Ed Batista

High Signs

One of the more challenging--and interesting--aspects of any leadership role is sensing the group's emotional state and responding accordingly. This can involve conveying enthusiasm to address discouragement, or expressing empathy to acknowledge sadness, or simply not snapping back in the face of anger.

But we tend to focus on negative emotions as the key signs that merit our close attention and care. Neuroscience research confirms what we know from direct experience: we have a keen sense for others' negative emotions, which activate a whole host of physiological and mental responses that allow us to manage both ourselves and the group dynamic more effectively. In tense or fraught situations, our focus sharpens and our reflexes quicken, allowing us to act with clarity and decisiveness. (Of course, when a situation becomes too stressful we may experience a threat response that will undermine our effectiveness; this is one reason why our leadership development curriculum at Stanford emphasizes experiential learning in settings that can evoke meaningful but manageable levels of stress, from role-plays to T-groups. Experimenting in these relatively low-risk environments prepares us for situations when the stakes may be higher.)

However, a potential blind spot we can experience as leaders is forgetting about this responsibility when the group's emotions are positive. We've just had a big win, hit a major milestone, or achieved our ultimate goal; people are happy, even giddy, and everyone feels great. So what's the problem?

When things are going particularly well and people are feeling particularly good, group norms and display rules can change dramatically--and usually this is a wonderful experience. Groups need this relaxation of everyday constraints in the wake of a big success or at the end of a meaningful experience; it provides an outlet for the wave of positive emotions people are feeling and creates a sense of release and closure.

But it can also lead to a sense of disinhibition that's important for leaders to be aware of and, if necessary, respond to. The modified norms and suspended display rules that can play such an important role in heartfelt, enthusiastic celebration can also result in wide range of unintended consequences. I think of them as "high signs"--indicators that the group is going so well or has achieved such a successful outcome that people are feeling a surfeit of positive emotions, which are both essential to the meaningful celebrations we crave at such moments and yet which can also result in misunderstandings, inadvertent insults and, occasionally, lawsuits.

Ron Heifetz and Marty Linsky's metaphor of "the balcony and the dance floor" is helpful here; as they wrote in A Survival Guide for Leaders:

The ability to maintain perspective in the midst of action is critical to lowering resistance. Any military officer knows the importance of maintaining the capacity for reflection, especially in the "fog of war." Great athletes must simultaneously play the game and observe it as a whole. We call this skill "getting off the dance floor and going to the balcony," an image that captures the mental activity of stepping back from the action and asking, "What’s really going on here?"

Leadership is an improvisational art. You may be guided by an overarching vision, clear values, and a strategic plan, but what you actually do from moment to moment cannot be scripted. You must respond as events unfold. To use our metaphor, you have to move back and forth from the balcony to the dance floor, over and over again throughout the days, weeks, months, and years.

If we can't join our team on the dance floor and celebrate, we'll miss out on vital opportunities to connect. (We'll also live much duller lives.) But if we can't simultaneously step back and see the bigger picture from the balcony, we'll miss important patterns in the group dynamic--those modified norms and suspended display rules that usually signify good times, and on rare (but memorable) occasions are hallmarks of trouble.

 

Photo by EAWB.

Significance Junkies

Writer and comedian Seth MacFarlane--the creator of the animated series Family Guy--was recently interviewed by Terry Gross on Fresh Air. Here's the conclusion of their conversation:

Terry Gross: On September 11th you were supposed to be on that plane that was...hijacked and flown into the north tower of the World Trade Center, and you were late, your travel agent gave you the wrong time, so you missed being on that catastrophic flight. Do you ever think of the rest of your life as being this kind of gift, because it could have all ended for you that day?

Seth MacFarlane: One of my favorite quotes by Carl Sagan is that we are as a species, and as a culture, we are significance junkies. We love attaching significance to everything, even when there really is no significance and something is just a coincidence, and this is a perfect example to me... Obviously the day itself was a tragedy and a disaster, but if we're just talking about my case, it doesn't strike me as something that I am attaching an unbelievable amount of significance to. [1]

In 1997 Carl Sagan published The Demon-Haunted World, and one of the book's last chapters, "Significance Junkies," addresses the many ways in which we misinterpret statistics and substitute magical thinking for clear-headed understanding. One example cited is the common attribution of "hot" and "cold" streaks and other aspects of athletic performance to quasi-mystical sources:

We seek meaning, even in random numbers. We're significance junkies... So what? What's the harm of a little mystification? It sure beats boring statistical analyses. In basketball, in sports, no harm. But as a habitual way of thinking, it gets us into trouble in some of the other games we play. [2]

Sagan's use of the term "junkies" is apt; we crave significance just as any addict craves their drug of choice. And when it's not readily available, we invent it--we imagine significance all around us. This may be harmless when it occurs in entertainment and similar domains, but as Sagan suggests, it can also pose real problems. One of the areas where this occurs is in our working relationships, particularly when we're in a leadership role.

