Accord

He calls it “healthy tension”. I’m instantly interested, on the edge of my seat wanting to hear more.  What is this phrase he has coined to describe the dynamic he believes teams should aspire to in their working relationships?  I am seeing tension for sure, whether it’s healthy or not is another story.  What’s unclear to me is if he feels we’ve already reached this goal or sees we have more work to do.

I observe our teams experiencing a faux collaboration; no one gets too friendly or too comfortable. A certain congeniality is extended and embraced on the surface, tempered by an awareness that at any moment the hammer will come down. We’re always prepared with our defense. Ideas over-incubate, hatching induced once their parentage is indisputable. It’s all about taking credit so we’re ready when asked, “What have you done lately?”  We’re just short of a partnership or true equality because at the end of the day one party feels entitled to wield power over the other. Each side wants to win separately, and as such they both lose, creating a double negative, abdicating the powerful alliance these two groups should be poised to create.

It’s worth considering why we join forces with others. I like to think we come together because we see mutual benefit.  We know that together we can achieve more than we could individually; we can make each other better.  Each party brings different strengths, experiences, viewpoints and priorities.  Inevitably this introduces conflict. It takes an enormous amount of humility, self-awareness and vulnerability to marry our differences into a harmonious, functioning partnership.  And the benefits are epic, beyond anything you could ever imagine.

Yet many of us take the easy way out, we keep our conversations at the transactional level, steering clear of contentious topics in the name of keeping the peace.  Our silence becomes consent, and as such we never feel heard because we’re unwilling to say anything.  Until it leaks out sideways.  In another conversation.  About something seemingly trivial and unrelated.

The thing is open discussion in the face of conflict is the breeding ground of an unbreakable union.  You can’t impart your unique perspective unless you’re willing to dispute tried and true views.  You can’t incorporate what the other party brings to the partnership unless you’re willing to risk floating an idea in its nascence so it can be nurtured together. Expressing frustrations uncovers our differences, discussing our differences builds a new and better path forward.

I recently ran across some research that says the healthiest relationships are not the ones between couples who keep arguments and debate to a minimum, but between those who openly address conflicts when they arise. They don’t let grievances pile up, in fact they are vigilant about raising issues in the moment.  They know the destructiveness of the rug of contempt, and avoid sweeping problems under it.  The couples who are comfortable working through disagreements are closer, have each other’s backs and tend to stay together.  This feels like healthy tension to me.

 

And I believe in this for business partnerships, too.  As service providers we’re taught to be people pleasers; “the customer is always right.”  Maybe we need to be asking our customers if they want to always be right, if the tension in our partnership is, in fact, healthy.

I’m thinking about the meta-conversation, the one that lays out the ground rules for discussing conflict and differences of opinion, and bringing new ideas.  The one that ensures we respect each other as individuals, leaving pride intact.  The one that opens the door for winning together.  

Keen

“These are a bit pricey,” she observes, passing the glass vase of tulip bulbs over the scanner. Surprised by her comment, a myriad of thoughts fly through my brain in rapid succession.  She works here, doesn’t she?  Shouldn’t she be supporting a customer’s purchase, no matter her personal opinion?  Maybe these are more expensive than those buried in a plastic pot full of dirt, but I get to keep the vase, don’t I?  It’s an interesting shape and a nice size. Do I really owe this woman a justification for my buying decision?  Isn’t value ultimately determined by the individual contemplating the purchase? 

As I’m thinking, I’m searching her face for the hint of judgment, trying to supplant my own mug with a pleasantly neutral expression.  I say nothing at all.

The truth is, I find the presentation of these flowers-to-be interesting. What compels me to hand over some of my hard-earned cash for this transparent vessel containing five sprouting bulbs resting in water is the opportunity to watch the flowering process.  What happens underground is made visible to me. It’s a new perspective into blooming.  I want to see how it works.

