difficult conversations 
by douglas stone 






Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Preface
Foreword
Acknowledgements
Introduction
The Problem
Chapter 1 - Sort Out the Three Conversations
Shift to a Learning Stance - The “What Happened?”
Conversation
Chapter 2 - Stop Arguing About Who’s Right: Explore Each Other’s Stories
Chapter 3 - Don’t Assume They Meant It: Disentangle Intent from Impact
Chapter 4 - Abandon Blame: Map the Contribution System
The Feelings Conversation
Chapter 5 - Have Your Feelings (Or They Will Have You)
The Identity Conversation
Chapter 6 - Ground Your Identity: Ask Yourself What’s at Stake
Create a Learning Conversation
Chapter 7 - What’s Your Purpose? When to Raise It and When to Let Go
Chapter 8 - Getting Started: Begin from the Third Story
Chapter 9 - Learning: Listen from the Inside Out
Chapter 10 - Expression: Speak for Yourself with Clarity and Power
Chapter 11 - Problem-Solving: Take the Lead
Chapter 12 - Putting It All Together
Ten Questions People Ask About Difficult Conversations
Notes on Some Relevant Organizations
Praise for Difficult Conversations
“A user-friendly guide to mastering the talks we dread . . . a keeper.”
— Fast Company magazine
“Emotional intelligence applied to life’s toughest moments.”
— Daniel Goleman, bestselling author of Working with Emotional Intelligence
“The only people who shouldn’t read Difficult Conversations are those who never work with people,
anywhere.”
— Peter M. Senge, bestselling author of The Fifth Discipline
“How do you confront your ex-spouse who’s late picking up the kids? How do you tell a client their
project took longer than expected and the bill is twice as high? How do you say ‘I’m sorry’? Start by
picking up Difficult Conversations.”
— Citizen
“[Difficult Conversations] will be appreciated by readers who wish to improve oral communication
in all aspects of their daily lives.”
— Library Journal
“Stone, Patton, and Heen illustrate their points with anecdotes, scripted conversations and familiar
examples in a clear, easy-to-browse format.”
— Publishers Weekly
“The central insights of Difficult Conversations so resonate with common sense that it is easy to
overlook just how remarkable of a book it is . . . a must-read.”
— Harvard Negotiation Law Review
“Examples more clear-headed and advice more precise than we’ve seen before.”
— Dallas Morning News
“Stone, Patton, and Heen have written an extremely clear and unpretentious exposition of how to
develop effective communication skills and a guide to achieving openness and constructive outcomes
in dialogue . . . this book is, and probably for some time to come will be definitive.”
— Southern Communication Journal
PENGUIN BOOKS
DIFFICULT CONVERSATIONS
Douglas Stone is a lecturer on Law at Harvard Law School and a founder of
Triad Consulting Group (www.diffcon.com). In addition to corporate clients like
Citigroup, Honda, HP, Johnson & Johnson, Microsoft, Shell, and Turner
Broadcasting, Stone has worked with journalists, educators, doctors, diplomats,
and political leaders in South Africa, Kashmir, and the Middle East, and in
Geneva with the WHO and UN-AIDS. He has trained senior political appointees
at the White House and was a keynote speaker at the 2006 World Negotiation
Conference in São Paulo. His articles have appeared in publications ranging
from the New York Times to Real Simple. He is a graduate of Harvard Law
School, where for ten years he served as Associate and then Associate Director
of the Harvard Negotiation Project. He is currently researching the relationships
among productivity, feedback, and fulfillment in the workplace. He can be
reached at dstone@post.harvard.edu.
Bruce Patton is cofounder and distinguished fellow of the Harvard Negotiation
Project and a founder and partner of Vantage Partners, LLC
(www.vantagepartners.com), where his clients include some of the largest
corporations in the world. Working with Roger Fisher, Patton pioneered the
teaching of negotiation at Harvard Law School, where he has taught since 1981.
In the public arena he helped to structure the resolution of the 1980 U.S.-Iranian
hostage conflict (working at the behest of both governments); worked with
Nobel Prize winner Oscar Arias to make his Central American Peace Plan selfimplementing; worked with all parties in South Africa to structure and train
mediators for the constitutional process that ended apartheid; and continues to
work toward better conflict management in the Middle East and elsewhere. A
graduate of Harvard College and Harvard Law School, Patton is coauthor with
Roger Fisher and William Ury of the bestselling Getting to YES: Negotiating
Agreement Without Giving In. He can be reached at bpatton@post.harvard.edu.
Sheila Heen is a lecturer on Law at Harvard Law School and a founder of Triad
Consulting Group (www.diffcon.com). Her clients span five continents and
include TimeWarner, the Federal Reserve Bank, Merck, PwC, Standard
Chartered, Tatweer of Dubai, Cemex of Mexico, and Unilever. Heen often
works with executive teams to engage conflict productively, repair working
relationships, and make sound decisions. In the public sector she has consulted
to the New England Organ Bank, the Singapore Supreme Court, Greek and
Turkish Cypriots, and the Arctic Slope Regional Corporation in Barrow, Alaska.
Heen has worked with theologians struggling with disagreement over the nature
of truth and God and with senior political appointees for the White House. She
has appeared on shows as diverse as Oprah, Fox News, CNBC’s Power Lunch,
and on National Public Radio. A graduate of Harvard Law School, she is
schooled in negotiation daily by her three children. She can be reached at
heen@post.harvard.edu.
PENGUIN BOOKS
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First published in the United States of America by Viking Penguin, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. 1999
Published in Penguin Books 2000
This edition with a new preface and chapter published 2010
Copyright © Douglas Stone, Bruce M. Patton, and Sheila Heen, 1999
Foreword copyright © Roger Fisher, 1999
Preface and Ten Questions © Douglas Stone, Bruce M. Patton, and Sheila Heen, 2010 All rights reserved
Difficult Conversations® is a registered trademark of Difficult Conversations Associates.
AUTHORS’ NOTE
Research at Harvard University is undertaken with the expectation of publication. In such publication the
authors alone are responsible for statements of fact, opinions, recommendations, and conclusions expressed.
Publication in no way implies approval or endorsement by Harvard University, any of its faculties, or by the
President and Fellows of Harvard College.
Stone, Douglas.
Difficult conversations: how to discuss what matters most/
Douglas Stone, Bruce Patton, Sheila Heen.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-49676-3
1. Interpersonal communication. 2. Interpersonal communication-Case studies. I. Patton, Bruce. II. Heen,
Sheila. III. Title.
BF637.C45S78 1999
158.2 — dc21 98-33346
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To our families
with love and gratitude
and to our friend and mentor, Roger Fisher,
for his vision and commitment
Preface to the Second Edition
When we completed Difficult Conversations ten years ago, we hoped it would
catch on with businesses and help people in personal relationships. Happily, it’s
done both.
We regularly receive e-mail sharing stories of life-changing conversations, as
well as e-mail of the “my wife gave me this book and it wasn’t terrible” variety.
We hear stories of rocky marriages righted and sibling relationships recovered,
of conversations with a child about night terrors and with a dying friend about
death, love, and those left behind. Parents use the book to work through
differences in parenting strategies and to reach out to their teenagers, while
neighbors use it to figure out what is or isn’t “too loud.” We’re enormously
grateful to those who have taken the time to tell us their stories.
The reception in the business community has been overwhelming. Our little
book on talking has been embraced as a guide to taking on the hardest challenges
– from how stakeholders with divergent interests can make tough but smart
decisions, to giving difficult performance feedback, to making dysfunctional
functions function, and good teams great. From new hires to CEOs, the book has
helped people to break down silos and build up morale, showing the way past a
culture of nice to a culture of efficiency, openness, and respect.
Most surprising has been Difficult Conversations’s reach. A dance instructor
uses it to teach Argentinean tango. Palestinian educators built communication
programs around the Arabic edition; Israeli mediators used the Hebrew edition
to help with external and internal conflicts. Postwar Hutu and Tutsi leaders in
Burundi have come together to develop a conflict resolution program for their
youth using the French edition. Global organizations are using it to manage the
challenges of working within and across cultures. At twenty-five languages and
counting, it has even been downloaded, we’re told, onto the International Space
Station (where tight quarters can breed conflict).
The book has been used to train oil-rig operators in the North Sea, Iñupiat
negotiators in the oil-rich Northern Slope of Alaska, and business leaders at
Saudi Aramco. It’s been used at the Boston Area Rape Crisis Center and the
headquarters and field offices of UN-AIDS. Doctors, nurses, and administrators
in hospitals across the United States have used it to deliver better patient care
and develop more humane workplaces. Within the U.S. government, it’s
distributed at the Department of Justice, the IRS, the Federal Reserve, and the
Postal Service. During one administration, the White House made it required
Postal Service. During one administration, the White House made it required
reading for its top sixteen hundred political appointees. Law schools, business
schools, and colleges assign it, as do high school teachers, life coaches,
therapists, and ministers.
How to explain it all? Just this: people are people.
We have perceptions and thoughts and feelings, and we work and play with
other human beings who have their own perceptions, thoughts, and feelings:
• Your organization is flat, aligned, and right-sized, but you still can’t
stand your boss.
• You fly three thousand miles and drive two hours to visit your
elderly widowed father, and the first words out of his mouth are
“You’re late!”
• You’ve got four e-mail addresses, two voice-mail accounts, and sit
only feet away from your five closest colleagues, but not one of them
has found a way to talk to you about what they apparently call your
“confrontational style.”
• No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to get your sales,
manufacturing, and product development teams to see themselves as
members of the same organization.
People are people. It is true today, it was true ten years ago, and it was
probably not much different ten thousand years before that: “After all I did to put
this hunt together and make it a success, this is my share of the kill? You call
that fair?!”
We don’t outgrow difficult conversations or get promoted past them. The best
workplaces and most effective organizations have them. The family down the
street that everyone thinks is perfect has them. Loving couples and lifelong
friends have them. In fact, we can make a reasonable argument that engaging
(well) in difficult conversations is a sign of health in a relationship.
Relationships that deal productively with the inevitable stresses of life are more
durable; people who are willing and able to “stick through the hard parts”
emerge with a stronger sense of trust in each other and the relationship, because
now they have a track record of having worked through something hard and seen
that the relationship survived.
So one explanation for the interest in this book is simply the delight of
individuals happy to find a way through difficult relationship dilemmas, whether
at home or at work. But we think there may be a broader organizational need
driving interest in the business community : a recognition that the long-term
success and even survival of many organizations may depend on their ability to
master difficult conversations.
Why? Because the ability to handle difficult conversations well is a
prerequisite to organizational change and adaptation. And because the
combination of globalized competition and technological development have
made rapid change and adaptation a necessity for organizational survival.
Of course, people in the business world have a certain cynicism when it comes
to the “next big change initiative.” We hear about a new commitment to learning
organizations, total quality management, reengineering, or some other novel
idea, and our eyes start to roll. Consultants show up with studies showing the
huge potential value to be gained with the innovative approach, and enormous
effort is expended, but at the end of the day the endeavor fades away with only a
small fraction of its promised value achieved.
In our view, this is not because the studies were wrong or overhyped ; the
value is there to be captured. Nor is it because the individuals involved are lazy
or don’t care. A lot of us care passionately and put loads of effort into these
projects.
We believe a major reason change efforts so often fail is that successful
implementation eventually requires people to have difficult conversations – and
they are not prepared to manage them skillfully. People inevitably have different
views on priorities, levels of investment, measures of success, and exactly what
correct implementation should entail.
With everyone taking for granted that their own view is right, and readily
assuming that others’ opposition is self-interested, progress quickly grinds to a
halt. Decisions are delayed, and when finally made they are often imposed
without buy-in from those who have to implement them. Relationships sour.
Eventually people give up in frustration, and those driving the effort get
distracted by new challenges or the next next big thing.
The ability to manage difficult conversations effectively is foundational, then,
to achieving almost any significant change.
And in addition to supporting major change initiatives, these skills are
increasingly needed simply to sustain business as usual. The relentless press of
competition has forced most businesses to grow in scale to achieve efficiencies
and competitive clout. Many industries are now global in reach. At the same
time, the need to be responsive to the market – nimble, flexible, adaptive – has
driven many organizations to be less hierarchical and to operate in a matrix that
introduces more complexity to decision making and the ability to get things
done.
This is a recipe for more conflict – and for more difficult conversations.
Think about it: Do the people in your organization deal with conflicts directly,
routinely, and well? Or does the e-mail and water-cooler chat continue to focus
routinely, and well? Or does the e-mail and water-cooler chat continue to focus
on all the ways the organization is dysfunctional, even as important
conversations are avoided? Having worked with countless businesses, we are
tempted to say that the only reason some of them survive is because their
competition is equally lousy at confronting the things that matter most.
And the pressures to work more effectively and efficiently are only going to
increase. Businesses have spent the last twenty years focusing on process and
technology improvements, and on cost cutting, and by now there’s not much left
to cut. For the next ten (or fifty) years, breakthrough performance is going to
depend instead on people learning to deal with conflict more effectively and,
indeed, leveraging it for competitive advantage. Ideally, conflict and differing
perspectives, handled well and efficiently, should become a competitive asset –
an engine for rapid learning and innovation.
And that’s the upside: companies that nurture these communication skills as a
core competence for leaders will leave their competition in the dust.
In this second edition we have chosen to leave the main text of the original
intact. We have, however, drawn from what we’ve learned from those who are
using the book, and from our own experiences in coaching and consulting, and
included some additional commentary on a variety of critical topics. We present
these in the form of answers to “Ten Questions People Ask about Difficult
Conversations.” We hope this new material helps deepen and broaden your
understanding and ability to manage potentially difficult conversations, and we
look forward to the new questions it stimulates.
Special thanks to Penguin’s Rick Kot, editor to the stars, who favored us
throughout with his intelligence, humor, and baked goods. Had an unclear
thought or misplaced word managed to find its way into our manuscript, Rick no
doubt would have caught it.
We close this preface to the second edition with the story of one of the many
correspondences with readers that have touched us over the last few years. We
try to respond to every letter we receive, and in some cases get engaged in quite
a conversation, as you’ll see in the account below.
1
In early 2002 Sheila received an e-mail from Ali, who wondered how to
handle a challenging situation with his eleven-year-old son. His son, he believed,
was taking money from him, and when confronted, the boy denied it. What to
do? “I understand from your book,” he wrote, “that the blame game is not the
do? “I understand from your book,” he wrote, “that the blame game is not the
correct approach. I agree, but there are times when father and son need to
understand the truth.”
Sheila was at first tempted to respond with the simple reassurance that yes, at
times a parent must confront and/or discipline a child, particularly if a child is
stealing and lying about it. And she did offer this, but added a couple further
suggestions: that Ali continue to inquire about his son’s feelings and perceptions,
and that he remain open to the possibility that he, Ali, doesn’t yet know the
whole story.
Several days later, Sheila received this e-mail:
Hi Sheila,
I greatly appreciate the time you had taken for the response....
With great difficulty I initiated a conversation with my son and
was able to find the cause of what happened. It appears that after
the terrible incident on September 11, he was being bullied in
school and to keep from being beaten up he was made to pay.
He felt fearful to tell us, for two reasons: first, since my wife and
I have maintained regular contacts and friendship with our
American friends, my son felt that we wouldn’t understand.
Second, he was just terrified by the bullies and felt they would
take severe actions against him if he reported them.
After September 11th, we had really tried to explain the situation
to him and get his feelings but he always brushed it aside by
saying everything was fine. Unfortunately I took him at his word
and didn’t try to dig deeper....
The initial hesitation on my part was because I know he has
always been a very affectionate, caring and honest kid, and even
after a few incidents it just didn’t seem right that he would be the
culprit. We have had a long conversation and are trying to instill
in him the confidence that he can approach us no matter how
difficult the situation.
We thank you sincerely for your help.
With best regards,
Ali
Thank you, Ali, for sharing with us this beautiful conversation with your son.
We dedicate this second edition to you and to all those who shared their courage
and stories with us.
Douglas Stone
Bruce Patton
Sheila Heen
Foreword
The Harvard Negotiation Project is best known for a book on negotiation and
problem-solving called Getting to YES that has sold more than three million
copies. Since its publication in 1981, readers all over the world have been
persuaded that negotiators are more effective when they move away from
adversarial posturing and instead work jointly to satisfy the interests of both
sides.
The “Harvard Method,” as it is sometimes called, emphasizes the importance
of easy two-way communication. Yet in both negotiations and daily life, for
good reasons or bad, we often don’t talk to each other, and don’t want to. And
sometimes when we do talk, things only get worse. Feelings – anger, guilt, hurt –
escalate. We become more and more sure that we are right, and so do those with
whom we disagree.
This is the realm of Difficult Conversations, and why it is such a powerful and
urgently needed book. It explores what it is that makes conversations difficult,
why we avoid them, and why we often handle them badly. Although the inquiry
grew initially from a desire to help negotiators, the subject has far deeper
implications. Difficult Conversations addresses a critical aspect of human
interaction. It applies to how we deal with children, parents, landlords, tenants,
suppliers, customers, bankers, brokers, neighbors, team members, patients,
employees, and colleagues of any kind.
In this book my colleagues Doug, Bruce, and Sheila take us by the hand and
show us how to open the door to greater fulfillment in any relationship. They
provide the stance of mind and heart and the skills of expression needed to
achieve effective communication across the gulf of real differences in
experiences, beliefs, and feelings, whether in personal relations, business
dealings, or international affairs.
These are the skills needed to take a serious disagreement within a business
organization and transform it from a drag on competitiveness into an engine for
innovation. These are the skills we all can use to make a marriage more
enjoyable and durable and to make relations between parents and teenagers
something far better than a war zone. These skills can heal the wounds that keep
so many of us apart. They offer each of us a better future.
Returning from several years in the U.S. Army Air Force during World War
II, I discovered that my roommate, two of my closest friends, and dozens of
classmates had been killed in that war. Ever since, I have worked to improve the
classmates had been killed in that war. Ever since, I have worked to improve the
skills with which we deal with our differences; to improve the prospects for our
children’s future; and to enlist others in that cause. This brilliant and compelling
book by my younger colleagues at the Harvard Negotiation Project leaves me
feeling optimistic that progress is being made on all three counts.
— Roger Fisher
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Acknowledgments
This book draws from many wells.
The stories and conversations we share throughout the book come from our
own lives and from our work with a diverse group of students, colleagues, and
clients. For variety and to protect confidentiality, many of these stories are
amalgams of different people’s experiences that shared common and important
dynamics, and as a rule all identifying facts have been changed. We are deeply
grateful to those we’ve worked with for sharing with us so generously the
conversations with which they were struggling. It is from their openness and
their courage to try something new that we have learned the most.
In addition to our own research and reflection, this work incorporates and
builds on ideas from many other disciplines. Our training was originally in
negotiation, mediation, and law, but this book draws at least as much from the
fields of organizational behavior; cognitive, client-centered, and family
therapies; social psychology; communication theory; and the growing body of
work around the idea of “dialogue.”
This work began in a teaching collaboration with faculty from the Family
Institute of Cambridge, who have contributed to it in countless ways. Dr.
Richard Chasin and Dr. Richard Lee worked with Bruce Patton and Roger Fisher
to develop what we call the Interpersonal Skills Exercise (itself inspired by a
demonstration offered by psychodrama specialists Dr. Carl and Sharon
Hollander) in which participants are coached on their toughest conversations.
This exercise has been at the heart of Harvard Law School’s Negotiation
Workshop, and of our learning, for more than a decade. In teaching this exercise
with us, Dick, Rick, Sallyann Roth, Jody Scheier, and their associates from the
Family Institute have taught us about family dynamics, influence, common
reasons people get “stuck,” and how to care for people in pain.
We are also grateful to Chris Argyris and to the partners of Action Design:
Diana McLain Smith, Bob Putnam, and Phil McArthur. Their insights into the
dilemmas of organizational life and interpersonal structures have proven
invaluable to our understanding of conversations – how they go awry and how to
put them back on course. A great many concepts in this book, including joint
contribution, impact versus intent, and interpersonal intersections, are derived
from their work. They are also the source of the two-column tool, the ladder and
footprint metaphors, and methods of mapping. The two rules for expressing
feelings come from Bob Putnam. Our understanding of how to tell your story
feelings come from Bob Putnam. Our understanding of how to tell your story
and get off to a good start reflects the work of Don Schön and Diana Smith on
framing, and input from John Richardson on roles. Diana and our colleagues at
Vantage Partners have offered many useful illustrations of how these ideas
explain and help with the challenges of organizational life.
From the field of cognitive therapy, we have benefited from the research and
writings of Aaron Beck and David Burns. We are particularly indebted to them
for their research on how cognitive distortions affect our self-image and
emotions. David Kantor, a founder of family therapy and of the Family Institute,
has helped us in understanding the landscape of what we call the Identity
Conversation and how it plays out in group dynamics.
Insights from social psychology and communication theory are too pervasive
to cite. It is perhaps a testament to the power of these insights that many of them
are no longer the province of specialists. However, we owe a great debt to the
late Jeff Rubin for bringing many ideas to our attention, as well as for his
unceasing support and encouragement. Our work on listening and the power of
authenticity was influenced by Carl Rogers, Sheila Reindl, and Suzanne Repetto.
John Grinder gave us the concept of three viewpoints, or “positions,” that
correspond to your perspective, the other person’s perspective, and an observer’s
perspective.
In the field of dialogue, we owe a debt of gratitude to Laura Chasin and her
collaborators at the Public Conversations Project, to our friends at Conflict
Management Group, and to Erica Fox. From them we have learned about the
transformative power of telling one’s story and speaking to the heart of the
matter, a subject on which Bill Isaacs, Louise Diamond, Richard Moon, and
others are also doing important work.
For providing early encouragement and opportunities to teach what we were
learning we wish to thank Roger Fisher, Bob Mnookin, Frank Sander, and David
Herwitz of Harvard Law School; Rob Ricigliano, Joe Stanford, and Don
Thompson of Conflict Management Group; Eric Kornhauser of Conflict
Management Australasia; Shirley Knight of CIBC Bank in Canada; Archie Epps,
Harvard College Dean of Students; Colonels Denny Carpenter and Joe Trez of
The Citadel in South Carolina; and Gary Jusela and Nancy Ann Stebbins of the
Boeing Company (and Carolyn Gellerman, who introduced us); Deborah Kolb
of the Program on Negotiation; and our colleagues at Conflict Management, Inc.
Our friend and associate Stephen Smith helped us develop our work with family
businesses and foundations and introduced us to our agent, Esther Newberg,
who, along with her team at ICM, has been terrific. We are grateful for their
confidence in us and their support over the years.
