If you follow US politics, you have likely heard of the stunning upset in a Massachusetts race to fill a senate seat vacated by the venerable Ted Kennedy. The short version of the story is that Kennedy, a liberal senator in one of the most liberal US states, passed away, necessitating a special election to fill his seat. Kennedy was a member of the Democratic Party, which had a lock on Massachusetts' senate seats since the early 1970's and effectively swept the last elections in 2008 primarily through extremely shrewd campaigning.

Most assumed the Democratic Party's nominee for the seat would be a shoe-in, but the Republican competitor, Scott Brown, won the special election in a surprise groundswell of support, which many commentators cited as a referendum on the entire Democratic Party and even President Obama's politics.

Regardless of what you think about the two main political parties in the US, the Democrats ran a highly successful series of campaigns in 2008 and, barely missing a beat, attempted to apply their 2008 strategy to several elections in 2009, losing most of them. In business, as in politics, it takes a combination of humility, hubris, foresight and a bit of luck to realize when the proverbial prize horse no longer has a winning race left in him. When this happens, an astute competitor can pull off what seemed to be an unthinkable victory if they read the markets and consumer sentiment better than you, or you are not prepared for a once-successful formula to suddenly result in complete failure.

Before dusting off the tried and true strategy, tactic, product or sales pitch, take a moment to look at the environment where you are attempting to apply it. Are conditions the same as they were in the past? Is there some new factor or sentiment that might cut a cannon-sized hole in what seemed like a bullet-proof strategy? Not allowing yourself to be lulled into a sense that success is assured based on past performance just might be the only universally applicable "strategy" out there.

Perhaps one of the worst examples of academia and consulting gone wild is the notion of "personality typing." The concept is simple: have employees take a twenty-odd question test, run it through some buzzword voodoo, and you can neatly compartmentalize everyone in your organization into their own little box. The gurus behind the various schemes will then tell you that an ABCD won't play well with an EFGH, or that an LMNOP is a born leader and you should never have a PG13 and XXX in the same room.

This type of management hooey applies a thin PhD-veneer to tired epithets like "Oh, he's <insert race, age or gender here>, and you know they can't drive!" Figuring out an individual's capabilities, strengths and weaknesses is hard work, and while the idea that a multiple choice questionnaire can do the heavy lifting for you may seem like a godsend, it's about as effective as the latest "as seen on TV" diet pill. As a leader, your job is to assess and manage each of the unique individuals that work for you, and put the structures in place to maximize their chances of success. If you feel that task is too difficult then you might be the wrong personality type for the job.

Last month, my wife and I culminated the first stage of the ultimate journey: Parenthood. On January 12^th our son Patrick III (they tell me the third time is the charm) was born. It was an interesting journey from my perspective, since you go from planning and anticipation, to watching your partner undergo massive physical change as you sit on the proverbial sidelines, all resulting in the arrival of a tiny human being who is simultaneously a combination of unlimited potential and utter helplessness.

We have found ourselves on what initially seemed like another planet, filled with its own language and myriad accoutrements, as anyone who has set foot in one of the large baby retailers can attest to. Our son will gaze upon the world or our faces with a look that is one part absolute contentment, two parts unmitigated curiosity one moment, then in the next moment let out a seemingly endless series of wails that I imagine could only be rivaled by a prisoner being disemboweled in a town square in medieval England.

Once simple tasks take on the gravity and planning requirements of a significant military maneuver, and much of our lives and conversations have been distilled to involve those most basic human functions of eating, sleeping and bowel movements. In addition, we are confronted by endless advice, much of it conflicting. Books suggest that "experts" and various "studies" have reached one irrefutable conclusion, then the next book, doctor or trusted friend will suggest the exact opposite, citing another cadre of experts.

One piece of advice we frequently read during the course of my wife's pregnancy was that everything from contractions to the baby kicking inside her womb were indescribable, and "you won't know it until you feel it." I also heard that advice about when I first set eyes on my first child, and I can attest to the fact that I truly did not know I could find so much love, wonder and unbridled happiness in my heart until I actually felt it on the afternoon of January 12^th.