I can see them a mile away, broken-down on the side of the road. Two people with thumbs out, a string of vehicles march past unabated. I pull over.
They come to my window, arms pulled in tight against their body, hands shoved into pockets, woefully under-dressed for the weather. Their truck broke down an hour ago, they say; they just need a ride a few miles up valley; I am the first one that stopped. The margin between subconscious and conscious - the land of biases and survival instincts - automatically takes notes and raises a few red flags.
This much is certain - they are quite cold.
Conversation lowers my guard as we roll together down the highway. A cell phone battery died; a deadbeat friend decided to go bowling in Monte Vista instead of coming to help; a girlfriend had to work until 7:00; a step-brother is living at the family shack and trying to get his life together after a stint in juvenile.
I am directed left onto a dirt road, a mile later right onto a smaller dirt road. "It is just a little further." Then left onto what would pass as a cow path if it weren't for the cattle guard blocking bovine progress. We pass by the middle of nowhere. We are ostensibly heading toward said shack. "It is just a little further. Just a little further."
I attempt to be discreet with my cell phone at the ready. Not that there is any signal out here.
They are profuse in their gratitude, in a profanity-laced sort of way. It reminds me of some of my roughneck cousins back home; I smile. A spiritual happiness of sorts wells up, like when you realize that the world just might not be as messed up as it sometimes seems. The valley graces me with sanguine alpenglow.
Trust - it is at the core of effective relationships, communities, and organizations.
In The Speed of Trust, Stephen M.R. Covey asserts four key components of trust, from the organizational perspective. 1) Integrity to walk your talk. 2) Intent to pursue straightforward motives based on mutual benefit. 3) Capabilities that inspire confidence to get things done. 4) Results that reveal our track record and follow through.
I add a fifth key component: the leap of faith.
My decision to pick up the young men stranded in the high desert at the height of winter with the sun quickly absconding probably falls under Covey's concept of blind trust (as opposed to smart trust). It involved an unidentifiable risk of the unknown. But I took this leap of faith with great intentionality. Sometimes a leader needs to risk one's sense of self in order to prove that greater ideals still animate our higher potential, regardless of the naysayers (and they are many).
Now I don't advise that you pick up hitchhikers on a daily basis, metaphorical or otherwise. My episode was a moment in time in which the stars aligned to provide me with a test of my own personal integrity to walk the talk. But I do advise that you take smaller leaps of faith frequently to demonstrate the trust that you place in your family, friends, neighbors, and colleagues.
The realist in my office likes to protest: "But Troy - what if they take advantage of you?!?"
Some have and others will. But far more have graciously honored the trust I have offered them. I am certain that exposing my flank engenders reciprocity of trust in the great majority. And I wager that each act of vulnerable trust nudges the great needle of the universe toward a fuller realization of our true potential.
I am as strategic as they come. In fact, my Meyers-Briggs preference is colloquially known as Mastermind. By default, then, I am prone toward smart trust, to weighing the pros and cons of an action, to treat trust as a sort of leadership capital to be expended along the lines of a budget. But we cannot conflate trust with strategy masquerading as trust. We must take the leap of faith - though the naysayers will say "ill-advised" - in order to enliven the true bond of trust.
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