We’re all curious about some things, but thankfully we’re not all curious about the same things.  We’d be living in a pretty one-dimensional world full of a lot of helpless people, and far more unsolved problems than we have today if that were the case.  I can’t tell you how grateful I am to the amateur mechanic who knows his way around an engine so well he doesn’t even need to be in front of my car to talk me through jumping the battery, or the dentist so well-versed in the characteristics and inherent differences of gold and porcelain crowns, he guides me to the best choice for my tooth without regard for lining his own pockets. Where would we be if Thomas Edison needed more than 4 hours of sleep at night or Madame Curie preferred time in the kitchen cooking Monsieur Curie’s dinner to time in the lab?  Without individuals driven to sate intense curiosity, the world doesn’t evolve.

It’s interesting, then, how all at once we can dismiss the curiosities of another because they don’t align with our own, and at the same time feel compelled to weigh-in on subjects we know next to nothing about.

There’s a lot of pressure to be the first responder to a request for information, but the question I’m asking myself these days is whether I’m always the best responder.  It’s impossible to be expert about everything, and in a world that’s becoming more and more about specialization, we need to become connectors to survive, and be open to many perspectives to thrive. It takes time to connect the dots, assemble our thoughts and formulate our position.

I doubt I’ll be making the next breakthrough in horticulture watching both ends of a tulip plant develop. But what I take away from my point of sale experience is we don’t owe responses to every individual opining on our choices. There is power in knowing I’m quite capable of delivering a response in the moment, but I’m also just as confident offering none.

We can’t allow others to shame us into being less than ourselves. We get to be curious. Curiosity begets passion. How else do we bloom?   

Preposition

It’s a bit like the grammar school textbook instruction on diagramming a sentence, the nearly extinct dissection of subject and predicate into their individual components; the idea we’ll somehow construct better sentences if we can visualize how each part functions. Except we are diagramming me, attempting to put our fingers on the precise descriptors explaining what makes me who I am, that certain je ne sais quoi I bring to my work, what I do differentiating me from the pack.

 

Of course there’s the discomfort creeping in with the thought of proclaiming my unique talents.  If I were a megalomaniac I’m certain this wouldn’t be an issue, but as I work on what I might say, I’m discovering the real problem is the lack of clarity in my message. I know what I do well, but I don’t always recognize what it is I do well that no one else is doing. And I’m struggling to pipe up in my voice, as opposed to droning in the one sounding like everyone else.

My first draft is loaded with dry corporate speak, a litany of metrics and statistics, the familiar markers of success in my industry, an inhuman spouting of recent accomplishments. The only cue I give my reader to distinguish my list from that of any other is my photograph at the top of the page. We’re a world focused on results.  We bring in new clients, attract top talent, grow our businesses, we make money for our companies. But the numbers and associated clichéd buzzwords don’t tell the story. They translate into finite, static snapshots in time, incapable of doing justice to, nor honoring, the living, breathing human beings producing them.

Sure, the numbers are there to talk about what’s achieved, but along with them is the need to somehow impart how it’s achieved. There’s a latent repeatable process I’ve never uncovered nor unpacked; it’s a secret recipe honed over time, applied in all walks of my life.  A conglomeration of parts of speech buried in the sentence that is me, begging to be called out individually and studied in their own right if I’m ever to tell a compelling story.

We’re all a bit myopic about ourselves.  We tend to think what we do isn’t so special, surely others use our technique, look at issues from a similar vantage point, draw comparable conclusions, or inspire the same ideas.  We often need to seek out our colleagues and loved ones to show us how we’re different and point out where we need to place the “extra” in front of “ordinary”.

And so he and I draw my diagram, consulting the dictionary and thesaurus, searching for words I can comfortably put in my mouth, swirl around and share back with the world in a voice that rings true. Even as my story begins to take shape, I’m still tempted to stay within the safe bounds of the vernacular of my industry. I’m fearful my words will be too different, too human for the staunch world of business. But I need them to be.  I’m connecting my dots, deconstructing myself for understanding, allowing for a richer depiction of how it is I do what I do, over and over again, for winning results.  It’s a story no one else can tell.

