Stay Away From Tetherballs

When I was in the third grade at Ferdinand Elementary School, there was a lower elementary for grades K-3 and an upper elementary building that served grades 4-6. The two schools shared a library that was located in the upper elementary building. So, as a third grader, my classmates and I used to have to walk outside to get to the library. It was a short walk, but a dangerous one, or at least it was dangerous for me on one fateful day. (Cue ominous music.) The weapon that got me was a tetherball.

For those millennials or younger that may not know what a tetherball is, it’s not your fault. It’s mine. It is just a pole stuck vertically in the ground (or concrete-filled tire) with a rope fastened to the top of the pole, with a ball on the other end of the rope that hangs and swings about waste-height. The objective of the game is to pound or serve the ball, known as the tetherball, in one direction and to keep knocking it until the rope tangles completely around the pole. Meanwhile on the other side of the pole, your opponent tries to knock the ball in the opposite direction also trying to wrap the rope around the pole, but again coiling the rope in the other direction. Tetherball is actually a fun game. It used to be a staple of most playgrounds. We had one in the parking lot in front of the school, which doubled as our playground and tragically became part of the crime scene one perilous morning.

My classmates and I were on our short voyage to the upper elementary and happened to just walk passed the iconic tetherball that was in our path. In one moment I was talking with a friend about the latest episode of the Dukes of Hazards, and the next moment I was being hogged tied around the neck with a tetherball. Apparently, another friend just out of playfulness and natural childish exuberance pounded the ball without realizing I was within its grasp - or maybe he was tired of hearing me question that Bo and Luke Duke did their own stunts. At any rate, in one moment I was bee-boppin’ along telling my stories and then in the next minute I was dangling from a tetherball pole like a pinata, with the rope coiled around my neck and my storytelling coming to an abrupt end.

Fortunately, my classmates didn’t use this as an opportunity to beat me with sticks and see if candy came out of me. Someone untangled me before the strangling could finish me. And, although it was scary, I was fine. My mom did leave her work to come to pick me up from school and dropped me off at my Aunt Mary’s house to spend the day watching cartoons and drinking milkshakes. So, overall, it wasn’t a bad day. But, it did leave a red welp or rope burn around my neck, which certainly caused most strangers to look twice when seeing me.

I still like tetherballs. And, no, I didn’t file a complaint or lawsuit with Tetherball Incorporated, but the fact that the game seemed to rapidly start disappearing from playgrounds in the years to come made me wonder if others suffered a similar unfortunate series of events. The whole experience also taught me as a young kid that something that appeared so harmless and fun could possibly be dangerous.

I think of people that are regularly complaining about other people or circumstances as tetherballs. They often seem like a fun, playful force that just want to drag you into an innocent game of smacking something around. You know the person and the scene. It’s the person that complains about it being a Monday. The person on a soccer field that thinks their kid would be a champion if the coach was doing their job. It’s the person that is always too hot or too cold. It’s the colleague that disagrees with every idea, but never offers a thought on a different solution. It’s the friend that asks about your day, but then interrupts to talk about how horrible his or her day was. It’s the worker that complains about every procedure or tool that they have to follow at work, but then really gets mad if a change is made. It’s the person that always has a friend problem or relationship problem. It’s the pot stirrer that says things like, “Joey, did you see what Bobby had on today?” But, also goes to Bobby and says, “Don’t you think Joey is a little too opinionated about what people wear?”

It’s also the people that love “parking lot conversations.” You know that scene too… You just finished a two-hour meeting where everyone was in a room together to hash out a plan for a project. Many sat quietly exchanging painful looks to each other and now rush into the parking lot to let out their true feelings. In the parking lot, they talk about how badly they disagree with the plan and how it’s going to fail. And, then, they start taking swing after swing at the ball to tighten the force around everyone that spoke in favor of the plan. They didn’t have the courage to disagree in the meeting, but it just feels good to whack the ball at them when the don’t see it coming.