We are also blessed with a talented and caring group of friends and co-
We are also blessed with a talented and caring group of friends and coworkers, who put aside their busy schedules to read drafts, make suggestions,
and cheer us on along the way. Roger Fisher, Erica Fox, Michael Moffitt, Scott
Peppet, John Richardson, Rob Ricigliano, and Diana Smith have lived with us
and the work for perhaps longer than they would have chosen. By critiquing,
rewriting, or outlining alternative sections or whole chapters, each has had a
significant and lasting impact on the product. For stories, feedback, and support,
we are grateful to Denis Achacoso, Lisle Baker, Bob Bordone, Bill Breslin, Scott
Brown, Stevenson Carlbach, Toni Chayes, Diana Chigas, Amy Edmondson and
George Daley, Elizabeth England, Danny Ertel, Keith Fitzgerald, Ron Fortgang,
Brian Ganson, Lori Goldenthal, Mark Gordon, Sherlock Graham-Haynes, Eric
Hall, Terry Hill, Ed Hillis, Ted Johnson, Helen Kim, Stu Kliman, Linda Kluz,
Diane Koskinas, Jim Lawrence, Susan McCafferty, Charlotte McCormick,
Patrick McWhinney, Jamie Moffitt, Linda Netsch, Monica Parker, Robert and
Susan Richardson, Don Rubenstein and Sylvie Carr, Carol Rubin, Jeff Seul,
Drew Tulumello, Robin Weatherill, Jeff Weiss, Jim Young, Louisa Hackett, and
many others.
Our families have spent years wondering if any such book as this would ever
actually come to be. They have read and critiqued drafts, offered unconditional
and greatly appreciated advice and moral support, and politely gone along with
our versions of family stories, for which we love them all the more and are
deeply grateful: Robbie and David Blackett, Jack and Joyce Heen, Jill and Jason
Grennan, Stacy Heen, Bill and Carol Patton, Bryan Patton and Devra Sisitsky,
John and Benjamin Richardson, Diana Smith, Don and Anne Stone, Julie Stone
and Dennis Doherty, and Randy Stone.
We could not have asked for a better editor and team at Viking Penguin. Our
editor, Jane von Mehren, is not only intelligent and insightful but also fun and
easy to work with. Jane, Susan Petersen, Barbara Grossman, Ivan Held, Alisa
Wyatt, and the team saw immediately what we were working toward, and we
very much appreciate their commitment to put it in the hands of as many people
as possible. Our line editor, Beena Kamlani, and copy editor, Janet Renard, had
the courage to take on the three of us, and the manuscript is the better for it, even
if we have insisted on using the plural “they,” “them,” etc. to refer to indefinite
singular antecedents as a way to maintain gender neutrality. (As this usage has
recently grown more common in speech, younger readers may think it quite
natural. However, we apologize in advance to those who find it unusual or
jarring.) Finally, Maggie Payette and Francesca Belanger, our designers, have
done a great job of making the cover and text distinctive, accessible, and
beautiful.
As usual, the good things about this book owe a great deal to others while
As usual, the good things about this book owe a great deal to others while
errors and omissions are solely our responsibility.
— Doug, Bruce & Sheila
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Introduction
Asking for a raise. Ending a relationship. Giving a critical performance review.
Saying no to someone in need. Confronting disrespectful or hurtful behavior.
Disagreeing with the majority in a group. Apologizing.
At work, at home, and across the backyard fence, difficult conversations are
attempted or avoided every day.
A Difficult Conversation Is Anything You Find It Hard to
Talk About
Sexuality, race, gender, politics, and religion come quickly to mind as difficult
topics to discuss, and for many of us they are. But discomfort and awkwardness
are not limited to topics on the editorial page. Anytime we feel vulnerable or our
self-esteem is implicated, when the issues at stake are important and the outcome
uncertain, when we care deeply about what is being discussed or about the
people with whom we are discussing it, there is potential for us to experience the
conversation as difficult.
We all have conversations that we dread and find unpleasant, that we avoid or
face up to like bad medicine:
One of the senior engineers at your company, an old friend, has
become a liability. Management has picked you to fire him.
You overheard your mother-in-law telling a neighbor that your
sons are spoiled and undisciplined. As you prepare to spend the
holidays at her house, you’re not sure the two of you can get
through the week without a confrontation.
The project you are working on took twice as long as you told the
client it would. You can’t afford not to bill for the extra time, but
you dread informing the client.
You want to tell your father how much you love him, but fear that
the intimacy might make both of you feel awkward.
You recently learned that several black colleagues on the police
force refer to you as an Uncle Tom. You’re infuriated, but you
aren’t sure whether talking about it would accomplish anything.
And, of course, there’s the stuff of everyday life, conversations that feel more
ordinary but cause anxiety nonetheless: returning merchandise without a receipt,
asking your secretary to do some photocopying, telling the painters not to smoke
in the house. These are the interactions we put off when we can and stumble
through when we must. The ones we practice over and over in our head, trying
to figure out in advance what to say and wondering afterward what we should
have said.
What makes these situations so hard to face? It’s our fear of the consequences
– whether we raise the issue or try to avoid it.
The Dilemma: Avoid or Confront, It Seems There Is No
Good Path
We all know this dilemma. We go round and round on the same questions –
Should I raise this? Or should I keep it to myself?
Perhaps the neighbors’ dog keeps you up at night. “Should I talk to them?”
you wonder. At first, you decide not to: “Maybe the barking will stop. Maybe
I’ll get used to it.” But then the dog barks again, and you resolve that tomorrow
you are going to talk to the neighbors once and for all.
Now you lie awake for a different reason. The thought of getting into a fight
with the neighbors about their dog makes you nervous. You want the neighbors
to like you; maybe you’re overreacting. Eventually, you come back to thinking
it’s better to say nothing, and this calms your nerves. But just as you drop off to
sleep, that darn dog howls again, and your cycle of indecision starts anew.
There doesn’t seem to be any choice that will allow you to sleep.
Why is it so difficult to decide whether to avoid or to confront? Because at
some level we know the truth: If we try to avoid the problem, we’ll feel taken
advantage of, our feelings will fester, we’ll wonder why we don’t stick up for
ourselves, and we’ll rob the other person of the opportunity to improve things.
But if we confront the problem, things might get even worse. We may be
rejected or attacked ; we might hurt the other person in ways we didn’t intend;
and the relationship might suffer.
There Is No Such Thing as a Diplomatic Hand Grenade
Desperate for a way out of the dilemma, we wonder if it is possible to be so
tactful, so overwhelmingly pleasant that everything ends up fine.
Tact is good, but it’s not the answer to difficult conversations. Tact won’t
make conversations with your father more intimate or take away your client’s
anger over the increased bill. Nor is there a simple diplomatic way to fire your
friend, to let your mother-in-law know that she drives you crazy, or to confront
your colleagues’ hurtful prejudices.
Delivering a difficult message is like throwing a hand grenade. Coated with
sugar, thrown hard or soft, a hand grenade is still going to do damage. Try as
you may, there’s no way to throw a hand grenade with tact or to outrun the
consequences. And keeping it to yourself is no better. Choosing not to deliver a
difficult message is like hanging on to a hand grenade once you’ve pulled the
pin.
So we feel stuck. We need advice that is more powerful than “Be diplomatic”
or “Try to stay positive.” The problems run deeper than that; so must the
answers.
This Book Can Help
There is hope. Working at the Harvard Negotiation Project with thousands of
people on all kinds of difficult conversations, we have found a way to make
these conversations less stressful and more productive. A way to deal creatively
with tough problems while treating people with decency and integrity. An
approach that is helpful to your peace of mind, whether or not others join in.
We are going to help you get out of the hand grenade business altogether, by
getting you out of the business of delivering (and receiving) messages. We will
show you how to turn the damaging battle of warring messages into the more
constructive approach we call a learning conversation.
The Rewards Are Worth the Effort
Of course, changing how you deal with difficult conversations takes work. Like
changing your golf swing, adapting to drive on the other side of the road, or
learning a new language, the change can feel awkward at first. And it can feel
threatening: breaking out of your comfort zone is rarely easy and is never riskfree. It requires you to look hard at yourself, and sometimes to change and grow.
But better the ache of muscles growing from an unaccustomed workout than the
sting of wounds from an unnecessary fight.
And the potential rewards are rich. If you follow the steps presented in this
book, you will find difficult conversations becoming easier and causing less
anxiety. You will be more effective and happier with the results. And as your
anxiety goes down and your satisfaction goes up, you will find that you are
choosing to engage more often in conversations that you should have been
having all along.
In fact, the people we’ve worked with, who have learned new approaches to
dealing with their most challenging conversations, report less anxiety and greater
effectiveness in all of their conversations. They find they are less afraid of what
others might say. They have a heightened sense of freedom of action in tough
situations, more self-confidence, and a stronger sense of integrity and selfrespect. They also learn that, more often than not, dealing constructively with
tough topics and awkward situations strengthens a relationship. And that’s an
opportunity too good to pass up.
Skeptical? A Few Thoughts
If you’re skeptical, that’s understandable. You may have been struggling with
these issues for weeks, months, or years. The problems are complex, and the
people involved are not easy to deal with. How can reading a book make a
difference?
There are limits to how much you can learn about human interactions from a
book. We don’t know the specifics of your situation, what is at stake for you, or
where your particular weaknesses and strengths lie. But we have discovered that,
regardless of context, the things that make difficult conversations difficult, and
the errors in thinking and acting that compound those difficulties, are the same.
We all share the same fears and fall into the same few traps. No matter what you
are facing, or whom, there is something in this book that can help.
It is true that some situations are unlikely to improve regardless of how skilled
you become. The people involved may be so emotionally troubled, the stakes so
high, or the conflict so intense that a book – or even professional intervention –
is unlikely to help. However, for every case that is truly hopeless, there are a
thousand that appear hopeless but are not. People often come to us saying, “I
want some advice, but I have to warn you, this situation is beyond fixing.” And
they are wrong. Together we are able to find some avenue of change that ends up
having a significant positive impact on the conversation.
Of course, you may not be ready or able to engage or reengage fully in a
difficult situation or relationship. You may be grieving, licking your wounds, or
just needing time away. You may be lost in anger or confused about what you
want. But even if you are not yet ready to take on an actual conversation, this
book can help you sort through your feelings and assist you as you find your
way to a healthier place.
We Need to Look in New Places
What can we suggest that you haven’t already thought of? Probably quite a bit.
Because the question isn’t whether you’ve been looking hard enough for the
“answer” to difficult conversations, it’s whether you’ve been looking in the right
places. At heart, the problem isn’t in your actions, it’s in your thinking. So long
as you focus only on what to do differently in difficult conversations, you will
fail to break new ground.
This book offers plenty of advice on how to conduct a difficult conversation.
But first and more important, it will help you understand better what you’re up
against and why it makes sense to shift from a “message delivery stance” to a
“learning stance.” Only then will you be able to understand and implement the
steps of a learning conversation.
Difficult Conversations Are a Normal Part of Life
No matter how good you get, difficult conversations will always challenge you.
The authors know this from experiences in our own lives. We know what it feels
like to be deeply afraid of hurting someone or of getting hurt. We know what it
means to be consumed by guilt for how our actions have affected others, or for
how we have let ourselves down. We know that even with the best of intentions,
human relationships can corrode or become tangled, and, if we are honest, we
also know that we don’t always have the best of intentions. We know just how
fragile are the heart and the soul.
So it is best to keep your goals realistic. Eliminating fear and anxiety is an
unrealistic goal. Reducing fear and anxiety and learning how to manage that
which remains are more obtainable. Achieving perfect results with no risk will
not happen. Getting better results in the face of tolerable odds might.
And that, for most of us, is good enough. For if we are fragile, we are also
remarkably resilient.
The Problem
1
Sort Out the Three Conversations
Jack is about to have a difficult conversation.
He explains: “Late one afternoon I got a call from Michael, a good friend and
occasional client. ‘I’m in a tight spot,’ he told me. ‘I need a financial brochure
laid out and printed by tomorrow afternoon.’ He said his regular designer was
out and that he was under a lot of pressure.
“ I was in the middle of another project, but Michael was a friend, so I
dropped everything and worked late into the night on his brochure.
“Early the next morning Michael reviewed the mock-up and gave the goahead to have it printed. I had the copies on his desk by noon. I was exhausted,
but I was glad I’d been able to help him out.
“ Then I got back to my office and discovered this voice-mail message from
Michael:
Well, you really screwed this one up! Look, Jack, I know you
were under time pressure on this, but . . . . [sigh]. The earnings
chart isn’t presented clearly enough, and it’s slightly off. It’s just
a disaster. This is an important client. I assume you’ll fix it right
away. Give me a call as soon as you get in.
“Well, you can imagine how I felt about that message. The chart was off, but
microscopically. I called Michael right away.”
Their conversation went like this:
JACK: Hi, Michael, I got your message –
MICHAEL: Yeah, look Jack, this thing has to be done over.
JACK: Well, wait a second. I agree it’s not perfect, but the chart
is clearly labeled. Nobody’s going to misunderstand –
MICHAEL: C’mon, Jack. You know as well as I do that we can’t
send this thing out like this.
JACK: Well, I think that –
MICHAEL: There’s really nothing to argue about here. Look, we
all screw up. Just fix it and let’s move on.
JACK: Why didn’t you say something about this when you
JACK: Why didn’t you say something about this when you
looked at it this morning?
MICHAEL: I’m not the one who’s supposed to be proofreading.
Jack, I’m under tremendous pressure to get this done and to get it
done right. Either you’re on the team or you’re not. I need a yes
or a no. Are you going to redo it?
JACK: [pause] Alright, alright. I’ll do it.
This exchange has all the hallmarks of a difficult conversation going off the
rails. Months later, Jack still feels lousy about this conversation and his
relationship with Michael remains strained. He wonders what he could have
done differently, and what he should do about it now.
But before we get to that, let’s look at what Jack and Michael’s conversation
can teach us about how difficult conversations work.
Decoding the Structure of Difficult Conversations
Surprisingly, despite what appear to be infinite variations, all difficult
conversations share a common structure. When you’re caught up in the details
and anxiety of a particular difficult conversation, this structure is hard to see. But
understanding that structure is essential to improving how you handle your most
challenging conversations.
There’s More Here Than Meets the Ear
In the conversation between Jack and Michael recounted above, the words reveal
only the surface of what is really going on. To make the structure of a difficult
conversation visible, we need to understand not only what is said, but also what
is not said. We need to understand what the people involved are thinking and
feeling but not saying to each other. In a difficult conversation, this is usually
where the real action is.
Look at what Jack is thinking and feeling, but not saying, as this conversation
proceeds:
Meanwhile, there’s plenty that Michael is thinking and feeling but not saying.
Meanwhile, there’s plenty that Michael is thinking and feeling but not saying.
Michael is wondering whether he should have hired Jack in the first place. He
hasn’t been all that happy with Jack’s work in the past, but he decided to go out
on a limb with his partners to give his friend another chance. Michael is now
frustrated with Jack and confused about whether hiring Jack was a good decision
– personally or professionally.
The first insight, then, is a simple one: there’s an awful lot going on between
Jack and Michael that is not being spoken.
That’s typical. In fact, the gap between what you’re really thinking and what
you’re saying is part of what makes a conversation difficult. You’re distracted
by all that’s going on inside. You’re uncertain about what’s okay to share, and
what’s better left unsaid. And you know that just saying what you’re thinking
would probably not make the conversation any easier.
Each Difficult Conversation Is Really Three Conversations
In studying hundreds of conversations of every kind we have discovered that
there is an underlying structure to what’s going on, and understanding this
structure, in itself, is a powerful first step in improving how we deal with these
conversations. It turns out that no matter what the subject, our thoughts and
feelings fall into the same three categories, or “conversations.” And in each of
these conversations we make predictable errors that distort our thoughts and
feelings, and get us into trouble.
Everything problematic that Michael and Jack say, think, and feel falls into
one of these three “conversations.” And everything in your difficult
conversations does too.
1. The “What Happened?” Conversation. Most difficult conversations
involve disagreement about what has happened or what should happen. Who
said what and who did what? Who’s right, who meant what, and who’s to
blame? Jack and Michael tussle over these issues, both out loud and internally.
Does the chart need to be redone ? Is Michael trying to intimidate Jack? Who
should have caught the error?
2. The Feelings Conversation. Every difficult conversation also asks and
answers questions about feelings. Are my feelings valid? Appropriate? Should I
acknowledge or deny them, put them on the table or check them at the door?
What do I do about the other person’s feelings? What if they are angry or hurt?
Jack’s and Michael’s thoughts are littered with feelings. For example, “This is
the thanks I get?!” signals hurt and anger, and “I’m under tremendous pressure”
reveals anxiety. These feelings are not addressed directly in the conversation, but
they leak in anyway.
3. The Identity Conversation. This is the conversation we each have with
ourselves about what this situation means to us. We conduct an internal debate
over whether this means we are competent or incompetent, a good person or bad,
worthy of love or unlovable. What impact might it have on our self-image and
self-esteem, our future and our well-being? Our answers to these questions
determine in large part whether we feel “balanced” during the conversation, or
whether we feel off-center and anxious. In the conversation between Jack and
Michael, Jack is struggling with the sense that he has been incompetent, which
makes him feel less balanced. And Michael is wondering whether he acted
foolishly in hiring Jack.
Every difficult conversation involves grappling with these Three
Conversations, so engaging successfully requires learning to operate effectively
in each of the three realms. Managing all three simultaneously may seem hard,
but it’s easier than facing the consequences of engaging in difficult
conversations blindly.
What We Can’t Change, and What We Can
No matter how skilled we become, there are certain challenges in each of the
Three Conversations that we can’t change. We will still run into situations where
untangling “what happened” is more complicated than we initially suspect. We
will each have information the other person is unaware of, and raising each
other’s awareness is not easy. And we will still face emotionally charged
situations that feel threatening because they put important aspects of our identity
at risk.
What we can change is the way we respond to each of these challenges.
Typically, instead of exploring what information the other person might have
that we don’t, we assume we know all we need to know to understand and
explain things. Instead of working to manage our feelings constructively, we
either try to hide them or let loose in ways that we later regret. Instead of
exploring the identity issues that may be deeply at stake for us (or them), we
proceed with the conversation as if it says nothing about us – and never come to
grips with what is at the heart of our anxiety.
By understanding these errors and the havoc they wreak, we can begin to craft
better approaches. Let’s explore each conversation in more depth.
The “What Happened?” Conversation: What’s the Story
Here?
The “What Happened?” Conversation is where we spend much of our time in
difficult conversations as we struggle with our different stories about who’s
right, who meant what, and who’s to blame. On each of these three fronts –
truth, intentions, and blame – we make a common but crippling assumption.
Straightening out each of these assumptions is essential to improving our ability
to handle difficult conversations well.
The Truth Assumption
As we argue vociferously for our view, we often fail to question one crucial
assumption upon which our whole stance in the conversation is built: I am right,
you are wrong. This simple assumption causes endless grief.
What am I right about? I am right that you drive too fast. I am right that you
are unable to mentor younger colleagues. I am right that your comments at
Thanksgiving were inappropriate. I am right that the patient should have
received more medication after such a painful operation. I am right that the
contractor overcharged me. I am right that I deserve a raise. I am right that the
brochure is fine as it is. The number of things I am right about would fill a book.
There’s only one hitch: I am not right.
How could this be so? It seems impossible. Surely I must be right sometimes!
Well, no. The point is this: difficult conversations are almost never about
getting the facts right. They are about conflicting perceptions, interpretations,
and values. They are not about what a contract states, they are about what a
contract means. They are not about which child-rearing book is most popular,
they are about which child-rearing book we should follow.
They are not about what is true, they are about what is important.
Let’s come back to Jack and Michael. There is no dispute about whether the
graph is accurate or not. They both agree it is not. The dispute is over whether
graph is accurate or not. They both agree it is not. The dispute is over whether
the error is worth worrying about and, if so, how to handle it. These are not
questions of right and wrong, but questions of interpretation and judgment.
Interpretations and judgments are important to explore. In contrast, the quest to
determine who is right and who is wrong is a dead end.
In the “What Happened?” Conversation, moving away from the truth
assumption frees us to shift our purpose from proving we are right to
understanding the perceptions, interpretations, and values of both sides. It allows
us to move away from delivering messages and toward asking questions,
exploring how each person is making sense of the world. And to offer our views
as perceptions, interpretations, and values – not as “the truth.”
The Intention Invention
The second argument in the “What Happened?” Conversation is over intentions
– yours and mine. Did you yell at me to hurt my feelings or merely to emphasize
your point? Did you throw my cigarettes out because you’re trying to control my
behavior or because you want to help me live up to my commitment to quit?
What I think about your intentions will affect how I think about you and,
ultimately, how our conversation goes.
The error we make in the realm of intentions is simple but profound : we
assume we know the intentions of others when we don’t. Worse still, when we
are unsure about someone’s intentions, we too often decide they are bad.
The truth is, intentions are invisible. We assume them from other people’s
behavior. In other words, we make them up, we invent them. But our invented
stories about other people’s intentions are accurate much less often than we
think. Why? Because people’s intentions, like so much else in difficult
conversations, are complex. Sometimes people act with mixed intentions.
Sometimes they act with no intention, or at least none related to us. And
sometimes they act on good intentions that nonetheless hurt us.
Because our view of others’ intentions (and their views of ours) are so
important in difficult conversations, leaping to unfounded assumptions can be a
disaster.
The Blame Frame
The third error we make in the “What Happened?” Conversation has to do with
blame. Most difficult conversations focus significant attention on who’s to
blame for the mess we’re in. When the company loses its biggest client, for
blame for the mess we’re in. When the company loses its biggest client, for
example, we know that there will shortly ensue a ruthless game of blame
roulette. We don’t care where the ball lands, as long as it doesn’t land on us.
Personal relationships are no different. Your relationship with your stepmother is
strained? She’s to blame. She should stop bugging you about your messy room
and the kids you hang out with.
In the conflict between Jack and Michael, Jack believes the problem is
Michael’s fault: the time to declare your hypersensitivity to formatting is before
the brochure goes to print, not after. And, of course, Michael believes the
problem is Jack’s fault: Jack did the layout, mistakes are his responsibility.
But talking about fault is similar to talking about truth — it produces
disagreement, denial, and little learning. It evokes fears of punishment and
insists on an either/or answer. Nobody wants to be blamed, especially unfairly,
so our energy goes into defending ourselves.
Parents of small children know this well. When the twins act up in the back
seat of the car, we know that trying to affix blame will always yield an outcry:
“But she hit me first!” or “I hit her because she called me a baby.” Each child
denies blame not just to avoid losing her dessert, but also from a sense of justice.
Neither feels like the problem is solely her fault, because it isn’t.
From the front seat looking back, it is easy to see how each child has
contributed to the fight. It’s much more difficult to see how we’ve contributed to
the problems in which we ourselves are involved. But in situations that give rise
to difficult conversations, it is almost always true that what happened is the
result of things both people did — or failed to do. And punishment is rarely
relevant or appropriate. When competent, sensible people do something stupid,
the smartest move is to try to figure out, first, what kept them from seeing it
coming and, second, how to prevent the problem from happening again.
