One Monday last November,
Mark bounced into the Right Sleeve office with his weekend project in hand. Mark had assembled an aquatic ecosystem in a 5-gallon water bottle, complete with plants and fish, to reside in the Right Sleeve reception area.
There was an air of excitement in the office all day as employees and visitors funneled into the office, noticing our new addition.
"How does it work?"
Julia asked.
"It sustains itself," was Mark's answer.
"What about food?"
Simon asked.
"You don't need to feed them," was Mark's reply.
"Everything they need is already in the tank." And, seemingly, it was. A light shone on the tank, helping the plants to grow. The fish ate the plants and the "sucker-fish," kept the tank clean.
Every day, we'd come into to the office and check out the tank, our five swimmers and one sucker. It was early December when I first grew concerned about our office pets and their environment. I noticed the light had scorched some of the plants, turning them yellow. I turned the tank, and figured that would straighten everything out.
We had our sample sale, and again lots of people admired our little ecosystem. December drew to a close and we bid the fish adieu, happily knowing we wouldn't need to come in over the holidays to feed them.
When we got back in the New Year, one fish was missing. No matter how long we looked, we were down by one swimmer.
The deaths unfolded quickly after that. When we returned from the following weekend, we had dropped to three swimmers. Soon, we were down to two.
I started adding fish food to the tank. The rest of the office also grew concerned. More and more, throughout the day, people stopped by the tank and did a fish count. We talked about what to do and decided a partial water swap might help.
Our rescue attempts were successful! The two remaining swimmers made it through the next weekend.
Unfortunately, our victory was short-lived. Things took a turn for the worse when another swimmer went missing. We added more food and more clean water. Then, the unthinkable happened; the bottom-feeder went missing. After a day, we spotted him, unmoving, at the bottom of the tank.
We made arrangements for a last ditch salvage mission. We emptied the water into a trash can, scooped up our sole surviving fish into an empty soup jar, and, on my lunch break, I whisked him down the road to the safety of a friend's fish tank. He looked so happy swimming in the fresh water, amongst the goldfish that I was sure would quickly become his best friends. Satisfied, I returned to Right Sleeve and we breathed a collective sigh of relief when I told the office that our sole survivor had been safely delivered.
The email came an hour later.
"Code Orange," read the subject line.
"He's missing."
Our little swimmer had been eaten by one of his new best friends.
We now have a temporary memorial erected where our tank once sat. We'll soon take it down, but looking at that spot this week reminded me of how the office pulled together and tried to help. It was team-work in action.
Unfortunately, things go wrong in business and in life. Sometimes what goes wrong is out of your control, like the weather holding up a delivery truck or, say, a bigger fish eating you.
Sometimes what goes wrong is within our control, like human error in calculating cost or leaving a light on your fish-tank for too long.
A great team is not defined by how well they work together when things are going well; a great team is defined by how well they work together when something goes wrong.