Tenor

He tells the story of an angry man, fresh from a tongue lashing from a client, assembling the team to pass along in the same fashion he received it, dissatisfaction and blame for an extremely expensive mistake.  As he finishes his tirade, sucking every bit of collaborative, problem-solving energy out of the room, a cooler head asks if he’s finished, and then proceeds to inform this man of his misdirected fury:  This group of individuals is only the messenger, reporting bad information. Breaches in operational protocol and a lack of communication mean no one has eyes on the big picture; the right questions sure to catch mistakes go unasked.

There are a couple of things wrong with this story.  First and foremost is the fury.  This man’s shaming approach does nothing but shut everyone down.  Sure, I get that he’s angry.  His head is on the chopping block; he’s not a “doer” on this team, he’s responsible for oversight, and as such he’s the one with the burden of communicating the implications of this error to his superiors.  But the reality is he’s responsible for much more; he’s responsible for modeling and supporting an environment where hard questions are routinely asked, with the goal to uncover risk before disaster strikes.  Small mistakes happen every day. Left unchecked, they can become monumental.  I believe we can prevent some of them, mitigate many of them, and solve for all them when we create environments where we welcome constructive conversation about them.

Secondly, is the finger-pointing behavior this fury unleashed triggers.  People automatically shift the blame; it’s a natural defense mechanism.  It’s pretty certain this team played some part in the outcome, but few are willing to make themselves vulnerable in that admission amid public flogging.

Core to the culture of safety we are developing in my organization is the concept of “near miss” reporting.  A near miss is defined as a situation with potential to cause an accident, identified and corrected before the accident ever happens.  Things like addressing improper ladder set-up before the technician climbs it, or stopping someone without safety glasses before she walks into the lab.  We track our near misses, broadcast them; reward even, the individuals who call out these seemingly small infractions before they cause a serious problem.  I love this behavior.  It is at a very basic level an exercise in vulnerability; one that is sorely needed in the workplace, and evidence of an ever-so-slight shift in culture to one of constructive collaboration through a willingness to speak openly of failures.

 

We could easily go the other way.  We could track these same near-misses negatively, dock pay, or invoke performance plans, but instead we choose to look at them as learning opportunities, as evidence that safety is so important to us we speak openly about these mistakes to draw continuous attention to risk mitigation, stressing prevention and raising awareness with humanity top of mind. We empower people to learn from a position where corrections can be made before consequences become dire; their ability to make a difference becomes visible to the team.

  

I can’t help but think back to the angry monologue. What if instead this man had pulled the entire team into the room, not just the group he views as the offenders, and explained calmly the mistake and its deep financial implications?  What if he had asked this group of experts in the field to help him unravel and understand how this all happened?  I like to believe he’d walk away from this conversation with more ideas then he’ll ever be able to implement to solve this problem, and a loyal team willing to help solve any problem.

The executive oversight role can be a struggle in business and in life. As parents, some of us wake up one day to realize we’ve received an unwanted promotion into this position.  Our young adults are making their own decisions now, and we feel a bit powerless, no longer calling all the shots. Do we breeze in periodically to take them to lunch, or hold the perfunctory check-ins so we can walk away reassured we’re all good?  Or do we roll up our sleeves, teaching them how to assess and manage the risks inherent in life by asking the tough questions lurking below the surface, and listening without interjection to the answers these intelligent and vulnerable individuals so desperately want to share?

We can make a difference no matter where we are in the food chain.  At the top we set the tone. Are you yelling? 

Brief

They arrive in a cardboard box: Fifty 3-1/2” X 5” notebooks lined up in a row, each containing thirty-two blank white pages pinned to their chipboard covers with shiny silver staples, drenched in possibility.  The most daunting of all is the lone copy offering a clue: “This book contains all the answers” is artist Dallas Clayton’s proclamation across the cover; however, he’s left the insides decidedly void for another artist (me) to fill.

