Managing up and down in your career is a lot like being an adult with both children and parents. You’re constantly juggling expectations and instructions. Passing instructions and requests for information across generations.
Recently I found myself managing up with my folks with a method often mentioned by author Marshall Goldsmith — something Navy Seals use called the "Rule of 3." Goldsmith’s Rule of 3 is unlike the “rule of 3” my superstitious Irish grandmother passed on regarding deaths always happening in groups of 3.
Essentially, in high-stress situations, Navy Seals stick to giving no more than three commands at a time. Beyond that, it gets overwhelming, and you risk breaking down or forgetting under pressure.
I thought of this rule when my parents came to town to help me with some landscaping. My mom and dad are experts in this area. My mom’s green thumb is practically legendary, and my dad’s lawn looks like it’s maintained by a major league groundskeeper.
Their lawn has crisp lines in between lush gardens. I, on the other hand, spent more years living in NYC than anywhere else. Greenery was usually limited to dixie cups of grass brought home from my kids’ school projects. If I inherited the green thumb gene, it has been laying dormant for decades.
This particular landscaping project my parents were helping with was pretty important to me though. We were replanting peonies that have been in my family for over 100 years. My great-grandmother planted them at her home where she raised my grandmother. My grandmother then raised my mother in that same home, and when Mom married and moved out, she took a piece of the root with her to the home I grew up in.
Now, decades later, we were transplanting them again to my own home in New Jersey. If you’ve ever noticed the giant tattoo on my arm, these are the exact flowers that inspired it.
The problem was, I didn’t have endless time. I was leaving for San Diego that week, and I’d already taken time off for a couple of weddings earlier in the month. I felt guilty losing more work days. On top of that, I was dealing with the pressure of planting peonies that were more than just flowers—they were my family’s legacy.
My parents, who would’ve stayed as long as needed, were full of ideas for the future. My mom excitedly envisioned what we could do this fall, next spring, next fall, and every season thereafter if I really wanted to.
But I was only focused on what needed to get done before my flight.
Overwhelm crept in. These weren’t random perennials from a hardware store that could be replaced with a shrug if they died.
Mom’s brain held endless possibilities: "You could do this," or "You could do that." But I stood clueless and helpless with a shovel in one hand, a rake in the other, and no idea what needed to happen right then. That’s when I remembered the Navy Seals.
"I need you to be like a Navy Seal, Mom. Do you know why?"
She looked confused, so I explained.
Mom laughed at my analogy, but she got the point. We broke it down into manageable steps. First: 1) Kill the weeds, 2) Cover the area where we weren’t planting with plastic; to keep weeds from coming back, and 3) Dig holes for the flowers.
Once that was done, we moved on to the next three: 1) Lay down black fabric to prevent weeds around the new plants 2) Fill the holes with garden soil, and 3) Plant the roots.
Every time more than three tasks came up, I voiced my gentle reminder.
"Navy Seals, Mom. No more than three."
This system worked. We fell into a rhythm, and before we realized, Dad had filled 25 bags of yard waste on his own, leaving the lawn looking like it was ready for Aaron Judge’s presence.
In the end, we planted two hydrangeas that had lived in the backyard of the house I grew up in, and two peonies that had a history stretching across four generations of my family.
To tie it all together, I added a little gift from my father’s side to each hole I dug too. I placed turf from my grandmother’s farm in Co. Mayo, along with soil from my grandfather’s farm in Co. Kerry. My family tree traveled across at least four different countries before settling in where I was born, and now I have a literal family tree taking root here in the Garden State where I’ve set up shop.
Looking forward to next year’s bloom!
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The Meta algorithm is a tricky lil’ fecker. It knows I’m trying to drown it, but it somehow also knows to constantly recommend new bands I eventually like by strangers who like said new bands.
MJ Lederman has been the one I’ve gone back to more than a few times this past week or so. I try not to use the “sounds like ‘x artist’ and ‘y artist’ had a baby”, but I don’t have anything better right now, soooo… It sounds like Neutral Milk Hotel, R.E.M., Ryan Adams, and maybe my former classmate/ lead singer of now-defunct not an airplane could all have valid paternity claims here. I just can’t put my finger on who the other familiar parent is 🤔.
Oh, Sean, the Seals' motto is going to come in handy sometime soon, I can just feel it. We have a lot of home projects and plans on the map. Thanks to you, I may keep my sanity! Thanks for sharing a wonderful story.