SLIDER

Thick Skin Doesn’t Indicate Courage. Courage Indicates Courage

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I had a client working with someone who was making his job very difficult. My client’s team was located remotely around the world at the time, so he had to manage them remotely. Not easy.

As he was talking about this particular individual he said, “I just have to get tougher-skin to handle this person and focus on getting past this deadline.”

His use of the words “tougher-skin” caught my attention because it was out of character for him. His management style and strength as a leader drew as much from his ability to be direct, strong and clear as it did from his compassion and self-awareness. This was not a guy who was afraid of being vulnerable.

Because of this, I suspected that the term tough-skin wouldn’t be helpful in helping him manage his employee. But what to suggest as an alternative? Tough-skin, thick-skinned…etc – so many of our expressions that convey strength are associated with hardness. What could he focus on to help him deal with this person in a way that was in integrity with his leadership style?

Inner Wisdom

I thought about individuals who exemplified strength without hardness or harshness, like Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Thich Nhat Hanh. I wondered what their guiding metaphor was?

And it clicked – what if he focused on what he absolutely understood about himself – not the feel-good beliefs of what we try to show the world we are, or the sad, powerless parts of who we are at our worst moments. But our essence that remains before and after beliefs, self-concepts and identification.  

For my client, it was compassion. He said it so matter-of-fact that. He didn’t seem to have to even think about it.

So I said to him, “The world is full of leaders with tough-skin…but a lot of them are a**holes. Then there are others who may not be jerks, but who shrink before real challenges that call for a deeper kind of strength. You don’t strike me as either type. So, how can you draw even more from your compassion to be stronger?”

He paused and said, “You’re right, that’s what I want. To lead from who I am.”

And he did just that. 

Imagining the Worst that Can Happen is Useful if…

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Walking around the lake with my friend Mary one afternoon, the idea came up in conversation that I should visit my dad. I had a problematic relationship with him since my 20s, and had tried every which way to insert myself into his life – from showing unconditional love by being a ready ear to his troubles, to directly communicating my true feelings in a loving way. I even tried shutting him out of my life if things didn’t change, but that only made him do the same to me. Nothing worked. 

But I couldn’t give up.  

So, when we started talking about this idea, it made me stop inside. Strange thing is, I don’t even know who brought it up first, me or my friend. I knew that if I thought about it even for a minute, I’d miss an opportunity to change things – I didn’t know what would change or how I’d do it, but I knew it was worth considering. 

“OK, I’ll go. I’ll go see dad in person,” I said half shocking myself hearing the words out loud.

Without hesitation Mary responds, “Good. How about next Friday?”

“Next Friday works,” I say. Is this really happening, I think to myself.

“Good. It’s settled. I’ll pick you up at 9:00am and we’ll drive up together.” 

 At this, I’ve stopped breathing. “Sure Mary. Sounds good,” I say taking a breath in. 

Next Friday comes fast, and true to her word, Mary is at my apartment at 9:00am sharp. The drive to Sacramento takes twice as long no thanks to travelers heading North for the weekend and unusually bad commuter traffic. Plus, it’s hot – in the 90’s to be exact. All of this, however, is made bearable with a combination of stimulating conversation, a sense of personal mission and the tinge of adventure that a road trip with a good friend will bring.

Hours later we’re just a few miles from dad’s house and I start to tremble. Mary pulls over, “What’s wrong,” she asks with concern. 

“I don’t know but I can’t control it,” I sob. It occurs to me that I’m putting myself in the same situation I went through as a teenager so many years ago when dad locked me out of the house late one stormy night for being 15 minutes past curfew. He wouldn’t let me inside, so apparently I walked to the safety of my best friends family’s house on the other side of town miles away. I say apparently because I have no memory of what happened between standing at the door of my house and arriving at my friend’s house later than night. 

I realize in that moment that the same thing could happen to be all over again: Being abandoned by someone I love. I shared this with Mary whose quality of presence helps me find a little bit of stillness inside. 

