One Minute Mentoring: How to find and work with a mentor - and why you’ll benefit from being one. Ken Blanchard

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       Who Me, a Mentor?

      Diane’s plane touched down at LAX. It had been a whirlwind trip—London, Amsterdam, Zurich, Chicago, and all the airports in between. Extensive travel was a way of life for a vice president of sales. As the flight attendant made announcements, Diane pulled out her phone, took it off airplane mode, and called her assistant.

      Jocelyn picked up on the first ring and asked, “How’d it go?”

      “Right now I’m exhausted, but I had some good moments. I was able to bring my best negotiation skills to the table to close that network deal.”

      “I knew you would,” said Jocelyn.

      “So what’s my schedule for the rest of the week?”

      “No travel, so that’s good. But it is a busy one, I must say. Can you pull up your calendar? I just updated it.”

      Diane opened her calendar and scanned quickly for white space. Seeing none, she sighed.

      After thirty-five years in sales, she relied on a competent executive assistant like Jocelyn to organize, prioritize, and “cut the fat,” as she liked to say.

      “Am I essential for that meeting on Thursday?” Diane asked. “I see Travis is on the attendance list. Can he handle it and report back?”

      There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “Well,” Jocelyn replied, “he did say it would really be better if you were there to meet the clients.”

      Diane sighed again, knowing this familiar conversation like the back of her hand. As the top sales executive at Quest Media, she was used to hearing that she was needed everywhere. But was she?

      “All right,” Diane said, “I’ll be there. Got any other great news for me?”

      “We still have to talk about the party,” Jocelyn said firmly. “You can’t keep putting it off much longer. We’re getting close to the big day. I’d like to make it special, but I’m going to need your input.”

      “Oh, that.” Again, Diane sighed. “We can talk about that tomorrow. I’ll be in by nine.”

      Diane ended the call, staring at her blank phone. I’m not even excited by my own birthday party, she thought. What’s happened to me?

      She switched to her photos and looked at the newest pictures of the twins. Their big eyes stared back at her and she shook her head, still not believing that she was finally a grandmother. She couldn’t wait until they were old enough to smile.

      I should take off a day before the end of the month to see Sarah and the girls, she thought. Or wait, when did she have to go on her next trip for those client meetings? Could she get the flights changed to see the twins on the way home? Probably not; the schedule was tight as it was.

      For the tenth time that day, she sighed.

      Maybe I’m getting too old for this. Should I retire? she wondered.

      Diane had no idea. But she knew who might.

      *

       Warren Riggs.

      Diane—now settled in the backseat of the airport shuttle—searched for the name as she scrolled through her phone contacts. Once she found it, she tapped the number and waited for the line to connect.

      I hope he’s not out on the water, she thought. I need him on the top of his game, not catching another fish.

      Warren Riggs was Diane’s first boss. And he changed Diane’s life. From the beginning, he believed in her. Even when she was a rookie—a clueless yet driven twentysomething who knew she wanted to be in the media industry but had no idea where to start.

      From her very first day on the job, Warren saw something in her that others didn’t. And over time, he helped her realize her own strengths by teasing out her passions and putting her on the track to become a blossoming television sales executive. When she switched jobs—leaving Warren after six great years—he stuck by her, never failing to offer advice, support, and clear direction just when she needed it. Diane didn’t know where she’d be now, if it hadn’t been for Warren.

      “Hello?”

      “I’m glad I caught you, Warren. I thought you’d be out on your boat.”

      “I should be!” Warren said with a laugh. “But I’ve been working all morning. Remember my semi­retirement party a few years ago?”

      How could she forget? At that party Diane had met a number of people whose careers Warren had shaped over the years. She wasn’t the only one who had him on speed dial.

      “Of course I remember,” said Diane.

      “Remember that absurdly long-winded banner they had?” Warren asked.

      “You mean the sign that said, ‘Semiretirement at 80 Is the New Retirement at 65’?”

      “That’s the one. So you caught me semiworking,” he said with a chuckle. “To what do I owe the honor of your call?”

      “Oh, Warren. Sometimes lately it all seems too much. I’m on the road all the time. My poor husband hasn’t seen me in weeks, and I’m missing my new grandchildren. I’m wondering whether or not I ought to semi-retire, too.”

      “What’s your thinking behind that?”

      “A lot of people my age are thinking about retirement, not an endless cycle of logistical gymnastics. My assistant tries to keep my schedule sane, but it seems to get worse every year. Frankly, I’m feeling drained. Things have been so hectic at work. I just don’t have my old passion for the job anymore.”