Talking about blame distracts us from exploring why things went wrong and
how we might correct them going forward. Focusing instead on understanding
the contribution system allows us to learn about the real causes of the problem,
and to work on correcting them. The distinction between blame and contribution
may seem subtle. But it is a distinction worth working to understand, because it
will make a significant difference in your ability to handle difficult
conversations.
The Feelings Conversation: What Should We Do with Our
Emotions?
Difficult conversations are not just about what happened; they also involve
emotion. The question is not whether strong feelings will arise, but how to
handle them when they do. Should you tell your boss how you really feel about
his management style, or about the colleague who stole your idea? Should you
share with your sister how hurt you feel that she stayed friends with your ex?
And what should you do with the anger you are likely to experience if you
decide to talk with that vendor about his sexist remarks?
In the presence of strong feelings, many of us work hard to stay rational.
Getting too deep into feelings is messy, clouds good judgment, and in some
contexts — for example, at work — can seem just plain inappropriate. Bringing
up feelings can also be scary or uncomfortable, and can make us feel vulnerable.
After all, what if the other person dismisses our feelings or responds without real
understanding? Or takes our feelings to heart in a way that wounds them or
irrevocably damages the relationship? And once we’ve gotten our feelings off
our chest, it’s their turn. Are we up to hearing all about their anger and pain?
This line of reasoning suggests that we stay out of the Feelings Conversation
altogether — that Jack is better off not sharing his feelings of anger and hurt, or
Michael his sense of disappointment. Better to stick to questions about the
brochure. Better to stick to “business.”
Or is it?
An Opera Without Music
The problem with this reasoning is that it fails to take account of one simple fact:
difficult conversations do not just involve feelings, they are at their very core
about feelings. Feelings are not some noisy byproduct of engaging in difficult
talk, they are an integral part of the conflict. Engaging in a difficult conversation
without talking about feelings is like staging an opera without the music. You’ll
get the plot but miss the point. In the conversation between Jack and Michael,
for example, Jack never explicitly says that he feels mistreated or
underappreciated, yet months later Jack can still summon his anger and
resentment toward Michael.
Consider some of your own difficult conversations. What feelings are
involved? Hurt or anger? Disappointment, shame, confusion? Do you feel
treated unfairly or without respect? For some of us, even saying “I love you” or
“I’m proud of you” can feel risky.
In the short term, engaging in a difficult conversation without talking about
feelings may save you time and reduce your anxiety. It may also seem like a way
to avoid certain serious risks – to you, to others, and to the relationship. But the
to avoid certain serious risks – to you, to others, and to the relationship. But the
question remains: if feelings are the issue, what have you accomplished if you
don’t address them?
Understanding feelings, talking about feelings, managing feelings – these are
among the greatest challenges of being human. There is nothing that will make
dealing with feelings easy and risk-free. Most of us, however, can do a better job
in the Feelings Conversation than we are now. It may not seem like it, but
talking about feelings is a skill that can be learned.
Of course, it doesn’t always make sense to discuss feelings. As the saying
goes, sometimes you should let sleeping dogs lie. Unfortunately, a lack of skill
in discussing feelings may cause you to avoid not only sleeping dogs, but all
dogs – even those that won’t let you sleep.
The Identity Conversation: What Does This Say About
Me?
Of the Three Conversations, the Identity Conversation may be the most subtle
and the most challenging. But it offers us significant leverage in managing our
anxiety and improving our skills in the other two conversations.
The Identity Conversation looks inward: it’s all about who we are and how we
see ourselves. How does what happened affect my self-esteem, my self-image,
my sense of who I am in the world? What impact will it have on my future?
What self-doubts do I harbor? In short: before, during, and after the difficult
conversation, the Identity Conversation is about what I am saying to myself
about me.
You might think, “I’m just trying to ask my boss for a raise. Why does my
sense of who I am in the world matter here?” Or Jack might be thinking, “This is
about the brochure, not about me.” In fact, anytime a conversation feels difficult,
it is in part precisely because it is about You, with a capital Y. Something beyond
the apparent substance of the conversation is at stake for you.
It may be something simple. What does it say about you when you talk to your
neighbors about their dog? It may be that growing up in a small town gave you a
strong self-image as a friendly person and good neighbor, so you are
uncomfortable with the possibility that your neighbors might see you as
aggressive or as a troublemaker.
Asking for a raise? What if you get turned down? In fact, what if your boss
gives you good reasons for turning you down? What will that do to your self-
gives you good reasons for turning you down? What will that do to your selfimage as a competent and respected employee? Ostensibly the subject is money,
but what’s really making you sweat is that your self-image is on the line.
Even when you are the one delivering bad news, the Identity Conversation is
in play. Imagine, for example, that you have to turn down an attractive new
project proposal from Creative. The prospect of telling the people involved
makes you anxious, even if you aren’t responsible for the decision. In part, it’s
because you fear how the conversation will make you feel about yourself: “I’m
not the kind of person who lets people down and crushes enthusiasm. I’m the
person people respect for finding a way to do it, not for shutting the door.” Your
self-image as a person who helps others get things done butts up against the
reality that you are going to be saying no. If you’re no longer the hero, will
people see you as the villain?
Keeping Your Balance
As you begin to sense the implications of the conversation for your self-image,
you may begin to lose your balance. The eager young head of Creative, who
reminds you so much of yourself at that age, looks disbelieving and betrayed.
You suddenly feel confused; your anxiety skyrockets. You wonder whether it
really makes sense to drop the idea so early in the process. Before you know it,
you stammer out something about the possibility that the rejection will be
reconsidered, even though you have absolutely no reason to believe that’s likely.
In its mildest form, losing our balance may cause us to lose confidence in
ourselves, to lose concentration, or to forget what we were going to say. In more
extreme cases, it can feel earth-shattering. We may feel paralyzed, overcome by
panic, stricken with an urge to flee, or even have trouble breathing.
Just knowing that the Identity Conversation is a component of difficult
conversations can help. And, as in the other two conversations, you can do much
better than mere awareness. While losing your balance sometimes is inevitable,
the Identity Conversation need not cause as much anxiety as it does. Like
dealing with feelings, grappling with the Identity Conversation gets easier with
the development of certain skills. Indeed, once you find your footing in the
Identity Conversation, you can turn what is often a source of anxiety into a
source of strength.
Moving Toward a Learning Conversation
Despite what we sometimes pretend, our initial purpose for having a difficult
conversation is often to prove a point, to give them a piece of our mind, or to get
them to do or be what we want. In other words, to deliver a message.
Once you understand the challenges inherent in the Three Conversations and
the mistakes we make in each, you are likely to find that your purpose for having
a particular conversation begins to shift. You come to appreciate the complexity
of the perceptions and intentions involved, the reality of joint contribution to the
problem, the central role feelings have to play, and what the issues mean to each
person’s self-esteem and identity. And you find that a message delivery stance
no longer makes sense. In fact, you may find that you no longer have a message
to deliver, but rather some information to share and some questions to ask.
Instead of wanting to persuade and get your way, you want to understand what
has happened from the other person’s point of view, explain your point of view,
share and understand feelings, and work together to figure out a way to manage
the problem going forward. In so doing, you make it more likely that the other
person will be open to being persuaded, and that you will learn something that
significantly changes the way you understand the problem.
Changing our stance means inviting the other person into the conversation
with us, to help us figure things out. If we’re going to achieve our purposes, we
have lots we need to learn from them and lots they need to learn from us. We
need to have a learning conversation.
The differences between a typical battle of messages and a learning
conversation are summarized in the chart on the following pages.

This book will help you turn difficult conversations into learning
conversations by helping you handle each of the Three Conversations more
productively and improving your ability to handle all three at once.
The next five chapters explore in depth the mistakes people commonly make
in each of the Three Conversations. This will help you shift to a learning stance
when it’s your difficult conversation and you aren’t feeling very open. Chapters
2, 3, and 4 investigate the three assumptions in the “What Happened?”
Conversation. Chapter 5 shifts to the Feelings Conversation, and Chapter 6 takes
up the Identity Conversation. These chapters will help you sort out your thoughts
and feelings. This preparation is essential before you step into any difficult
conversation.
In the final six chapters we turn to the conversation itself, beginning with
when to raise an issue and when to let go, and if you’re going to raise it, what
you can hope to achieve and what you can’t — what purposes make sense. Then
we turn to the mechanics of how to talk productively about the issues that matter
to you: finding the best ways to begin, inquiring and listening to learn,
to you: finding the best ways to begin, inquiring and listening to learn,
expressing yourself with power and clarity, and solving problems jointly,
including how to get the conversation back on track when the going gets rough.
Finally, we return to how Jack might have a follow-up conversation with
Michael to illustrate how this all might look in practice.
Shift to a Learning Stance
The “What Happened?” Conversation
2
Stop Arguing About Who’s Right: Explore Each Other’s
Stories
Michael’s version of the story is different from Jack’s:
In the past couple of years I’ve really gone out of my way to try
to help Jack out, and it seems one thing or another has always
gone wrong. And instead of assuming that the client is always
right, he argues with me! I just don’t know how I can keep using
him.
But what really made me angry was the way Jack was making
excuses about the chart instead of just fixing it. He knew it wasn’t
up to professional standards. And the revenue graphs were the
critical part of the financial presentation.
One of the hallmarks of the “What Happened?” Conversation is that people
disagree. What’s the best way to save for retirement? How much money should
we put into advertising? Should the neighborhood boys let your daughter play
stick ball? Is the brochure up to professional standards?
Disagreement is not a bad thing, nor does it necessarily lead to a difficult
conversation. We disagree with people all the time, and often no one cares very
much.
But other times, we care a lot. The disagreement seems at the heart of what is
going wrong between us. They won’t agree with what we want them to agree
with and they won’t do what we need them to do. Whether or not we end up
getting our way, we are left feeling frustrated, hurt, or misunderstood. And often
the disagreement continues into the future, wreaking havoc whenever it raises its
head.
When disagreement occurs, arguing may seem natural, even reasonable. But
it’s not helpful.
Why We Argue, and Why It Doesn’t Help
Think about your own difficult conversations in which there are important
disagreements over what is really going on or what should be done. What’s your
explanation for what’s causing the problem?
We Think They Are the Problem
In a charitable mood, you may think, “Well, everyone has their opinion,” or,
“There are two sides to every story.” But most of us don’t really buy that. Deep
down, we believe that the problem, put simply, is them.
• They’re selfish. “My girlfriend won’t go to a couples’ counselor
with me. She says it’s a waste of money. I say it’s important to me, but
she doesn’t care.”
• They’re naive. “My daughter’s got these big ideas about going to
New York and ‘making it’ in the theater. She just doesn’t understand
what she’s up against.”
• They’re controlling. “We always do everything my boss’s way. It
drives me crazy, because he acts like his ideas are better than anyone
else’s, even when he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
• They’re irrational. “My Great Aunt Bertha sleeps on this sagging
old mattress. She’s got terrible back problems, but no matter what I
say, she refuses to let me buy her a new mattress. Everyone in the
family tells me, ‘Rory, Aunt Bertha is just crazy. You can’t reason
with her.’ I guess it’s true.”
If this is what we’re thinking, then it’s not surprising that we end up arguing.
Rory, for example, cares about her Aunt Bertha. She wants to help, and she has
the capacity to help. So Rory does what we all do: If the other person is
stubborn, we assert harder in an attempt to break through whatever is keeping
them from seeing what is sensible. (“If you would just try a new mattress, you’d
see how much more comfortable it is!”)
If the other person is naive, we try to educate them about how life really is,
and if they are being selfish or manipulative, we may try to be forthright and call
them on it. We persist in the hope that what we say will eventually make a
difference.
But instead, our persistence leads to arguments. And these arguments lead
nowhere. Nothing gets settled. We each feel unheard or poorly treated. We’re
nowhere. Nothing gets settled. We each feel unheard or poorly treated. We’re
frustrated not only because the other person is being so unreasonable, but also
because we feel powerless to do anything about it. And the constant arguing isn’t
doing the relationship any good.
Yet we’re not sure what to do instead. We can’t just pretend there is no
disagreement, that it doesn’t matter, or that it’s all the same to us. It does matter,
it’s not all the same to us. That’s why we feel so strongly about it in the first
place. But if arguing leads us nowhere, what else can we do?
The first thing we should do is hear from Aunt Bertha.
They Think We Are the Problem
Aunt Bertha would be the first to agree that her mattress is indeed old and
battered. “It’s the one I shared with my husband for forty years, and it makes me
feel safe,” she says. “There are so many other changes in my life, it’s nice to
have a little haven that stays the same.” Keeping it also provides Bertha with a
sense of control over her life. When she complains, it’s not because she wants
answers, it’s because she likes the connection she feels when she keeps people
current on her daily comings and goings.
About Rory, Aunt Bertha has this to say: “I love her, but Rory can be a
difficult person. She doesn’t listen or care much about what other people think,
and when I tell her that, she gets very angry and unpleasant.” Rory thinks the
problem is Aunt Bertha. Aunt Bertha, it seems, thinks the problem is Rory.
This raises an interesting question: Why is it always the other person who is
naive or selfish or irrational or controlling? Why is it that we never think we are
the problem? If you are having a difficult conversation, and someone asks why
you disagree, how come you never say, “Because what I’m saying makes
absolutely no sense”?
We Each Make Sense in Our Story of What Happened
We don’t see ourselves as the problem because, in fact, we aren’t. What we are
saying does make sense. What’s often hard to see is that what the other person is
saying also makes sense. Like Rory and Aunt Bertha, we each have different
stories about what is going on in the world. In Rory’s story, Rory’s thoughts and
actions are perfectly sensible. In Aunt Bertha’s story, Aunt Bertha’s thoughts
and actions are equally sensible. But Rory is not just a character in her own
story, she is also a visiting character in Aunt Bertha’s story. And in Aunt
Bertha’s story, what Rory says seems pushy and insensitive. In Rory’s story,
what Aunt Bertha says sounds irrational.
In the normal course of things, we don’t notice the ways in which our story of
the world is different from other people’s. But difficult conversations arise at
precisely those points where important parts of our story collide with another
person’s story. We assume the collision is because of how the other person is;
they assume it’s because of how we are. But really the collision is a result of our
stories simply being different, with neither of us realizing it. It’s as if Princess
Leia were trying to talk to Huck Finn. No wonder we end up arguing.
Arguing Blocks Us from Exploring Each Other’s Stories
But arguing is not only a result of our failure to see that we and the other person
are in different stories – it is also part of the cause. Arguing inhibits our ability
to learn how the other person sees the world. When we argue, we tend to trade
conclusions – the “bottom line” of what we think: “Get a new mattress” versus
“Stop trying to control me.” “I’m going to New York to make it big” versus
“You’re naive.” “Couples counseling is helpful” versus “Couples counseling is a
waste of time.”
But neither conclusion makes sense in the other person’s story. So we each
dismiss the other’s argument. Rather than helping us understand our different
views, arguing results in a battle of messages. Rather than drawing us together,
arguing pulls us apart.
Arguing Without Understanding Is Unpersuasive
Arguing creates another problem in difficult conversations: it inhibits change.
Telling someone to change makes it less rather than more likely that they will.
This is because people almost never change without first feeling understood.
Consider Trevor’s conversation with Karen. Trevor is the financial
administrator for the state Department of Social Services. Karen is a social
worker with the department. “I cannot get Karen to turn in her paperwork on
time,” explains Trevor. “I’ve told her over and over that she’s missing the
deadlines, but it doesn’t help. And when I bring it up, she gets annoyed.”
Of course we know there’s another side to this story. Unfortunately, Trevor
doesn’t know what it is. Trevor is telling Karen what she is supposed to do, but
has not yet engaged her in a two-way conversation about the issue. When Trevor
shifts his purposes from trying to change Karen’s behavior – arguing why being
late is wrong – to trying first to understand Karen, and then to be understood by
her, the situation improves dramatically:
Karen described how overwhelmed and overworked she is. She
puts all of her energy into her clients, who are very needy. She
was feeling like I didn’t appreciate that, which actually, I really
didn’t. On my end, I explained to her how I have to go through all
kinds of extra work when she submits her paperwork late, and I
explained the extra work in detail to her. She felt badly about that,
and it was clear that she just hadn’t thought about it from my
perspective. She promised to put a higher priority on getting her
work in on time, and so far she has.
Finally, each has learned something, and the stage for meaningful change is
set.
To get anywhere in a disagreement, we need to understand the other person’s
story well enough to see how their conclusions make sense within it. And we
need to help them understand the story in which our conclusions make sense.
Understanding each other’s stories from the inside won’t necessarily “solve” the
problem, but as with Karen and Trevor, it’s an essential first step.
Different Stories: Why We Each See the World
Differently
As we move away from arguing and toward trying to understand the other
person’s story, it helps to know why people have different stories in the first
place. Our stories don’t come out of nowhere. They aren’t random. Our stories
are built in often unconscious but systematic ways. First, we take in information.
We experience the world – sights, sounds, and feelings. Second, we interpret
what we see, hear, and feel; we give it all meaning. Then we draw conclusions
about what’s happening. And at each step, there is an opportunity for different
people’s stories to diverge.
Where Our Stories Come From
Put simply, we all have different stories about the world because we each take
in different information and then interpret this information in our own unique
ways.
In difficult conversations, too often we trade only conclusions back and forth,
without stepping down to where most of the real action is: the information and
interpretations that lead each of us to see the world as we do.
1. We Have Different Information
There are two reasons we all have different information about the world. First, as
each of us proceeds through life – and through any difficult situation – the
information available to us is overwhelming. We simply can’t take in all of the
sights, sounds, facts, and feelings involved in even a single encounter.
Inevitably, we end up noticing some things and ignoring others. And what we
each choose to notice and ignore will be different. Second, we each have access
to different information.
We Notice Different Things. Doug took his four-year-old nephew, Andrew,
to watch a homecoming parade. Sitting on his uncle’s shoulders, Andrew
shouted with delight as football players, cheerleaders, and the school band rolled
by on lavish floats. Afterward Andrew exclaimed, “That was the best truck
parade I’ve ever seen!”
Each float, it seems, was pulled by a truck. Andrew, truck obsessed as he was,
saw nothing else. His Uncle Doug, truck indifferent, hadn’t noticed a single
truck. In a sense, Andrew and his uncle watched completely different parades.
Like Doug and Andrew, what we notice has to do with who we are and what
we care about. Some of us pay more attention to feelings and relationships.
Others to status and power, or to facts and logic. Some of us are artists, others
Others to status and power, or to facts and logic. Some of us are artists, others
are scientists, others pragmatists. Some of us want to prove we’re right; others
want to avoid conflict or smooth it over. Some of us tend to see ourselves as
victims, others as heroes, observers, or survivors. The information we attend to
varies accordingly.
Of course, neither Doug nor Andrew walked away from the parade thinking,
“I enjoyed my particular perspective on the parade based on the information I
paid attention to.” Each walked away thinking, “I enjoyed the parade.” Each
assumes that what he paid attention to was what was significant about the
experience. Each assumes he has “the facts.”
In a more serious setting, Randy and Daniel, coworkers on an assembly line,
experience the same dynamic. They’ve had a number of tense conversations
about racial issues. Randy, who is white, believes that the company they work
for has a generally good record on minority recruitment and promotion. He
notices that of the seven people on his assembly team, two are African
Americans and one is Latino, and that the head of the union is Latino. He has
also learned that his supervisor is originally from the Philippines. Randy believes
in the merits of a diverse workplace and has noticed approvingly that several
people of color have recently been promoted.
Daniel, who is Korean American, has a different view. He has been on the
receiving end of unusual questions about his qualifications. He has experienced
several racial slurs from coworkers and one from a foreman. These experiences
are prominent in his mind. He also knows of several minority coworkers who
were overlooked for promotion, and notices that a disproportionate number of
the top executives at the company are white. And Daniel has listened repeatedly
to executives who talk as if the only two racial categories that mattered were
white and African American.
While Randy and Daniel have some information that is shared, they have
quite a bit of information that’s not. Yet each assumes that the facts are plain,
and his view is reality. In an important sense, it’s as if Randy and Daniel work at
different companies.
Often we go through an entire conversation – or indeed an entire relationship
– without ever realizing that each of us is paying attention to different things,
that our views are based on different information.
We Each Know Ourselves Better Than Anyone Else Can. In addition to
choosing different information, we each have access to different information.
For example, others have access to information about themselves that we don’t.
They know the constraints they are under; we don’t. They know their hopes,
dreams, and fears; we don’t. We act as if we’ve got access to all the important
information there is to know about them, but we don’t. Their internal experience
is far more complex than we imagine.
Let’s return to the example of Jack and Michael. When Michael describes
what happened, he doesn’t mention anything about Jack’s staying up all night.
He might not know that Jack stayed up all night, and even if he does, his
“knowledge” would be quite limited compared to what Jack knows about it. Jack
was there. Jack knows what it felt like as he struggled to stay awake. He knows
how uncomfortable it was when the heat was turned off at midnight. He knows
how angry his wife was that he had to cancel their dinner together. He knows
about the anxiety he felt putting aside other important work to do Michael’s
project. Jack also knows how happy he felt to be doing a favor for a friend.
And there is plenty that Jack is not aware of. Jack doesn’t know that
Michael’s client blew up just that morning over the choice of photograph in
another brochure Michael had prepared. Jack doesn’t know that the revenue
figures are a particularly hot topic because of questions about some of the
client’s recent business decisions. Jack doesn’t know that Michael’s graphic
designer has taken an unscheduled personal leave in the midst of their busiest
season, affecting not just this project but others as well. Jack doesn’t know that
Michael has been dissatisfied with some of Jack’s work in the past. And Jack
doesn’t know how happy Michael felt to be doing a favor for a friend.
Of course, in advance, we don’t know what we don’t know. But rather than
assuming we already know everything we need to, we should assume that there
is important information we don’t have access to. It’s a good bet to be true.
2. We Have Different Interpretations
“We never have sex,” Alvie Singer complains in the movie Annie Hall. “We’re
constantly having sex,” says his girlfriend. “How often do you have sex?” asks
their therapist. “Three times a week!” they reply in unison.
A second reason we tell different stories about the world is that, even when
we have the same information, we interpret it differently – we give it different
meaning. I see the cup as half empty; you see it as a metaphor for the fragility of
humankind. I’m thirsty; you’re a poet. Two especially important factors in how
we interpret what we see are (1) our past experiences and (2) the implicit rules
we’ve learned about how things should and should not be done.
We Are Influenced by Past Experiences. The past gives meaning to the
present. Often, it is only in the context of someone’s past experience that we can
understand why what they are saying or doing makes any kind of sense.
To celebrate the end of a long project, Bonnie and her coworkers scraped
together the money to treat their supervisor, Caroline, to dinner at a nice
restaurant. Throughout the meal, Caroline did little but complain: “Everything is
overpriced,” “How can they get away with this?” and “You’ve got to be kidding.
Five dollars for dessert!” Bonnie went home embarrassed and frustrated,
thinking, “We knew she was cheap, but this is ridiculous. We paid so she
wouldn’t have to worry about the money, and still she complained about the
cost. She ruined the evening.”
