It was 2009, and a very young future-Authentik founder, Craig, the author of this blog, was out gallivanting around the world on a bit of a gap year. This week's Sunday story is about a rental car, a wrong turn, a run-in with the Jordanian military, and the power of seeking first to understand - without which, we wouldn't writing this Sunday Story at all!
There's so much more to the story of how and why I ended up on this trip - enough to fill a book on it's own, I suspect - but the high level overview is this: I took some time away from school, and over the course of many months, I travelled with a backpack through Europe, the Middle East, Australia, and the United States. This particular story takes us to Jordan, in the Middle East.
Jordan was on my list for one very particular reason: Petra. This ancient city was literally carved out of the rocks of a canyon, and was a site of incredible archaeological and historical value. But more importantly, it's where they filmed Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade - remember at the end when they ride through that canyon to the temple of the Crescent Moon where the Holy Grail is kept? That's a real place - Petra - but I can say with certainty the Holy Grail was not there. I checked.
Anyway, before I checked for the Holy Grail, my plane landed in Amman, the capital. The next bus to Wadi Musa, the town closest to Petra, wasn't until the following morning and I didn't feel great about needing to source a hotel for the night. So instead I decided in all my wisdom that it can't be that hard to drive there myself and so I decided to rent a car. I did not have a current drivers license, but I did have an International Student ID Card, and the agents at the rental desk decided that was good enough. Soon, I had my chariot - a lime-green Chevy Aveo - and I was on my way.
I definitely got lost a few times when I first left the airport - the photo of the vehicle you see here was actually taken when I dropped the car off, as I arrived in the dark of night. But what really got me thrown off was a particular roundabout in the city of Al Karak; I wanted the exit that would take me on the Kings Highway, a multi-lane expressway that runs the length of the nation from Al Aqabah to Amman. What I ended up on was....not a multi-lane expressway.
The thing is, I didn't know what it was supposed to be like, so I didn't really know I was lost. Every few miles there'd be a military checkpoint; I later learned that was because the road I was driving on was the East Bank, opposite the West Bank, and there was significant activity with smuggling that the military was trying to control. At about 2:30 AM, one of the military checkpoints finally pointed out that it was a bit odd for a 19-year-old Canadian with an unreasonable love for a fictional 1930s graverobber/archeologist to be driving around that part of the world. He asked me what I was doing and I explained - "I'm trying to get to Petra". He immediately understood, and gave me directions to a side road that would take me straight to Wadi Musa, and all I had to do was drive 20 minutes down the road and take the first left.
The trouble was, 20 minutes for a Canadian who was probably not licensed to drive the vehicle he had rented is different than 20 minutes for a Jordanian, as I later learned they drive quite fast. But alas, after 20 minutes I thought I saw the road I was destined for, and I turned off onto it when I saw it.
Within moments, I knew I had made a mistake. The road abruptly ended, leaving me cruising through soft gravel and dirt in the desert, barely a camel track to guide my way. I had enough experience in rough terrain to know that I couldn't slow down - if I did I'd get stuck - so I had to keep my momentum up. I did so while I tried to make a big arc and get back to the road, and inso doing I came up over a bluff.
In the distance, there was a single light on what appeared to be a shed; that was great news because where there was lights and sheds, there was people and roads - my adventure was looking up! I steered towards the shed, but when I got within about 30 feet, my heart sank. Silhouetted against the edge of the shed, apparently using the wall for cover, was a man pointing a gun at me.
I stopped the car and looked, wondering what I should do; my head was out the window slightly trying to get a better look - was this really a dude with a gun? Could my eyed have tricked me? I was still trying to process what I was seeing when I heard the running footsteps coming up behind me.
Before that realization sunk in, the barrel of the strangers gun was forced into the back of my head, and my face was pressed against the a-pillar of my trusty Chevy. The man was yelling at me in a language I didn't understand, and I was scared to death, certain that my lights were about to be permanently put out by the pull of the trigger. I couldn't think what to do, so I just instinctually reacted the way every Canadian would in a situation like that; I just started saying "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot and a Canadian" over and over again.
"I'm sorry, I'm an idiot and a Canadian, I'm really sorry, I'm just an idiot Canadian, I'm really sorry, I'm just an idiot Canadian" - I can't truly remember how many times I repeated that refrain but it was a lot.
After a few moments (that seemed like hours) the barrel of the gun eased up a bit, and I heard the man say "Canadian?" in a questioning tone. I said yes, and he replied with "Passport". I slowly reached to the centre console and handed him my passport, and once he got a look at it he lowered his gun. He told me to pull around the side of the shed and I did so; he then escorted me inside where I met his fellow checkpoint guard.
They explained to me that they were guarding the road, and they were fairly certain I was coming to blow them up or attack them - that had been an ongoing issue for them in that part of the world - but they were confused. They expected that someone trying to harm them to be approaching from the desert, just as I had been doing, but they also expected that person to be sneaky about it. Here I was with my lights on, music blaring, rocking out in the cool desert air on my way to see where they filmed Indy 3, and they heard me long before they saw me. They figured if I was sneaking up on them, I was horribly incompetent at it, and that seemed unlikely so they didn't shoot me right away. In that moment they made a different choice - they sought first to understand, and instead of shooting at me (which they would have been well within their rights to do), they chose to try to talk.
As leaders in the workplace, situations like this come up all the time. Something bad is happening, and we can sometimes feel we need to react, respond, and lead through it. But sometimes when that happens, we skip over the most important part - take a beat and understand what is actually happening. When a leader seeks first to understand the perspective of those around them - whether it's a strategic issue, a conflict, or anything else - they are better equipped to make decisions that account for those perspectives. This doesn't mean you have to agree or reach consensus - you can dismiss a perspective entirely in your ultimate decision, but by seeking to understand it you can ensure that the person who holds it feels heard and valued, even if they ultimately are not the ones you listen to.
For me, that soldier was taught by someone - seek first to understand - and I' m forever grateful he did so. Had he not been taught that, I might not be here writing this today. Instead, what actually happened was this: They invited me in, they made me tea. We drank the sweet, hot beverage and calmed our nerves, and shared a good laugh about the experience. I learned one of them went to school in America, and that they were just a few years older than me. And after about an hour, I gave them a few packs of cigarettes as thanks, and they phoned ahead to Wadi Musa where one of them knew the principle of the school - they knew I'd need a roof and a bathroom when I arrived, and the Principle graciously allowed me to use the local elementary school for the night.
The next morning, I got to see Petra, and while I sat watching the sunset the next day from the High Place of Sacrifice, I realized that I owed a great deal of thanks to whoever taught that shoulder that taking a minute to ensure we are seeking first to truly understand the situation can make all the difference in a difficult situation.
See you next Sunday!
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