   

And so I wonder about “all the answers”. If I’m bound by these pocket-sized limits, I’ve got some serious contemplating, culling and distilling to do. What words or pictures do I deem important enough, so essential to the human condition and getting through this life that they earn tenancy within this coveted real estate? 

Here are a few to get started:

Stop comparing yourself to others.  This includes your siblings, your thinner/prettier/younger friends, your parents, colleagues who outrank or threaten to outrank you, those women in yoga class who dare to wear the short shorts, and anyone and everyone on the internet.  You bring a unique and wonderful set of skills, intention, drive, humanity and perspective to every situation.  If what you have looks exactly like what someone else has, you’re doing it wrong.

It just might take a while. We’re all in a hurry for everything.  And the speed of life only seems to accelerate as we age. Everyone around us seems to demand instant results, and so we demand them of ourselves.  We can’t lose weight fast enough, get promoted soon enough, find a good man before the alarm of our biological clocks is blaring.  But life happens on its own time.  One day you look in the mirror and realize your commitment to diet and exercise is paying off; careers, reputations and bodies of work build slowly over time; we cry over many Mr. Wrongs before we recognize Mr. Right. Practice patience, and try to be kind to yourself in the process.

You’re right.  Wow! Is this one hard?  And I’m always blown away by the lengths we go to, the tactics we resort to in an attempt to bury these words deep in our throats. The other person in the conversation is often right. In fact, if you’re with a reasonably intelligent individual, they’re probably right, like, 50% of the time. There is no shame in being wrong.  We gain so much respect and credibility in every relationship when we’re able to concede the other person is right.  Just say it and learn something from it.  It will make you better.  Really.

No. We think the answer needs to be yes.  But honestly, aren’t you sometimes doing yourself or others a disservice with yes?   Today I declined to participate in a voluntary project I am quite passionate about.  I was the last to reply to the request (uncharacteristic for someone with her trigger finger perpetually poised over the “send” button). But when I thought about the time commitment and everything else going on at the office, I didn’t feel I could fit it in and get it right.  And guess what?  The earth is still revolving on its axis.  I am still employed. Someone else may get a chance to shine.

 

Why not?  I know it’s a question, but for those of us always throwing roadblocks in our own paths, or finding a million reasons why we shouldn’t take a risk and try something new, what if we interrupted our usual diatribe of excuses with some measured thought around what’s preventing us from going for it?  I wonder what we might find.

I don’t know.  In our googilicious world this may seem like a cop out.  Don’t we have the resources at our fingertips to research anything and come up with the answer freaky fast?  Yes, for a lot of things, but not for everything.  The reality is some things are beyond our purview. Some of life’s most challenging questions are rhetorical or for the seeker to look within herself to find.  It’s okay to admit you don’t have all of them.  The answers, that is.  Few of us do.  And fewer still are willing to sit peacefully in the unknown and just listen. It’s amazing what we hear in the silence.  

Lavish

The Who say it ain’t for keeping.  My younger self, jaded and jilted in its evanescence, might interpret this phrase to mean it doesn’t last. It’s a good thing the wiser and somewhat more worldly me has learned it’s really for giving away.

It’s a journey to move along this continuum; the lucky ones reshape their ideas about love.  For some of us it happens when we meet the man we marry.  We create a shared life; evolving and growing together, learning the delicate dance of supporting our partner in becoming himself without compromising the quest we’re on to find our true selves. For others the path is not so straightforward; it takes more than one relationship.  We need to begin, end, spend some time contemplating the experience, and then begin again with someone new.

We tend to chalk serial monogamy up to bad choices, wondering how we can ever forgive ourselves for such a glaring lack of vigilance or clairvoyance.  But what if it’s nothing more than bad timing?  What if at this point in time, in this particular relationship we’re too far to the right on this continuum, unable to recognize that giving love away freely is the way to receiving more?

If we believe love is fleeting it becomes a precious jewel we shroud secretly, share selectively and dose sparingly; currency in a lonely bartering game. We can think we need to limit its access and jack up the price so high it reaches precious commodity status, available only to those who have grown comfortable concealing their flaws and modeling perfection ceaselessly for fear making visible the real person beneath the surface will result in rejection.

