I began my working life at iSTAR. It was 1995. The excitement about the burgeoning Internet had been given a boost by the Netscape IPO. Ours would follow a few months later. So, a lot of eyes were on Canada’s first national ISP. The expectations were pretty high.
Inside the walls of the company were a lot of young people, myself included. I was 25 at the time and by my estimates, probably represented the average age of the company. Yes. There were many younger (and more talented and smarter) people at the company. Two were high school dropouts more because they knew more than the teachers than because they didn’t fit in socially.
It was a great time to be young, on the cusp of something new and exciting, and to be among so many Star Wars geeks when the original three films were being re-released in digitally-enhanced glory.
I had several great managers at iSTAR and have had many throughout my career (I’ve also had a few duds). However, I’ve learned that true mentors, assigned and voluntary, are a rare gift. A few workplaces even proclaimed the would implement mentor programs. They didn’t. Or, they failed miserably trying. You can’t make Jedi masters. They happen.
My first workplace Jedi Master was Richard Pitt. He introduced me to time management and keeping a proper log book. In particular, he impressed upon me the importance of a bound log book with numbered pages – the kind of numbered pages that come printed on the paper, not the kind you scratch in yourself.
“If you didn’t write it, it didn’t really happen”, Richard said.
That advice was applied effectively throughout my time as an internal IT specialist, a technical support lead on the complex secure iNTRANET offering, my subsequent 13 years in IT security architecture and policy and now as a communications professional. Because of Richard, I’ve always kept good notes in notebooks with numbered pages.
Richard and I have wandered in and out of contact since those heady infant days of the public Internet. He’s continued to offer chearleading, insight and support from the sidelines as my personal and professional lives have developed and matured. I’ve appreciated that because it wouldn’t be until December 2009 that I would land a new Jedi Master.
You can imagine it was shocking to receive an invitation to Richard’s living wake, yesterday. Richard was diagnosed with cancer in November and a gathering has been scheduled to take place at his home in two weeks. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to attend in person (the gathering is in the Vancouver area). Richard is a geek, though, so it’s likely a live stream of some sort will be set up and I can join from my home.
But… this post isn’t meant to be a eulogy or farewell. It’s meant to remind you that great managers and leaders are not the same as great mentors. My mentors have taught me how to teach myself to fish. They’ve shown me the way of The Force and armed me with the curiosity, discipline and know-how to continuously develop.
The world needs more mentors Jedi Masters.
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