A Year Ago.

If you ask my friends and new colleagues, you will find I am known as the slightly addicted Internet guy.  iPhone?  Why, certainly.  MySpace?  Cancelled that one, haven’t you?  Facebook? Got my wife hooked on it.  LinkedIn?  Pro.  Twitter?  Are you serious?  @jbordeaux has had brief brushes with stars from Brea Grant to Danny DeVito.  (The former thanked me for an insomnia suggestion, and I’m fairly certain I made the latter laugh once with a ribald remark.)

Occasionally, I get a serious if exasperated question:  Why?  Why are so many people chattering away with strangers and long-lost childhood friends?  Why on Earth would people send text messages to, well, the Earth?  Why are people sharing private information in this online expansion of a phenomenon as old as time – social networks?  In the right mood, I tell them my story.  It’s time I shared it here.

Right as the holiday season hit in 2008, I learned I would be laid off after New Year’s.  As a result, I don’t recall much of last year’s holidays.  My family was around me, but I was absent and overwhelmed.  Every day was spent looking for work, but not in the usual way.  Instead, I used the time to develop and share some ideas; including formalizing this blog, taking it from a blog I called DrFuzzy to a something more business-like.  I opened a consultancy and announced my availability for both contracts and job offers.

Trusting in the theory, I engaged in simple conversations without agenda.  Searching for new colleagues; I made new friends, from Harvard professors to Silicon Valley entrepreneurs.  My long-suffering Bride trusted me and supported me every minute, but I could see the questions deep in her eyes.  I was not blanketing the capital city with my c.v., I was chatting on Twitter and blogging.  Not about my situation or needs, but about my ideas.  I even attended a “Tweetup,” my announcement of which prompted one minor media luminary to send me a private message, “What the F is a tweetup?”  I had coffee meetings with fascinating people – with no agenda other than “we should talk.” The conversations arose from shared ideas, and the lack of an agenda let us wander through fields of inquiry, often ending with nothing more than additional names and the promise of more coffee. I joined online sites that share itineraries, to learn when these new friends may be nearby.  (This led, in part, to several treasured in-person conversations with giants in my field.)

Still, I had a job interview almost every week.  And I landed contracts.  With one exception, each of these came directly from social media and colleagues/friends I had never “met” in real life.  In the end, I avoided bankruptcy, or any real disruption to my family.  I crafted an unpleasant Plan B, plotted the date that it would kick in, and threw myself into this experiment.  By the time that date arrived, I was well on my way out of my personal recession.

Using online social media tools, I stitched together a loose network of future colleagues and relationships to be tended.  Rather than broadcasting my increasingly urgent need for income, I trusted the network effect would work in time.

And it did.

Today I find myself engaged in meaningful and rewarding work to redesign a failed education system; working alongside leading professionals in innovation, public policy, and social change.

A year ago, I could not predict where I would be today.  Such is the nature of complexity and networks.  The theory suggested I should place myself in conversations, expand my connections into new networks, and a vocation would emerge.  (While I embrace the notion, I hope I never again have to conduct such experiments with my family’s financial health.)  I saw the traditional reaction to job loss as creating one-to-one intense conversations trying to match my talents to a company’s need.  Instead, I took this path.  Which amounted to no path at all, certainly not one any could predict.  To paraphrase Mr. Frost, that has made all the difference.

I want to thank all who I’ve met in the past twelve months, and commit to further conversation.  I have an obligation now to continue in the spirit of my late friend Melissie Rumizen, a ’super-connector’ soul whose greatest passion was creating friendships.  I am extremely fortunate, and have much to be thankful for this holiday season.  Thank you.