Our craving for significance leads us to see meaning in randomness, to hear signals instead of noise. We mistakenly believe it's all about US--that people are thinking about US, noticing US, responding to US--when, from their perspective it's really all about THEM--and they're thinking about something else, noticing someone else, and responding to a whole host of factors: what they ate for breakfast, what their spouse said last night, the state of their retirement portfolio.

We matter less than we think we do, and the universe is more random than we want it to be--and those can be painful truths to accept. Sagan opens his "Significance Junkies" chapter with an epigram from mathematician and philosopher Henri Poincaré: We also know how cruel the truth often is, and we wonder whether delusion is not more consoling.

We crave significance and invent meaning not because we're stupid, but because we're creative: it hurts to admit our insignificance, and we find consolation in endlessly inventive delusions of relevance. But it's really not all about us, and once we realize that we can enter into a different kind of conversation with the people around us. Instead of simply assuming that our actions are the basis for their reactions, we can get curious about what they really are thinking about and noticing and responding to.

And yet, while it's usually a mistake to assume that another person's response is entirely about us, it may be equally mistaken to assume that our impact on other people is aligned with our intentions. It's all too easy for our actions or comments to have an unintended impact on other people, and this can be exacerbated when we're in a leadership role. [3] By emphasizing our tendency to see significance where there is none, I'm not suggesting we ignore other people's responses--a heightened awareness of our impact on others is an essential leadership skill. But I make a distinction between improving our ability to discern when we've had an impact on others on the basis of observed behavior, and letting go of the assumptions and imaginary scenarios that spring from our craving for significance.

 

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Footnotes

[1] Seth McFarlane: TV's Family Guy Makes Music, Too (Interview with Teri Gross, Fresh Air, October 17, 2011)

[2] The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark, page 349 (Carl Sagan, 1997)

[3] Intent vs. Impact (When Communication Goes Awry)

 

Photo by Andy.

Learning from Mistakes

What is a mistake? When we make a mistake, what do we think that says about us? How do we feel about ourselves? And how does that framing affect what we learn from the experience?

In a recent article for Wired Jonah Lehrer discussed a study by Michigan State's Jason Moser that provides a neurological basis for understanding why some of us learn from mistakes more effectively than others. From Lehrer's article:

[T]here are two distinct [neurological] reactions to mistakes... The first reaction is called error-related negativity (ERN). It appears about 50 milliseconds after a screw-up and is...mostly involuntary, the inevitable response to any [mistake].

The second signal, which is known as error positivity (Pe), arrives anywhere between 100-500 milliseconds after the mistake and is associated with awareness. It occurs when we pay attention to the error, dwelling on the disappointing result. In recent years, numerous studies have shown that subjects learn more effectively when their brains demonstrate two properties: 1) a larger ERN signal, suggesting a bigger initial response to the mistake and 2) a more consistent Pe signal, which means that they are probably paying attention to the error, and thus trying to learn from it.

[The Moser study] applied a dichotomy first proposed by Carol Dweck, a psychologist at Stanford. ...Dweck distinguishes between people with a fixed mindset--they tend to agree with statements such as "You have a certain amount of intelligence and cannot do much to change it"--and those with a growth mindset, who believe that we can get better at almost anything, provided we invest the necessary time and energy. While people with a fixed mindset see mistakes as a dismal failure--a sign that we aren't talented enough for the task in question--those with a growth mindset see mistakes as an essential precursor of knowledge, the engine of education...

It turned out that those subjects with a growth mindset were significantly better at learning from their mistakes... Most interesting, though, was the EEG data, which demonstrated that those with a growth mindset generated a much larger Pe signal, indicating increased attention to their mistakes... What’s more, this increased Pe signal was nicely correlated with improvement after error, implying that the extra awareness was paying dividends in performance. Because the subjects were thinking about what they got wrong, they learned how to get it right...

...[U]nless we experience the unpleasant symptoms of being wrong--that surge of Pe activity a few hundred milliseconds after the error, directing our attention to the very thing we’d like to ignore--the mind will never revise its models. We’ll keep on making the same mistakes, forsaking self-improvement for the sake of self-confidence.

What I find most interesting and useful about Lehrer's analysis of this research is the connection it allows me to make between (on the one hand) the neurological evidence that people who devote more attention to their mistakes learn from them more effectively and (on the other hand) my own empirical experience as a coach that fixating on mistakes can be demotivating and lead to feelings of worthlessness, while focusing on successes can stimulate feelings of optimism and resilience, even (especially) in light of recent struggles.

Carol Dweck's research provides me with the missing link; the essential factor isn't the relative amounts of attention we devote to our mistakes and successes, but whether we're holding a fixed mindset or a growth mindset about ourselves and our capabilities.  In the former case, we view mistakes as manifestations of our intrinsic character, as de facto evidence of our unworthiness--and so focusing on our mistakes generates feelings of shame and embarrassment and undermines our self-confidence. We go to great lengths to avoid these feelings under the best of circumstances, so it's no surprise that when we make a mistake while holding a fixed mindset, the very last thing we want to do is devote more attention to it--and so we lose the opportunity to learn from it.