After a few minutes she suggests that I call him and let him know that I’m on my way. I had decided before coming that I wouldn’t call him in advance because in the past that gave him the chance to come up with an excuse as to why he didn’t have time for a visit. So I had to come up with a story as to why I was nearby so that it would be harder for him to say no. 

“Dad, hi, it’s Robin,” I say with a shaky voice. 

“I know who it is,” he says, not unkindly. 

“I was in Nevada city for a dance workshop and thought I’d come by to say `hello’. Can I stop by?” I say hastily finishing the question in the hopes he won’t have time to think of a way to say no. 

“Well, this is a surprise,” he says with a long pause before continuing, “You may as well stop by, but I don’t have much time.”

Hearing the words, you may as well stop by, was like witnessing the opening of a treasure chest that only happens after years of toiling for the secret key. Ten minutes later, we pull into his driveway. I gather my courage and take a deep breath  and approach the front door. I’m ready for any outcome.

“Hi there, mate. Come on in,” dad says with a boyish grin. He’s originally from England and even though it’s been many decades since he lived there, his accent is easy to detect. The word “mate” to him is a term of endearment, much like American’s use the word “buddy.” 

After introducing him to Mary, we stand awkwardly in the entranceway. Dad leans over to give me a hug and says, “It’s good to see you.” 

It was the beginning of a new start.

Sometimes When Things Go Against Your Plans, Hopes and Expectations it Can Be Awesome!

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Have you ever found yourself in a different country, by accident? I have. The country was Portugal. 

In August of 2000 I planned a trip to Europe to attend the wedding of some friends. The wedding would be in southeastern France, along the Cote d’Azur in a small village called Canadel. 

August is tourist season, so everything is expensive. Luckily, I was able to get a couple of cheap airline tickets from a former colleague of mine I worked with when I flew for TWA years earlier. Yvonne, my travel companion, and I wanted to spend a few days in Paris before heading by train to Canadel for the wedding. 

My flight-attendant friend, Jose got us the lowest level roundtrip tickets from San Francisco to Paris. This was fine by me because the lower the level, the cheaper the cost, the more money I could spend on clothes and food while in Paris. But Jose warned that these cheap tickets (buddy passes they called them), come with a risk. If flights are overbooked out of NY (our point of transfer), we’d be the first to get bumped. But I wasn’t worried about this – after all, I’d used buddy passes dozens of times before and have never had a problem. Not only that, if worse comes to worse, we could fly to a city near Paris and take a train in. 

I was certain that nothing could go wrong. And so, with full confidence, I spend the money saved by getting cheap tickets on a Paris-worthy shopping spree! Why wait to be in Paris to shop? I planned an outfit for each day, (something I’d never done before!). I even got us a place to stay for free near the famous Champs-Elysees. An ex-boyfriend owed me a favor and convinced his sister who lived in Paris to give us a room during our stay. Everything would be perfect. 

August finally comes and Yvonne and I have a fantastic flight from SFO airport. Not only did we get a free upgrade to business class, but our flight gets into JFK early. On the way to our connecting gate, we stop at one of those over-priced airport shops to stock up on chocolate and magazines. Giggly and excited we head to the gate. I get in line to check-in while Yvonne grabs one of the few empty seats. It’s busier than I thought it would be. 

The line is really long and seems full of frustrated passengers. I look over at a Yvonne and flash a smile with a thumbs up, wanting to reassure her that everything is fine. But, in fact, I’m more trying to reassure myself.  

Finally, I make it to the front of the line. Reaching for my ticket, the gate agent says, “This flight is very full, but I’ll see what can do.” 

Meanwhile the other gate agent is announcing the names of standby passengers who’ve made the cut. My bulletproof optimism shrinks with the announcement of each name. I start to fear the worst. “I’m so sorry Ms. Fletcher,” says the first gate agent, “but I’m afraid there isn’t a single seat left. There are too many standby passengers and you’ve got the lowest priority passes.”

In the periphery, I can see Yvonne looking in my direction but don’t dare look at her until I have boarding passes in hand. “Well, what about a different airport? There’s got to be another flight going into France besides Paris, n’est-pas?” I say, chuckling at my clever use of French. 

