This tweet spoke to me:

It spoke even more to my wife.

And now, forevermore - because it’s well known that a raccoon can’t change its spots - I am known, in our house, as “The Racoon”.

Question: Which are you?

Don’t tell my wife this, but I’ve chosen to wear the “Racoon” label with pride.

I’ve spent decades finding and then nurturing my inner racoonishness.

It is my quirky superpower. 

I’m quirky. I’m creative. I’m messy. 

I’m successful, too.

My wiring helps me solve problems that others can’t.

Maybe you’re similar; maybe not.

But being a racoon comes with (a load of) downsides.  

I won’t list them.

Why not? Because - you know what? - you and me, we know them:

• If you’re an architect, you’ve already noted them down (and quite possibly alphabetized them). You are now considering whether it would be impolite to email them to me or irresponsible not to ….
• If you’re a Racoon … your partner or boss has already sent you the list.

Every Raccoon needs an architect. (And vice versa)

And that’s why I’ve hired an assistant.

Her name is Nolijoy or NJ, and if you contact me for work purposes, it’s likely she will reply. 

NJ is my metaphorical architect.

And, here at Oddsocks Consulting, our  “Chief Racoon Wrangler”

NJ is the reason you’re reading this. 

Yes, you are reading my ideas and my writing, and I was the person who, last week, said, “I want to start sending out newsletter emails more often.”

But it was NJ who said, “Okay. Next Wednesday?”

And - not recognizing the trap - I was the one who said, “Sure.”

And then on Monday, after NJ sent me a gentle message reminding me of my commitment - my commitment! -  and added time in my diary to write this, I did as I was told.

And, since you’re reading this now, her wrangling must have worked. 

And since I’m feeling all fired up and enthusiastic, I’m about to make a commitment to you.

Commitment

Over the next few weeks, I’m going to take the humorous (but truthful) Racoon v.s. Architecture tweet and turn it into a burst of surprisingly useful coaching / mentoring / consulting tips.

I use the metaphor in my mentoring work, especially when I’m helping super-busy managers debottleneck themselves (and their teams). I’ve turned it into a tiny, incomplete framework that my clients. At first, it seems lightweight, but it does a load of heavy lifting. I will show you the framework and, more importantly, the clever little process I used to create it.

Want to help me? 

• Hit reply, and,
• tell me whether you’re an architect or a racoon, and,
• (if you feel comfortable doing so) tell me some good things about the people in your life who live in the opposite camp.

That's all for now; see you next week, and in the meantime, I’m off to restack our dishwasher … What could possibly go wrong?

Clarke