12.33pm: the lights go out
The sunlight is pouring through our window, so we carry on our meeting. We’re in a Women’s Leadership action learning set and we’re all enthralled.
There’s some beeping and bustle outside the room so we pause and wonder if something’s going on, we decide it’s not urgent.
I have a brief flashback to 24 years ago – deep in a team workshop at the Prime Minister’s Strategy Unit when we hear calls to gather around the TV because something’s happening in America – but I shrug it off.
Then the door opens, and we’re told the power is down and it looks widespread. We need to evacuate. No one has internet or phone signal. Promising little bars show up but the lines are all dead. We’re on the 41st floor of the tower.
I have one WhatsApp from my husband saying the power went on his tube train, luckily in a station – “Get in a cab and come home!”
We take the stairs, down and down. I’m trying not to think about what might happen next.
For once I have €20 in my wallet and am able to get in a cab – the drivers have already started shouting ‘cash only’ through their windows as people flag them down. It takes us 15 minutes just to turn around as cars nudge slowly forward without the traffic lights to help them flow freely.
You’ll know by now that this was the massive power outage that hit Spain and Portugal this week.
I’m grateful that my friends and family are all safe and sound, if a bit shaken by the experience. The worst of it for me was letting my coaching clients down (all were very understanding, thankfully). The good? Probably just playing cards as a family instead of arguing about screen-time.
Things are ‘back to normal’ now… but not quite. Now we have a real sense of how vulnerable we are, how dependent we all are on our phones and on ‘the network’ in all its guises. There’s some practical learning – have cash, batteries, candles, a radio – none of it new, but now we’ll prioritise it. But I wonder what else needs to be said?
😨Fear is powerful and exhausting. I feel utterly drained today, and not just because of the 41 flights of stairs. Although I got on with lots of practical things yesterday (searching old handbags for stray coins to buy bread included) just beneath the surface was a gnawing fear that this was the start of a more sinister turn of events; an attack on our way of life that could change things irrevocably. I wondered how I would earn a living if a day of this became a week, a month or more? I guess it doesn’t help that we have such a recent memory of how the early blasé days of a crisis can quickly turn into a sustained and gruelling shift in our daily lives. Keeping that fear at bay, reassuring the children (and myself) that everything will be ok when you don’t quite believe it, takes a big emotional toll that needs to be acknowledged and addressed. So, I’m doing that work today.
🔮Perspective shifts are magic. The children were very taken by the adventure of it all and as we walked the dogs with torches through the dark streets last night they talked about how when they were old this would be a moment in history that they would be able to lay claim to, telling their children and grandchildren about the ‘great blackout’ of 2025. It was sweet. I loved the way they could step back from the immediate moment and relish it from a new standpoint. My first step back is usually the one that helps me see what I’m grateful for even in a seemingly tough spot (the fridge freezer was full of food. Even if it was all slowly defrosting, that was better than empty). The second step back is often harder – I guess you’re seeing it happen in the writing of this blog.
🔗It’s the connection that matters. One of the scariest things about yesterday was feeling disconnected from the world. I suddenly couldn’t text, call or email anyone. But we found other ways: we went out into the street to talk to neighbours or gather round other people’s cars to listen to the news together. In the afternoon as a family we found ourselves piled up together on the sofa, somehow needing to be close even before the sun going down demanded that we huddled round the few candles that we had. I can take a lesson about over-reliance on technology from this experience, sure, but I can also take one about how we use it to connect and how much I value that connection, real and virtual, too.
I usually resist trying to find leadership lessons in what I had for breakfast, but I feel like letting myself off that hook today. So, apart from recommending that you go out now to buy a radio and some candles, here are my suggestions for what this all means for how we lead:
💡Next time you’re afraid of having a difficult conversation at work, take time to notice and face up to the fear so that it doesn’t drain you.
💡When you are struggling with something, find ways to take a step back and view it from a different angle. Getting out of your head in some way can really help that – whether it’s writing a journal or talking to a friend, colleague or coach.
💡Be intentional about how often and how well you connect with those around you – your team, your peers, your network and even your bosses. Doing this for its own sake, not just when you need something, will pay dividends for your leadership (and happiness).
Perhaps going off the grid wasn’t too dark after all.
