My Olympic Moment

An Olympic moment confirmed my belief that it is different out here. Wandering around downtown this weekend to see how the Olympics has affected the city, I received a surprise.   I'm used to Canadians and British Columbians in particular, being relatively shy and deferential to the world. Humble, you might say.

An Olympic moment confirmed my belief that it is different out here.

Wandering around downtown this weekend to see how the Olympics has affected the city, I received a surprise.  

I’m used to Canadians and British Columbians in particular, being relatively shy and deferential to the world. Humble, you might say.

But the scene that confronted me downtown presented another picture completely. Sure, everyone was friendly, as Canadians are wont to be. And they were relatively polite, for which they are traditionally famous. There was even a bit of jingoism in the constant shouts of Go Canada Go.

But what surprised me was the sheer confidence displayed by most of the people I saw. This wasn’t the touch of arrogance one sees in the French, or the usual brashness of Americans. Rather, there was a bit of swagger and a recognition that our time has finally come. Where did that come from?

I’m thinking particularly of a flashmob that appeared at Robson Square. About 50 young people arrived, many dressed in outrageous red costumes, set up in an empty space, and synchronized boom boxes on shoulders, merrily began dancing and singing along with the music – in the rain. The noise drew dozens of spectators, many of whom quickly joined the party. Instant and collaborative event, which paled all the “official” events that were going on.

This wasn’t just the enthusiasm of the young, although that was certainly part of it. Rather it was a confident celebration that exuded enthusiasm, not for the Olympics, but for life and fun. Mostly, it showed a sense of entitlement. That they had a right to be there, to dance, and to hell with anyone who said otherwise — like some of the foreign press who dumped on us because of our uncharacteristic lust to be noticed.

It was anything but shy. Wholesome, perhaps, but definitely not deferential.

A new era

And, I was thinking. Okay, as a people we have arrived. These people obviously didn’t think of themselves as perpetually second in line when it came to personality, as most Canadians have for so long. They simply were who they were.

Maybe it’s a generational thing. Many of us older folks came from another era, a time when we were lesser, smaller thinking, and always worried that we couldn’t measure up to the Americans and the Brits. That’s what we were taught. And that’s why many of us moved to B.C. in the hopes that things would be different.

Maybe it was regional, with a deeper confidence innate in having grown up in the West, instead of in Ontario, where you had to trace your ancestry back to some 18th Century British army colonel to be accepted (at least that’s how it was when I lived there).

Maybe out here we’re just more collaborative, creative, and willing to try something different. Certainly the industries that have sprung up here — creative, digital, and technological — point to that.

Whatever, it has implications for anyone with a business in this province. Going forward, I’d say that every business has to take this new attitude into account.

No longer can you simply use old and narrow ways devolved out of the autocratic manufacturing structure of Eastern Canada and expect that they’ll work.

No longer can you “tell” people what to do and how to do it. They simply won’t listen and will do what they want to do.

No longer can you merely buy an education or a plumby accent and expect to succeed. You’re going to have to put your heart and mind into it at all times.

No longer can you distantly deliver a service. These people will want to be involved and will question you at every turn.

My Olympic moment taught me that here in B.C., things have changed for the better, that a new generation filled with confidence is finally ready to do things in a different way.

My only regret is that it didn’t happen long ago.