Our inner stadium

The soccer field was huge and I didn't know where to look. My father's face was at least a meter above me, and the noise made it impossible for my voice to reach him. Suddenly, I heard: "Goooooal!" and, like the people around me, I raised my hands in the air. What luck! My father reached for my hands and finally grabbed my wrist in his gigantic joy. "We won! We won!" he shouted at me, holding my small wrist tightly.

Victories and Defeats

That was one of our Sunday activities. The stadium was just two small streets away from us, and we were regular visitors. When "we" won that Sunday, my father explained to me that our city's team had finally improved - a great thing. And it really was great. My father and his friends were in good spirits, and somehow I was too. I got a rooster made of sugar, and in my little soul, a victory for "our" team tasted like burnt sugar from that moment on. We - the team and the fans - belonged together, and everyone celebrated in their own way. During the next trips to the stadium with Dad, I learned that the team from the city of Pernik was called "Minjor" (and still is), like my dad's profession and the profession of almost all men in this city. "Minjor" means "miner," and all these miners worked underground. And on Sundays, they were at the stadium. A strong connection, a close-knit community. And in the midst of it all, there was me - a girl who learned to appreciate winning and losing at the stadium. All of this is long gone, but the stadium is still within me. I always recall it when I need a lot of space for my thoughts. These are usually the moments when I am facing the implementation of an innovation. I love the idea, the numbers are expressive, but the implementation must also be understood, internalized, and ultimately carried out by the team. Who doesn't know the danger of human failure?! The processes should interlock, the employees should like the new idea and not reject it. The motivation of everyone is important at this crucial step, and all I want is success. Success - yes, but the implementation is done by the employees. People, each with a different background. How can I adjust my pace to match that of my employees; how can I introduce everything as quickly and precisely as possible? How can I explain it to them without putting them under pressure?

Success with the Right Strategy

In those moments, my inner stadium seems helpful. I draw the goals and lines, the corners and mark the kickoff and penalty spots. Then I position the players of my team. I name these players individually, as they are the people in my company. How should I address them directly before the game so that they can powerfully execute my plan and excite the fans? Of course, like a coach, that's my position. I start speaking like a coach on the field: clear and competent, but also warm and trusting. Kickoff - and the game begins. In my mind. I observe every movement, fully engaged. Sometimes I have to substitute a player or two. And that's good for the team. New energy, fresh strength, and impulses flow in and strengthen the group dynamics. And eventually, I hear my father's voice: "Goal! We won!"

And if not?

What happens if a customer lodges a complaint and we have to admit, "We made a mistake. It's our fault." The customer loses time, incurs additional costs, and becomes upset. In my inner stadium, the customers are my fans. The fans we love, and who love us. What would the stadium be without the fans! The worst thing when we don't play well is the suffering of the fans. A large part of the stadium is sad, some are upset and leave grumbling. The same goes for complaints concerning us. The customers are disappointed, and it hurts us to see that disappointment. The only solution is an honest approach with these customers. Admit the mistake, make amends, apologize. In the next game, the true fans will be back in our stadium. They won't abandon us, but they also continue to insist that we play well. And we do. For me, the inner stadium is the place I like to return to, even when I have lost. There, I regroup to hear my father's voice: "We have won!"