What’s a chaos pilot? One who can get to the other side, even if it’s a bumpy ride

I’ve been working too hard, putting in the kind of long hours that should only be sustained for short stints and can only be tolerated when motivated. I’ve pressed forward on a project to build a digital tool that was arguably not my responsibility, and that many did not understand.

I set out to achieve something that I knew would add value by solving problems and improving efficiency. I convinced my supervisor, who in turn convinced her supervisor, that spending the time would be worthwhile, despite the fact that I was, in the words of one of my coworkers, “building the plane mid-flight without the instruction booklet.”

I willed my credentials into existence, relying on vague memories from a job I had over two decades ago. I did not build this type of tool, but I worked with a group of young, self-taught programmers who built it. My job was to bring the programmers the requests, then they would rant and berate me for not understanding how programming works, sputtering code at me. We would argue through possibilities until some sort of solution was identified. Because telling our client “no” was not an option.

So, armed with understanding the gist of how things work, I surmised that this could be done again. The tool I wanted to replicate was created by people in their early 20s who had no more than high school education. Surely, I thought, given technology’s advancements I could figure out how to create a similar tool, completely tailored to our needs.

My road map was a starting point, my target was to solve a list of problems, and the path was a maze of possibilities.

Each step started with, “Oh, I wonder if I could…” or “Wouldn’t be cool if” or, occasionally, a despairing, “How on earth will I…?” I watched videos, asked around, and Googled my way through. I formed relationships with developers who I would bother only when I was stuck, who would gift me a few minutes to look at my problem, and usually would mention a possible solution and offer to help when their schedules allowed.

Usually, with their clues, I could clear the hurdle. My more experienced allies pointed to tools with plug-in whizzydoos that could be manipulated with a little tweaking of the code. Online forums demystified the code itself. Little-by-little, I pieced together the first solid piece of my solution. A masterpiece? Meh. Proof of concept? Absolutely.

The hardest thing to figure out was the people. Some found my plans objectionable. To them, my vision was merely a hallucination, the foundation was just a cluttered pile of sticks, my plan was a pencil’s scribbles, and the goal, they warned me, would be unattainable.

This baffled me. Success would only make their jobs easier. Solving one piece of the puzzle would pave the way to connecting more dots, afford more efficiencies, demonstrate sophistication and open doors. For all of us.

I learned that not everyone is comfortable with pursuing a goal if they don’t know how they’ll get there. Some only thrive in the constructs of a solid plan. Those who can plunge into the unknown, knowing only that there’s a way to the other side — we’re called chaos pilots. We’ll get us and our crew there, even if it’s a bumpy ride.

Objectively, I see the problem: Who would want to fly a plane into chaos, the only compass being mere faith that they’ll be able to figure it out? And, I guess, who would willingly board that plane?

The answer? Someone who has enough experience to be confident, and isn’t afraid of a little turbulence.

Someone who likes a challenge. Someone who isn’t satisfied knowing that there’s a better way — but not trying to get there. Someone who’s a good Googler. And honestly, someone who does their best work when they have something to prove.

Emily Parnell lives in Overland Park and can be reached at emily@emilyjparnell.com.