It was a peaceful Sunday morning in November, and I awoke to my phone buzzing.

I ignored it, of course. What kind of monster wakes someone up at 8am on a Sunday?

But it buzzed again, so I eyed the screen and saw that the caller was the site manager for a major construction project I was working on — in downtown Manhattan.

So I reluctantly answered: 

“What happened?”

“It’s spaghetti,” replied the voice on the other line.

F*ck.

The business of frozen water

Hand up (and be honest) if you think all that’s needed to build an outdoor ice rink is a flat surface and a hose? 🙋

Yep. I thought you looked a little dense.

But there are infinite construction methods, mechanical features, chemical considerations, and design aspects — all which are informed by things like location, ambient conditions, volume, budget, and operational goals.

I earned a good living for a long time helping real estate developers figure that shit out — and I gravitated toward the most unique and challenging projects.

So I was thrilled when a super innovative real estate company wanted help building an ice rink on the roof… of a pier… in the middle of the East River.

That’s my jam. 👊

I got to work assessing the conditions, considering all of our options, and helping my client articulate the goals of the project.

For the construction method, we settled on what’s known in the industry as an “IceMat” — a roll of small, pliable, and evenly-spaced tubes held together by a rigid “header”.

You simply connect the header to your refrigeration plant, pump liquid refrigerant through all the tubes, then spray it with water. 

Bam! You got an ice rink.

Ok, so it’s a little more complicated than that. And we were doing it on a roof, so there were major engineering hurdles to tackle such as weight distribution, material combustibility, and wind.

We pored over every detail, and imagined every scenario.

It was one of the most well-planned projects I’ve ever worked on.

But we didn’t plan for this…

Protect and serve 👮‍♂️ 

And destroy ☠️

New York City is unfortunately a target for violent activity, and our boys in blue work rigorously every day to prevent and respond to incidents that threaten the safety of the city’s residents and visitors.

They pay special attention to landmarks and attractions, and run regular drills for how to respond when shit goes down.

That’s outstanding. They have my full support. ❤️

And what better time than a peaceful Sunday morning in November to run such a drill?

But here’s the problem…

Does anyone want to guess what happens when you attempt to land a helicopter on an active ice rink construction site?

If you guessed, “spaghetti”, you’d be correct.

The downwash from a helicopter is capable of a helluva lot more than blowing off hats and flipping up skirts.

It can turn a half-built ice rink into a tagliatelle of tangled tubes. 🤦

There were a lot of smart people on site that day

How the hell could this have been allowed to happen? And could I have stopped it if I was there?

My guess is no.

What happened that day was a common phenomenon known as “Expert Idiot Syndrome”. (Ok I might have made that up.)

1. When you’re an expert in something, it’s hard to imagine others not having a clue about even the most basic aspects of your field.

2. On the flip side, no one wants to look like an idiot next to an expert when they don’t understand what’s going on, so they don’t ask questions.

Everybody rocked up that day with a bunch of assumptions (and you know what they say…)

👉 The helicopter pilot assumed the site manager understood the hurricane-force winds that are created by the helicopter’s downwash.

👉 The site manager assumed the helicopter pilot understood that until there’s ice on an ice rink, there’s nothing holding it in place.

👉 And all the other folks assumed that those two guys were on the same page.

If I had been there, I honestly would have made similar assumptions. 🤷

So how do you avoid it? What’s the advice?

It’s better to pretend to be an idiot than pretend to be an expert.

Why?

Because you’ll give yourself permission to:

1. Ask a bunch of stupid (or not-so-stupid) questions

2. View your own expertise through the eyes of a beginner

Also, when a new counterpart doesn’t immediately trust you because you exude confidence and expertise, they’ll be more inclined to cover their own ass by examining the details of your plan under a microscope.

Pretending to be an idiot is a win-win for everyone.

So go out there and dumb it up. 👊 

Cheers! 🍻 

-Kristin