But in the latter case, we view mistakes as external events, as unfortunate things that have happened. This isn't to say that we're avoiding responsibility for our mistakes, or that we don't feel bad as a result. As Lehrer notes, those of us who learn best from our mistakes actually have a bigger neurological response to a mistake. But we don't view mistakes as personal defects, and they don't carry such a negative emotional charge. I'd suggest that those of us who hold a growth mindset are able to forgive ourselves for mistakes and let go of (or at least mitigate) any feelings of shame or humiliation. This forgiveness allows us to continue to focus on the mistake that much more intently, without losing confidence in ourselves, and as a result to learn from it more effectively.

The underlying question then becomes: What can we do to cultivate a growth mindset that will allow us to focus on our mistakes without feeling shame or losing confidence? Many of my experiences with clients and students--and in my own life--suggest that the first step is simply acknowledging any shame and embarrassment we do feel in the aftermath of a mistake, both to ourselves and to those around us. At the very least, getting those uncomfortable feelings out in the open tends to diminish their power and allows us to choose what to do with them, rather than feeling driven in some way to escape their covert influence.

I know that particularly when I'm in a leadership role two of the most important things I can do are 1) quickly admit a mistake once I've made one, and 2) own up to my resulting feelings of shame or  embarrassment. This makes it much safer for those around me to do the same, and the group's potential to support learning increases dramatically. (And it's one reason why I encourage leaders to embrace mistakes, failure and surprises.) That's not to say I find this easy, even though I get plenty of opportunities to practice--but it is a value I try to uphold.

For a discussion of specific steps that support the process of learning from mistakes, see my 2009 post on the same topic, based on Robert Brooks and Sam Goldstein's The Power of Resilience.

Thanks to @DanielCoyle for the initial reference to Lehrer's article.

Photo by Alex E. Proimos. Yay Flickr and Creative Commons.

The Air Mask Principle

We've heard it over and over (and over) again:

In the event of an emergency, secure your own air mask first before helping others.

This applies on the ground as well, and the greater our desire to be of service, the more important it is to take care of ourselves in order to be able help others most effectively.

It's a simple principle to grasp, but the challenge is knowing just what this looks like in practice, both over time and at any given moment.

So what's your equivalent of an air mask? What activities and practices are essential to your health, well-being and effectiveness? What steps are you taking to insure that they get on your calendar and stay there? And how do you create and maintain boundaries that insulate these activities from the demands made on your time by other pressing tasks? (A job made harder by the fact that these activities are usually important but not urgent.)

For example, I've learned that daily physical activity helps me reduce stress, clear my head, and stay mentally sharp. When I'm active on a regular basis I'm a much better coach and a much happier person, and the two are related. I use Don't Break the Chain to track how often I'm active, and here's what my exercise calendar looks from July 1st through October 14th:

That's about 65% over a 100-day period--not bad. But that long blank stretch from September 21st through October 9th jumps out at me--what happened? Initially I was just knocked out of my routine for a few days--no big deal. But that carried over into the beginning of Fall Quarter at Stanford, which was a particularly busy time for me this year. And then I caught a cold that was going around campus--always a sure sign that I'm working too hard and not taking care of myself.

While I believe I've done some good work with my students and clients over the last four weeks, I've also done some work that could have been better--and some of it was more stressful and less enjoyable than usual. Knowing what I need to do to take care of myself and tracking my efforts on that front via Don't Break the Chain ultimately helped me get back on track, but I still needed to make some difficult in-the-moment decisions to prioritize my personal needs over other responsibilities.

And it's at those moments that I find the air mask principle useful. There's always more work to do, there are always people I'd like to support in some way, and I can always find a reason to put others' needs ahead of my own. But if I do that indefinitely, I'll burn out--or pass out. No air mask, no oxygen. Bearing in mind that I can't help others effectively unless I'm taking care of myself helps me choose to put my needs first when necessary without feeling that I'm letting others down or failing to honor my commitments.

 

Coaching, Advice and Feedback

Good coaches understand how important it is not to provide too much advice or feedback to clients. A fundamental tenet of coaching is that the client already has the answers that are right for them, and the coach's primary role is to ask the challenging, provocative or supportive questions that will allow the client to discover those answers within.

But this isn't to say that coaches should never offer advice or feedback--there are times when it's essential to do so, and withholding such information from the client would be as unhelpful as providing too much. The key is finding the right balance, both over the course of each individual coaching relationship, and in any given conversation. Below are excerpts from three texts that have had an important influence on me as a coach, particularly in the context of my work at Stanford, where one of my primary roles over the last five years has been helping MBAs develop coaching skills to support their effectiveness as leaders and managers.

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From Co-Active Coaching (2nd edition), by Laura Whitworth et al, one of the primary texts in Stanford's Leadership Fellows Program (and for many years in our Leadership Coaching and Mentoring course, which was integrated with the Fellows program this year and which provided the basis for the new Fellows curriculum):

Opinions and Advice

The urge to give good advice and to be helpful is so strong that it is sometimes nearly unmanageable. This is another case in which self-management is a judgment call, not a rule to follow.

