Accrue

Talk is not cheap, although it can feel like it sometimes.  Our teenagers often devalue our words, responding with contemptuous, disrespectful or dismissive behavior.  I’m sure it’s happened to you as well in other walks of life.  You’re leading a team at the office and not everyone is on board with your way of doing things, or you’ve got a brilliant innovative idea but your boss has killed it on the table, supplying a slew of reasons why it will surely fail.  It’s frustrating enough to make us want to zip our lips shut or slap a piece of duct tape over our mouths.  Who needs to be told, tacitly or outright, they are misguided, mistaken or missing the mark?

From my vantage point, there is hidden power in our words to influence and persuade, to steer and guide others to move along the course of action we’re mapping out.  Some of us do this better than others, having been gifted with the ability to discern what protégés and peers are feeling, apply the empathy that engenders loyalty and have always at the ready the unique blend of words that inspire and motivate a myriad of individuals.  But if we’re not born with these skills, it doesn’t mean we need to raise the white flag.  We can make this work for us if we can find the confidence to trust what is inside of us, and carry on in spite of sometimes overwhelming negativity and apparent apathy.

It takes courage to be a great leader, to be able to put your words out there, have faith that your direction is true and trust that the desired result can be achieved without ever firing your own rifle.  There’s a great scene in “Band of Brothers”, my all-time favorite movie about leadership, when Major Dick Winters is confronted with the full magnitude of his talents.  He’s interviewing for approval to redeploy to the Pacific.   The officer reviewing his resume is quite impressed to discover Winters withstood Bastogne, the infamous Battle of the Bulge, on the line with his battalion, without taking a shot himself.  The officer says he “can’t think of a tougher test for a leader, having to sit through a siege like that, under those circumstances” and exhibit the control to leave the fighting to his men.

Life with teenagers is its own troubling siege, as can be a leadership position at the office where you are accountable for results delivered by the team.  In these situations, we simply must place certain action in the hands of others.   Many of us don’t know how to use our words to influence, and can feel worthless or forgotten when we’re no longer working with our hands, so to speak.

Speaking with the power to influence is an art to be mastered.  It takes an inordinate amount of patience:   A willingness to listen really hard, an open mind, the acumen to know precisely when the opportune moments present themselves for you to insert your views, the control to say just enough when your words need time to simmer, and the faith to be able to walk away accepting that its okay your foe or charge may not yet be ready to surrender or accede, you’ve moved him a step or two closer.

For me, although it is hands down the most difficult time next to the potty training experiences I suffered through, I’ve often felt I’m a good match for adolescents.  It’s an endurance challenge, a marathon, not a sprint.  As Winters was tested in Bastogne, parents are tested every day to unearth the tenacity that every great leader possesses. Years ago, when my boys were very small, I remember a colleague who attended countless project meetings I ran telling me that my kids were lucky, that I was going to be a good mom during those tumultuous years.  It’s interesting that he saw my potential, but of course, having no idea what was in store at the time, I laid his words to the side. 

Now I get it, and I’ve drawn strength from his observation countless times. I find myself looking to my experience at work as a team leader. It’s become an invaluable training ground for raising my kids, and a source of proven tactics to adapt.  It’s a place where you somehow need to keep your cool in order to keep your team on-board.  Yelling and screaming just doesn’t cut it in the office.  Yet it’s a place where I’ve seen success and positive outcomes through my words.  My sense that these behaviors are transferable is slowing being proven true. 

I’ve applied my leadership methodology over and over again with my boys. I’ve come to believe this is the true source of my power with them, although, many times I leave a conversation, hanging my head, certain I will never get through to them.  It takes everything I’ve got to sit tight and watch them fight their way out of the cocoon. I know, of course, too much pride is at stake to concede, in the moment, to the validity in my words. And sometimes they just haven’t lived enough life yet to know they should heed. It doesn’t mean my message is worthless.

I recently read an article in the Sunday paper about the dangers of synthetic marijuana.  Wanting to find a time and place to discuss this with my boys, I left it open on the kitchen table, as a reminder to bring up the subject.  I broached it with Nick, explaining my salient points, and my ever-present concern over health and safety. He assured me in a language that I’ve come to understand as truth, that it’s illegal now, and most importantly he doesn’t believe in it. 

This is where it gets hard.  The mother in me always leaves room for the shadow of a doubt. We can say it; we can believe we’ve been heard, and even that we have concurrence.  But how will we ever really know if they are acting on it?

I came downstairs a little later to find him tearing the article out of the paper.  He has a friend who he thinks needs to hear this message.  I could have demanded to know who it is.  I could have pressed for more information and watched our conversation escalate to anger and then deteriorate into silence.  My son is nothing if he is not loyal.  Instead I told him how proud I am that he cares enough to help a friend out in this way.  I reminded him of the power his words hold and how he can affect positive change.  I reiterated his obligation to call in special forces, in the form of adults, if someone's safety is in jeopardy. And I left it in his hands.  I believe Nick’s voice will resonate.  It has to; he is an unwitting answer to a desperate parent’s prayers.

The newspaper is still on the table, open to the page where the article was printed.  The torn edge of the newsprint makes me smile.  It’s my reminder that talk is not cheap.  It may feel like it as the words come out of our mouths, but they are earning interest at a rate far greater than we could ever imagine, increasing in value exponentially as new messengers pay it forward.