“Unfortunately, most flights leaving for Europe for the next day 1/2 are oversold. The only thing I can get you both on is a flight to Portugal – but it’s boarding right now, so you’ve got a minute to decide,” she says with controlled urgency. 

“Yes, we’ll take it, at least it’s on the same continent,” I blurt before realizing the idiocy of that comment. 

Just then Yvonne walks up and asks, “What’s taking so long?”

“It turns out that every flight going to Paris is is full, so we’re going to Portugal instead,” I say with forced enthusiasm. “I’ll explain later, we have sprint if we’re going to make this flight.” 

We make the flight just in time and arrive into Lisbon, Portugal’s capital in the late afternoon of a hot August day. But unfortunately, our bags go to Paris. In the cab ride from the airport neither of us are talking and giggling.

We’re dropped off at a cobble-stoned plaza that looks like it might be the central part of the city. Jetlagged and feeling sorry for ourselves, we randomly choose one of the many streets shooting off from the central plaza. My French Berlitz dictionary is not much help so we end up going with the first proprietor who speaks enough English to tell us the price per night. 

With no luggage to unpack, we settle in quickly and within the hour are sitting on the pension’s peach-colored metal terrace. By this time, I had been stewing in regret for not thinking things through, embarrassment at the fact that this didn’t just impact me but Yvonne also, and anger that things didn’t go as planned. Regret, embarrassment and anger, though unpleasant can sometimes be delicious ingredients but they make for a bitter meal that turn you into a real drag. 

So I wasn’t surprised that while sharing a bottle of local red wine Yvonne stared me straight in the eyes and said, “You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself. Things didn’t go as planned – get over it!” 

I sat there in my stew of negative emotions, knowing she was right but I just couldn’t let it go. I mean what mess I made of things. And not only that, I’ve got no clothes! 

I pour a second glass and the owner comes out with a platter of cheeses and bread. Just then, the sun slips beneath the horizon making the sky a brilliant orange-pink color with shades of purple and blue. Each building reflects the light in glowing but unique hues. And Lisbon comes to life right there before my eyes.

“You might be right Yvonne, life’s too damn short…and who knows what tomorrow will bring anyway. I’ve got a feeling that whether I plan or not, we’re on an adventure.”

To hear what happens next, listen to the podcast I did on this trip: https://soundcloud.com/obind/lisbon

Getting Fired: Is There an Upside?

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A couple of years ago I got fired and I didn’t see it coming. My boss asked me to stop by the office at the end of the day. He wanted to talk to me about something. This wasn’t unusual, since I worked from home and he frequently asked sales people who worked remotely to come in to get updated on new product features. (I worked at a high-end sauna company that was constantly coming out with new improvements.) I had rented a car to leave for the weekend, so could stop by on my way out of town. I just hoped it wouldn’t take too long because I didn’t want to get stuck in 5pm traffic.

While packing it occurred to me that this “talk” could be a performance review. My sales hadn’t been great compared to the year before during the same time period. But I dismissed this idea by reassuring myself that surely the other sales reps were struggling to make their quota just like me. Besides, it took all I had to simply show up and deal with customers who would ask the same questions, have the same objections and basically, haggle for the cheapest price. I had had many different sales jobs in the past, and nothing had been harder to sell than saunas – not because it was rocket science. It wasn’t. But because customers tended to be blind to anything but getting the best price. And this made for predictably boring and rigid conversations. It was getting more and more difficult to not care about that.

A couple of hours later I arrive at the office. My boss has a tall, muscular build with a strong presence about him. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to know he’s the boss. He’s also got a million and one things going on – from employees on the floor coming to ask questions, to both of his phones ringing off the hook from overwhelmed sales people needing his support to frustrated customers asking to talk with the decision maker. Amidst all this he maintains a calm authority. I’ve never experienced being in the eye of a tornado but I imagine it’s similar to being in the company of this man.

I knock at his door and am both glad to see him but afraid to meet with him face to face. This surprises me. I have nothing to be worried about. “Come in,” he says, getting up from behind his desk. “Have a seat,” he gestures to the couch adjacent to his desk. 