Though the story in Bonnie’s head was that Caroline was simply a cheapskate
or wet blanket, Bonnie eventually decided to ask Caroline why she had such a
strong reaction to the expense of eating out. Upon reflection, Caroline explained:
I suppose it has to do with growing up during the Depression. I
can still hear my mother’s voice from when I was little, getting
ready to go off to school in the morning. “Carrie, there’s a nickel
on the counter for your lunch!” she’d call. She was so proud to be
able to buy my lunch every day. Once I got to be eight or nine, a
nickel wasn’t enough to buy lunch anymore. But I never had the
heart to tell her.
Years later, even a moderately priced meal can feel like an extravagance to
Caroline when filtered through the images and feelings of this experience.
Every strong view you have is profoundly influenced by your past
experiences. Where to vacation, whether to spank your kids, how much to
budget for advertising – all are influenced by what you’ve observed in your own
family and learned throughout your life. Often we aren’t even aware of how
these experiences affect our interpretation of the world. We simply believe that
this is the way things are.
We Apply Different Implicit Rules. Our past experiences often develop into
“rules” by which we live our lives. Whether we are aware of them or not, we all
follow such rules. They tell us how the world works, how people should act, or
how things are supposed to be. And they have a significant influence on the
story we tell about what is happening between us in a difficult conversation.
We get into trouble when our rules collide.
Ollie and Thelma, for example, are stuck in a tangle of conflicting rules. As
sales representatives, they spend a lot of time together on the road. One evening,
they agreed to meet at 7:00 the next morning in the hotel lobby to finish
preparing a presentation. Thelma, as usual, arrived at 7:00 sharp. Ollie showed
preparing a presentation. Thelma, as usual, arrived at 7:00 sharp. Ollie showed
up at 7:10. This was not the first time Ollie had arrived late, and Thelma was so
frustrated that she had trouble focusing for the first twenty minutes of their
meeting. Ollie was frustrated that Thelma was frustrated.
It helps to clarify the implicit rules that each is unconsciously applying.
Thelma’s rule is “It is unprofessional and inconsiderate to be late.” Ollie’s rule is
“It is unprofessional to obsess about small things so much that you can’t focus
on what’s important.” Because Thelma and Ollie both interpret the situation
through the lens of their own implicit rule, they each see the other person as
acting inappropriately.
Our implicit rules often take the form of things people “should” or “shouldn’t”
do: “You should spend money on education, but not on clothes.” “You should
never criticize a colleague in front of others.” “You should never leave the toilet
seat up, squeeze the toothpaste in the middle, or let the kids watch more than two
hours of TV.” The list is endless.
There’s nothing wrong with having these rules. In fact, we need them to order
our lives. But when you find yourself in conflict, it helps to make your rules
explicit and to encourage the other person to do the same. This greatly reduces
the chance that you will be caught in an accidental duel of conflicting rules.
3. Our Conclusions Reflect Self-Interest
Finally, when we think about why we each tell our own stories about the world,
there is no getting around the fact that our conclusions are partisan, that they
often reflect our self-interest. We look for information to support our view and
give that information the most favorable interpretation. Then we feel even more
certain that our view is right.
Professor Howard Raiffa of the Harvard Business School demonstrated this
phenomenon when he gave teams of people a set of facts about a company. He
told some of the teams they would be negotiating to buy the company, and
others that they would be selling the company. He then asked each team to value
the company as objectively as possible (not the price at which they would offer
to buy or sell, but what they believed it was actually worth). Raiffa found that
sellers, in their heart of hearts, believed the company to be worth on average 30
percent more than the independently assessed fair market value. Buyers, in turn,
valued it at 30 percent less.
Each team developed a self-serving perception without realizing they were
doing so. They focused more on things that were consistent with what they
wanted to believe and tended to ignore, explain away, and soon forget those that
wanted to believe and tended to ignore, explain away, and soon forget those that
weren’t. Our colleague Roger Fisher captured this phenomenon in a wry
reflection on his days as a litigator : “I sometimes failed to persuade the court
that I was right, but I never failed to persuade myself!”
This tendency to develop unconsciously biased perceptions is very human,
and can be dangerous. It calls for a dose of humility about the “rightness” of our
story, especially when we have something important at stake.
Move from Certainty to Curiosity
There’s only one way to come to understand the other person’s story, and that’s
by being curious. Instead of asking yourself, “How can they think that?!” ask
yourself, “I wonder what information they have that I don’t?” Instead of asking,
“How can they be so irrational?” ask, “How might they see the world such that
their view makes sense?” Certainty locks us out of their story; curiosity lets us
in.
Curiosity: The Way into Their Story
Consider the disagreement between Tony and his wife, Keiko. Tony’s sister has
just given birth to her first child. The next day Keiko is getting ready to visit the
hospital. To her shock, Tony says he’s not going with her to visit his sister, but
instead is going to watch the football game on TV. When Keiko asks why, Tony
mumbles something about this being a “big game,” and adds, “I’ll stop by the
hospital tomorrow.”
Keiko is deeply troubled by this. She thinks to herself, “What kind of person
thinks football is more important than family? That’s the most selfish, shallow,
ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” But she catches herself in her own certainty,
and instead of saying, “How could you do such a thing?” she negotiates herself
to a place of curiosity. She wonders what Tony knows that she doesn’t, how he’s
seeing the world such that his decision seems to make sense.
The story Tony tells is different from what Keiko had imagined. From the
outside, Tony is watching a game on TV. But to Tony it’s a matter of his mental
health. Throughout the week, he works ten hours a day under extremely stressful
conditions, then comes home and plays with his two boys, doing whatever they
want. After the struggle of getting them to bed, he spends time with Keiko,
talking mostly about her day. Finally, he collapses into bed. For Tony, watching
talking mostly about her day. Finally, he collapses into bed. For Tony, watching
the game is the one time during the week when he can truly relax. His stress
level goes down, almost as if he’s meditating, and this three hours to himself has
a significant impact on his ability to take on the week ahead. Since Tony
believes that his sister won’t care whether he comes today or tomorrow, he
chooses in favor of his mental health.
Of course, that’s not the end of the issue. Keiko needs to share her story with
Tony, and then, once everything is on the table, together they can figure out
what to do. But that will never happen if Keiko simply assumes she knows
Tony’s story, no matter how certain she is at the outset that she does.
What’s Your Story?
One way to shift your stance from the easy certainty of feeling that you’ve
thought about this from every possible angle is to get curious about what you
don’t know about yourself. This may sound like an odd thing to worry about.
After all, you’re with yourself all the time; wouldn’t you be pretty familiar with
your own perspective?
In a word, no. The process by which we construct our stories about the world
often happens so fast, and so automatically, that we are not even aware of all that
influences our views. For example, when we saw what Jack was really thinking
and feeling during his conversation with Michael, there was nothing about the
heat being turned off, or about his wife’s anger at canceling their dinner plans.
Even Jack wasn’t fully aware of all the information behind his reactions.
And what implicit rules are important to him? Jack thinks to himself, “I can’t
believe the way Michael treated me,” but he is unaware that this is based on an
implicit rule of how people “should” treat each other. Jack’s rule is something
like “You should always show appreciation to others no matter what.” Many of
us agree with this rule, but it is not a truth, just a rule. Michael’s rule might be
“Good friends can get angry with each other and not take it personally.” The
point isn’t whose rule is better; the point is that they are different. But Jack
won’t know they’re different unless he first considers what rules underlie his
own story about what happened.
Recall the story of Andrew and his Uncle Doug at the parade. We referred to
Andrew as “truck obsessed.” This description is from his uncle’s point of view.
Uncle Doug is aware of “how Andrew is,” but he is less aware of how he
himself “is.” Andrew is truck obsessed if we use as the baseline his Uncle
Doug’s level of interest in trucks, which is zero. But from Andrew’s point of
view, Uncle Doug might be considered “cheerleader obsessed.” Among the four-
view, Uncle Doug might be considered “cheerleader obsessed.” Among the fouryear-old crowd, Andrew’s view is more likely the norm.
Embrace Both Stories: Adopt the “And Stance”
It can be awfully hard to stay curious about another person’s story when you
have your own story to tell, especially if you’re thinking that only one story can
really be right. After all, your story is so different from theirs, and makes so
much sense to you. Part of the stress of staying curious can be relieved by
adopting what we call the “And Stance.”
We usually assume that we must either accept or reject the other person’s
story, and that if we accept theirs, we must abandon our own. But who’s right
between Michael and Jack, Ollie and Thelma, or Bonnie and her boss, Caroline?
Who’s right between a person who likes to sleep with the window open and
another who prefers the window closed?
The answer is that the question makes no sense. Don’t choose between the
stories; embrace both. That’s the And Stance.
The suggestion to embrace both stories can sound like double-talk. It can be
heard as “Pretend both of your stories are right.” But in fact, it suggests
something quite different. Don’t pretend anything. Don’t worry about accepting
or rejecting the other person’s story. First work to understand it. The mere act of
understanding someone else’s story doesn’t require you to give up your own.
The And Stance allows you to recognize that how you each see things matters,
that how you each feel matters. Regardless of what you end up doing, regardless
of whether your story influences theirs or theirs yours, both stories matter.
The And Stance is based on the assumption that the world is complex, that
you can feel hurt, angry, and wronged, and they can feel just as hurt, angry, and
wronged. They can be doing their best, and you can think that it’s not good
enough. You may have done something stupid, and they will have contributed in
important ways to the problem as well. You can feel furious with them, and you
can also feel love and appreciation for them.
The And Stance gives you a place from which to assert the full strength of
your views and feelings without having to diminish the views and feelings of
someone else. Likewise, you don’t need to give up anything to hear how
someone else feels or sees things differently. Because you may have different
information or different interpretations, both stories can make sense at the same
time.
It may be that as you share them, your stories change in response to new
It may be that as you share them, your stories change in response to new
information or different perspectives. But they still may not end up the same,
and that’s all right. Sometimes people have honest disagreements, but even so,
the most useful question is not “Who’s right?” but “Now that we really
understand each other, what’s a good way to manage this problem?”
Two Exceptions That Aren’t
You may be thinking that the advice to shift from certainty and arguing to
curiosity and the And Stance generally makes sense, but that there must be
exceptions. Let’s look at two important questions that may look like exceptions,
but aren’t: (1) What about times when I absolutely know I’m right? and (2) Does
the suggestion to “understand the other person’s story” always apply, even
when, for example, I’m firing or breaking up with someone?
I Really Am Right
There’s an old story of two clerics arguing about how to do God’s work. In the
spirit of conciliation, one finally says to the other, “You and I see things
differently, and that’s okay. We don’t need to agree. You can do God’s work
your way, and I’ll do God’s work His way.”
The tendency to think this way can be overwhelming. Even if you understand
another person’s story with genuine insight and empathy, you may still stumble
on the next step, thinking that however much their story makes sense to them,
you are still “right” and they are still “wrong.”
For example, what about the conversation you have with your daughter about
her smoking? You know you are right that smoking is bad for her, that the
sooner she stops the better.
Fair enough. About each of those things, you are right. But here’s the rub:
that’s not what the conversation is really about. It’s about how you each feel
about your daughter’s smoking, what she should do about it, and what role you
should play. It’s about the terrible fear and sadness you feel as you imagine her
becoming sick, and your rage at feeling powerless to make her stop. It’s about
her need to feel independent, to break out of the “good girl” mold that feels so
suffocating. It’s about her own ambivalence doing something that makes her feel
good and at the same time truly frightens her. The conversation is about many
issues between the two of you that are complex and important to explore. It is
not about the truth of whether smoking is bad for one’s health. Both of you
already agree on that.
Even when it seems the dispute is about what’s true, you may find that being
the one who’s right doesn’t get you very far. Your friend may deny that he is an
alcoholic and that his drinking is affecting his marriage. But even if the whole
world agrees with your assessment, asserting that you are right and trying to get
him to admit it probably won’t help you help your friend.
What may help is to tell him about the impact his drinking has on you, and,
further, to try to understand his story. What is keeping him in denial? What
would it mean to him to admit he has a problem ? What gets in the way? Until
you understand his story, and share yours with him, you can’t help him find a
way to rewrite the next chapter for the better. In this case, you may be right and
your friend may be wrong, but merely being right doesn’t do you much good.
Giving Bad News
What if you have to fire someone, end a relationship, or let a supplier know
you’re cutting back on orders by 80 percent? In many difficult conversations,
you don’t have the power to impose an outcome unilaterally. When firing
someone or breaking up or reducing orders, you do. In such situations, it’s
reasonable to wonder whether the other person’s story is still relevant.
Most of the difficulty in firing someone or in breaking up takes place in the
Feelings and Identity Conversations, which we’ll explore later. But the question
of differing perspectives is also important. Remember, understanding the other
person’s story doesn’t mean you have to agree with it, nor does it require you to
give up your own. And the fact that you are willing to try to understand their
view doesn’t diminish the power you have to implement your decision, and to be
clear that your decision is final.
In fact, the And Stance is probably the most powerful place to stand when
engaging in a difficult conversation that requires you to deliver or enforce bad
news. If you are breaking up with someone, it allows you to say “ I’m breaking
up with you because it’s the right thing for me [here’s why], and I understand
how hurt you are, and that you think we should try again, and I’m not changing
my mind, and I understand that you think I should have been more clear about
my confusion earlier, and I don’t think that makes me a bad person, and I
understand that I’ve done things that have hurt you, and I know you’ve done
things that have hurt me, and I know I might regret this decision, and I’m still
making it.... And, and, and.”
“And” helps you to be curious and clear.
To Move Forward, First Understand Where You Are
As you head down the path of improving how you deal with difficult
conversations, you will notice that the question of how we each make sense of
our worlds follows you like the moon in the night sky. It’s a beacon you can
return to no matter where you are or with what difficult problem you are
grappling.
Coming to understand the other person, and yourself, more deeply doesn’t
mean that differences will disappear or that you won’t have to solve real
problems and make real choices. It doesn’t mean that all views are equally valid
or that it’s wrong to have strongly held beliefs. It will, however, help you
evaluate whether your strong views make sense in light of new information and
different interpretations, and it will help you help others to appreciate the power
of those views.
Wherever you want to go, understanding – imagining yourself into the other
person’s story – has got to be your first step. Before you can figure out how to
move forward, you need to understand where you are.
The next two chapters delve more deeply into two problematic aspects of our
story – our tendency to misunderstand their intentions, and our tendency to focus
on blame.
3
Don’t Assume They Meant It: Disentangle Intent from
Impact
The question of who intended what is central to our story about what’s
happening in a difficult situation. Intentions strongly influence our judgments of
others: If someone intended to hurt us, we judge them more harshly than if they
hurt us by mistake. We’re willing to be inconvenienced by someone if they have
a good reason; we’re irritated if we think they just don’t care about the impact of
their actions on us. Though either blocks our way just as surely, we react
differently to an ambulance double-parked on a narrow street than we do to a
BMW.
The Battle Over Intentions
Consider the story of Lori and Leo, who have been in a relationship for two
years and have a recurring fight that is painful to both of them. The couple was
at a party thrown by some friends, and Lori was about to reach for another scoop
of ice cream, when Leo said, “Lori, why don’t you lay off the ice cream?” Lori,
who struggles with her weight, shot Leo a nasty look, and the two avoided each
other for a while. Later that evening things went from bad to worse:
LORI: I really resented it at the party, the way you treated me in
front of our friends.
LEO: The way I treated you? What are you talking about?
LORI: About the ice cream. You act like you’re my father or
something. You have this need to control me or put me down.
LEO: Lori, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. You said you were on a
diet, and I’m just trying to help you stick to it. You’re so
defensive. You hear everything as an attack on you, even when
I’m trying to help.
I’m trying to help.
LORI: Help!? Humiliating me in front of my friends is your idea
of helping?
LEO: You know, I just can’t win with you. If I say something,
you think I’m trying humiliate you, and if I don’t, you ask me
why I let you overeat. I am so sick of this. Sometimes I wonder
whether you don’t start these fights on purpose.
This conversation left both Lori and Leo feeling angry, hurt, and
misunderstood. What’s worse, it’s a conversation they have over and over again.
They are engaged in a classic battle over intentions: Lori accuses Leo of hurting
her on purpose, and Leo denies it. They are caught in a cycle they don’t
understand and don’t know how to break.
Two Key Mistakes
There is a way out. Two crucial mistakes in this conversation make it infinitely
more difficult than it needs to be — one by Lori and one by Leo. When Lori says
“You have this need to control me or put me down,” she is talking about Leo’s
intentions. Her mistake is to assume she knows what Leo’s intentions are, when
in fact she doesn’t. It’s an easy – and debilitating – mistake to make. And we do
it all the time.
Leo’s mistake is to assume that once he clarifies that his intentions were good,
Lori is no longer justified in being upset. He explains that he “wasn’t trying to
hurt” Lori, that in fact he was trying to help. And having explained this, he
thinks that should be the end of it. As a result, he doesn’t take the time to learn
what Lori is really feeling or why. This mistake, too, is as common as it is
crippling.
Fortunately, with some awareness, both mistakes can be avoided.
The First Mistake: Our Assumptions About Intentions
Are Often Wrong
Exploring “Lori’s mistake” requires us to understand how our minds work when
devising stories about what others intend, and to learn to recognize the set of
questionable assumptions upon which these stories are built. Here’s the problem:
questionable assumptions upon which these stories are built. Here’s the problem:
While we care deeply about other people’s intentions toward us, we don’t
actually know what their intentions are. We can’t. Other people’s intentions exist
only in their hearts and minds. They are invisible to us. However real and right
our assumptions about other people’s intentions may seem to us, they are often
incomplete or just plain wrong.
We Assume Intentions from the Impact on Us
Much of the first mistake can be traced to one basic error: we make an
attribution about another person’s intentions based on the impact of their actions
on us. We feel hurt; therefore they intended to hurt us. We feel slighted;
therefore they intended to slight us. Our thinking is so automatic that we aren’t
even aware that our conclusion is only an assumption. We are so taken in by our
story about what they intended that we can’t imagine how they could have
intended anything else.
We Assume the Worst. The conclusions we draw about intentions based on
the impact of others’ actions on us are rarely charitable. When a friend shows up
late to the movie, we don’t think, “Gee, I’ll bet he ran into someone in need.”
More likely we think, “Jerk. He doesn’t care about making me miss the
beginning of the movie.” When we’ve been hurt by someone else’s behavior, we
assume the worst.
Margaret fell into this pattern. She had had her hip operated on by a prominent
surgeon, a man she found gruff and hard to talk to. When Margaret hobbled in
for her first appointment after surgery, the receptionist told her that the doctor
had unexpectedly extended his vacation. Angry, Margaret imagined her wealthy
doctor cavorting in the Caribbean with his wife or girlfriend, too self-important
and inconsiderate to return on schedule. The picture compounded her anger.
When Margaret finally saw the doctor a week later, she asked curtly how his
vacation had been. He responded that it had been wonderful. “I’ll bet,” she said,
wondering whether to raise her concerns. But the doctor went on: “It was a
working vacation. I was helping set up a hospital in Bosnia. The conditions there
are just horrendous.”
Learning what the doctor was really doing didn’t erase the inconvenience
Margaret had endured. Yet knowing that he was not acting out of selfishness, but
from an unrelated and generous motivation, left Margaret feeling substantially
better about having to wait the extra week.
We attribute intentions to others all the time. With business and even personal
We attribute intentions to others all the time. With business and even personal
relationships increasingly conducted via e-mail, voice mail, faxes, and
conference calls, we often have to read between the lines to figure out what
people really mean. When a customer writes “I don’t suppose you’ve gotten to
my order yet . . . ,” is he being sarcastic? Is he angry? Or is he trying to tell you
that he knows you’re busy? Without tone of voice to guide us, it is easy to
assume the worst.
We Treat Ourselves More Charitably. What’s ironic — and all too human
— about our tendency to attribute bad intentions to others is how differently we
treat ourselves. When your husband forgets to pick up the dry cleaning, he’s
irresponsible. When you forget to book the airline tickets, it’s because you’re
overworked and stressed out. When a coworker criticizes your work in front of
department colleagues, she is trying to put you down. When you offer
suggestions to others in the same meeting, you are trying to be helpful.
When we’re the ones acting, we know that much of the time we don’t intend
to annoy, offend, or upstage others. We’re wrapped up in our own worries, and
are often unaware that we’re having any negative impact on others. When we’re
the ones acted upon, however, our story too easily slides into one about bad
intentions and bad character.
Are There Never Bad Intentions? Of course, sometimes we get hurt because
someone meant to hurt us. The person we are dealing with is nasty or
inconsiderate, out to make us look bad or steal our best friend. But these
situations are rarer than we imagine, and without hearing from the other person,
we can’t really know their intentions.
Getting Their Intentions Wrong Is Costly
Intentions matter, and guessing wrong is hazardous to your relationships.
We Assume Bad Intentions Mean Bad Character. Perhaps the biggest
danger of assuming the other person had bad intentions is that we easily jump
from “they had bad intentions” to “they are a bad person.” We settle into
judgments about their character that color our view of them and, indeed, affect
not only any conversation we might have, but the entire relationship. Once we
think we have someone figured out, we see all of their actions through that lens,
and the stakes rise. Even if we don’t share our view with them, the impact
remains. The worse our view of the other person’s character, the easier it is to
justify avoiding them or saying nasty things behind their back.
When you find yourself thinking “That traffic cop is a control freak” or “My
boss is manipulative” or “My neighbor is impossible,” ask yourself why this is
your view. What is it based on? If it’s based on feeling powerless, fearing
manipulation, or being frustrated, notice that your conclusion is based solely on
the impact of their behavior on you — which is not a sufficient basis to be sure
of someone else’s intentions or character.
Accusing Them of Bad Intentions Creates Defensiveness. Our assumptions
about other people’s intentions can also have a significant impact on our
conversations. The easiest and most common way of expressing these
assumptions is with an accusatory question: “How come you wanted to hurt
me?” “Why do you ignore me like this?” “What have I done that makes you feel
it’s okay to step all over me?”
We think we are sharing our hurt, frustration, anger, or confusion. We are
trying to begin a conversation that will end in greater understanding, perhaps
some improved behavior, and maybe an apology. What they think we are doing
is trying to provoke, accuse, or malign them. (In other words, they make the
same mistaken leap in judging our intentions.) And given how frequently our
assumptions are incomplete or wrong, the other person often feels not just
accused, but falsely accused. Few things are more aggravating.
We should not be surprised, then, that they try to defend themselves, or attack
back. From their point of view, they are defending themselves from false
accusations. From our point of view, they are just being defensive – we’re right,
they just aren’t big enough to admit it. The result is a mess. No one learns
anything, no one apologizes, nothing changes.
Lori and Leo fall right into this. Leo is defensive throughout, and at the end,
when he says that he sometimes wonders if Lori “starts these fights on purpose,”
he actually accuses Lori of bad intentions. And thus begins a cycle of accusation.
