Some years back HR was curious for input on how our company should attract and retain really, really smart scientists. I was asked to facilitate a group discussion to ask this question and report their suggestions back to HR. “It will be better if someone in their own department is asking instead of an HR person.”
I popped the question to the small group HR had recruited, all huddled in a conference room. One guy, brand new to me and just starting at our company, immediately responded. “That’s simple,” he said calmly. “The company should stop hiring so many people of average intelligence, like yourself.”
His mouth kept moving for about 90 seconds but I didn’t hear a word he said. My id and ego were roaring “Average intelligence? Average! I have a Ph.D. I’m a smart guy! My tested IQ puts me in the top 1% of the planet! I’m writing a book! I have a patent! People come to me for advice on hard problems!” and so on.
The truth is that compared to this smart guy, I truly am average intelligence. He’s off the charts – a scary smart guy. Maybe his emotional intelligence in that situation was at “moron,” but he had a point and I couldn’t hear him. To this day I have no idea what else this truly smart guy suggested.
The leadership lesson is that emotional triggers put such a buzz in your listening capability that you’re going to miss things.
Forewarned is forearmed: if you know your weaknesses and tendencies, you can be better prepared. You can pre-decide how you will listen to input, no matter how boring or outrageous. You can go into meetings consciously curious to hear their perspective, rather than thinking of this as a boring duty. You can remind yourself that there is always something to learn from every situation. You can imagine how you will keep calm no matter how emotional the situation becomes.
We are passionate creatures, but emotions don’t solve problems. Emotions don’t learn.
[Related: Consider similar situations with your spouse, your children, your aging parents. Listening is crucial.]
Glenn, I’m highly curious to know what you actually said when “the smart guy” stopped talking. How did you respond verbally? Do you remember?
I think we learn the value of pre-deciding from experience. There’s no way to predict all of the things people could do or say in any given situation. But if we find that, in a particular environment, we are likely to face opposition, stalling, “too many cooks” syndrome, etc., we can certainly pre-decide certain strategies and standard responses that take the pressure off. To pull a quote from your first post (linked within this article): “As you practice this discipline you build up a ‘library’ of How-I-Will-Respond scenarios that you can tap into over and over again. You can upgrade these with refinements based on experience.
One of the easiest and most applicable is this: “Let me take a moment to think about what you’ve said” (or the related “Let me take a few days to think about what you’ve just said and then get back to you”).
I’m also a big fan (which I devote an entire chapter to in my book) of putting awkward things out there on the table. I firmly believe and have found it to be true in practice over and over that naming an awkward thing as awkward immediately takes about 80% of the awkwardness out of it. That is, awkwardness is awkward because everyone knows something but no one is talking about it. It seems counterintuitive to many at first, but it really does work wonders. Example: “I sense awkwardness and tension over what we’re talking about here, and I just wanted to acknowledge it before we move on. It’s a tough topic, but I know we’ll work through it together.”
Erik, I think I said something like “OK, that’s one suggestion. How about others?” Didn’t capture much however, because I was still too buzzed to hear clearly.
I like your points about bringing out the awkwardness, and that we can improve our repertoire of responses over time.
This post made me cringe and laugh at the same time. I love your stories, Glenn.