This couch is a gorgeous teal retro piece from the 50’s. To sit on it is to be transported to the set of a Mad Men episode. In all the meetings we’ve had over the past 2 years, not once has he asked me to sit on this magnificent couch. I settle in and scoot back all the way to be as upright as possible. It’s as if my body has sensed a threat and must brace for attack. Then the guy from HR comes in, closing the door behind him and I realize: I’m going to get fired. 

My boss starts talking about pressure from corporate and that my sales aren’t what they were last year. I interrupt him despite my throat tightening and heart pounding.  “But surely the other reps also have low sales,” I say, in a feeble attempt to challenge his data-based reasoning. As soon as I say it, he counters with the sales numbers of the other reps. I am so done for. 

He continues talking, not once becoming harsh or expressing disappointment. Despite his stoic exterior, I could tell that this was hard for him. Toward the end, he made the comment that I was a wonderful person, this job isn’t for everyone. It takes a certain kind of killer instinct. 

It’s true, I’m not a killer. And I can’t fake it. And trying to do so has become harder than the job. And right then and there, something shifted. Sure, my voice was chocked with tears, my hands trembling, my face flush and my body slumped – I had to force myself to sit up, take a breath, and focus. But at the same time, a little voice inside said this just is, it’s neither good nor bad. 

Don’t get me wrong, it was an unpleasant experience. The very nature of the situation – an authority at work delivers the news that you are no longer a fit for the role you were originally hired to do and as a consequence you are being let go. And not only are you not a fit, you won’t get that check at the end of the month each month. And if this weren’t bad enough, you’re the only one who got fired, so while it’s not personal – it’s almost impossible to not take it personally. And yet it was still the ok. 

I left the office shaken and a little ashamed – but by the time I reached my rent-a-car, I felt a hint of relief. Not just because I no longer had to do something I hated for a paycheck. But because of the way I took the bad news. Sure, my eyes looked like a popeye-fish from crying, and my mascara was probably half way down my face, but I didn’t lose myself. Something remained neutral inside – neither wrong or right, angry or defeated – while the outside world felt upside down. And just then it occurred to me that perhaps those qualities I admired so much in my now former boss, were in me all along. 

The Postal Worker Who Woke Me Up to the Bystander Inside

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A most amazing thing happened at the post office the other day. I was standing in line to mail Christmas packages – a line that weaved through the main office, out the door and around the front of the building – when I heard a young couple arguing about a conversation the man was having on his cell phone. The conversation went something like this:

The woman telling the man: “Ask her if she can do x,y,z in time for …”

The man’s response to the woman: “Don’t nag at me bitch, I got …” at which point he continued talking on the phone, while turning away from her.

noise

The conversation went on like this for some time, punctuated with harsh remarks between both of them. As they continued the woman seemed to retreat inside herself while the man grew louder and more harsh in his remarks.

Lines at the post office are typically slow, but having to witness this kind of conversation made each minute a drudgery to endure. I was only 3 people away from the front of the line so decided to hang in there, otherwise I would have left. It was that tense.

I glanced at others nearby more out of curiosity than to commiserate in silent agreement, but of coarse, most people were peering into their cell phones.

And then one of the two postal agents on duty, I’ll refer to her as Barbara, said loud enough for all to hear but directed toward the young man, “No need for disrespect son, we’re all wanting to get on with our day.” With this, she went straight back to completing the transaction with her customer, as uneventfully as picking up a glass of water to take a sip, then putting it down.

It was one of the most direct, compassionate, un-sensational and extraordinary interventions I’ve ever seen. There seemed to be no personality or opinion or technique, just clarity and presence. The right words at the right moment to reach past the noise inside and out, in him, in me, in everyone.

Instantly, (and I do mean instantly), the young man spoke less loudly and was less harsh. People in line, including myself seemed to drop their shoulders just a bit. A few folks even looked up from their cell phones. It was as if the entire room exhaled after holding its breath for an unnatural period of time.

What a difference we each can make in either direction, adding to the noise or being beyond it.