If interviewed about their conversation afterward, both Lori and Leo would
report that they were the victim of the other’s bad intentions. Each would claim
that their own statements were made in self-defense. Those are the two classic
characteristics of the cycle: both parties think they are the victim, and both think
they are acting only to defend themselves. This is how well-intentioned people
get themselves into trouble.
Attributions Can Become Self-Fulfilling. Our assumptions about the other
person’s intentions often come true, even when they aren’t true to begin with.
You think your boss isn’t giving you enough responsibility. You assume that this
is because she doesn’t trust you to do the work well. You feel demotivated by
this state of affairs, figuring that nothing you do will change your boss’s mind.
Your work suffers, and your boss, who hadn’t been concerned about your work
before, is now quite worried. So she gives you even less responsibility than
before.
When we think others have bad intentions toward us, it affects our behavior.
And, in turn, how we behave affects how they treat us. Before we know it, our
assumption that they have bad intentions toward us has come true.
The Second Mistake: Good Intentions Don’t Sanitize Bad
Impact
As we’ve seen, the mistake Lori makes of assuming she knows Leo’s intentions,
though seemingly small, has big consequences. Now let’s come back to Leo,
who makes an equally costly error in the conversation. He assumes that because
he had good intentions, Lori should not feel hurt. The thinking goes like this:
“You said I meant to hurt you. I have now clarified that I didn’t. So you should
now feel fine, and if you don’t, that’s your problem.”
We Don’t Hear What They Are Really Trying to Say
The problem with focusing only on clarifying our intentions is that we end up
missing significant pieces of what the other person is trying to say. When they
say, “Why were you trying to hurt me?” they are really communicating two
separate messages: first, “I know what you intended,” and, second, “I got hurt.”
When we are the person accused, we focus only on the first message and ignore
the second. Why? Because we feel the need to defend ourselves. Because Leo is
so busy defending himself, he fails to hear that Lori is hurt. He doesn’t take in
what this all means to her, how hurt she is, or why these issues are so painful.
Working to understand what the other person is really saying is particularly
important because when someone says “You intended to hurt me” that isn’t quite
what they mean. A literal focus on intentions ends up clouding the conversation.
Often we say “You intended to hurt me” when what we really mean is “You
don’t care enough about me.” This is an important distinction.
don’t care enough about me.” This is an important distinction.
The father who is too busy at work to attend his son’s basketball game doesn’t
intend to hurt his son. He would prefer not to hurt his son. But his desire not to
hurt his son is not as strong as his desire or need to work. Most of us on the
receiving end make little distinction between “He wanted to hurt me” and “He
didn’t want to hurt me, but he didn’t make me a priority.” Either way, it hurts. If
the father responds to his son’s complaint by saying “I didn’t intend to hurt
you,” he’s not addressing his son’s real concern: “You may not have intended to
hurt me, but you knew you were hurting me, and you did it anyway.”
It is useful to attempt to clarify your intentions. The question is when. If you
do it at the beginning of the conversation, you are likely doing it without fully
understanding what the other person really means to express.
We Ignore the Complexity of Human Motivations
Another problem with assuming that good intentions sanitize a negative impact
is that intentions are often more complex than just “good” or “bad.” Are Leo’s
intentions purely angelic? Is he just trying to help Lori with her diet? Perhaps he
himself is embarrassed by Lori’s tendency to overeat and felt compelled to say
something. Or maybe he wants her to lose weight not so much for herself, but
for him. If he really cares about her, as he says he does, shouldn’t he be more
aware of how his words affect her?
As is so often the case, Leo’s intentions are probably mixed. He may not even
be fully aware of what is actually motivating him. But the answer to the question
of what is truly motivating Leo is less important than his willingness to ask the
question and look for an answer. If his first response to Lori is “No, I had good
intentions,” then he is putting up a barrier to any learning he might get from the
conversation. And he is sending a message to Lori that says, “I’m more
interested in defending myself than I am in investigating the complexities of
what might be going on for me in our relationship.”
Interestingly, when people take on the job of thinking hard about their own
intentions, it sends a profoundly positive message to the other person about the
importance of the relationship. After all, you’d only do that kind of hard work
for somebody who matters to you.
We Aggravate Hostility — Especially Between Groups
This dynamic of attributing intentions, defending ourselves, and ignoring the
impact we’ve had on others is especially common in conflicts between groups,
impact we’ve had on others is especially common in conflicts between groups,
whether the groups are union members and management, neighborhood
organizations and developers, administrative staff and the professionals they
support, or my family and your family. The desire to sanitize impact is
especially common in situations involving issues of “difference,” like race,
gender, or sexual orientation.
A few years ago a newspaper was experiencing racial strife among its
workers. African American and Hispanic reporters complained about the
absence of minority voices at the editorial level, and threatened to organize a
boycott unless practices were changed. In response, the executive editors met
behind closed doors to consider what to do. No minority staffers were invited to
the meeting. When the minority reporters learned of the meeting, they were
outraged. “They’re telling us once again that they don’t care what we have to
say,” said one reporter.
When one of the white editors heard this, she felt wrongly accused and sought
to clarify the intention of the meeting: “I can see why you felt excluded. But that
wasn’t our intention. It was simply a meeting of editors trying to figure out a
good next step for how to include minority voices.” The white editor felt that
now that her intentions were clarified, the issue of the “meaning of the meeting”
was over. After all, everything was now clear. But it’s never that simple. The
intentions of the white editors are important. What’s also important is that
whether or not the intention was to exclude, people felt excluded. And such
feelings may take time and thought on everyone’s part to work through.
Avoiding the Two Mistakes
The good news is that the two mistakes around intentions and impact are
avoidable.
Avoiding the First Mistake: Disentangle Impact and Intent
How can Lori avoid the mistake of attributing intentions to Leo that he may not
have? Her first step is simply to recognize that there is a difference between the
impact of Leo’s behavior on her and what Leo intended. She can’t get anywhere
without disentangling the two.
Separating impact from intentions requires us to be aware of the automatic
leap from “I was hurt” to “You intended to hurt me.” You can make this
leap from “I was hurt” to “You intended to hurt me.” You can make this
distinction by asking yourself three questions:
1. Actions: “What did the other person actually say or do?”
2. Impact: “What was the impact of this on me?”
3. Assumption: “Based on this impact, what assumption am I
making about what the other person intended?”
Hold Your View as a Hypothesis. Once you have clearly answered these
three questions, the next step is to make absolutely certain that you recognize
that your assumption about their intentions is just an assumption. It is a guess, a
hypothesis.
Your hypothesis is not based on nothing ; you know what was said or done.
But as we’ve seen, this is not a lot of evidence to go on. Your guess might be
right and it might be wrong. In fact, your reaction might even say as much about
you as it does about what they did. Perhaps you’ve had a past experience that
gives their action special meaning to you. Many people find certain kinds of
teasing hostile, for example, because of bad experiences with siblings, while
others think of teasing (in moderation) as a way to connect and show affection.
Given the stakes, however, you can’t afford to level an accusation based on
tenuous data.
Disentangle Impact and Intent
Share the Impact on You; Inquire About Their Intentions. You can use
your answers to the three questions listed above to begin the difficult
conversation itself: say what the other person did, tell them what its impact was
on you, and explain your assumption about their intentions, taking care to label it
as a hypothesis that you are checking rather than asserting to be true.
Consider how this would change the beginning of the conversation between
Lori and Leo. Instead of beginning with an accusation, Lori can begin by
identifying what Leo said, and what the impact was on her:
LORI: You know when you said, “Why don’t you lay off the ice
cream”? Well, I felt hurt by that.
LEO: You did?
LEO: You did?
LORI: Yeah.
LEO: I was just trying to help you stay on your diet. Why does
that make you upset?
LORI: I felt embarrassed that you said it in front of our friends.
Then what I wonder is whether you said it on purpose to
embarrass or hurt me. I don’t know why you’d want to do that,
but that’s what I’m thinking when it happens.
LEO: Well, I’m certainly not doing it on purpose. I guess I didn’t
realize it was so upsetting. I’m confused about what it is you want
me to say if I see you going off your diet . . . .
The conversation is only beginning, but it is off to a better start.
Don’t Pretend You Don’t Have a Hypothesis. Note that we aren’t
suggesting you should get rid of your assumptions about their intentions. That
just isn’t realistic. Nor do we suggest hiding your view. Instead, recognize your
assumptions for what they are – mere guesses subject to modification or
disproof. Lori doesn’t say “I have no thoughts on why you said what you said,”
or “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” That would not be authentic. When you
share your assumptions about their intentions, simply be clear that you are
sharing assumptions – guesses – and that you are sharing them for the purpose of
testing whether they make sense to the other person.
Some Defensiveness Is Inevitable. Of course, no matter how skillfully you
handle things, you are likely to encounter some defensiveness. The matter of
intentions and impacts is complex, and sometimes the distinctions are fine. So
it’s best to anticipate a certain amount of defensiveness, and to be prepared to
clarify what you are trying to communicate, and what you are not.
The more you can relieve the other person of the need to defend themselves,
the easier it becomes for them to take in what you are saying and to reflect on
the complexity of their motivations. For example, you might say, “I was
surprised that you made that comment. It seemed uncharacteristic of you. . . .”
Assuming this is true (that it is uncharacteristic), you are giving some balance to
the information you are bringing to their attention. If there was some malice
mixed in with what they said, this balance makes it easier for them to own up to
it.
Avoiding the Second Mistake: Listen for Feelings, and Reflect on Your
Intentions
When we find ourselves in Leo’s position – being accused of bad intentions – we
have a strong tendency to want to defend ourselves: “That is not what I
intended.” We are defending our intentions and our character. However, as
we’ve seen, starting here leads to trouble.
Listen Past the Accusation for the Feelings. Remember that the accusation
about our bad intentions is always made up of two separate ideas: (1) we had bad
intentions and (2) the other person was frustrated, hurt, or embarrassed. Don’t
pretend they aren’t saying the first. You’ll want to respond to it. But neither
should you ignore the second. And if you start by listening and acknowledging
the feelings, and then return to the question of intentions, it will make your
conversation significantly easier and more constructive.
Be Open to Reflecting on the Complexity of Your Intentions. When it
comes time to consider your intentions, try to avoid the tendency to say “My
intentions were pure.” We usually think that about ourselves, and sometimes it’s
true. But often, as we’ve seen, intentions are more complex.
We can imagine how the initial conversation might have gone if Leo followed
this advice with Lori:
LORI: I really resented it at the party, the way you treated me in
front of our friends.
LEO: The way I treated you? What do you mean?
LORI: About the ice cream. You act like you’re my father or
something. You have this need to control me or put me down.
LEO: Wow. It sounds like what I said really hurt.
LORI: Of course it hurt. What did you expect?
LEO: Well, at the time I was thinking that you’d said you were on
a diet, and that maybe I could help you stick to it. But I can see
how saying something in front of everyone would be
embarrassing. I wonder why I didn’t see that?
LORI: Maybe you were embarrassed to have to say something.
LEO: Yeah, maybe. I could have seen you as out of control,
which is a big issue for me.
LORI: That’s true. And I probably was a little out of control.
LORI: That’s true. And I probably was a little out of control.
LEO: Anyway, I’m sorry. I don’t like hurting you. Let’s think
about what I should do or say, if anything, in situations like that.
LORI: Good idea....
Understanding how we distort others’ intentions, making difficult conversations
even more difficult, is crucial to untangling what happened between us.
However, there’s still one more piece to the “What Happened?” Conversation
that can get us into trouble — the question of who is to blame.
4
Abandon Blame: Map the Contribution System
The ad agency you work for flies you to Boulder to pitch executives at
ExtremeSport, a burgeoning sportswear company and a potentially important
client. You turn to begin your presentation, only to discover that you’ve got the
wrong storyboards. Right client, wrong campaign. Shaken, you stumble through
an unfocused talk. With one slip, your assistant, who packs your briefcase, has
undermined weeks of hard work.
In Our Story, Blame Seems Clear
You blame your assistant, not just because she’s a convenient target for your
frustration or because letting others know it was she and not you who screwed
up may help salvage your reputation, but because it is the simple truth: this was
her fault.
When you and your assistant finally discuss what went wrong, you can take
one of two approaches. You can blame her explicitly, saying something like “I
don’t know how you could have let this happen!” Or, if you tend to be less
confrontational (or have been taught that blaming people isn’t helpful), you can
blame her implicitly, with something less threatening, like “Let’s do better next
time.” Either way, she’ll get the message: she’s to blame.
We’re Caught in Blame’s Web
Blame is a prominent issue in many difficult conversations. Whether on the
surface or below, the conversation revolves around the question of who is to
blame. Who is the bad person in this relationship? Who made the mistake? Who
blame. Who is the bad person in this relationship? Who made the mistake? Who
should apologize? Who gets to be righteously indignant?
Focusing on blame is a bad idea. Not because it’s hard to talk about. Nor
because it can injure relationships and cause pain and anxiety. Many subjects are
hard to discuss and have potentially negative side effects and are nonetheless
important to address.
Focusing on blame is a bad idea because it inhibits our ability to learn what’s
really causing the problem and to do anything meaningful to correct it. And
because blame is often irrelevant and unfair. The urge to blame is based, quite
literally, on a misunderstanding of what has given rise to the issues between you
and the other person, and on the fear of being blamed. Too often, blaming also
serves as a bad proxy for talking directly about hurt feelings.
But the advice “Don’t blame others” is no answer. You can’t move away from
blame until you understand what blame is, what motivates us to want to blame
each other, and how to move toward something else that will better serve your
purposes in difficult conversations. That something else is the concept of
contribution. The distinction between blame and contribution is not always easy
to grasp, but it is essential to improving your ability to handle difficult
conversations well.
Distinguish Blame from Contribution
At heart, blame is about judging and contribution is about understanding.
Blame Is About Judging, and Looks Backward
When we ask the question “Who is to blame?” we are really asking three
questions in one. First, did this person cause the problem? Did your assistant’s
actions (or inaction) cause you to have the wrong storyboards? Second, if so,
how should her actions be judged against some standard of conduct? Was she
incompetent, unreasonable, unethical? And third, if the judgment is negative,
how should she be punished? Will she be yelled at? Warned? Perhaps even
fired?
When we say “This was your fault,” it is shorthand for giving condemning
answers to all three questions. We mean not only that you caused this, but that
you did something bad and should be punished. It’s no wonder that blame is
such a loaded issue, and that we are quick to defend ourselves when we sense its
such a loaded issue, and that we are quick to defend ourselves when we sense its
approach.
When blame is in play, you can expect defensiveness, strong emotion,
interruptions, and arguments about what “good assistants,” “loving spouses,” or
“any reasonable person” should or shouldn’t do. When we blame someone, we
are offering them the role of “the accused,” so they do what accused people do:
they defend themselves any way they can. Given what’s at stake, it’s easy to see
why the dance of mutual finger-pointing often turns nasty.
Contribution Is About Understanding, and Looks Forward
Contribution asks a related but different set of questions. The first question is
“How did we each contribute to bringing about the current situation?” Or put
another way: “What did we each do or not do to get ourselves into this mess?”
The second question is “Having identified the contribution system, how can we
change it? What can we do about it as we go forward?” In short, contribution is
useful when our goal is to understand what actually happened so that we can
improve how we work together in the future. In the worlds of both business and
personal relationships, too often we deal in blame when our real goals are
understanding and change.
To illustrate, let’s return to the ExtremeSport story and imagine two
contrasting conversations between you and your assistant. The first conversation
focuses on blame, the second on contribution.
YOU: I wanted to talk to you about my presentation at
ExtremeSport . You packed the wrong storyboards. The situation
was unbelievably awkward, and made me look terrible. We
simply can’t work this way.
ASSISTANT: I heard. I’m so sorry. I just, well, you probably
don’t want to hear my excuses.
YOU: I just don’t understand how you could let this happen.
ASSISTANT: I’m really sorry.
YOU: I know you didn’t do it on purpose, and I know you feel
bad, but I don’t want this to happen again. You understand what
I’m saying?
ASSISTANT: It won’t. I promise you.
All three elements of blame are present: you caused this, I’m judging you
negatively, and implicit in what I am saying is that one way or another you will
be punished, especially if it happens again.
In contrast, a conversation about contribution might sound like this:
In contrast, a conversation about contribution might sound like this:
YOU: I wanted to talk to you about my presentation at
ExtremeSport . When I arrived I found the wrong storyboards in
my briefcase.
ASSISTANT: I heard. I’m so sorry. I feel terrible.
YOU: I appreciate that. I’m feeling bad too. Let’s retrace our
steps and think about how this happened. I suspect we may each
have contributed to the problem. From your point of view, did I
do anything differently this time?
ASSISTANT: I’m not sure. We were working on three accounts
at once, and on the one just before this one, when I asked about
which boards you wanted packed, you got angry. I know it is my
responsibility to know which boards you want, but sometimes
when things get hectic, it can get confusing.
YOU: If you’re unsure, you should always ask. But it sounds like
you’re saying I don’t always make it easy to do that.
ASSISTANT: Well, I do feel intimidated sometimes. When you
get really busy, it’s like you don’t want to be bothered. The day
you left you were in that kind of mood. I was trying to stay out of
your way, because I didn’t want to add to your frustration. I had
planned to double-check which boards you wanted when you got
off the phone, but then I had to run to the copy center. After you
left I remembered, but I knew you usually double-checked your
briefcase, so I figured it was okay.
YOU: Yeah, I do usually double-check, but this time I was so
overwhelmed I forgot. I think we’d both better double-check
every time. And I do get in those moods. I know it can be hard to
interact with me when I’m like that. I need to work on being less
impatient and abrupt. But if you’re unsure, I need you to ask
questions no matter what kind of mood I’m in.
ASSISTANT: So you want me to ask questions even if I think it
will annoy you?
YOU: Yes, although I’ll try to be less irritable. Can you do that?
ASSISTANT: Well, talking about it like this makes it easier. I
realize it’s important.
YOU: You can even refer to this conversation. You can say, “I
know you’re under pressure, but you made me promise I’d ask
this . . . .” Or just say, “Hey, you promised not to be such a jerk!”
ASSISTANT: [laughs] Okay, that works for me.
YOU: And we might also think about how you could track better
YOU: And we might also think about how you could track better
which appointments are going to be for which campaigns....
In the second conversation, you and your assistant have begun to identify the
contributions that you each brought to the problem, and the ways in which each
of your reactions are part of an overall pattern: You feel anxious and distracted
about an upcoming presentation, and snap at your assistant. She assumes you
want her out of your way, and withdraws. Something falls through the cracks,
and then you are even more annoyed and worried the next time you are
preparing, since you’re no longer sure you can trust your assistant to help you.
So you become more abrupt, increasingly unapproachable, and the
communication between you continues to erode. Mistakes multiply.
As you get a handle on the interactive system the two of you have created, you
can see what you each need to do to avoid or alter that system in the future. As a
result, this second conversation is much more likely than the first to produce
lasting change in the way you work together. Indeed, the first conversation runs
the risk of reinforcing the problem. Since part of the system is that your assistant
feels discouraged from talking to you because she fears provoking your anger, a
conversation about blame is likely to make that tendency worse, not better. If
you go that way, she’ll eventually conclude that you’re impossible to work with,
and you’ll report that she’s incompetent.
Contribution Is Joint and Interactive
Focusing on the contributions of both the boss and the assistant – seeking
understanding rather than judgment – is critical. This is not just good practice, it
accords more closely with reality. As a rule, when things go wrong in human
relationships, everyone has contributed in some important way.
Of course, this is not how we usually experience contribution. A common
distortion is to see contribution as singular – that what has gone wrong is either
entirely our fault or (more often) entirely theirs.
Only in a B movie is it that simple. In real life causation is almost always
more complex. A contribution system is present, and that system includes inputs
from both people. Think about a baseball pitcher facing a batter. If the batter
strikes out in a crucial situation, he might explain that he wasn’t seeing well, that
his wrist injury was still bothering him, or perhaps that he simply failed to come
through in the clutch. The pitcher, however, might describe the strikeout by
saying, “I knew he was thinking curve, so I came in with a high fast-ball,” or, “I
was in a zone. I knew I had him before he even got in the batter’s box.”
Who is right, the batter or the pitcher? Of course, the answer is both, at least
Who is right, the batter or the pitcher? Of course, the answer is both, at least
in part. Whether the batter strikes out or hits a home run is a result of the
interaction between the batter and the pitcher. Depending on your perspective,
you might focus on the actions of one or the other, but the actions of both are
required for the outcome.
It’s the same in difficult conversations. Other than in extreme cases, such as
child abuse, almost every situation that gives rise to a conversation is the result
of a joint contribution system. Focusing on only one or the other of the
contributors obscures rather than illuminates that system.
The Costs of the Blame Frame
There are situations in which focusing on blame is not only important, but
essential. Our legal system is set up to apportion blame, both in the criminal and
civil courts. Assigning blame publicly, against clearly articulated legal or moral
standards, tells people what is expected of them and allows society to exercise
justice.
When Blame Is the Goal, Understanding Is the Casualty
But even in situations that require a clear assignment of blame, there is a cost.
Once the specter of punishment — legal or otherwise — is raised, learning the
truth about what happened becomes more difficult. People are understandably
less forthcoming, less open, less willing to apologize. After a car accident, for
example, an automaker expecting to be sued may resist making safety
improvements for fear it will seem an admission that the company should have
done something before the accident.
“Truth commissions” often are created because of this trade-off between
assigning blame and gaining an understanding of what really happened. A truth
commission offers clemency in return for honesty. In South Africa, for example,
it is unlikely that so much would now be known about past abuses under the
apartheid system if criminal investigations and trials had been the only means of
discovery.
Focusing on Blame Hinders Problem-Solving
When the dog disappears, who’s to blame? The person who opened the gate or
the one who failed to grab her collar? Should we argue about that or look for the
dog? When the tub overflows and ruins the living room ceiling below, should we
blame the forgetful bather? The spouse who called the bather downstairs? The
manufacturer who designed an overflow drain that is too small? The plumber
who failed to mention it? The answer to who contributed to the problem is all of
the above. When your real goal is finding the dog, fixing the ceiling, and
preventing such incidents in the future, focusing on blame is a waste of time. It
neither helps you understand the problem looking back, nor helps you fix it
going forward.
Blame Can Leave a Bad System Undiscovered
Even if punishment seems appropriate, using it as a substitute for really figuring
out what went wrong and why is a disaster. The VP of Commodity Corp.
championed the decision to build a new manufacturing plant as a way to increase
profits. However, not only did the plant fail to increase profits, but the resulting
increase in market supply actually brought profits down. At the time of the
original decision to build the plant, several people privately predicted this, but
didn’t speak up.
To address the situation, the VP was fired and a new strategic planner was
brought on board. By removing the person who made the bad decision and
replacing him with someone “better,” it was assumed that the management issue
was now fixed. But while the company had changed one “part” in the
contribution system, it had failed to look at the system as a whole. Why did
those who predicted failure keep silent? Were there implicit incentives that
encouraged this? What structures, policies, and processes continue to allow poor
decisions, and what would it take to change them?
