I drafted this post the day after my last day at the Smithsonian, and edited it just before starting my new job. The last couple of weeks have been a blur of goodbyes and thank yous – it’s hard to leave behind colleagues who have become friends. At the same time, it’s exciting to think about what my new job will be like.
Once my job move had been announced, I started thinking about how I would go about getting started in the new job. There’s any number of books and articles about the critical first three months in a senior leadership role, including the classic First 90 Days by Michael D Watkins, which set out things to do in the first few days, weeks and months. Lath Carlson worked through many of these and distilled it down to a pretty amazing spreadsheet that he used when getting started in his new role as CEO of Museum of the Future earlier this year, and He was generous enough to share it with me. Some similar themes came up in a session at the AAM conference in New Orleans this May, in which three female museum directors from the US and the UK talked about how they got started. None of them mentioned a spreadsheet, but they had all taken a thoughtful and intentional approach, and had seen that pay off later on.
Thinking about this, and learning from the experience of other new museum directors resonated with my own experience, too. I already know from getting started in other senior leadership roles that the key is quickly getting to grips with large amounts of information, and building the right relationships early on. The first months are also an opportunity to ask questions that might get trickier once you’ve been there longer, even if you aren’t yet totally sure how the information will be useful. When I joined the British Library I asked if I could go and see the book-fetching robots in action, mainly because I thought it would be fun (although I’m sure I made a more professional-sounding case for it). Later, my team were working on an issue relating to locations and book ordering for which knowing a little about how the automated storage building worked became very useful indeed. As far as I know, there aren’t any robots fetching objects in the museum stores at the University of St Andrews, but as I get started I’ll use the same open-minded and curious approach as I get to know the museums and the team, now scaffolded by a more organised framework that draws on what I’ve learned from reading and learning from the experiences of other new museum directors.
Alongside thinking about the new job, as I worked towards my last day at the Smithsonian I also had to stay focussed on the one I was still doing. Leadership transitions were something that I’d talked about with my Getty Leadership Institute cohort last summer. Some of us had worked with museum leaders who right up to their last day were pushing to do more and finish more, perhaps trying to secure their legacy, but putting significant pressure on their staff and creating commitments for others to deliver or to carefully renegotiate later on. Others among us had found it frustrating when a departing director hadn’t paid attention to things that needed tackling before they left, or had left important decisions or discussions until later, often leading to a tricky or turbulent interim period. It’s a careful balance to strike, and one that there’s no standard recipe for, but it’s clear to me that once you (and everyone else) know you are leaving, your priorities should change, and the way you plan your work changes.
I started planning for my last three months by making lists of what I would finish before leaving, what I should make sure I handed over to someone else, and what things would pause or stop. That last category was the trickiest, because it included some things I’ve been passionate about and committed to, but I had to pause so that the next person can choose their own priorities. I talked to my team and colleagues about what they needed, including about the problems I could help them solve or roadblocks I could help get out of their way so that issues didn’t come up after I left. I asked them to look at my draft lists of what I would do and what would pause and used their feedback to keep refining the plan, and to prioritise what to work on. I followed up on things, wrote briefing and handover notes, and switched to a weekly planning cycle (Trello was a great way of organising all this) so as much as possible was finished off and handed over smoothly. Until the last day I held out hope I would have time to write a blog post about an object I’d been fascinated by (this overdue blog was even mentioned at my leaving party) but knew that I had to keep my focus on the things my team and my colleagues needed me to take care of, not the things I would find most interesting.
I also did the filing. Unexciting, perhaps, but important – handing things over in an organised way means that whoever takes over from me has easy access to the things they might need. I know from experience that it can be difficult when your predecessor leaves their files in a disorganised state, so this is partly this is about being helpful to the person who takes over. But it’s also a little more selfish, as I found that getting started with the filing early enough gave me a chance to think about what I’ve done and achieved in the job that I’m about to leave, as well as to reflect on what I tried that didn’t work, and what I’ve learned along the way. Among a jumble of miscellaneous things in my office drawer I found my earliest notes from when I was just getting started in the job, which included a diagram sketching out what I saw as the the highest priorities and key areas a month in. Although there’s much I’ve learned since then, it was good to see that I’d got it about right. So, slightly unexpectedly, doing the filing reminded me that my early intuition about the big, complicated job I was preparing to leave had been spot on, giving me a confidence boost for the new one.