Absolutist-Thinking and Leadership: A Slippery Slope

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About a year ago I read a post on LinkedIn about Leadership that included a list of what makes a good leader. The author was a CEO of a big company. The list struck me as so black and white that at first I thought it was a joke then I realized that it was for real. This was an unsettling thought namely because, while black white thinking can be a sign of a leader, it’s most often associated with a leadership style the world needs less of. Dictators and zealots.

To be clear, this post isn’t an attack of the author, but rather a criticism of a way of thinking that has no room for mistakes, failure, imperfection, and most importantly, the realm of human experience that is constantly in flux, the part of us that is always and can always learn. Our humanity.

So I wrote a list to counter the author’s, focused on what I’d learned in all my jobs and in life up to this point as well as what I’ve observed indirectly from reading about the lives Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Malcom X, and Mother Theresa to name a few. Here is the list; the original points are in bold, followed by mine in italics.

  • They Never Fail To Lead
  • Always learn how to lead better
  • They Are Never Lukewarm
  • Follow an inner conscience over strong or “lukewarm” passions
  • They Never Tone Down Their Vision
  • Aim for bold visions that are good for all, before grandiose plans that the majority of followers realized in hindsight, were more about power
  • They Never Break Commitments
  • Obey conscience over the risk of disappointing others and tarnished reputation
  • They Never Worry About The Headlines
  • May worry about headlines, but know how to refocus attention on what matters and on what they do have power to influence
  • They Never Say Never
  • Recognize the danger and risk in absolutism (thought, words, deeds), in all its forms, subtle and explicit
  • They Never Need A Pat On The Back
  • Don’t rely on positive validation to persevere, but accept their humanity and as such are able to ask for support when needed without feeling the lesser for it
  • They Are Never Pessimistic
  • Know the importance of seeing life as it is rather than as “negative” or “positive”. A version of this could be Gandhi’s “Pragmatic Idealism”
  • They Never Procrastinate
  • Have different styles of how they are in action (slow pace, fast pace, etc), depending on their background and culture. But all good leaders know the wisdom of right timing
  • They Never Sit In Judgment
  • Have most probably held a grudge or two for a minute or more, but they have mastered the art of learning from it sooner than later
  • They Are Never Narrow Thinkers
  • Have courage to do what’s needed and what’s right despite its appearance or it being “big” or small
  • They Never Avoid Challenges
  • Do not shy away from confrontation, but they know that there are times when confrontation is NOT the best approach
  • They Never Worry About Appearing Vulnerable
  • Know that real vulnerability means feeling at least a bit uncomfortable, otherwise its a look alike
  • They Never Stop Asking Questions
  • Always challenge preconceived ideas, starting with their own
  • They Never Accept Defeat
  • Do not always know if there is a way to a solution, but they know that they have the strength of conviction and faith to endeavor

Reflecting on my actual experience with each of the author’s leadership principles, the words flowed easily. Not at all because I’d mastered them – (any of them!) – but because I’d thought about them, tried to live them, even if for moments at a time and remembered the experience of experimenting them, or rather, my version of them. In thinking about each principle in this way, I had to be honest. Once I did this, ironically, the word “never,” no longer applied. It was not an apt descriptor of my lived experience of these principles. Not because they were wrong, but because they didn’t accommodate the actual flesh and blood experience of living, or trying to live them, only an abstraction of those experiences and very limited ones at that.

There may be leaders for whom, the never-statements are accurate, but even so, that idea is a bit scary. I’ll take an imperfect leader trying to be better over a leader who is perfect by virtue of “never” doing…(fill in the blank), any day.

Aside from writers who convey a leader as a 2-dimensional action figure, I think one of the obstacles making it difficult to cultivate the leader within is in the very way that we think and talk about them. Black/white thinking and arguements and posts, stemming from it – no matter what the topic – do little to aid in the living of that topic. Because its devoid of lived experience, in other words, it’s from the head, of the head. And with a subject such as leadership, this is unfortunate, verging on reckless because the world could sure use more truly great leaders. Ones who speak from the their heart and head to ours.