Gordon Odundo: The game is in injury time, but retirement is not the end

This story has significance for readers across Kenya and beyond.

Gordon Otieno Odundo says the runway is getting shorter. He has more sunsets than he has sunrises. The game is in injury time, so he is cashing some cheques.

“Retirement isn't about stopping; it’s about moving on to something different,” he says. “Besides, people die a few years after retiring not because they’re broke, but because they have nothing to do.”

At 36, with no university degree, he applied for a chief operating officer job. He got it. His pay was doubled. His hours were cut short. “I had a level of ‘madness' or insanity when I was young. I was fearless,” he says.

Odundo later got a degree in Hotel and Restaurant Management and an MBA, both from the United States International University; a Postgraduate Certificate in Hospital Management from Leeds University, UK; and a Diploma in Hotel Management from Utalii College were the magic potions needed to turn him into an expert straddling the corridors of a hospital.

By the time he left his CEO position at Gertrude’s Children’s Hospital to head Nairobi Hospital, he was blooming, a man at the height of his powers. Then he was sacked.

“I had what was essentially a dream job, and I lost it,” he says. “It has been a test of resilience and the unknown. And I realised through that process that I needed more than just seeing my life through my work and family.”

What can you tell us about yourself that can help us understand you better?

I’ve worked in the health sector for over 25 years. There is a common assumption that I must be a medical doctor. But my actual training was in hotel management. I trained for four years and worked in the hotel industry for 11 years before transitioning into healthcare.

People often find it hard to relate those two fields, but I see them as two extremes of looking after people. While hotels focus on voluntary leisure, hospitals focus on “repairing” people and bringing them back to good health.

Why the shift from hotels to hospitals?

Hospitality and hospitals, right? In private healthcare, high-end hospitals are often branded as offering “hotel services.” Patients look at the beds, food, accommodation, and human-focused customer service.

My transition was a career change sparked by a feedback session with a consultant during a staff training programme. He told me that if I ever wanted to leave the hotel industry, I would succeed outside of it. In the mid-90s, I felt my career was stagnating under an expatriate manager, so I looked for new opportunities.

I saw an advertisement for a chief operating officer at a hospital. The description fit me perfectly, but I didn’t meet two key criteria: they wanted someone with an MBA who was at least 40 years old.

At the time, I was 36 and didn’t even have a university degree [chuckles]. However, I applied anyway, got shortlisted, and got the job. It came with double the pay and fewer hours—moving from 18-hour days in hospitality to an eight-to-five job. I used that extra time to go to night school at USIU to earn my undergraduate degree and my MBA.

What did they see in you that made them know you are their guy?

The organisation wanted to transition to a more strategic management style. Hospitals often struggle with “headache jobs” like repairs, maintenance, the kitchen, laundry, and housekeeping because they are so clinically oriented.

As a hospitality-trained manager, I knew how to make those services seamless. I was appointed Deputy CEO and COO with a mandate to run the organisation’s day-to-day operations.

Have you always been that courageous, applying for jobs when you didn't meet the criteria?

Looking back, I think I had a level of “madness” or insanity when I was young. I was fearless. When I told my late father, a career civil servant who valued job security, that I was leaving hospitality for a smaller, less prestigious healthcare organisation, he was concerned. My dad had been a civil servant engineer who worked for the government all his life, so job security was important.

I told him not to worry and that I would make my own security [chuckles]. My first assignment there, even before finishing my probation, was to restructure the organisation, which involved sending about 50 percent of staff home. I had to lead that change humanely and legally. You’ve got to take those leaps of faith, and maybe that has defined my character.

Did you want to be more like your dad or forge your own path?

I had a rebellious streak. I worked in government ministries during school breaks before my A-level, but I swore I would never work there permanently. I found it inefficient; people would leave their coats on their chairs to look like they were at their desks while they were actually away for hours [chuckles].

I once found a desk full of files that needed to be processed, and this guy who used to sit there would only process one or two files a day. I cleared the whole heap, and I didn’t have work for three months [chuckles]. I also disliked how government pay scales weren’t aligned with effort or responsibility.

I wanted to work somewhere where I could be rewarded for my performance, because the more senior you became, and with inflation, you became more broke. I told myself, I refuse to be broke.

How much of your career was planned and not happenstance?

I changed jobs quite a bit, but it's only that I used to get promotions every year. In my first job, I worked there for four years. I’d joined as a trainee assistant manager.

Then they said no you're going to be a departmental head and after some time they changed my title to give me more responsibilities because they could see the way I was working and that I could do more.

And then I was approached by another organisation where I went to work as a senior, but I didn't stay long because I was getting married, and I needed to relocate to Nairobi for almost a similar role in a new hotel. I had a lot of upward mobility in my life.

What was your mom like?

My mom was a nurse. My parents would allow you to do what you wanted.

As a hospitality man in a hospital, did you ever worry that, especially because you were working as a non-doctor leading doctors, you had to prove yourself?

