Riff: Frankenmentor

It's alive! In my mind, anyway.

If I were to say that I never had a mentor, it would probably come as a rude surprise to all the folks who took the time over the years to teach me, to let me make mistakes and gently correct me, to be sounding boards for my wrong ideas and wild theories. All the folks who let me fall but helped me to my feet. All the folks who took a chance by letting me step up.

If I were to say I never had a mentor, it would probably reduce my credibility in trying to pass along whatever wisdom and experience I might have to others. I’ve tried to be a mentor for a number of folks over the years, including being explicit about what the limitations of my mentorship might be. I was even in an official mentorship program at one point, training other leaders on mentoring. Might be hard to take all that seriously from someone who says they’ve never even had a mentor of their own.

If I were to say I never had a mentor, that statement would probably be heard as the height of arrogance, like I subscribe to some gross Horatio Alger-esque ethos that is the siren call of the un-introspective privileged white man.

But. Over the years I have said, many times, “I never had a mentor.” Sigh. 

I meant it, I suppose, as far as it goes. The reality is that I can’t look back and say that there was one individual who gave me my start and taught me the ropes and whose lessons have formed my approach to my career. There were a lot of people who did some of those things, for sure! Many, many people to whom I am deeply indebted. 

Instead, I have created a kind of assembled-from-parts mentor in my mind, sewing together bits and bobs picked up throughout my career. Here was a really surprising insight into how client relationships work. Here was some great thinking on improving my craft. Here was a tip on how to handle tough conversations. And so forth.

Still, even though I can identify those specific moments, those learnings, I won’t ever know who all really put it on the line for me. I won’t ever know who, behind closed doors, was advocating for me. Who stepped in quietly to help put right some disaster I’d engendered, or who ensured that I was recognized publicly for an achievement. 

All that must have happened, and it must have happened a lot. I’ve screwed a lot of things up. I’ve gotten opportunities that I know didn’t just fall from the sky. I’ve been granted second, third, tenth chances.

But the reason I know that I won’t ever know, boils down to this: the countless times I’ve done exactly those things for others, and they have no idea and never will. I’ve been so grateful for all that I’ve gotten, I’ve tried to find opportunities to refill that karmic tank. It feels good to be thanked for your mentorship; it feels better to know that you’ve tried to make somebody’s way a little bit easier.

“A mentor isn’t good enough. You need someone who will stick their neck out and say, “Yes, I will vouch for this person.”’ -That’s What She Said, Joanne Lipman

Hopefully, I have paid it forward. With any luck, I’m a neck bolt on someone else’s Frankenmentor.