Removing one player in a system is sometimes warranted. But the cost of
doing so as a substitute for the hard work of examining the larger contribution
system is often surprisingly high.
The Benefits of Understanding Contribution
Fundamentally, using the blame frame makes conversations more difficult, while
understanding the contribution system makes a difficult conversation easier and
understanding the contribution system makes a difficult conversation easier and
more likely to be productive.
Contribution Is Easier to Raise
Joseph runs an overseas office for a multinational corporation. His greatest
frustration comes from headquarters’ unwillingness or inability to communicate
with him effectively. Joseph doesn’t hear about policy changes until after they’re
made, and is often informed by clients (or in one case, the newspaper!) about
work his own firm is doing in his region. Joseph decides to raise the matter with
the home office.
Before he does, one of Joseph’s managers points out Joseph’s own role in the
problem. Joseph installed a computer system incompatible with the one at
headquarters. And he rarely takes the initiative to ask the kinds of questions he
probably should. Unfortunately, instead of seeing his own contributions as part
of the whole system, Joseph falls into the blame frame and begins to wonder
whether the fault really lies with him rather than with headquarters. He doesn’t
raise the issue after all, and his frustration continues.
The blame frame creates a difficult burden. You have to feel confident that
others are at fault, and that you aren’t, to feel justified in raising an issue. And
since, as we’ve described, there are always ways in which you’ve contributed,
you’re likely to end up failing to raise important issues. That would be a shame,
because you’ll lose the opportunity to understand why communication between
you isn’t working well, and how it might be improved.
Contribution Encourages Learning and Change
Imagine a couple confronting the wife’s infidelity. Accusations fly as questions
of blame are raised. After much anguish, the husband chooses to stay in the
marriage under the condition that such infidelity never happen again. There is an
apparent resolution, but what has each person learned from the experience?
As one-sided as an affair may seem, it often involves some contribution from
both partners. Unless these contributions are sorted out, the problems and
patterns in the marriage that gave rise to the affair will continue to cause
difficulty. Some questions need to be asked: Does the husband listen to his wife?
Does he stay at work late? Was his wife feeling sad, lonely, undesirable? If so,
why?
And to understand the system, the couple then needs to follow up with more
questions: If the husband doesn’t listen to his wife, what’s she doing to
contribute to that? What does she say or do that encourages him to shut down or
withdraw? Does she work every weekend, or withdraw when she’s feeling
upset? How does their relationship work? If the factors that contributed to the
infidelity are to be understood and addressed, these questions must be explored –
the contribution system must be mapped.
Three Misconceptions About Contribution
Three common misunderstandings can keep people from fully embracing or
benefiting from the concept of contribution.
Misconception #1: I Should Focus Only on My Contribution
Advice that you should search for joint contribution to a problem is sometimes
heard as “You should overlook the other person’s contribution and focus on your
own.” This is a mistake. Finding your contribution doesn’t in any way negate
the other person’s contribution. It has taken both of you to get into this mess. It
will probably take both of you to get out.
Recognizing that everyone involved in a situation has contributed to the
problem doesn’t mean that everyone has contributed equally. You can be 5
percent responsible or 95 percent responsible — there is still joint contribution.
Of course, quantifying contribution is not easy, and in most cases not very
helpful. Understanding is the goal, not assigning percentages.
Misconception #2: Putting Aside Blame Means Putting Aside My Feelings
Seeking to understand the contribution system rather than focusing on blame
doesn’t mean putting aside strong emotions. Quite the contrary. As you and the
other person look at how you have each contributed to the problem, sharing your
feelings is essential.
Indeed, the very impulse to blame is often stimulated by strong emotions that
lie unexpressed. When you learn of your wife’s infidelity, you want to say, “You
are responsible for ruining our marriage! How could you do something so stupid
and hurtful?!” Here, you are focusing on blame as a proxy for your feelings.
Speaking more directly about your strong feelings – “I feel devastated by what
Speaking more directly about your strong feelings – “I feel devastated by what
you did” or “My ability to trust you has been shattered” – actually reduces the
impulse to blame. Over time, as you look ahead, it frees you to talk more
comfortably and productively in terms of contribution.
If you find yourself mired in a continuing urge to blame, or with an unceasing
desire for the other person to admit that they were wrong, you may find some
relief by asking yourself: “What feelings am I failing to express?” and “Has the
other person acknowledged my feelings?” As you explore this terrain, you may
find yourself naturally shifting from a blame frame to a contribution frame. You
may learn that what you really seek is understanding and acknowledgment. What
you want the other person to say isn’t “It was my fault,” but rather “I understand
that I hurt you and I’m sorry.” The first statement is about judgment, the second
about understanding.
Misconception #3: Exploring Contribution Means “Blaming the Victim”
When someone blames the victim, they are suggesting that the victim “brought it
on themselves,” that they deserved or even wanted to be victimized. This is often
terribly unfair and painful for both the victim and others.
Looking for joint contribution is not about blame of any kind. Imagine that
you are mugged while walking alone down a dark street late at night. Blame
asks: “Did you do something wrong? Did you break the law? Did you act
immorally? Should you be punished?” The answer to all of these questions is no.
You didn’t do anything wrong; you didn’t deserve to be mugged. Being mugged
was not your fault.
Contribution asks a different set of questions. Contribution asks: “What did I
do that helped cause the situation?” You can find contribution even in situations
where you carry no blame; you did contribute to being mugged. How? By
choosing to walk alone at night. If you’d been somewhere else, or in a group,
getting mugged would have been less likely. If we are looking to punish
someone for what happened, we would punish the mugger. If we are looking to
help you feel empowered in the world, we would encourage you to find your
contribution. You may not be able to change other people’s contributions, but
you can often change your own.
In his autobiography, A Long Walk to Freedom, Nelson Mandela provides an
example of how people who have been overwhelmingly victimized can still seek
to understand their own contribution to their problems. He describes how he
learned this from an Afrikaner:
Reverend Andre Scheffer was a minister of the Dutch Reformed
Mission Church in Africa.... He had a dry sense of humor and
liked to poke fun at us. “You know,” he would say, “the white
man has a more difficult task than the black man in this country.
Whenever there is a problem, we [white men] have to find a
solution. But whenever you blacks have a problem, you have an
excuse. You can simply say, ‘Ingabilungu,’ ” . . . . a Xhosa
expression that means, “It is the whites.”
He was saying that we could always blame all of our troubles
on the white man. His message was that we must also look within
ourselves and become responsible for our actions – sentiments
with which I wholeheartedly agreed.
Mandela does not believe blacks are to blame for their situation. He does
believe that blacks must look for and take responsibility for their contribution to
the problems of South Africa, if the nation is to move forward successfully.
By identifying what you are doing to perpetuate a situation, you learn where
you have leverage to affect the system. Simply by changing your own behavior,
you gain at least some influence over the problem.
Finding Your Fair Share: Four Hard-to-Spot
Contributions
“The concept of contribution makes sense,” you may be thinking. Even so, as
you reflect on your own most pressing entanglement, you are baffled: “In this
particular situation, I just don’t see how I have any contribution.” Spotting your
own contribution becomes easier with practice. But it helps to be familiar with
four common contributions that are often overlooked.
1. Avoiding Until Now
One of the most common contributions to a problem, and one of the easiest to
overlook, is the simple act of avoiding. You have allowed the problem to
continue unchecked by not having addressed it earlier. It may be that your exhusband has been late every time he’s picked up your kids for the last two years,
but you’ve never mentioned to him that it was a problem. It may be that your
boss has trampled thoughtlessly on your self-esteem since you began work four
boss has trampled thoughtlessly on your self-esteem since you began work four
years ago, but you’ve chosen not to share with her the impact on you.
One of your store managers deserves a warning or even to be fired. But his
file is full of “Satisfactory” performance reviews dating back years. Why? Partly
because you wanted to avoid the effort of documenting the problem, but mostly
because you and other supervisors haven’t wanted the hassle of having an
ongoing difficult conversation with an argumentative person. And because
managers in your company tolerate and collude in a norm of avoiding such
conversations.
A particularly problematic form of avoiding is complaining to a third party
instead of to the person with whom you’re upset. It makes you feel better, but
puts the third party in the middle with no good way to help. They can’t speak for
you, and if they try, the other person may get the idea that the problem is so
terrible that you can’t discuss it directly. On the other hand, if they keep quiet,
the third party is burdened with only your partisan and incomplete version of the
story.
This isn’t to say that it’s not okay to get advice from a friend about how to
conduct a difficult conversation. It does suggest that if you do so, then you
should also report back to that friend about any change in your feelings as a
result of having the difficult conversation, so that they aren’t left with an
unbalanced story.
2. Being Unapproachable
The flip side of not bringing something up is having an interpersonal style that
keeps people at bay. You contribute by being uninterested, unpredictable, shorttempered, judgmental, punitive, hypersensitive, argumentative, or unfriendly. Of
course, whether you are really any of these things or intend this impact is not the
point. If someone experiences you this way, they are less likely to raise things
with you, and this becomes part of the system of avoidance between you.
3. Intersections
Intersections result from a simple difference between two people in background,
preferences, communication style, or assumptions about relationships. Consider
Toby and Eng-An, who have been married for about four months. Their fights
have begun falling into a predictable pattern. Toby is usually the one to initiate a
discussion about an issue – who is doing more of the housework, why Eng-An
didn’t stick up for him with her mother, whether to save or spend her year-end
didn’t stick up for him with her mother, whether to save or spend her year-end
bonus. When things become heated, Eng-An ends the discussion by saying,
“Look, I just don’t want to talk about this right now,” and walking out.
When Eng-An shuts down or walks out, Toby is left feeling abandoned and
responsible for coping with the problems in their relationship on his own. He
complains to friends that “Eng-An is incapable of dealing with feelings, hers or
mine. She goes into denial when the tiniest thing is wrong.” Toby becomes
increasingly frustrated with their inability to make tough decisions, or simply to
have it out.
Meanwhile, Eng-An is confiding in her sister: “Toby is smothering me.
Everything is an emergency, everything has to be discussed right now. He has no
sensitivity for how I feel about it or whether it’s a good time for me. He wanted
to hunt down a three-dollar discrepancy in our checking account on the night
before my big presentation to the board! He’s constantly making these
minuscule disagreements into huge problems that we’ve got to discuss for
hours.”
When Toby and Eng-An finally talk explicitly about what’s happening, they
realize that their past experiences have created an intersection of conflicting
assumptions about communication and relationships. Toby’s mother had alcohol
problems that escalated over the course of his childhood. Toby was the only
member of the family willing to speak up about what was happening. His father
and sisters went into denial, acting as if nothing were wrong and ignoring his
mother’s erratic behavior, no doubt clinging unconsciously to the hope that it
would somehow get better. But it didn’t. Perhaps as a result, Toby has a deep
sense that raising and addressing problems immediately is crucial to the ongoing
health of his relationship with Eng-An.
Eng-An’s home was quite different. Her brother is mentally handicapped, and
life revolved around his schedule and needs. While Eng-An loved her brother
very much, she sometimes needed a respite from the constant emotional turmoil
of worry, crises, and caretaking that surrounded him. She learned not to react too
quickly to a potential problem and worked hard to create the distance she needed
in an emotionally intense family. Toby’s reactions to their disagreements
threaten this carefully nurtured space.
We see how combining the two worldviews produces a system of interaction
in which Toby talks and Eng-An withdraws. Operating in a blame frame, Toby
concluded that their difficulties were Eng-An’s fault because she was “in denial”
and “couldn’t handle feelings.” Eng-An decided that their difficulties were
Toby’s fault, because he “overreacts” and “smothers me.” By shifting to a
contribution frame, the couple was able to piece together the elements of the
system that led to their fights and talk about how to handle it. Only then did
system that led to their fights and talk about how to handle it. Only then did
communication improve.
Toby and Eng-An were fortunate that they came to understand their
intersection in time to do something about it. The failure to do so can be
disastrous. In fact, treating an intersection as a question of right versus wrong
leads to the death of a great many relationships.
Mapping a Contribution System
When a relationship begins, infatuation may keep each partner from noticing any
flaws in the other. Later, as the relationship deepens, each notices some minor
annoyances in how the other does things, but the tendency is not to worry. We
assume that in time, watching us, the other will learn to show more affection, be
more spontaneous, or demonstrate more concern for living within a budget.
The problem is that things don’t change, because each is waiting for the other
to change. We begin to wonder: “Don’t they love me enough to do the right
thing? Do they really love me at all?”
So long as we each continue to see this as a matter of right versus wrong,
rather than as an intersection, there is no way to avoid a train wreck. In contrast,
successful relationships, whether in our personal life or with our colleagues at
work, are built on the knowledge that in intersections there is no one to blame.
People are just different. If we hope to stay together over the long haul, we will
sometimes have to compromise our preferences and meet in the middle.
4. Problematic Role Assumptions
A fourth hard-to-spot contribution involves assumptions, often unconscious,
A fourth hard-to-spot contribution involves assumptions, often unconscious,
about your role in a situation. When your assumptions differ from those of others
you can have an intersection such as Toby and Eng-An’s. But role assumptions
can be problematic even when they are shared.
The members of George’s family, for example, all knew their parts in a
repetitive family dynamic. Seven-year-old George would do something
annoying, like bang a spoon against the dog dish. Eventually George’s mother
would say to her husband, “Can’t you make him stop that?” whereupon
George’s dad would yell “Stop it!” George would jump, and perhaps cry, and his
mom would then turn back to her husband and say, “Well you didn’t have to yell
at him.” Dad would sigh and return to reading the paper. And after a few
minutes, George would find another irritating way to get attention, and the
pattern would repeat. While no member of the family particularly enjoyed this
dynamic, it did help them connect emotionally.
Obviously, this form of connecting – fighting to show love – has limitations.
Yet it and many other less-than-ideal dynamics are surprisingly common, at
home and in the workplace. Why? First, because despite its problems the
familiar pattern is comfortable, and the members of the group work to keep each
person playing their role. Second, because changing a contribution system
requires more than just spotting it and recognizing its limitations. The people
involved also have to find another way to provide its benefits. George and his
parents need to find better ways to demonstrate affection and maintain closeness.
And this is likely to require some tough work in their Feelings and Identity
Conversations.
In an organization, this explains why people find it hard to change how they
work together even when they see the limitations of common role assumptions,
such as “Leaders set strategy; subordinates implement it.” To change how people
interact, they need both an alternate model everyone thinks is better and the
skills to make that model work at least as well as the current approach.
Two Tools for Spotting Contribution
If you are still unable to see your contribution, try one of the following two
approaches.
Role Reversal
Ask yourself, “What would they say I’m contributing?” Pretend you are the
other person and answer the question in the first person, using pronouns such as
I, me, and my. Seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes can help you
understand what you’re doing to feed the system.
The Observer’s Insight
Step back and look at the problem from the perspective of a disinterested
observer. Imagine that you are a consultant called in to help the people in this
situation better understand why they are getting stuck. How would you describe,
in a neutral, nonjudgmental way, what each person is contributing?
If you have trouble getting out of your own shoes in this way, ask a friend to
try for you. If what your friend comes up with surprises you, don’t reject it
immediately. Rather, imagine that it is true. Ask how that could be, and what it
would mean.
Moving from Blame to Contribution — An Example
Shifting your stance away from assessing blame and toward exploring
contribution doesn’t happen overnight. It takes hard work and persistence. You
will repeatedly find yourself and others slipping back into a blame frame, and
will need to be vigilant in constantly correcting your course.
Sydney learned this while leading a team of engineers on a consulting
assignment in Brazil. She was the only woman on the project, and the youngest
on the team by fifteen years. One of the team members, Miguel, was particularly
hostile to her leadership, and she set out to win him over by assigning him to
work with her on a number of subcomponents of the project. The two executed
several tasks together successfully, and each began to feel more comfortable
with the other’s style and competence.
Then one evening while working through dinner at the hotel restaurant,
Miguel changed the currency of their relationship. “You are so beautiful,”
Miguel said to Sydney. “And we’re so far away from home.” He leaned across
the table and stroked her hair. Uncomfortable, Sydney suggested they “get back
to these figures.” She avoided his eyes and wrapped things up quickly.
Miguel’s provocative behavior continued over the next few days. He would
stand close to Sydney, pay more attention to her than to other members of the
stand close to Sydney, pay more attention to her than to other members of the
team, seek her out at every opportunity. Although he never issued a direct
invitation for physical involvement, Sydney wondered whether this was what he
was after.
Initially, like many of us, Sydney fell into a blame frame. She judged
Miguel’s behavior as inappropriate and felt victimized by it. But along with
blame came several doubts. Just as she would get up the courage to tell Miguel
his behavior was wrong, Sydney worried that she was overreacting or
misinterpreting his actions. Perhaps it was just a cultural difference.
Sydney also feared that accusing Miguel would take things from bad to worse.
“The situation is uncomfortable but manageable,” she thought. “If I tell Miguel
his behavior is wrong, I run the risk that he will explode, disrupt the team, or do
something to endanger the project. And the project is my first priority.” By
continuing to think in terms of blame, Sydney kept the stakes of raising the issue
unmanageably high.
Map the Contribution System
The first step in moving away from blame is to reorient your own thinking about
the situation. You can begin to diagnose the system by looking for the
contributions you’ve each made to create the problem. Some of us are prone to
focus on the other person’s contribution and have a harder time seeing our own.
As “shifters” we tend to see ourselves as innocent victims – when something
goes wrong, it’s always because of what someone else did. Others of us have the
opposite tendency: we are all too aware of the negative consequences of our own
actions. In the face of this, others’ contributions seem insignificant. An
“absorber” tends to feel responsible for everything.
Knowing your predisposition can help you fight it, enabling you to get a
balanced picture of what each person is contributing. To understand a
contribution system, you have to understand all its components.
What Are They Contributing? Miguel’s contributions are relatively easy to
identify. He is expressing romantic affection, but failing to clarify his intentions
or the extent of his interest. He chooses to stand close to Sydney, to spend more
time and energy talking with her than with his other colleagues, to hint at
feelings of longing for her. He chooses (consciously or unconsciously) to ignore
the nonverbal signals Sydney is sending. She changes the subject. She changes
the staffing assignments. She moves away. He follows. He has chosen not to
inquire about how she feels about what is happening.
Miguel may or may not be aware of Sydney’s discomfort. His actions may or
may not be blameworthy. And it may or may not be appropriate to punish him.
But these are separate inquiries from the question of contribution. What is
important here is that these are the pieces of the puzzle that come from Miguel.
What Am I Contributing? Sydney’s contributions begin to surface once we
shift out of the blame frame. She was particularly attentive to Miguel’s concerns
about the team and went out of her way to work with him. He may have read this
as interest on her part. Sydney has avoided telling Miguel – at least directly –
that she’s felt at all uncomfortable. Regardless of how justified or
understandable Sydney’s actions are, these actions and inactions on her part
contributed to their current situation; they make it easier to understand why
Miguel continues to act as he does.
List Each Person’s Contribution
Who Else Is Involved? Often there are other important contributors to the
system. For example, with Toby and Eng-An, their families played an important
role. In Sydney’s case, other members of the team may have inadvertently
encouraged Miguel or passed up opportunities to help Sydney. When exploring a
contribution system, consider whether other players may be contributing
something important.
Take Responsibility for Your Contribution Early
Raising contribution during the conversation itself can be surprisingly easy.
Getting the other person to shift from blame to contribution can be more
Getting the other person to shift from blame to contribution can be more
difficult. One of the best ways to signal that you want to leave behind the
question of who’s to blame is to acknowledge your own contribution early in the
conversation. For example, Sydney might say to Miguel:
I apologize for not bringing this up earlier, before it became such
a big deal for me. Also, I realize that arranging for us to work
together at the beginning of the project may have sent a confusing
signal, though all I intended was to improve our professional
relationship. What was your reaction?
She might also ask, “Are there other things I’ve done that were ambiguous or
that suggested I might be interested in something else?” Sydney would learn
important information about her own impact, and also set the stage for
discussion of Miguel’s contribution.
You may fear that being the first to own up to some contribution puts you in a
vulnerable position for the rest of the conversation. What if the other person
remains focused on blame, is more than happy to acknowledge your contribution
(saying, in effect, “I agree that this is your fault”), and then is adamant that they
contributed nothing?
This is an important concern, especially if you tend to be a contribution
absorber. Acknowledging your contribution is a risk. But not acknowledging
your contribution also involves risks. If Sydney starts by pointing out Miguel’s
contributions, Miguel is likely to become defensive and feel that the
conversation is unfairly one-sided. Rather than acknowledging his contribution,
Miguel may be tempted to deflect attention from it, and the easiest way to do
that is to point out Sydney’s part in the problem. Taking responsibility for your
contribution up front prevents the other person from using it as a shield to avoid
a discussion of their own contribution.
If you feel the focus is somehow on you alone, you can say so: “It’s not okay
to look only at my contribution. That’s not reality as I see it. I feel like I’m
trying to look at both of us. Is there anything I’m doing to make it hard for you
to look at yourself?”
Help Them Understand Their Contribution
In addition to taking responsibility for what you contributed, there are things you
can do to help them locate their contribution.
Make Your Observations and Reasoning Explicit. To make sure that
you’re working from the same information and understand each other’s
interpretations, share, as specifically as you can recall it what the other person
did or said that triggered your reaction. Sydney might say, for example, “When
you stroked my hair or asked if we could spend some private time at the beach, I
was confused about what you wanted from our relationship. And I began to
worry that if you wanted romance, then I would have a real problem on my
hands.”
Or Toby could tell Eng-An: “When you left the house last night in the middle
of our fight, I felt abandoned and angry. I think that’s why I picked a fight with
you this morning over the orange juice. I needed to reconnect with you, even if it
was just by yelling at you.” By jotting down the things that triggered you to
react, you are starting to get a handle on the actions and reactions that make up
the contribution system.
Clarify What You Would Have Them Do Differently. In addition to
explaining what triggered your reaction, you should be prepared to say what you
would have them do differently in the future, and explain how this would help
you behave differently as well. The husband trying to repair the relationship with
his adulterous wife might say:
I want to do a better job of listening to you and not withdrawing
in the future. One thing that would help me to listen is if you
could first ask me how my day was, and whether this is a good
time to talk. Sometimes I’m preoccupied or anxious about work,
and when you start telling me about the problems you’re having
with your boss, I just get overloaded and shut down. And
sometimes I feel angry, because it makes me think you don’t care
about what’s going on with me. So if you just asked first, I think
I’d be in a much better place to listen to you. Is there anything
that would make that difficult?
Making a specific request for how the other person can change their
contribution in the service of helping you change yours can be a powerful way of
helping them understand what they are doing to create and perpetuate the
problem. And it goes to the heart of the purpose of understanding the
contribution system – to see what you each need to do differently to influence
and improve the situation.
Whether you’re talking about your contrasting stories, your intentions, or your
contributions, the goal isn’t to get an admission. The goal is to understand better
what’s happened between you, so that you can start to talk constructively about
where to go next.