We emphasize that clients are naturally creative, resourceful, and whole and that they do have the answers or know how to find them. Still, at times it may seem pointless to withhold your knowledge or experience when it is clearly relevant and could spare clients time, money and effort. As long as you are conscientious about framing the conversation as your experience and encouraging clients to find their own best way while exploring a number of alternative pathways, your experience will be seen as one more potential course of action and not the "expert's" way. In short, don't make it a rule that you will never share an opinion or a bit of advice. Self-management is a context of discretion, always in the client's best interests.

This discretion also extends to sharing your personal story. Most of the time, it's best to keep your personal story to yourself... In almost all cases, it is inappropriate and a waste of the client's time for you to share your personal story. We say "in almost all cases" quite intentionally, because there may be times when a little of your story will be important in building trust and relationship with a client. The fact that you are human, not just an anonymous impersonal resource will contribute toward building a strong, co-active relationship. [p 112]

Asking Permission

One of the most important techniques the coach uses to remind clients that they are in charge of the coaching direction is to ask permission: "May we work with this issue?" "Can I tell you what I see?" ""Would you like some feedback on that?" [emphasis mine] When the coach asks permission, it demonstrates that clients have power in the relationship. It demonstrates, too, that the coach knows the limits of his or her power in the relationship. Asking permission is a sign of self-management on the coach's part and allows clients to take responsibility for managing their relationship and their work. Clients are honored when you ask permission; their boundaries are respected. This is especially important when the issue you'd like to work on is unusually intimate or may make clients uncomfortable: "May I tell you what I see about the way you've been handling this?" [p 114]

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From The Coaching Manager: Developing Top Talent in Business, by James Hunt and Joseph Weintraub, the other primary text in the revamped Leadership Fellows Program:

The Coaching Mirror

Self-assessment based on personal reflection alone may not be enough to help employees clearly see how they are doing and what they need to learn to improve their performance.  Feedback is a component of coaching episodes. It may be one of the most difficult aspects of coaching. We suggest that coaching managers have the goal of building a "mirror" in which employees can see themselves more clearly. Feedback isn't meant to create change, it is meant to inform. [emphasis mine] [p 27]

Observing What is Important, Effectively

Observational data are the best data of all. The coach watches the coachee and, ideally, pays attention to what the coachee did and said, without interpreting the meaning, at least initially. In this critical way, the coach is especially valuable to the coachee, serving as the coachee's eyes and ears and being in position to offer the coachee fairly accurate feedback.

Unfortunately, even with firsthand data, observer bias quickly becomes a problem.  Feelings about the individual being coached; a tendency to identify or "dis-identify" with that person; recent memories of great or terrible performance; race, gender and cultural and personal style difference between the coach and coachee; these can all make it harder for the coaching manager to focus on what the individual employee is actually saying or doing. The coaching mirror is built from data, not inference... The most important point, however, is to acknowledge that such bias exists and is a potential problem for all of us.  [p 29]

Providing Balanced and Helpful Feedback

Feedback represents the coach's view of the gap between an individual's performance and what improved performance might be like, if indeed there is a gap. (In the case of a strong performer, the gap might be "upside down," meaning that the coachee doesn't appreciate that he or she possesses a particular strength.) Feedback serves as a source of information to coachees, helping them assess the gap between desired and current performance. Ideally, feedback holds up an accurate mirror to coachees, so they can see themselves and take ownership of their actions or results. [emphasis mine] Once coachees have defined learning issues or goals and offered self-assessments of their effectiveness in relation to those areas ("I think I need to be better at..."), feedback alone may be enough to help them improve their performance...

In addition to the problems associated with building a useful coaching mirror, there are other barriers to the effective use of feedback. Simply put, nice people don't like to criticize... However, feedback should always be delivered in a way that will maintain the dignity of the coachee, particularly if it is critical information.

When coaching managers deliver feedback, a caring attitude is essential. If coachees define learning goals, they are allowing themselves to be vulnerable to the process of receiving feedback. They have let their defenses down, at least with regard to particular learning needs. It is the coach's job to help maintain an individual's sense of comfort, to the highest degree possible, so their collaborative efforts can continue.

However, this does not mean that such feedback can't be critical. Indeed, it often has to be critical. According to our interviews, coaching managers find that to withhold critical feedback as a means of supporting an employee is often seen as gratuitous. In a coaching-friendly environment, critical feedback is taken less personally, particularly if it is directed at the learner's actual goals. [pp 29-30]

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From Helping: How to Offer, Give and Receive Help, by Edgar Schein, one of the most useful books I've ever read in this field--I've been meaning to write a review for ages--and a book that Carole Robin calls the "third, unofficial text" in the new Leadership Fellows curriculum:

Feedback as an Essential Helping Process

Feedback, by definition, is information that helps one reach goals by showing that the current progress is either on or off target. If it is off target, that feedback automatically triggers corrective action... Feedback is essential to the helping process when the client asks how to remain on track. In this sense we are all seeking and using feedback throughout every day of our lives to ensure that what we intend comes to pass. But the information we seek, especially when we explicitly ask for help, is only useful if it is relevant to our target. The helper must be sure what the target is that the client is aiming for, and, therefore, must engage in humble inquiry before offering feedback...

