When Scarcity Sneaks In

While the challenges we faced in navigating Matt’s seizures and school changes were nowhere close to resolved, we did build systems for dealing with both. And modest pay increases came with each new professional opportunity we earned. I’ve often heard folks comment on how much better everything will be as soon as they get that next promotion, or how much their finances will improve with their next raise. To this point in my life, I can’t think of a single time where we’ve achieved a goal or arrived at a certain destination along our career paths and things automatically got better.

Through more than two and half decades of studying all of John Maxwell’s content I could get my hands on, I remember several instances where he emphasized the importance of not wishing our circumstances were easier or that we had better resources. He stressed the value in looking for how we could become better through the process. If we get fixated on the mirage of early momentum, initial promotions and modest pay increases, it’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that all our problems can magically disappear as we take that next step. All too often, though, the distance between where we hope to be and where we actually are increases as we take small steps forward - unless we become masters of finding the seeds that lie within each adversity. Adversity’s seed grows strongest when we stop wishing for better resources and start mastering the ones we have. And whether we recognize it in the moment or not, scarcity is powerful in helping us forge purpose-driven plans.

As I was starting to travel more frequently to support other locations’ behavior-based safety processes, things looked great from the outside looking in. I had a company credit card to pay for my flights, meals, and other expenses. What wasn’t as obvious was the scrutiny I faced in booking each trip or the tight per diem covering my meals ($33/day for all three as recently as 2011, and that included anything the host facility paid for).

For many people, that would have been devastating. For me, though, it was substantially more than I ever spent in those days when I wasn’t traveling. I often joked with my grandmother that I had eaten around 15,000 peanut and jelly sandwiches since graduating high school, and that may have been a low estimate. Before Cindy and I got serious, I was far more interested in spending money on beer and concerts than everyday food. That thought process carried over nicely when we had to tighten our belts to accommodate for Cindy’s reduced hours while paying Matt’s tuition. I packed my lunch every day for more than fifteen years; four PB&J’s, two for morning break and two for lunch. I got the cheapest generic-brand supplies I could find, usually all for less than $10 per week. Our mornings were always a whirlwind so I drank a protein shake as I rushed out the door; those also totaled around $10 per week. And we rarely ate out. Back then, we could usually splurge on Ci Ci’s Pizza as long as we all drank water instead of soda (the buffet was $3.99 for adults then and my friend managing the restaurant occasionally didn’t charge us for Matt).

Looking just at the promotions, travel, and company credit card, one could easily feel like we were outrunning scarcity; that was most certainly not the case. Fortunately for us, even though we didn’t see it that way at the time, bad situations disguised as minor inconveniences are exactly where leadership lessons in resource awareness begin. Scarcity rarely announces itself with drama; spotting the earlier illusion of “fine” lets us extract seeds of purpose before the grind intensifies. Next, I’ll share how one relatively minor breakdown left me feeling completely helpless. First, though, I want you to list one area of your life or work that currently feels “stable” but might be hiding a slow-building resource strain. Note one early warning sign you’ve been ignoring and an immediate step you can take to address it.