mine this year are no different.

And, yes, even though it was minus one degree, and even though I haven't run for a month, and even though I was tired, I ran 5km. Not that far, I know, but still - I ran. I even enjoyed it in a cold, masochistic "I'll show you" sort of way. Yes - I stuck to my resolution! Better have a drink to celebrate... Orange Juice, of course.

The goal is to get back to where I was able to run half marathons under 1 hour 50 . Let's see if my Focus, Concentration and Resolve are enough in 2009.