My advice: Stay as far away or spend as little time with these tetherballs as possible. If you have to walk past them, don’t let the rope begin to drag you in, because the result is suffocating. If you are the person taking whacks at the ball just out of anger, there’s a chance someone is in your path and you may not even realize it. If you are in the game watching someone else get tangled, help them get out of the noose. Playing the game feels so innocent, but the damage it causes really takes the air away from people - not just to the person being hanged by the rope, but for everyone involved. It’s more than an energy drain; it erodes trust in everyone and builds a culture of complaining and back-stabbing.

Let me be clear. I don’t think all conversations in work and life need to feel pleasant. I simply want them to be constructive. Sure, I like to laugh and I like to make others laugh. Sometimes that alone is the goal - to lighten the mood in order to bring joy to someone’s day. But, laughing at someone - that really doesn’t find the attack funny - is not at all the same. That doesn’t lighten the mood; it brings more weight and misery to everyone. I also like and encourage disagreements both in the workplace and with friends and family. I just think any team or group dynamic is better when the intention is problem-solving. In other words, if I stand in a parking lot and just complain about the performance of a co-worker, my behavior is toxic and strangling. However, if I genuinely talk with another colleague that I trust and ask for advice on how to help a colleague improve their performance or constructively handle the situation, I’m actually unraveling the rope. At home, if I am just shouting about how there is nothing to eat for dinner, all my ranting still just leaves me hungry and everyone else feeling injured. But, if I take time to start cooking and maybe even convince my kids to help, everyone feels a little better, perhaps even empowered.

I fail at this myself frequently. But, I also know the people that I respect the most are positive people that problem-solve challenges. They are not the passenger on the plane that keeps talking about how hot it is inside the cabin. They are the pilot still trying to land a plane that lost both wings and its engines. They are the people that don’t pretend that their grass is greener, but seem to find beauty in their grass regardless of its color. They are the people that make me laugh, the people that make me think, and the people that make me better. I try to spend my time around these people and walk as quickly as possible past others still taking jabs at the tetherball. I also find that if I have to engage in conversations with others wanting to play the game of tetherball, catching the ball and not hitting back often ends the game for them.

One of my mentors in my career early on was Denny Leathers, a guy that served as the Business Manager (school term for a CFO) for Danville Community Schools. Although Denny was a man that made a career of great decisions, apparently in one of his rare weak moments, he hired me as Director of Technology when I was only 25, and put me in charge of people that were twice my age. I read books on leadership and even attended different conferences trying to become a better boss, but I was clueless. Fortunately, day after day, I watched Denny show up before anyone else arrived in the office and start the coffee. I listened to him make fun of himself even though the guy was/is flat-out brilliant. I heard him constantly ask questions to try to understand someone’s point of view. The more serious a situation he faced, the calmer he became. His goal was never to cast blame, but was to find solutions. I saw him have the tough conversation of letting people go, but doing it with such honesty, dignity, and compassion that the person ended up thanking him at the end. Although I always made fun of his non-stop whistling in the office, the silence on the days he wasn’t there was deafening. Our work relationship was focused, productive, and professional, with a healthy dash of playfulness. He called me Cobra. I called him Mongoose. We pretended to cross paths in the hallway like two cowboys about to dual. We probably did disagree at times, but I really don’t remember one example in the approximate 15 years that we worked together that felt like an argument. Our conversations always focused on finding better answers to problems, not about fighting for who was right. And, what I do remember the most is that he loved his job. He loved people. He loved - and continues to love - life. And, so still today, even though he’s been retired for years, I want to spend as much time with him as possible, because I realize that I’m still learning from him and every time that I see him, I feel a little smarter and a lot better.

In the face of my diagnosis with cat sores, it’s especially easy to blame others - the doctors, the insurance, Democrats, Republicans, my genes, food manufacturers, others that just don’t seem to understand, those that don’t believe in God, Believers, God Himself -- surely one of them is the villain here. Yes, I do reserve some time each day to feel sorry for myself and my family. I do cry. I do get angry. But, ultimately, my next step has to be forward, and I need each of these entities on my side.

So, I try to mimic my mentor, Denny, and stay calm, laugh at myself, and problem-solve. Like him, I try to ask better questions of my doctors and others to understand my best options. Like him, I try to have honest conversations with people and let them know how I really feel. Like him, I try to maintain a bounce in my step and a joyful whistle. It’s not always easy, but it’s better than being strung up by a tetherball.