“Yo! Hero!” only louder this time, and followed by a series of high-pitched whistles. But Hero had more important things on his mind and continued on his errant direction, much to the frustration of Mr McLennan, the shepherd, and the complete amusement of the watching crowd.

The occasion was the annual Sheep Dog Trials at Scarista on the Isle of Harris. People had come from all over the United Kingdom. And the weather had come from the Mediterranean – we had an uncharacteristically warm, dry day! The field was set up with styles, gates and all manner of other things that each dog, ably guided by his master, had to negotiate. All, that is, apart from Hero!

There was a breathtaking display from most of the dogs. The sheep were released from a pen at the other end of the field, some 500 meters or more away. The sheep dogs, guided often by little more than a variety of different whistles from the stationary shepherd at the opposite end of the field, tore off down towards the sheep. The idea was to take a circuitous route so that the dogs could creep up on the sheep and catch them unawares. As the dogs approached the sheep, they dropped to the sort of low crouch that you see a domestic tabby cat adopt when they are stalking sparrows in a suburban garden. And then they were in the midst of the animals, darting this way and then doubling back, barking all the while, and keeping the sheep in as tight a flock as possible. Then, guided again by the shepherds whistles, the dogs brought them back down the field, through one gate and then another, until finally they were penned, right in front of the crowd. As I said – it was just breathtaking!

Now that was how things were supposed to go – but Hero had other ideas this particular day. Early on, instead of taking to the left of the field, he went to the right. After no more than 20 seconds, he stopped, turned, and looked towards his master as if to say,

“Why am I here again?”

Mr McLennan whistled, and gesticulated and shouted. Hero turned, and resumed his race up the field. This time, it was only 10 seconds before he stopped again, turned and looked expectantly towards his master. He seemed to have got the message second time around. He set off purposefully towards the sheep – for no more than 20 meters before veering off to the right and disappearing altogether. Mr McLennan put his hand up to shield his eyes, peered into the general direction of Hero’s last sighting and then left the field to the remaining contestants.

Another dog was dispatched to recover the sheep and that was the last we saw of Hero that day!

“He’s getting old!” he said with a wry smile as he passed the judge, and went to get on with the rest of his day.

“Good for Hero!” is what I say. There was clearly something of greater interest in the long grass to the right of the field. And he was brave enough to go his own way. It’s all too easy to go with the crowd. Yet innovation is all about the exact opposite. It’s about leaving the crowd and trying something different. So why not take a leaf out of Hero’s book and go your own way! Sure this is uncharted territory and the risks will be legion. And you’ll definitely need a thick skin – but think of all the fun you’ll have along the way!

Already, we can see why being robust is such an important attribute to anyone involved in innovation. As an innovator, there will be many times when you will be:

• Knocked back: you offer this great idea and the person on the receiving end is just not interested;
• Put down: your idea is ridiculed – worse, you are ridiculed, because so many people find it difficult to separate the idea from the person;
• Resisted: people know your idea is a good one but it is a departure from the familiar and, out of nowhere, all sorts of delaying tactics come into play;
• Thought of as a troublemaker: because you are always suggesting different ways of doing things – why can’t you just leave things alone?

I could go on. Robust is what we need to stay true to our goal, to stick with it, to get on and do what needs to be done, regardless of the obstacles that we encounter. Robust is that indomitable spirit that sets innovators aside from those that would defend the status quo.

The notion that Robust is the oak in the forest is a wonderful metaphor. I finished my schooling in a town called Hamilton, 15 miles south of Glasgow. Not far from where I lived was an amazing place called the High Parks – the place where, in times gone by, the Duke of Hamilton and his entourage used to hunt and fish and spend recreational time. And in the middle of this estate are a number of gnarled old oak trees. They were planted by King Alexander I of Scotland sometime around the beginning of the 12th Century. They are wonderful things to behold. Enormous, strong trunks that could resist anything that nature might throw at them. Thick bark that protects the more vulnerable wood behind. Living, growing things that have seen the centuries come and go – and will, no doubt see many more to come. This is the sort of strength that we can only dream of – we can, nonetheless, emulate these grand old oaks and take in our stride whatever our innovation activities throw at us.