Feedback is generally not helpful if it is not asked for. ...[T]he helper must first identify what problem the client is trying to solve before it becomes possible to provide help.  When a colleague, boss, friend or spouse unilaterally decides to give advice or feedback, it is likely that not only will the message be misunderstood, but the other person will be offended and insulted. I have seen this over and over again in performance appraisal where the boss says something like "You need to be more assertive in meetings" and the subordinate has not idea to what the boss is actually referring. That leads to a second principle. Feedback not only needs to be solicited, but it needs to be specific and concrete.

...[I]f feedback is to be helpful, it must occur in the context of a review of action, something the group has done together where specific behavior can be referred to and analyzed... By referring to specific events that both parties can remember, there is at least a chance of meaningful learning, but note how crucial it is to redefine the norms of deference and demeanor for these things to be said at all and to be heard as constructive instead of punishing.

If we combine these two points, the potential for effective feedback would be even higher if in the after-action review the leader asked members to start with their own questions about their own performance in order to solicit feedback... By giving the initiative to those seeking feedback, there is a greater likelihood that they can hear it because it relates to something they want help with.  It turns the situation explicitly into a helping relationship around common team goals...

Finally, a fourth point is that feedback works best if it is descriptive rather than evaluative... By making a judgment on what you should have done, the helper is taking on the expert or doctor role. By making a descriptive observation, the helper stays in the inquiring process consultant role, which allows elaboration and explanation on the client's part.

To summarize thus far...feedback works best if it is solicited rather than imposed, if it is concrete and specific, if it fits into a shared goal context, and if it is descriptive rather than evaluative...

...When I think of helping conversations that have gone wrong, in almost every case I discover that what I said was either unsolicited, too general, judgmental or related to some goal of mine rather than to what the other person was trying to do. [pp 117-122]

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Photo by Erich Ferdinand.

Don't Build a Castle; Put Up 1,000 Tents

Don't build a castle; put up a thousand tents.

Vince Stehle gave me this advice on more than one occasion while I was serving as the first Executive Director of the Nonprofit Technology Network and he was a member of our founding Board of Directors. I was privileged to have had Vince as a mentor, and this is one of the most important lessons he taught me.

The implications are clear:

• Don't over-invest your resources--time, money, attention--in a single, grandiose enterprise. Instead, experiment across a portfolio of possibilities, and double down quickly on the ones that show promise.
• Beware of commitments that will make it difficult to alter course in the face of changing conditions. Instead, be nimble and responsive to incoming data, and resist the gravitational pull of sunk costs.
• Finally, don't prepare for siege warfare when all you really need is a little shelter from the rain.

That said, the application of these guidelines requires interpretation and judgment, and this is where life experience, pattern recognition, and honing our instincts are key:

• Sometimes we do need to make a single, big investment, and embracing a portfolio of possibilities will spread us too thin.
• Sometimes we should be committed for the long haul, and if we cut and run we'll miss the success that was just around the corner.
• And sometimes--every once in a while--we really are besieged, and nylon mesh won't stop cannonballs.

But I've found that Vince was right quite often, and on many occasions it's been fruitful to check my impulse to build castles and, instead, diverting that energy into putting up lots and lots of tents.

 

Castle by Phillip Capper. Tents by Unofficial Glastonbury Festival.

Six Leadership Lessons from Dan Might

Even among the extremely talented, dedicated and service-oriented people I've had the privilege of working with in Stanford's Leadership Fellows program, Dan Might stands out as someone who would go the extra mile...or ten.  So it was gratifying--and not surprising--to learn that my recent post on Five Leadership Lessons prompted this insightful response from Dan, who added an extremely important sixth lesson of his own:

1. Initial Conditions Matter

I couldn't agree more--especially that you must be aware past the first hello.  Human systems are dynamic and we always have a lot of "firsts" with people.  The first time you commit to something people will notice if you follow through or not.  And the first time you face a stressful situation people will watch your reaction.

I agree when first meeting any group, whether you're the leader or not, remembering names will always help make a favorable impression.

Second, connecting with people on any level is critical.  Psychology shows commonality is important in relationships.  I figured this out by luck during my first leadership position.  I had 60 direct reports on a manufacturing line, and when I first met each employee I would point out when we had something in common as I asked questions about themselves.  I'm fortunate my parents had exposed me to a lot growing up from riding motorcycles to traveling all over that seemed to fit with something I could talk to someone about.  However, beyond even a common experience, just similar things about your personality I found work to connect and begin a relationship of understanding.  It was critical I do that because I was a 22-year-old newly-minted engineer leading a group of high-school educated adults who had worked with the company 25 years on average.  I had to bridge a gap with each individual.  Whatever it takes, connecting at some level is possible, and early on it is key.