But in addition to clarifying the “What Happened?” Conversation, there are
two other conversations that need untangling. The next two chapters examine the
Feelings and Identity Conversations.
The Feelings Conversation
5
Have Your Feelings (Or They Will Have You)
A mother hears a crash in the living room and runs in to find her four-year-old
son, baseball bat in hand, standing next to a shattered vase. “What happened?”
she asks. Contrite, looking away, the boy answers, “Nothing.”
When it comes to acknowledging difficult emotions, we often adopt the
strategy of the young batter. If we deny that the emotions are there, then maybe
we can avoid the consequences of feeling them. But we have about the same
chance of hiding our emotions as the boy has of convincing his mother that all is
well with the vase. Feelings are too powerful to remain peacefully bottled. They
will be heard one way or another, whether in leaks or bursts. And if handled
indirectly or without honesty, they contaminate communication.
Feelings Matter: They Are Often at the Heart of Difficult
Conversations
Feelings, of course, are part of what makes good relationships so rich and
satisfying. Feelings like passion and pride, silliness and warmth, and even
jealousy, disappointment, and anger let us know that we are fully alive.
At the same time, managing feelings can be enormously challenging. Our
failure to acknowledge and discuss feelings derails a startling number of difficult
conversations. And the inability to deal openly and well with feelings can
undermine the quality and health of our relationships.
Max and his daughter Julie are negotiating about how much to spend on
Julie’s upcoming wedding. Should this conversation be about money alone? If
so, then Max and Julie can simply list what they want and look for ways to
accommodate these desires. “That’s it. We’ll spend two thousand dollars on the
ballroom, fifteen hundred on the band, seventy-two hundred on food,” and so
forth. End of conversation.
But it isn’t that easy. The conversation feels difficult and stressful for both dad
But it isn’t that easy. The conversation feels difficult and stressful for both dad
and daughter. Each is feeling impatient, sensitive, and ready to find fault with
the other. It is not, after all, just a matter of money. It is also about feelings. For
example, Max experiences a deep sense of both sadness and joy when he thinks
of the event – sadness because he will be receiving less of Julie’s attention from
now on, and joy because she has matured into such a wonderful woman. To
Max, the planning of the event represents a final opportunity for his daughter to
be just his daughter, and not also someone’s wife. He’d like her to ask questions
and to seek advice from him, the way she did when she was younger.
For better or worse, this conversation will not go well unless these feelings are
surfaced. Why? Because you can’t have an effective conversation without
talking about the primary issues at stake, and in this conversation feelings are at
the heart of what’s wrong. No matter how skillfully dad and daughter negotiate
about how much money to spend, the outcome will not leave them feeling
satisfied unless they also talk about how they are feeling.
We Try to Frame Feelings Out of the Problem
Max originally described his problem to us by saying, “My daughter and I are
having trouble deciding how much we should spend on her wedding. She’d like
to do certain things, and I respect that, but I believe there are cheaper options
available.” It was only after talking with him that we learned that what was
really at stake for each of them were the feelings involved in the event.
This is a common pattern: we frame the problem exclusively as a substantive
disagreement and believe that if only we were more skilled at problem-solving,
we’d be able to lick the thing. Solving problems seems easier than talking about
emotions.
Framing feelings out of the problem is one way we cope with the dilemma of
whether to raise something or avoid it. The potential costs involved in sharing
feelings makes raising them feel like too big a gamble. When we lay our feelings
on the table, we run the risk of hurting others and of ruining relationships. We
also put ourselves in a position to get hurt. What if the other person doesn’t take
our feelings seriously or responds by telling us something we don’t want to
hear? By sticking to the “business at hand,” we appear to reduce these risks.
The problem is that when feelings are at the heart of what’s going on, they are
the business at hand and ignoring them is nearly impossible. In many difficult
conversations, it is really only at the level of feelings that the problem can be
addressed. Framing the feelings out of the conversation is likely to result in
outcomes that are unsatisfying for both people. The real problem is not dealt
with, and further, emotions have an uncanny knack for finding their way back
into the conversation, usually in not very helpful ways.
Unexpressed Feelings Can Leak into the Conversation
Emma was stunned to learn that her friend and mentor, Kathy, had told the
Executive Committee that she didn’t think Emma was mature enough to handle
the responsibility her new promotion required. “I felt so betrayed,” says Emma.
“I was hurt that Kathy would think such a thing, and furious that she’d say
something to management rather than to me.” Upon further reflection, Emma
also admitted some self-doubt. “What if I’m not ready?” she worried.
Late that afternoon, Emma and Kathy had a brief exchange about the
situation:
EMMA: I heard you told the Executive Committee that I couldn’t
handle the new responsibility.
KATHY: Wait a second. I didn’t say you couldn’t handle
responsibility. I simply said I thought you were being promoted
awfully fast. I don’t want them to set you up to fail.
EMMA: Well you should have come to me if you had doubts.
KATHY: I was going to talk to you about it. But I also have an
obligation to talk to management.
EMMA: You have an obligation to talk to me first. I can’t believe
you would jeopardize my career like this.
KATHY: Emma, I’ve always supported your career! This is a
question of when you should be promoted, not if.
Rather than share her feelings, Emma provokes an argument about the rules of
professional communication. At no point does Emma say “I feel hurt” or “I feel
angry” or “I’m terrified that you might be right,” yet these feelings have a
significant effect on the conversation.
Unspoken feelings can color the conversation in a number of ways. They alter
your affect and tone of voice. They express themselves through your body
language or facial expression. They may take the form of long pauses or an odd
and unexplained detachment. You may become sarcastic, aggressive, impatient,
unpredictable, or defensive. Studies show that while few people are good at
detecting factual lies, most of us can determine when someone is distorting,
detecting factual lies, most of us can determine when someone is distorting,
manufacturing, or withholding an emotion. That’s because, if clogged, your
emotional pipes will leak.
Indeed, unexpressed feelings can create so much tension that you disengage:
you choose not to work with a particular colleague because you have so many
unresolved feelings about them, or you become distant from your spouse,
children, or friends.
Unexpressed Feelings Can Burst into the Conversation
For some of us, the problem is not that we are unable to express our feelings, but
that we are unable not to. We get angry and show it in ways that are
embarrassing or destructive. We cry or explode when we would rather act
composed and capable. Of course, there are many possible explanations for
anger or tears, some of which have deep psychological roots. One common
explanation, however, is just the opposite of what we might expect. We don’t cry
or lose our temper because we express our feelings too often, but because we
express them too rarely. Like finally opening a carbonated drink that has been
shaken, the results can be messy.
Edward, for example, had the troubling habit of shouting at his wife when he
was feeling frustrated. He told us he was working on learning to control his
feelings. No matter how upset he felt by his wife’s behavior, he desperately tried
not to let his emotions show. But eventually he’d explode. His explanation for
this pattern was that he was simply too emotional, yet his efforts to contain
himself only made the habit worse.
Unexpressed Feelings Make It Difficult to Listen
Unexpressed feelings can cause a third, more subtle problem. The two hardest
(and most important) communication tasks in difficult conversations are
expressing feelings and listening. A significant pattern we’ve observed in our
coaching involves the sometimes elusive relationship between the two skills.
When people are having a hard time listening, often it is not because they don’t
know how to listen well. It is, paradoxically, because they don’t know how to
express themselves well. Unexpressed feelings can block the ability to listen.
Why? Because good listening requires an open and honest curiosity about the
other person, and a willingness and ability to keep the spotlight on them. Buried
emotions draw the spotlight back to us. Instead of wondering, “How does what
they are saying make sense?” and “Let me try to learn more,” we have a record
they are saying make sense?” and “Let me try to learn more,” we have a record
playing in our mind that is stuck in the groove of our own feelings: “I’m so
angry with him!” “I feel like she just doesn’t seem to care about me,” “I feel so
vulnerable right now.” It’s hard to hear someone else when we are feeling
unheard, even if the reason we feel unheard is that we have chosen not to share.
Our listening ability often increases remarkably once we have expressed our
own strong feelings.
Unexpressed Feelings Take a Toll on Our Self-Esteem and Relationships
When important feelings remain unexpressed, you may experience a loss of selfesteem, wondering why you don’t stick up for yourself. You deprive your
colleagues, friends, and family members of the opportunity to learn and to
change in response to your feelings. And, perhaps most damagingly, you hurt the
relationship. By keeping your feelings out of the relationship you are keeping an
important part of yourself out of the relationship.
A Way Out of the Feelings Bind
There are ways to manage the problem of feelings. Working to get feelings into
the conversation is almost always helpful as long as you do so in a purposive
way. While the drawbacks of avoiding feelings are inevitable, the drawbacks of
sharing feelings are not. If you are able to share feelings with skill, you can
avoid many of the potential costs associated with expressing feelings and even
reap some unexpected benefits. This is the way out of the feelings bind.
By following a few key guidelines you can greatly increase your chances of
getting your feelings into your conversations and into your relationships in ways
that are healthy, meaningful, and satisfying: first, you need to sort out just what
your feelings are; second, you need to negotiate with your feelings; and third,
you need to share your actual feelings, not attributions or judgments about the
other person.
Finding Your Feelings: Learn Where Feelings Hide
Most of us assume that knowing how we feel is no more complicated than
knowing whether we are hot or cold. We just know. But in fact, we often don’t
know how we feel. Many of us know our own emotions about as well as we
know a city we are visiting for the first time. We may recognize certain
landmarks, but fail to understand the subtle rhythms of daily life; we can find the
main boulevards, but remain oblivious to the tangle of back streets where the
real action is. Before we can get to where we’re going, we need to know where
we are. When it comes to understanding our own emotions, where most of us are
is lost.
This isn’t because we’re dumb, but because recognizing feelings is
challenging. Feelings are more complex and nuanced than we usually imagine.
What’s more, feelings are very good at disguising themselves. Feelings we are
uncomfortable with disguise themselves as emotions we are better able to
handle; bundles of contradictory feelings masquerade as a single emotion; and
most important, feelings transform themselves into judgments, accusations, and
attributions.
Explore Your Emotional Footprint
As we grow up, each of us develops a characteristic “emotional footprint” whose
shape is determined by which feelings we believe are okay to have and express
and which are not. Think back to when you were growing up. How did your
family handle emotions? Which feelings were easily discussed, and which did
people pretend weren’t there? What was your role in the emotional life of the
family? What emotions do you now find it easy to acknowledge and express, and
with whom? Which do you find more difficult? As you consider your responses
to these questions, the contours of your emotional footprint will begin to emerge.
Each of us has a unique footprint. You may believe that it’s okay to feel
longing or sadness, but not okay to feel anger. Anger may be easy for me to
express, while feelings of shame or failure are off-limits. And it is not only socalled negative feelings that are implicated. Some of us find it easy to express
disappointment, but difficult to express affection, pride, or gratitude.
While there may be common themes, your emotional footprint will be
different in different relationships. Your awareness of and ability to express
emotions will vary depending on whether you are with your mother, your best
friend, your boss, or the person sitting next to you on the plane. Exploring the
contours of your footprint across a variety of relationships can be extremely
helpful in raising your awareness of what you are feeling and why.
Accept That Feelings Are Normal and Natural. One assumption many of us
incorporate into our footprint is the assumption that there is something
inherently wrong with having feelings. As Rick, a retired judge, observed, “In
my family we were taught not to talk about our problems, or the feelings that
accompany them.” For some of us, merely having feelings, any feelings, is
enough to cause us shame.
Depending on how we handle them, feelings can lead to great trouble. But the
feelings themselves just are. In that sense, feelings are like arms or legs. If you
hit or kick someone, then your arms or legs are causing trouble. But there’s
nothing inherently wrong with arms or legs. The same with feelings.
Recognize That Good People Can Have Bad Feelings. A second
assumption many of us incorporate into our footprint is that there are certain
emotions “good people” should never feel: good people don’t get angry at
people they love, they don’t cry, they don’t fail, and they are never a burden. If
you are a good person, we’ve got good news: everyone feels anger, everyone
experiences the urge to cry, everyone fails, and everyone needs other people.
You won’t always be happy with what you’re feeling. For example, you
assume you should feel sad at your brother’s funeral but find instead that you
feel only rage. You know you should be excited about finally getting your dream
job, but instead you’re unmotivated and weepy. Whether or not it makes sense,
you are. And while it might be more pleasant to have only good feelings toward
your mother, there will be times when you feel irritated or resentful or ashamed.
We all experience such conflict, and it has nothing to do with whether or not we
are a good person.
There are times when denying feelings serves a deeper psychological
function: in the face of overwhelming anxiety, fear, loss, or trauma, removing
yourself from your feelings can help you cope with daily life. As the saying
goes, “Don’t knock down a wall until you know why it was put up.” At the same
time, the reality is that unacknowledged feelings are going to have an effect on
communication. All things being equal, it is better to strive toward an
understanding of your feelings, perhaps over time with a therapist or a trusted
friend. As you begin to feel things that were there all along and begin to deal
with the underlying causes of these feelings, your interactions with others –
including difficult conversations – will become increasingly easy to handle.
Learn That Your Feelings Are as Important as Theirs. Some of us can’t
see our own feelings because we have learned somewhere along the way that
other people’s feelings are more important than ours.
For example, it was always assumed that your father would move in with your
family when his health began to fail. But now that he has, his constant demands
and crankiness are beginning to take a toll, especially on top of managing his
medications and frequent doctor’s visits. You are exhausted and frustrated, and
wonder why your brother isn’t willing to do his share. Yet you don’t raise it with
parent or sibling. “It’s hard, but it’s not that hard,” you reason. “Besides, I don’t
want to rock the boat.”
Your girlfriend calls and says she can’t have dinner on Friday after all. She’s
wondering whether Saturday is okay. She says a friend of hers is in town and
wants to see a movie on Friday. You say, “Sure, if that’s better for you.”
Although you said yes, Saturday is actually not as good for you, because you had
planned to go to a baseball game. Still, you’d rather see your girlfriend, so you
give your ticket away.
In each of these situations, you’ve chosen to put someone else’s feelings
ahead of your own. Does this make sense? Is your father’s frustration or your
brother’s peace of mind more important than yours? Is your girlfriend’s desire to
see a movie with her friend more important than your desire to see a baseball
game? Why is it that they express their feelings and preferences, but you cope
with yours privately?
There are several reasons why you may choose to honor others’ feelings even
when it means dishonoring your own. The implicit rule you are following is that
you should put other people’s happiness before your own. If your friends or
loved ones or colleagues don’t get their way, they’ll feel bad, and then you’ll
have to deal with the consequences. That may be true, but it’s unfair to you.
Their anger is no better or worse than yours.
“Well, it’s just easier not to rock the boat,” you think. “I don’t like it when
they’re mad at me.” If you’re thinking this, then you are undervaluing your own
feelings and interests. Friends, neighbors, and bosses will recognize this and
begin to see you as someone they can manipulate. When you are more concerned
about others’ feelings than your own, you teach others to ignore your feelings
too. And beware: one of the reasons you haven’t raised the issue is that you
don’t want to jeopardize the relationship. Yet by not raising it, the resentment
you feel will grow and slowly erode the relationship anyway.
Find the Bundle of Feelings Behind the Simple Labels
Brad and his mother were often at odds over Brad’s job search. Brad’s mother
Brad and his mother were often at odds over Brad’s job search. Brad’s mother
called frequently to prod her son to send off résumés, to go to interviews, to
network. For his part, Brad wasn’t much interested. He tuned his mother out or
tried to change the subject.
He talked to a friend about the problem, and she counseled him not to
withdraw but instead to tell his mother how he was feeling. “What good will that
do?” Brad asked. “All I’m feeling is angry. She drives me crazy.” But Brad’s
friend persisted, encouraging him to consider what he felt in addition to anger.
Brad took on his friend’s challenge, and that evening he made a list of all the
things he was feeling — about the job search, about his mother, and about
himself.
He was stunned. About the job search, he was feeling hopeless, confused, and
afraid. Putting off the search was Brad’s way of putting off some of the anxiety.
About his mother, Brad’s feelings were more complex. On the one hand, he did
indeed experience her constant prodding as a great annoyance. On the other
hand, he also experienced it as a form of love and caring, and that meant a great
deal to him.
About himself, Brad felt mostly shame. He believed he was letting his mother
down and that, at least up until now, he was wasting his potential and his college
education. But even as he felt shame, he felt some pride as well. Several of his
friends had gotten jobs in management training, and Brad too could have taken
this route. But that wasn’t what he wanted, and he was willing to accept the
pressure of the search to hold out for something that fit him better. In the
meantime, he was supporting himself with odd jobs, and had never asked for a
penny from his mother.
By suggesting that Brad felt more than just anger, Brad’s friend offered him a
powerful insight. Where he had originally seen only one emotion, Brad was able
to find an entire spectrum of emotions.
In many situations, we are blinded to the complexity of our feelings by one
strong feeling that trumps all the others. In Brad’s case it was anger. In other
situations, and for different people, it may be a different emotion.
Simply becoming familiar with the spectrum of difficult-to-find feelings may
trigger a flash of recognition for you. On p. 96, there is a partial list of some
feelings that, though quite familiar in the abstract, are sometimes difficult for
people to identify in themselves or express to others.
Don’t Let Hidden Feelings Block Other Emotions. Another common
pattern is the existence of a feeling we are not even aware of, but that interferes
with our experiences nonetheless.
Jamila had difficulty expressing her feelings of love toward her husband. “I
know I love him,” she said. “He’s been generous and a good husband, putting up
know I love him,” she said. “He’s been generous and a good husband, putting up
with all my stuff. But I have such a hard time letting him know that I love him.”
Something was acting as a block, and she wasn’t exactly sure what it was.
At first, Jamila blamed herself: “Maybe this is just another way that I’m
inadequate. A good wife can tell her husband she cares about him.” In our effort
to coach her, we asked Jamila if she ever expressed other feelings about her
husband. We were specifically interested in whether she expressed anger or
disappointment. “You’re missing the point,” she asserted. “I’m trying to learn to
express love. If anyone has the right to be angry, it’s my husband, for having to
put up with me all the time.”
A Landscape of Sometimes Hard-to-Find Feelings
Love
Affectionate, caring, close, proud, passionate
Anger
Frustrated, exasperated, enraged, indignant
Hurt
Let down, betrayed, disappointed, needy
Shame
Embarrassed, guilty, regretful, humiliated, self-loathing
Fear
Anxious, terrified, worried, obsessed, suspicious
Self-Doubt
Inadequate, unworthy, inept, unmotivated
Joy
Happy, enthusiastic, full, elated, content
Sadness
Bereft, wistful, joyless, depressed
Jealousy
Envious, selfish, covetous, anguished, yearning
Gratitude
Appreciative, thankful, relieved, admiring
Loneliness
Desolate, abandoned, empty, longing
This comment raised some flags. In any marriage, in any relationship, each
person will feel at least some anger toward the other. “Have you ever felt anger
person will feel at least some anger toward the other. “Have you ever felt anger
toward your husband?” we asked. “I suppose on occasion,” she finally said.
“What would you say to your husband,” we asked, “if you could let your guard
down completely, if you could vent at him – get everything off your chest – with
absolutely no consequences attached?”
After a slow start, Jamila was surprisingly forthcoming: “Sure, I’m not the
best wife, but it’s no wonder I run from you every chance I get! I’m sick of you
playing the victim all the time, sick of your petty fears and constant
complaining! I may not be perfect, but you’re not God’s gift either, pal! Do you
ever stop to think of the impact your constant sniping has on me?!”
As soon as she finished, Jamila added, “Of course, I would never say any of
that, and, really, I don’t know if any of it is very fair. . . .” It doesn’t matter if it’s
fair or reasonable or rational. What matters is that it is there. You can imagine
the effect her buried anger was having on Jamila’s ability to express love for her
husband. Or, for that matter, on her attempts to express any feelings at all. The
anger, though she kept it hidden even from herself, was getting in the way.
Jamila put it well: “If I could just share some of that, it would be easy to balance
it with the love I feel.”
Let’s hold for a moment the important question of whether and how to express
feelings such as anger. We’ll return to this example in the section below on
negotiating with your feelings.
Find the Feelings Lurking Under Attributions, Judgments, and Accusations
Peanuts aren’t nuts. Whales aren’t fish. Tomatoes aren’t vegetables. And
attributions, judgments, and accusations aren’t feelings.
Lift the Lid on Attributions and Judgments. As we have seen, one danger
of making attributions about the intentions of others is that it can lead to
defensiveness and misunderstandings. A second danger is that the attributions
themselves are so consuming that we fail to see the real feelings that are
motivating them.
This happened to Emily in her relationship with her friend Roz. “Roz just isn’t
warm,” Emily explains. “I helped her through her divorce, talked with her all the
time, kept her company when she was feeling lonely. I was always there for her.
And she never said a word of thanks.” Emily claims that she has already shared
her feelings with Roz and that it didn’t help.
What, exactly, had Emily said to Roz? “I told Roz exactly how I felt. I was
honest. I told her that at times she can be self-absorbed and thoughtless. And true
honest. I told her that at times she can be self-absorbed and thoughtless. And true
to form, she went on the attack. She told me I was being oversensitive. That’s
what you get when you talk about your feelings with someone like Roz. It’s not
worth it.”
Notice what Emily has communicated. She said, “You are self-absorbed. You
are thoughtless.” Both of these are judgments about Roz. Neither of them is a
statement of how Emily feels. Prodded by this observation, Emily is able to
focus more clearly on her own feelings: “I guess I feel hurt. I feel confused about
the friendship. I feel angry at Roz. At some level I feel sort of embarrassed that I
put all this work into a friendship that obviously wasn’t that important to her.
We Translate Our Feelings Into
Judgments
“If you were a good friend you would have been there for me.”
Attributions
“Why were you trying to hurt me?”
Characterizations
“You’re just so inconsiderate.”
Problem-Solving
“The answer is for you to call me more often.”
How stupid can I be?”
The difference between judgments about others and statements of our own
feelings is sometimes difficult to see. Judgments feel like feelings when we are
saying them. They are motivated by anger or frustration or hurt, and the person
on the receiving end understands very clearly that we are feeling something.
Unfortunately, that person probably isn’t sure what we are feeling, and more
important, is focused on the fact that we are judging, attributing, and blaming.
That’s only natural.
While they may feel similar, there is a vast difference between “You are
thoughtless and self-absorbed” and “I feel hurt, confused, and embarrassed.”
Finding the feelings that are lurking around and under angry attributions and
judgments is a key step in bringing feelings into a conversation effectively.
Use the Urge to Blame as a Clue to Find Important Feelings. A common
complaint when we encourage people to talk in terms of joint contribution rather
than blame is that the ensuing conversation leaves them feeling unsatisfied. It is
as if they are stuck with a bowl of fat-free yogurt when they’re craving real ice
cream. As a result, they tend to conclude that talking about contribution is not
the real thing, that they really need to blame the other side.