I was very lucky. I was working with a British CEO, and he said, “Look, I’ve arranged for you to go for training.” So I went to Leeds University to study hospital management.

One of the first things they emphasised was: “In hospital management, learn not to do the doctor’s work. You’re there to be the head of the institution.”

If you remember that and keep learning about the details and depth of what healthcare professionals go through, you don't feel the need to earn their respect by trying to become an expert in obstetrics, paediatrics, or whatever. They spend many years learning those things.

Your job is to appreciate their expertise and help them work better in that environment.

Which decade of your life tested you the most?

This current decade has been the hardest. I had what was essentially a dream job, and I lost it. I haven’t been formally employed for eight years now. It has been a test of resilience and the unknown.

What does that do to a man?

Especially considering they say leadership is lonely. Then being a man is lonely. Who were you leaning on at that time? Family. Your biggest support system is your immediate family. Your spouse, if you have a supportive spouse. Your children. My parents died quite a long time ago.

Then you have your community and friends. Those are the people who can actually be your support system.

I’d gone through mentorship some years back, and one of the things I used to be asked was to talk about myself.

They would say, “Gordon, tell us about Gordon.”

And I realised through that process that I needed more than just seeing my life through my work and family. You need to build other factors, and one of them is growing your social network. I deliberately joined two separate men's groups. One is a church group where men meet every Tuesday. We have tea, cake, and fellowship, and we share. I'm sure we pray for each other.

Another is a men's investment club. We’re now 10 men. We put our money together, but we also meet socially, do community social responsibility, and celebrate our birthdays, which I discovered the other day that another guy had never had a birthday celebration growing up. [chuckles]

If you're in those kinds of groups, and you're also involved in church leadership, you have a bigger community. You don't get to be that alone, even when you're fighting those battles intrinsically.

How did losing that dream job affect your identity?

I practiced humility long before that happened. For example, I never had a reserved parking spot as a leader.

I just went to work early. I also made a point of being the one to greet staff, from the receptionists to the guards. In many organisations in Kenya , the leader is given a lot more prominence and sometimes even becomes bigger than the brand, what you call celebrity CEOs.

I never wanted to be a “celebrity CEO.” When the story about my exit broke, journalists couldn’t even find a photo of me in their archives because I was never the face of the brand. I always knew that privileges are temporary and given by grace.

How do you maintain your “face” as a provider and father during tough times?

No. I think it's not really about putting on a false face. It starts with honesty. You should call them and tell them, “This is what your dad is going through. Don’t be surprised. You see it all over the media. But you know your dad better than anybody else. Whatever is out there isn't necessarily who he is.”

Most importantly, it's about always having enough “shock absorbers,” developing assets early so that your lifestyle doesn’t collapse if you lose your job. There will, of course, be adjustments that have to be made. Man must be stoic about it.

You run away from the weaknesses of man. I stay stoic by maintaining a routine: waking up at 6:30am to exercise and staying productive with charitable boards and advisory roles who despite what I went through, retained me on their boards.

What are you learning about yourself presently?

I’m becoming less patient because I feel like time is running out, but I’m also more tolerant and better at choosing which fights to pick. Sometimes you do nothing, and the thing is resolved by itself. I don't like living in the past; I don't even listen to “old school” music because it feels like dwelling on childhood romances.

Young people should be excited. If you are 35 and God will give you 70 years, how are you going to play this second half?

I am heading toward my touchline; the game is almost over. People spend too much time thinking about the past, and they don't think about the future that's ahead of them.

Any regrets?

My only regret might be focusing too much on work performance at the expense of building deeper social networks.

Many relationships in the professional world are transactional or “fair weather.” You can be surrounded by people but still be lonely. Now, I try to be purposeful about meeting people for coffee just to chat, without asking for anything. That’s very hard. I've got to learn that whatever will happen will happen. Maybe one day he'll be in a room somewhere and say something nice about me [chuckles].

Have you made the most of your life?

No, because in a world where people compare themselves with each other, I'd say there are certain projects I've held close to my heart that I've never completed. I always dreamt of retiring to the lakeside, eating fresh fish daily, and playing golf. But I worry about the loneliness of relocating. Retirement isn't about stopping; it's about moving on to something different.

Besides, people die a few years after retiring not because they're broke, but because they have nothing to do. And to me, failure would be achieving things only for the glory of man or defining myself solely by material wealth rather than the change I've made in society through education, health, climate change, et al. You've got to have a cause bigger than yourself.

If you were offered a CEO job today, would you take it?

I think I would lose more than I would gain. I would be constricted back into the “rat race.” What’s Gordon doing for Gordon? The runway is shorter, and I need to use it better. Sometimes I think about it and think, “It would be nice” [chuckles]. But at this point, I prioritise what is good for me and my wellness.

Reporting originally appeared via Business Daily. Read the full source for additional context.