I would also extend your last remark and stress always being aware beyond first encounters.  I try to live by that.  If I ever walk away and realize I might have been misunderstood or something would have been misinterpreted I go back and talk to the person and make sure we have the same understanding.  I literally did that before writing this post.  I emailed a co-worker I felt I might have upset today by pushing hard and asking tough questions to in order to spur some new thoughts around a strategy.  I was fortunate he responded right away and said he appreciated my passion for trying to motivate the leadership team and his motivation was something he had begun to lose and needed the wake up call.  It was important I followed up though in case he had been burying some resentment that would have grown.

2. Embrace Mistakes, Failures and Surprises

Yes!  I can identify with this, especially, early on in my career when I legitimately didn't have a lot of experience.  I figured controlling situations or defining tasks for people that I could do competently would avoid exposing where I might not be competent.  However, to your point, that limits the team and everyone’s experiences.  It also led to more micromanagement on my part because to ensure that nothing got beyond what I felt comfortable doing, I needed to control the situation more.  I slowly realized we could learn as a team, and I saw the value in saying, "I don’t know but I’ll find out."  If things went past what I knew, I admitted it confidently and said we’d figure it out.  I realized no one can do everything, and I had plenty of other skills that gained others' trust and respect.  Making mistakes was okay if I admitted it and was willing to correct and learn in the team's eyes.

I'm currently in a situation where I’m trying to help a struggling company and we need a better sales strategy.  I've had a lot of great experiences but sales is not one of them.  I needed to still maintain the leadership team's confidence that overall I can help the company but also let them know we’re going on a journey together and need to work as a team to find resources that will help us.  The great thing is we’re enjoying it and growing as a team.  We’re all experimenting, and we will make mistakes.  We’ve learned we need to be okay with that and use them as our most valuable lessons.  Remember, there are few mistakes you can make that will completely dismantle a company to the point of no return; it’s possible, but unlikely, so you need to be okay with going beyond your comfort zone.

3. Growth May Look Like Struggle

Yes!  People who are "Fs" on the MBTI or very high on empathy need to watch out for this.   I am right on the center of F and T, but I’ve always been rated high on empathy.  I constantly sense the unease of my employees when they’re struggling and I want to jump in and alleviate it.  I even had this problem as a Leadership Fellow.  It's a hard instinct to suppress.

What I need to tell myself is my best learning experiences have come from when I've struggled or made a mistake.  You can learn when things go well, but it’s harder to because we often assume we did everything right.  When things fail you have to look for a root cause.

I've helped manage this feeling by debriefing after someone struggles or coaching them and turning it into a positive after the fact that often leads to an "ah-ha" moment which provides a lot of satisfaction for both parties.  I focus on that satisfaction and know it will be worth it for the individual.  I think people are uncomfortable when they're struggling with something because they feel like they are being judged or considered a failure.  Instead, you can begin to shape their behavior with positive reinforcement after the fact by expressing you're happy they tried and now you both can begin examining what could have been done differently.

I did this with my employees on my production line.  They used to be trained that every decision had to go through the manager even if it was 2 AM and the line was broken down and the manager was at home asleep.  They were uncomfortable when I asked them to start making decisions and often times those decisions varied with their impact to cost, quality, or productivity metrics, so it was hard to say there was always one rule to go by.  I began to coach them that I was more proud of a decision and listening to them explain their well-intentioned logic (you should almost always be able to assume positive intent) that went into the decision than the actual outcome while they were still learning.  I stood by that belief and modeled it.  Even if they didn’t take the best route we debriefed the next day and I reiterated even if things didn’t go as best they could have I was proud of them and glad we had come up with lessons learned to fix it the next time.  Within a year we were setting production, cost, and quality records because we had a team that was learning, growing, and not afraid to try new things.

4. Feedback is a Gift

Right on all accounts.  Feedback does take time for us all to get used to giving and receiving.  Going back to something I said earlier about learning to admit when I was wrong, that went a long way to getting me better at accepting critical feedback and getting it.  When I started showing that I had no problem admitting my comfort with my own mistakes it opened others up to be more honest giving me feedback or accepting of my critical feedback because they know I also was willing to hold myself accountable and could find places to improve.

As a leader when giving feedback I always find it important to say that "Perception is reality."  I allude to the point that you're making about subjective versus objective truth.  They may feel they know objectively what they are feeling or doing, but they need to remember the perception of how they are coming across to others or myself might be different based on my subjective analysis and view of the situation and outcomes.

Acting on feedback is critical because it shows people you’re listening and care about what they have to say.

Bottom line: Feedback is critical, both giving and receiving, if you want to grow as a leader and improve your teams.

5. Safety, Trust, and Intimacy

Yes, patience and focus on what's important for the long run are critical.  I remember when I was turning around my production line I told my manager I needed time.  I told her not to look at the day-to-day metrics because they weren’t changing until I got the people engaged and feeling empowered which could be months...or years.  I was fortunate to have one of my best leaders at the time and she took a leap of faith and trusted me.  I realize looking back how big of a leap I was taking at 22 years old with little leadership experience and not knowing if what I was doing would even remotely work.  It gave me the room to take my time with the team and really focus on the intangibles.  Once we were a well-functioning team the metrics came and my manager was rewarded for her patience by record-setting numbers for the department at a time when the company needed all the production it could get.