It’s not until we can take love off the endangered species list, lift the embargo and embrace it as the abundant natural resource it is that we are truly able to sustain a happy, healthy relationship.  When we apply love liberally we make room for our partner to show his true self, and in the process, we create that very same space for ourselves. We owe it to ourselves to be with someone who grants us the grace to be ourselves.  And we owe it to our partner to do the same in return.

Lay down beside me.

Ardency

“Be humble in all things but ambition.”  I spy these words while stopped at a traffic light at the intersection of Michigan and Congress.  I love this spot, engine idling; it’s the moment in my end to end drive of this short east-west link between the expressway and the lake when I anticipate bursting out of the shadows of Chicago’s tightly packed high-rises and into the light-filled expanse of infinity offered beyond Buckingham Fountain at Lake Michigan’s shore.

It’s been a while since I’ve tackled the topic of ambition. I have to look up the definition (again).  I search frenetically, in all its iterations, for the hint of negativity, puzzled evermore by the connotations put upon this combination of letters that have turned it into a source of shame for women, and become synonymous with the demise of integrity when it spawns destructive and selfish greed.

 

Ambition [am-bish-uh-n] noun:  a strong desire to do or to achieve something, typically requiring determination and hard work.

 

What is so wrong with the spirit of this quest, and do we need to sacrifice our humility to embody it?

  

Ambition has long been a dirty word for women. With the exception of short periods during wartime in the early 20^th century, women slowly leaked into the workforce, initially allowed positions mimicking roles at home:  Servant responsibilities keeping male executives organized, maintaining their schedules, bringing them coffee, the unsung heroes keeping everything moving. Millennials may be surprised to know their grandmothers were forced to quit work when they got pregnant, and for some even getting married meant the end of a paying job.  The woman’s priority was supposed to be the home.  Women may not have been “allowed” to have ambitions outside the home, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t.

A loved one suggests to me that maybe women who want to fulfill themselves in the workforce, whether years ago or even still today, could not do so without ambition.  The barriers and social pressures are fierce.  Ask any woman who’s held a full-time job while raising a family:  It’s easy to crowd this space with the demands of traditional womanhood:  Wife, mother, homemaker, volunteer.  Without a burning fire from within to achieve, would many just give up?  The glass ceiling is not broken without determination and hard work; the very definition of ambition.

 

Ambition is not defined as actually doing or achieving something, but as the strong desire to do so. Nor is it defined as the measures one takes to do or achieve, yet somehow over the course of time we have hijacked the definition and decided it is associated with the tack employed to reach a goal, particularly negatively. It’s portrayed in movies like “Wall Street” as the ruthless hunt for wealth and power.

Ambition itself is neither positive nor negative, it is a driving force keeping us focused on achievement of our goals, no matter what those goals are.  Ambition is not limited to the pursuit of money or status.  It applies in the pursuit of anything meaningful to us that does not come easily.  It’s what keeps us in the parenting game, searching for ways to reach our teenagers during those dark years of incommunicado.  It’s what keeps us in a relationship with our partner seeking understanding when we don’t see eye to eye.  It’s what enables us to move seemingly impenetrable roadblocks, to find a new path, to open windows when a door closes, to look inside ourselves and embrace our flaws, to do something that scares us, to sit in our pain in order to move forward. It’s that slow fire burning within us that fuels the courage to put ourselves out there and be all we are meant to be.

Do we need to check our humility at the door in order to embrace ambition?  Only if to build ourselves up with some empowering self-talk.  Pursuing ambition is scary.  It means we need to believe in ourselves and our ability to achieve what it is we so intensely desire.  But our humility is crucial on the quest to fulfill our ambitions.  It helps us maintain integrity and a healthy regard for those around us, and more than anything it holds us close to those individuals who mean the most to us.  For without them, our success is meaningless.