A short distance on, as we were making warp speed down Threadneedle Street, a pedestrian began to cross the road. He had elected to take a diagonal, and therefore longer, route across. As he stepped out into the road, he looked in our direction to see if it was clear. Looming large was our taxi, bearing down on him rapidly. He calculated the vectors in that intuitive way and realised that he wasn’t going to make it across in time to avoid the taxi. Any normal person would have changed course and moved into a fast trot. Not this pedestrian! He eyeballed the taxi driver, adopted that ‘I’m not budging!’ look and maintained his original course! I watched as long as I could and then I just had to look away – I hate the sight of blood! But then the brakes were applied, the taxi pulled several G’s as it decelerated, and there was this loud honking noise – no doubt something to do with dropping out of warp speed. The pedestrian stepped up onto the pavement, completely unphased, and walked off looking for some other daredevil pursuit. Bungee jumping – huh, been there, done that, got the tee-shirt!

What struck me about this whole episode was the attitude of the pedestrian. He clearly believed that he was invulnerable. He must have thought that the taxi would have come off worse if there had been a collision. Now, I am certainly not advocating that you go test a taxi’s braking systems. However, there is something to be said for this invulnerability thing. If you look at people that do extraordinary things, they often have this very same attitude. It’s not that they are invulnerable, it’s that they act as if they are. I remember reading, once, that we should all ask the question, “What would I do if I knew I couldn’t fail?” and then go and do it. So, take a leaf out of this pedestrian’s book and ask that question. You will surprise yourself at just how brave you can be!

For those of you that are unfamiliar with T-cards, they work a bit like this. First, they are made of card so that you can write information on them. They are T-shaped, with a very broad upright for the ‘T’ – this is where the bulk of the information goes. The horizontal part of the ‘T’ is where the overall description goes – this is the part that is visible when the T-card is placed in the rack along with all the others. There are ways of segregating the rack so that things that require attention at different points in time are readily accessible. It is, in essence, a manual scheduling and tracking system that relies on everything being visible at a glance. When they were first introduced, they were the bee’s knees and did a lot to revolutionise scheduling in all sorts of different environments. I used them myself and loved them. However, that was the 70’s and 80’s – and it was in the mid 90’s that Terry joined this motoring organisation.

He quickly realised that he could treat each vehicle as an appointment in Outlook. He could add notes whenever he wanted. He could set reminders so that jobs would present themselves on his terminal at the time that they needed to be done. And so the list of benefits rolled on. Without asking anyone’s permission, he set up Outlook on his terminal and tried it out. It worked perfectly.

It wasn’t long before one of his colleagues noticed that Terry had stopped using the T-cards. A quick enquiry indicated the alternative system on Outlook. Shortly after, the first early adopter was signed up. The rest of Terry’s colleagues quickly followed – well, the vast majority of them anyway. In fact, one of them suggested that Terry put his idea into the suggestions scheme that was running in the business at that time. He did so and shortly after found out that he had won a first-level prize – a cheque for £25 which would be awarded to him by his line manager.

A short while later, his boss invited him into his office and closed the door. He retreated behind his desk, retrieved an envelope from a drawer, and tossed it over to Terry. He opened the envelope and found a card and the cheque for £25. And in the cards were the following words, in bright green:

“Thank you for changing something that has worked perfectly well for the last seven years!”

And not content with writing it, his boss then repeated the words, dripping with the sort of tone that you would expect from that sort of comment. Great to see the esteem in which this individual held innovation – someone in a position of leadership as well. Ouch! However, Terry is an easy-going sort of chap and it was just like the proverbial water off a duck’s back. He left and got on with his day. Interestingly, the story didn’t end there. A couple of months after this incident Terry left the organisation and a few weeks after leaving, he got an A4 envelope through the post from his old employer. He was owed some back-pay and thought that this was it. In fact, it turned out that his Outlook idea had been automatically entered into the next round of the suggestions scheme and had won another prize. This time, the envelope contained genuine congratulations and a cheque for £250.

There are all sorts of things we can learn from this lovely story. However, the one that I would like to emphasise is that we shouldn’t let the dinosaurs spoil things for us. Just ignore them and get on with whatever it is that you are doing.