I would also offer up a fourth factor that I’ve found critical: consistency.  I’ve noticed leaders that have a hard time developing the first three don’t have consistency in their reactions to certain stimuli.  They haven’t become self-aware enough to recognize when certain other factors may be influencing their mood.  I strive to make sure my reactions are consistent to a given type of stimulus.  If something is stressful I strive to remain calm even if I’m having a bad day or stressed in my personal life.  When someone brings me bad news I strive to listen carefully and make sure not to place blame on them and work to figure out what we need to do to correct it.  If I'm exhausted and someone brings me good news I muster all the energy I can show to my excitement with them.  For instance, even if you're a person who gets visibly stressed when things go wrong the consistency in your reactions allows your team to know that has nothing to do with them if you get upset due to something stressful.  They feel more comfortable delivering critical feedback and tough news or taking risks because they at least know how you’ll react.  To build safety, trust, and intimacy you need consistent behaviors.  I observed a peer of mine, who was also a production line manger, constantly react in different ways to good and bad news.  Happy sometimes, no reaction others, stressed at others, and even angry.  It makes people walk on eggshells when they don’t know who they’re going to get and what you may do with information.  That prevents building bonds between employees, peers, and the whole team in general.

6.  SAY THANK YOU!!

Also, this sounds funny, but say "THANK YOU!"  I can’t believe how far that simple phrase will go when honestly used to reinforce someone’s good actions.  Time and again I see managers don't take the time to acknowledge good work--something I’m not shy about giving people feedback on!  Money and other forms of recognition are always in limited supply, but honest "thank-yous" are always free and go a long way to improving morale, building relationships, and reinforcing simple but important things people do to help you or your team.

Five Leadership Lessons

Two weeks ago I began working with my fifth class of Leadership Fellows at the Stanford Graduate School of Business, and this coming week the Fellows meet the groups of first-year MBA students with whom they'll be working this Fall in the school's Leadership Labs.  It's prompted some reflections on what I've learned over the last five years about leading groups, with an emphasis on leader as coach and guide rather than as directive authority figure.  (Although note that I continue to re-learn these lessons regularly--while I recognize their fundamental importance and try to integrate them into my own practice, I can't say I've mastered any of them.)

1. Initial Conditions Matter

And much more than we realize.  I don't mean "Make a good first impression," because that connotes phony, superficial positivity--a pasted-on smile and a hearty backslap.  I do mean that in any leadership position or differentiated role we need to pay close attention to our first interactions with the people we're serving and to all of the factors that might affect our initial meetings.  Because human systems are so dynamic, with so many variables shaping their outcome, even the smallest things at the outset can have a big impact on the initial course of the relationship.  And in any differentiated role, the smallest things we do will be noticed and parsed for meaning.  There are some simple guidelines to follow here--take a moment to get centered and present before getting started, connect on some level with everyone in the group, remember everyone's name--but my overarching advice is simply to raise our level of awareness: Notice everything we can, reflect on the experience afterward, and test our assumptions as the system evolves.

2. Embrace Mistakes, Failure and Surprises

As leaders and coaches and teachers, we typically design experiences for the people we're serving with the expectation that certain things will (or won't) happen.  We define a set of parameters for the experience, and we work to insure that things stay within that boundary.  These structures and plans are sincerely intended to support others' learning and grow out of our legitimate expertise--but while those good intentions and that expertise provide us with some structure and safety, they also serve to limit the possibilities before us.  And our need for structure and safety can be driven less by a concern for the people we're serving and more by our desire to appear competent and avoid embarrassment.  So don't flinch when things go wrong, because that's when the richest learning is possible, and that's when we become learners right alongside the people we're serving.  I'm not saying it won't be scary--it will be--but perhaps the most important lesson, for us and for others, will come from how we respond to that fear; lean into it.

3. Growth May Look Like Struggle

Even when things aren't going entirely wrong, they may not be going well.  Groups cycle in and out of periods of struggle, and particularly early on in their development they may look to a leader for resolution.  But before we leap to rescue the people we're serving from what looks like struggle, it's important to recognize that most growth actually looks exactly like struggle from one perspective or another, and if we're too quick to jump in we may be depriving the group of its most valuable experiences.  The first step is recognizing what we're thinking and feeling as leaders when the group is struggling--we tend to view it as an indictment of our leadership and feel anxious to push the group past the difficulty.  The next step is to use this awareness not as a spur to action, but as a signal to pause, do nothing, and start asking questions instead: What growth might result if I hold back?  What opportunity might be lost if I intervene?  And am I worried about the group...or about myself? 

4. Feedback Is A Gift

We say this a lot at Stanford--so much so that it runs the risk of sounding like a cliche.  But it's never more true than when we're getting candid, meaningful praise or criticism from someone who's experienced our leadership.  And yet to make it possible for others to give us this gift, there are so many steps we must take to establish the necessary conditions.  Ask for feedback and act upon it--and be aware that how we respond to praise is as important as how we respond to criticism.  Give feedback, and do so honestly and candidly, and yet be aware of the influence we wield in our differentiated role--own our feedback as our subjective, personal response, and insure we're not being viewed as the source of objective truth.  And note that the more of this we can do in public with our team--particularly when it comes to people giving us feedback--the more everyone will learn, not only because they'll absorb the content of what's being shared, but also because it will normalize the process and make it safer for them to do it on their own.

