Sam Cawthorn - People Follow People

When I started to think about leadership in the context of this book, I reflected on the people in my life who have shown me, through their example, how to lead others. They have been my mentors and taught me about running a business and leading teams, and what traits to value in myself and others.

Here I'm going to take you on a brief journey to introduce you to both my personal and my leadership story.

Growing up in a large family in country Tasmania, I was number nine of 11 children. Looking back at my childhood, I can see that the first person who showed me how to lead was my father.

My father was an outstanding leader and a great role model for his sons and daughters. I looked up to him as someone who really stood up for what he believed in. He was a man of strong religious faith. He always held his ground; he spoke his mind when he needed to and kept quiet when he needed to. I don't remember him ever drinking alcohol, smoking or swearing. From a moral standpoint, he was a solid person, and that was something I aspired to; I was determined to follow his example. He set such high standards, though, that none of us really felt we could match them. I think many of us felt we couldn't meet his expectations, and this raised issues that each of us had to deal with.

Mum was amazing. She showed her love through acts of service and always provided for us. She didn't show a lot of affection, but she did the best she could with 11 children. She was not an easy person to live with when we were young, but she has since apologised to us all.

Witnessing the dynamics between my parents as we were growing up was interesting, to say the least. Yet the beautiful thing was that my parents were committed to each other and stayed together. As a couple they set an example that has taught me a lot about dealing with different personalities and finding common ground, even if the path to it can be rocky.

I also started to think about the various ways to lead by watching people in the many different churches we attended when I was a child and a teenager. I saw how what the church leaders, the pastors up the front, were saying and doing didn't always align with what they were telling us to do. I suppose my inner critic was strong and I was sometimes very judgemental of them. Holding up my father as the ultimate role model, I couldn't respect people who didn't live as he did and truly practise what they preached. This was something I thought a lot about as I got older and became a pastor myself.

The principal and some of the teachers at my school were leaders I admired. We went to a small public school in the country, where the staff really worked together. I saw little sign of gossiping between them; rather, the teachers supported each other and wanted the best for us kids.

As a young adult, my leadership mentor was Mr Moro, the general manager of the homewares store where I had my first full-time job; I stayed there for four years. With Mr Moro, you always knew he would look out for you and set a solid, ethical example. I respected him as a leader and aspired to match his strong moral principles.

My own first taste of leadership came when I became a kids' pastor in our church. I oversaw a couple of other people when we ran our kids' ministry and realised that I had to set an example for them too. Now I was the mentor. At the same time, I was asked to be the duty manager at Pizza Hut where I was working. I went on to run businesses and juggle everything that came with that role — looking after the finances, managing staff and stepping up to take decision-making responsibility. I was also overseeing people in my church. On top of all that, by then I was married and Kate and I had had our first child.

I was 23 and already on my leadership journey.

My first major leadership role came when I was working on a big theatre production. I had been asked to come along and do some dancing and singing in the show, but soon after rehearsals started the director bailed out after an argument with one of the other senior people in the crew. That meant the troupe of performers and stage crew were on their own, with no one to run the show. I was more than a little surprised when they voted for me to become the director, producer and choreographer.

There I was, at the ripe old age of 25, managing 30 people, most of whom were older than me, and running an entire theatre production. I was responsible for everything from negotiating with the venue to selling tickets and filling the concert hall, to overseeing the whole team. The production opened on cue and we had five sell-out performances.

At the start, shouldering that level of responsibility was overwhelming. Yet I was excited and really challenged by it too, and the fact that the project was a great success gave me the confidence to progress to other challenges.

Kate and I and our baby girl moved to Launceston, in the north of Tasmania. We went there mainly for my work, and also because I'd been given the opportunity to become second in charge in a church there, leading young people as a youth pastor. I was also working for Xerox selling photocopiers, though I have to say I wasn't too successful at that.

Then I got my job in job seeking — as a youth futurist.

At the time I was also teaching a number of adult education classes in singing and dancing. I had a strong singing and dancing career back in my twenties and I absolutely loved it. For a couple of years, I taught a 10-week course to classes of 20 to 30 people. It was great fun and offered a nice bit of extra cash on the side.

And that's when it happened. That almost fatal car crash would be a total life changer.

I suppose I'd always known deep down that there was more for me to do in my life, and that I could make a real difference in many people's lives. As a result of the accident, I found something I never could have predicted. Through the experience I discovered a more fulfilling career through which I would ultimately touch many thousands of people.

At 26 years old, I was in the prime of my life, married, with two kids and a full-time job with the Australian federal government. A big part of my job was travelling around the state so I had to drive a lot, which could be pretty tiring. That day, at around three in the afternoon, on the highway outside Devonport, I actually fell asleep at the wheel and veered over to the other side of the road. I later learned I was travelling at 104 km/h when I struck a semi-trailer going at 102 km/h head on, with a combined impact of 206 km/h. My car spun around into the path of another car behind the truck, which ploughed straight into my door.

The result can be imagined. A big part of my right arm was ripped off and the entire right side of my body was crushed, part of the car forced into the right side of my body. After about 18 minutes I lost consciousness. I was told later that by this time I had stopped breathing and my heart stopped beating for a couple of minutes. When the ambulance arrived the two paramedics managed to resuscitate me.

I was saved by the jaws of life. The paramedics cut me out of the car, stretchered me into the ambulance and raced for the hospital. I was on life support for a week. When I woke up and the doctors told me I'd lost my right arm above the elbow and I'd never be able to walk again, I first retreated into denial.

This couldn't have happened to me. It was a nightmare I convinced myself I'd soon wake up from. It was three days before I could accept this was actually my life and my reality. Then I went through a flood of emotions, always overshadowed by the thought of my kids growing up with a disabled father.

When I was out of hospital, a local youth group asked me to share my story, then I was approached by a school. I went on to share my story at school after school. Through my traumatic experience, it seemed like I had crashed into a new career path. I realised that this could be the beginnings of a new profession. I eventually decided to take the plunge, leave my job and learn how to market myself and my story.