Move Fast and Don't Rush

Last week, I bought a gelato shop in Andalusia.

I tell you this not to brag (or to admit to an extreme and fairly late mid-life crisis), but rather to tell you what I’ve learned about speed and focus and calmness in a business that can melt away your inventory if you’re a bit too languid or relaxed.

And I say “learned,” because my understanding of speed was mostly theoretical until now.

In fact, I’m pretty sure I associated moving fast with a frenetic nervous system. Which is understandable, since my own work as a coach, consultant, and writer relies on deliberate thinking and careful execution.

When I rush, it’s because I’m frantic about something. And when I’m frantic, the quality of my product plummets.

And without realizing it, I was projecting that understanding onto my clients.

But some businesses require speed.

The Gelateria

For people who know me, this whole thing will take some explaining, but that will have to wait for another edition of The Buoyant Leader.

Suffice to say, I’m now the proud owner of Gelateria Natura.

I’m getting an hour-by-hour crash course in gelato, coffee, refrigeration, signage, inventory, bureaucracy, CoGS, profit margins, industrial cleaning supplies, food handling certification, and what shoes will guarantee that you fall on your ass on a puddle while scooting over to the sink to rinse out a dirty scoop.

The hardest part, so far, has been getting the gelato out of the deep freezer in the back and into the display freezer in the front. With 20 flavors, this takes time. And time is the enemy of good looking gelato.

Context: Andalusia, like most of Spain and much of Europe, has been experiencing an unprecedented heat wave.

A hundred and freaking eight? Are you kidding me?

What this means is that the ambient temperature in the shop, with the minisplit cranking at 61 F, doesn’t drop below 83 F.

And what this means is that the tubs of gelato start sweating and melting the very second I take them out of the chest freezer.

And what this means is that I have to transport those tubs from the back to the front as fast as possible. That includes loading them on a cart, moving them, removing their lids, arranging them in the display freezer, popping in the labels, and closing the freezer in fewer than 5 minutes.

Which means I am hauling ass.

Moving Fast or Rushing?

At first, I was rushing. I could feel the panic. Especially after placing a large order to the fancy gelato supplier from Turin, Italy, I became very proprietary about my inventory. These tubs were my babies. (Especially the vegan ones, if I’m being completely honest. Sorry, Nocciola and Stracchiatella.)

And in my haste, I almost dropped tubs several times by picking them up by the long ends rather than the short ends. (By the time you finish listening to this, you will probably have enough knowledge to avoid at least a dozen of my mistakes.)

I bumped the trolley into the plastic hanging partition between back room and shop and knocked it completely off its track. (I’ve since replaced it with a large orange beach towel until I can find a drill.)

And I could feel the anxiety building up as my nervous system clicked into higher and higher gear.

I got snippy with my family members, who are here indulging my weird pivot.

I radiated the opposite of calm happiness as I dealt with the buying public. (Especially when they ordered in Spanish, which down here sounds very different from the Castilian I’ve been learning.)

And that’s when I realized that I needed to find a way to move fast without rushing.

Rushing

I guess the definition of rushing is trying to go faster than is possible, or wise. I’ve often advised people to “not push the river.” And now I have a sense of what that means in practice.

Moving Fast

Moving fast is simply doing what has to be done next, one step at a time, without unnecessary delay.

As I’ve repeated the morning and evening gelato routines for a week now, I’ve gotten better at them. I have to think less about what happens next: how to prop up the deep freezer, how to grasp the tubs, where to place the lids, how to arrange the flavors, and so on.

I’m not on autopilot, but something akin to it. A combination of muscle memory and focused, relaxed attention to each task, each moment.

I might even describe it as meditative.

Because that combination — automaticity and presence — means I can go fast and stay calm.

More than that: I’m learning how to access calm through speed.

So now when I talk with my clients about their stressful lives, full of deadlines and urgencies and “gotta-be-done-yesterdays,” I have a better sense of how to guide them.

First, connect with breath. The old 4-6 breath is my new best friend. There’s no way to rush without rapid, shallow breathing.

Second, conduct a 3-second body scan. There’s no way to rush without excessive muscle tension.

Third, get in touch with an intention to guide the work. I want to infuse my product with peace, love, and joy, so I view the rapid transition from one freezer to another as a way to imbue the gelato, the shop, and myself with those qualities.

Your Turn

Think about a recurring situation in your work where speed matters, where things need to get done fast and well. The investor deck due tomorrow. The production issue that just hit. The decision your team needs from you before lunch.

Now ask yourself: when I'm in that situation, am I moving fast, or am I rushing?

Here's a quick test for next time. Right before you dive in, take ten seconds:

1. Breathe. One 4-6 breath. Four counts in, six counts out. If you can't slow your breathing, you're rushing.
2. Scan. Three seconds. Where is the tension? Jaw, shoulders, gut? If everything is clenched, you're rushing.
3. Set an intention. Not a to-do. An intention for how you want to show up in the next five minutes. Calm, clear, generous, whatever quality you want to infuse into the work.

Then go. Move as fast as you need to.

Afterward, notice: did the quality of the work change? Did the people around you respond differently?

Drop me a line at howiejacobson.com. I’d love to hear about your experience.

And if you’re in town, the first scoop’s on me.