5. Safety, Trust and Intimacy

I've previously described these three factors as the foundation of any group that aspires to help its members learn and grow.  I define safety as "A belief that we won't get hurt," trust as "We mean what we say and we say what we mean," and intimacy as "A willingness to make the private public."  The presence of these characteristics in a group supports the experimentation, risk-taking and vulnerability that are essential steps toward meaningful learning and growth--and the safer, more trusting and more intimate the group, the greater its potential value to its members.  But a challenge is that the steps  required to establish this foundation can appear to take time away from more pressing tasks--and as leaders we can easily get distracted by short-term deadlines and obligations and neglect the group's longer-term development.  In my experience group members themselves sense the need for these factors to be established in the group, and they express that need quite clearly, although often indirectly.  The key for a leader is to listen for and respond to any signals related to members' needs in these areas, while noting that it may be particularly difficult for members to articulate them in the face of our (perceived) indifference if we seem too focused on deliverables and results.  This aspect of group development is a true test of a leader's ability to focus on what we know to be important rather than what appears to be urgent.

UPDATE: Be sure to check out Dan Might's very thoughtful response to this post, Six Leadership Lessons.

Photo by Nicolas Vigier.  Yay Flickr and Creative Commons.

Taming My Perfectionism

In my work at Stanford my colleagues and I often demonstrate various coaching skills by coaching each other in short sessions in front of a class of students. We determine ahead of time who'll be coaching and who'll be getting coached, but nothing else is pre-prepared or scripted. It's all live--the "coachee" comes in with a real issue, and the coach does whatever they think will be useful for the coachee.

Last week I was coached in front of our new Leadership Fellows by my (brilliant) colleague Yifat Sharabi-Levine, and even though I expected something valuable to come from the experience, I was surprised by how provocative it turned out to be.

First, some background: Over the past few years I've become increasingly interested in the implications of neuroscience research for the practice of coaching and interpersonal effectiveness more generally. This summer I lined up a series of books on neuroscience and cognitive psychology that I planned to read, reflect upon and write about. I started with William James' Psychology: Briefer Course to provide a historical foundation and then jumped ahead 100 years to Antonio Damasio's Descartes' Error.

But then I ran into Joseph LeDoux's The Emotional Brain, and the intense intellectual stimulation I experienced as a result was a double-edged sword. I took pages and pages (and pages) of notes, but ultimately stalled while trying to distill what I learned into a post I could publish here. I'd come dangerously close to the same fate while writing my post on Damasio's book--and I finished it only by giving up on trying to edit it down to a reasonable length.

Life's kept me plenty busy the past few months, but I certainly could have found the time to finish this essay--and yet I didn't. One might say the perfect was the enemy of the good.  But even this formulation, which I've found useful in getting "unstuck" many times, failed to help. And then the Fall Quarter started at Stanford, and I knew that any meaningful treatment of this material was going to have to wait. And that just pushed me past mild irritation into full-fledged anger at my failure to get this damn thing done. And then two useful things happened:

1) I realized that my perfectionism was not only crippling me as a writer but was also starting to affect me as a coach. As a writer, my perfectionism was preventing me from tackling a project because I didn't think it would be good enough--but who's going to miss one unwritten essay from me? I could let that slide for a long time. But as a coach, my perfectionism was taking me to task at a deeper level because I couldn't resolve the sort of issue I help clients and students with all the time, i.e. perfectionism. The irony doesn't escape me, but my perfectionism was telling me, "Coach, heal thyself!" and then judging me harshly for failing--and that bothered me.

2) And then I had this mini-coaching session with Yifat, which I went into knowing I wanted help on this issue but with no specific outcomes in mind. In a lovely and creative move, Yifat had me talk to my perfectionism, literally speaking to her hand, which she held out in front of me. I wanted to tell it "Back the fuck off!" and I did, speaking louder and louder as Yifat literally stepped away.  And then I realized that I didn't want my perfectionism to leave--I just wanted to be in a different relationship with it. In our conversation I had metaphorically envisioned my perfectionism as a snarling dog, threatening me, keeping me cowering in the corner, practically paralyzed. And that's not sustainable--it's stressful and boring. But my perfectionism has also served me well in many ways over the years, and I don't want to part with it. I want to maintain it as an aspect of myself, but with a different relationship to the rest of me. I want it to be a partner who'll support me, who'll challenge me, who'll help me achieve great things.  And I began to envision it transformed from a snarling dog into a happy companion.

This is hardly the first time I've wrestled with this issue--it's one of my perpetual challenges, and I've made progress on it in many areas of life. But this was an particularly important chapter in that story, and I'm eager to see what happens as a result.  Thanks, Yifat--I'm very grateful.

 

 Photos: Happy Dog by Meagan, Snarling Dog by Sini Merikallio.