What is unsatisfying, though, is not the failure to express blame, but the
failure to express feelings. The urge to blame arises when the contribution
system is explored in a feelings vacuum. When we can’t seem to get past
needing to say, “Admit it! This was your fault!” we should recognize that as an
important clue that we are sitting on unexpressed emotions. The sense of
incompleteness that sometimes accompanies a conversation about contribution
should not be a stimulus to blame, but a stimulus to search further for hidden
feelings. Once those feelings are expressed (“Here’s what I’ve contributed,
here’s what I think you’ve contributed, and, more important, I ended up feeling
abandoned”), the urge to blame recedes.
Don’t Treat Feelings as Gospel: Negotiate with Them
A colleague of ours has two rules for expressing feelings. He begins by
explaining rule number two: try to get everything you are feeling into the
conversation. Most people are horrified by this rule. Surely, we think to
ourselves, there are plenty of feelings that are better left unexpressed. Which
brings our friend to rule number one: before saying what you are feeling,
negotiate with your feelings.
Most of us assume that our feelings are static and nonnegotiable, and that if
they are to be shared authentically, they must be shared “as is.” In fact, our
feelings are based on our perceptions, and our perceptions (as we have seen in
the preceding three chapters) are negotiable. As we see the world in new ways,
our feelings shift accordingly. Before sharing feelings, then, it is crucial to
negotiate — with ourselves.
What does it mean to negotiate with our feelings? Fundamentally, it involves
a recognition that our feelings are formed in response to our thoughts. Imagine
that while scuba diving, you suddenly see a shark glide into view. Your heart
starts to pound and your anxiety skyrockets. You’re terrified, which is a
perfectly rational and understandable feeling.
Now imagine that your marine biology training enables you to identify it as a
Reef Shark, which you know doesn’t prey on anything as large as you. Your
Reef Shark, which you know doesn’t prey on anything as large as you. Your
anxiety disappears. Instead you feel excited and curious to observe the shark’s
behavior. It isn’t the shark that’s changed; it’s the story you tell yourself about
what’s happening. In any given situation our feelings follow our thoughts.
This means that the route to changing your feelings is through altering your
thinking. As we saw in the “What Happened?” Conversation, our thinking is
often distorted in predictable ways, providing rich ground for negotiating with
our emotions. First, we need to examine our own story. What is the story we are
telling ourselves that is giving rise to how we feel? What is our story missing?
What might the other person’s story be? Almost always, an increased awareness
of the other person’s story changes how we feel.
Next, we need to explore our assumptions about the other person’s intentions.
To what extent are our feelings based on an untested assumption about their
intentions? Might the other person have acted unintentionally, or from multiple
and conflicting intentions? How does our view of their intentions affect how we
feel? And what about our own intentions? What was motivating us? How might
our actions have impacted them? Does that change how we feel?
Finally, we should consider the contribution system. Are we able to see our
own contribution to the problem? Are we able to describe the other person’s
contribution without blaming? Are we aware of the ways that each of our
contributions forms a reinforcing pattern that magnifies the problem? In what
way does this shift how we feel?
We don’t need definitive answers to these questions. Indeed, until we have
had a conversation with the other person, we can only hypothesize. But it is
enough to raise the questions, to grapple with them, to walk around the sculpture
of our feelings and observe it from different angles. If we are thoughtful, if we
are honest, if we approach the questions openly and with a spirit of fairness, our
feelings will begin to shift. Our anger may lose its edge; our hurt may run less
deeply; our feelings of betrayal or abandonment or shame or anxiety may feel
more manageable.
Consider again Jamila’s situation with her husband. Venting to us helped
Jamila get in touch with her feelings of anger. But anger was not all she was
feeling, nor upon reflection did she think of herself as a victim or her husband as
entirely pathetic. When she considered the situation from his point of view,
when she asked herself what his intentions might have been, when she focused
not on blame but on what each of them had contributed, her portrait of the
situation became more complex, as did her feelings.
She was able to take the And Stance and keep several things in her head at
once, and to share all of those things with her husband. “I know I’ve contributed
to the problems we’re having,” she told him. “I think that the anger and
to the problems we’re having,” she told him. “I think that the anger and
frustration I’ve been feeling in reaction to your contributions has made me focus
more on our problems than on our strengths. But when I step back from that,
what’s also clear to me is that I love you very much, and I’d like for things to get
better.” Jamila realized that by working, however slowly, to express some of her
feelings of anger, she would be clearing the way to express the love that
originally motivated her to seek help.
Don’t Vent: Describe Feelings Carefully
Once you have found your feelings and negotiated with them, you face the task
of deciding how to handle those feelings. There will be times when you decide
that sharing your feelings is unnecessary or unhelpful. At other times, of course,
your feelings will take center stage in the conversation.
Too often we confuse being emotional with expressing emotions clearly. They
are different. You can express emotion well without being emotional, and you
can be extremely emotional without expressing much of anything at all. Sharing
feelings well and clearly requires thoughtfulness. Below are three guidelines for
expressing your feelings that should help ease your anxiety and make an
effective conversation more likely.
1. Frame Feelings Back into the Problem
Step one in expressing feelings well involves simply remembering that they’re
important. Almost every difficult conversation will involve strong feelings. It is
always possible to define a problem without reference to feelings. But that’s not
true problem-solving. If feelings are the real issue, then feelings should be
addressed.
Your feelings need not be rational to be expressed. Thinking that you
shouldn’t feel as you do will rarely change the fact that you do. Your feelings, at
least for the moment, are an important aspect of the relationship. You can
preface their expression with an admission that you are uncomfortable with these
feelings, or that you aren’t sure they make sense, but follow that preface by
expressing them. Your purpose here is simply to get them out. You can decide
what, if anything, to do about them later.
2. Express the Full Spectrum of Your Feelings
Let’s return to the conversation between Brad and his mother about Brad’s job
search. It’s easy to see why Brad would be hesitant to express his emotions when
he’s aware only of his anger. He imagines himself telling his mother he’s angry
at her, only to have her say the same back. At best, the conversation won’t go
anywhere. More likely, they will each feel even angrier than before.
But what if Brad took the time to paint a more complete picture? Instead of
saying, “Mom, you’re driving me crazy!” Brad might say, “When you ask me
how the job search is going, I feel a couple of things. One thing I feel is angry. I
suppose that’s because I’ve asked you not to bring it up, and you do anyway. But
at the same time, part of me is appreciative, and reassured that things will be
okay. It means a lot that you’re looking out for me and that you care.”
And when his mother asks why he’s not being more aggressive about looking
for a job, rather than saying, “Stop bugging me,” Brad might say, “It’s hard for
me to talk with you about this. Whenever I think about it, I end up feeling
ashamed, like maybe I’m wasting my potential or letting you down.”
By putting the broader spectrum of his feelings into the conversation, Brad
has changed the nature of the conversation. It’s no longer a battle of anger. Brad
has brought some depth and complexity to the discussion, and given his mother
some things to reflect on. She better understands what is motivating her son’s
behavior, and the impact of her actions on him. The conversation doesn’t end
with Brad’s expression of feeling; indeed, that’s just the beginning. Nor does
expressing the full range of emotion make the conversation “easy.” But it may
well be less contentious, lead to greater understanding and engagement, and
point the way toward different patterns of interacting that are more mutually
supportive.
3. Don’t Evaluate — Just Share
Getting everyone’s feelings on the table, heard and acknowledged, is essential
before you can begin to sort through them. If you say, “I felt hurt,” and they say,
“You’re overreacting,” the process of struggling toward deeper understanding of
each other and of the problem is short-circuited. Premature evaluation of
whether feelings are legitimate will undermine their expression and, ultimately,
the relationship. You can establish an evaluation-free zone by respecting the
following guidelines: share pure feelings (without judgments, attributions, or
blame); save problem-solving until later; and don’t monopolize.
Express Your Feelings Without Judging, Attributing, or Blaming. People
often say, “I’ve expressed my feelings, and all it did was cause a fight.”
Remember the story of Emily and Roz. Emily told Roz that she thought Roz was
“thoughtless and self-absorbed,” because Roz had not thanked Emily for being a
good friend during Roz’s divorce. Not surprisingly, Roz became defensive and
angry.
After realizing that she had expressed judgments about Roz rather than her
own feelings, Emily started over: “Instead of judging her, I just explained that I
felt hurt. And confused about the state of our friendship. I was amazed. She was
very contrite, and couldn’t stop thanking me for how I had helped her.”
Talking successfully about feelings requires you to be scrupulous about taking
the judgments, attributions, and statements of blame out of what you are saying,
and putting the statement of feeling in. It is crucial to look at the actual words
you are using to see whether those words really convey what you want them to.
For example, the statement “You are so damn undependable!” is a judgment
about the other person’s character. There is no reference in the statement to how
the speaker feels. We should not be surprised if the response is “I am not
undependable!”
In contrast, the statement “I feel frustrated. You didn’t send the letter out,”
removes the blame and focuses on the feelings underneath. Such a formulation
won’t make all of your problems disappear, but it is more likely to lead to a
productive discussion.
A more subtle but equally common difficulty occurs when we mix a pure
statement of feelings with a statement of blame. We say, “You didn’t call me
like you said. It’s your fault that I felt hurt.” This statement contains a feeling –
“I felt hurt” – but it also contains a conclusion about causation, of who is to
blame for my being hurt. The person you are talking with is likely to focus on
the fact that you are blaming them rather than focus on your feelings. A better
way to express this is to state the pure feeling first – “When you didn’t call, I felt
hurt” – and to explore joint contribution (not blame) later.
Don’t Monopolize: Both Sides Can Have Strong Feelings at the Same
Time. If you and your significant other are grocery shopping, it is unlikely that
only one of you will be putting food into the grocery cart. Instead, you’ll both be
tossing in your favorite items. The same is true when discussing feelings. You
can feel angry at your boss for the way she treated you when you arrived at work
late, and she can feel annoyed with you for not getting the memo done on time.
If you have strong feelings, it’s quite likely that the other person does too. And
just as your own ambivalent feelings don’t cancel each other out, their feelings
don’t cancel yours, or vice versa. What’s important is to get both parties’ strong
and perhaps conflicting emotions into the conversational cart before you head
for the checkout.
An Easy Reminder: Say “I Feel . . . .” It is surprising how many people
would prefer to have a cavity filled without novocaine than to utter the simple
words “I feel.” Yet these words can have a powerful effect on your listener.
Beginning with “I feel . . . .” is a simple act that carries with it extraordinary
benefits. It keeps the focus on feelings and makes clear that you are speaking
only from your perspective. It avoids the translation trap of judging or accusing.
“Why do you insist on undermining me in front of the kids?!” for example, is a
promising start – for an argument. Your spouse will obviously hear that you are
upset or angry, but you haven’t expressed an emotion at all – only a judgment
about your spouse’s intentions and parenting skills. If you begin instead with, “
When you disagree with me about child-rearing in front of the kids, I feel
betrayed, and also worried about the message it sends to them,” your spouse
cannot argue with how you feel. Your spouse is less likely to feel defensive and
more likely to engage in a conversation about your feelings, theirs, and
disciplinary strategies you can develop together.
The Importance of Acknowledgment
Describing feelings is an important first step along the road toward getting things
resolved, but you can’t leap from there directly into problem-solving. Each side
must have their feelings acknowledged before you can even start down that road.
Acknowledgment is a step that simply cannot be skipped.
What does it mean to acknowledge someone’s feelings? It means letting the
other person know that what they have said has made an impression on you, that
their feelings matter to you, and that you are working to understand them.
“Wow,” you might say, “I never knew you felt that way,” or, “I kind of assumed
you were feeling that, and I’m glad you felt comfortable enough with me to
share it,” or, “It sounds like this is really important to you.” Let them know that
you think understanding their perspective is important, and that you are trying to
do so: “Before I give you a sense of what’s going on with me, tell me more
about your feeling that I talk down to you.”
about your feeling that I talk down to you.”
It’s tempting to jump over feelings. We want to get on with things, to address
the problem, to make everything better. We often seek to get feelings out of the
way by “fixing” them: “Well, let’s see. If you’re feeling lonely, I guess I’ll try to
spend more time with you.” Or even: “You’re right. What can I say?” This may
be the other person’s honest response to your feelings, and it is good they are
sharing their reaction. But they’re doing it too soon.
To avoid this short circuit, direct the conversation back to the purpose of
understanding: “I’m not saying you intended to hurt me. I don’t know whether
you did or not. What’s important to me is that you understand how I felt when
you criticized my work in front of the department.” Before moving on to
problem-solving, you have a responsibility to yourself and to the other person to
ensure that they appreciate the importance of this topic to you; that they truly
understand your feelings; and that they value your having shared them. If they
aren’t getting how important something is to you and you don’t flag it, then you
are letting yourself down.
Acknowledging feelings is crucial in any relationship, and particularly so in
what are sometimes referred to as “intractable conflicts.” In one case, the simple
act of acknowledging feelings helped transform a community divided by racial
tensions. A small group of police officers, political leaders, businesspeople, and
neighborhood residents gathered to discuss a series of recent incidents between
police officers and minority community members. When asked afterward
whether he thought he had changed any minds, a black teenager, in tears,
responded, “You don’t understand. I don’t want to change their minds. I just
wanted to share my story. I didn’t want to hear that everything will be okay or to
hear that it wasn’t their fault, or to have them tell me that their stories are just as
terrible. I wanted to tell my story, to share my feelings. So why am I crying?
Because now I know: they care enough about me to just listen.”
Sometimes Feelings Are All That Matter
As soon as Max, our bride-to-be’s father, shared his feelings of loss and pride
with his daughter, resolving issues about how to spend money on the wedding
became easy. The troubling subtexts of their previous conversations – feelings of
rejection on Max’s part, or resentment at Max’s apparent need to be in control
on his daughter’s part – were discussed explicitly and ceased to get in the way of
further logistical problem-solving. And the two of them began to form a
further logistical problem-solving. And the two of them began to form a
relationship based on an honest expression of who they were and what they
wanted to be to each other.
Sometimes, however, feelings aren’t all that matter. Sometimes they are
difficult and troubling, and you still have a job to do together or kids to raise.
The process of working on your relationship, or solving the problem you face,
can be a long and hard one. Even so, it’s one where being able to communicate
effectively with the other person – about your feelings and about the problem –
will be critical.
The Identity Conversation
6
Ground Your Identity: Ask Yourself What’s at Stake
I’ve already accepted a job elsewhere,
and all that’s left for me to do is tell my
boss I’m leaving. I don’t need any
references or future business, and no one
can influence my decision. And still,
when I think of telling my boss, I’m
terrified.
— Ben, software company vice president
Viewed from the outside, Ben would seem to have nothing to fear; he holds all
the cards. Even so, Ben isn’t getting any sleep.
He explains: “My father worked for one company his whole life, and I always
admired his loyalty. In my own life, I’ve tried to do the right thing, and for me a
big part of that is sticking by the people around me – my parents, my wife, my
children, and my colleagues. Telling my boss I’m leaving raises this loyalty
issue directly. My boss was also my mentor, and has been very supportive. The
whole thing is making me wonder: Am I really the loyal soldier I like to think I
am, or just another greedy jerk willing to betray someone for the right price?”
Difficult Conversations Threaten Our Identity
Ben’s predicament highlights a crucial aspect of why some conversations can be
so overwhelmingly difficult. Our anxiety results not just from having to face the
other person, but from having to face ourselves. The conversation has the
potential to disrupt our sense of who we are in the world, or to highlight what we
hope we are but fear we are not. The conversation poses a threat to our identity –
the story we tell ourselves about ourselves – and having our identity threatened
can be profoundly disturbing.
Three Core Identities
There are probably as many identities as there are people. But three identity
issues seem particularly common, and often underlie what concerns us most
during difficult conversations: Am I competent? Am I a good person? Am I
worthy of love?
• Am I Competent? “I agonized about whether to bring up the subject
of my salary. Spurred on by my colleagues, I finally did. Before I
could even get started, my supervisor said, ‘I’m surprised you want to
discuss this. The truth is, I’ve been disappointed by your performance
this year.’ I felt nauseous. Maybe I’m not the talented chemist I
thought I was.”
• Am I a Good Person? “I had intended to break up with Sandra that
night. I began in a roundabout way, and as soon as she got the drift,
she started to cry. It hurt me so much to see her in such pain. The
hardest thing for me in life is hurting people I care about; it goes
against who I am spiritually and emotionally. I just couldn’t bear how
I was feeling, and after a few moments I was telling her how much I
loved her and that everything would work out between us.”
• Am I Worthy of Love? “I began a conversation with my brother
about the way he treats his wife. He talks down to her and I know it
really bothers her. I was hugely nervous bringing it up, and my words
were getting all twisted. Then he shouted, ‘Who are you to tell me how
to act?! You’ve never had a real relationship in your whole life!’ After
that, I could hardly breathe, let alone talk. All I could think about was
how I wanted to get out of there.”
Suddenly, who we thought we were when we walked into the conversation is
called into question.
An Identity Quake Can Knock Us Off Balance
Internally, our Identity Conversation is in full swing: “Maybe I am mediocre,”
“How can I be the kind of person who causes others pain?” or “My brother’s
right. No woman has ever loved me.” In each case, it is what this conversation
seems to be saying about us that rips the ground from beneath our feet.
Getting knocked off balance can even cause you to react physically in ways
that make the conversation go from difficult to impossible. Images of yourself or
of the future are hardwired to your adrenal response, and shaking them up can
cause an unmanageable rush of anxiety or anger, or an intense desire to get
away. Well-being is replaced with depression, hope with hopelessness, efficacy
with fear. And all the while you’re trying to engage in the extremely delicate
task of communicating clearly and effectively. Your supervisor is explaining
why you’re not being promoted; you’re busy having your own private identity
quake.
There’s No Quick Fix
You can’t “quake-proof ” your sense of self. Grappling with identity issues is
what life and growth are all about, and no amount of love or accomplishment or
skill can insulate you from these challenges. Seeing your husband cry when you
tell him you don’t want to have another child, or hearing your coach say “Grow
up” when you raise the issue of discriminatory treatment on the team, will test
your sense of who you are in these relationships and in the world.
Not all identity challenges are earthshaking, but some will be. A difficult
conversation can cause you to relinquish a cherished aspect of how you see
yourself. At its most profound, this can be a loss that requires mourning just as
surely as the death of a loved one. There’s no use pretending there’s a quick fix,
or that you will never again lose your balance, or that life’s toughest challenges
can be overcome by mastering a few easy steps.
But there is some good news. You can improve your ability to recognize and
cope with identity issues when they hit. Thinking clearly and honestly about who
you are can help reduce your anxiety level during the conversation and
significantly strengthen your foundation in its aftermath.
Vulnerable Identities: The All-or-Nothing Syndrome
Getting better at managing the Identity Conversation starts with understanding
the ways in which we make ourselves vulnerable to being knocked off balance.
The biggest factor that contributes to a vulnerable identity is “all-or-nothing”
The biggest factor that contributes to a vulnerable identity is “all-or-nothing”
thinking: I’m either competent or incompetent, good or evil, worthy of love or
not.
The primary peril of all-or-nothing thinking is that it leaves our identity
extremely unstable, making us hypersensitive to feedback. When faced with
negative information about ourselves, all-or-nothing thinking gives us only two
choices for how to manage that information, both of which cause serious
problems. Either we try to deny the information that is inconsistent with our selfimage, or we do the opposite: we take in the information in a way that
exaggerates its importance to a crippling degree. All-or-nothing identities are
about as sturdy as a two-legged stool.
Denial
Clinging to a purely positive identity leaves no place in our self-concept for
negative feedback. If I think of myself as a super-competent person who never
makes mistakes, then feedback suggesting that I have made a mistake presents a
problem. The only way to keep my identity intact is to deny the feedback — to
figure out why it’s not really true, why it doesn’t really matter, or why what I did
wasn’t actually a mistake.
Recall the chemist who asked for a raise. Her boss responded by saying, “I’m
surprised you want to discuss this. The truth is, I’ve been disappointed by your
performance this year.” The chemist must now decide how to internalize this
information, and what this says about her identity. The denial response might
sound like this: “My boss knows business, but not chemistry. He doesn’t
understand how important my contributions have been. I wish I had a boss who
could appreciate just how good I am.”
Working to keep negative information out during a difficult conversation is
like trying to swim without getting wet. If we’re going to engage in difficult
conversations, or in life for that matter, we’re going to come up against
information about ourselves that we find unpleasant. Denial requires a huge
amount of psychic energy, and sooner or later the story we’re telling ourselves is
going to become untenable. And the bigger the gap between what we hope is
true and what we fear is true, the easier it is for us to lose our balance.
Exaggeration
The alternative to denial is exaggeration. In all-or-nothing thinking, taking in
negative feedback requires us not just to adjust our self-image, but to flip it. If
I’m not completely competent, then I’m completely incompetent: “Maybe I’m
not as creative and special as I thought I was. I’ll probably never amount to
anything. Maybe I’ll even get fired.”
We Let Their Feedback Define Who We Are. When we exaggerate, we act
as if the other person’s feedback is the only information we have about
ourselves. We put everything up for grabs, and let what they say dictate how we
see ourselves. We may turn in a hundred memos on time, but if we are criticized
for being late with the 101st memo, we think to ourselves, “I can never do
anything right.” This one piece of information fills our whole identity screen.
This example may seem ridiculous, but we all think like this on occasion, and
not only around dramatic or traumatic events. If the waitress gives you a funny
look as she collects her tip, you’re cheap. If you don’t help your friends paint
their house, you’re selfish. If your brother says you don’t visit his children
enough, you’re an uncaring aunt. It’s easy to see why exaggeration is such a
debilitating reaction.
Ground Your Identity
Improving your ability to manage the Identity Conversation has two steps. First,
you need to become familiar with those identity issues that are important to you,
so you can spot them during a conversation. Second, you need to learn to
integrate new information into your identity in ways that are healthy – a step that
requires you to let go of all-or-nothing thinking.
Step One: Become Aware of Your Identity Issues
Often during a difficult conversation we are not even aware that our identity is
implicated. We know we feel anxious, fearful, or tentative, and that our ability to
communicate skillfully has deserted us. Usually articulate, we stumble and
stammer; usually empathetic, we can’t stop interrupting and arguing; usually
calm, we boil over with anger. But we aren’t sure why. The connection to our
identity is not obvious. It’s easy to think, “I’m talking with my brother about
how he treats his wife. What does this have to do with my identity?”
What triggers an identity quake for you may not trigger one in someone else.
What triggers an identity quake for you may not trigger one in someone else.
We each have our own particular sensitivities. To become more familiar with
yours, observe whether there are patterns to what tends to knock you off balance
during difficult conversations, and then ask yourself why. What about your
identity feels at risk? What does this mean to you? How would it feel if what you
fear were true?
It may take some digging. Consider Jimmy’s story. Growing up, Jimmy
developed a reputation for being emotionally distant. This posture helped protect
him from all the emotional shrapnel he was exposed to in his home life.
Everyone else might be quick to fly off the handle, but not Jimmy. He’d be
rational to a fault.
But after years on his own, Jimmy changed. He began to see the value of
acknowledging and sharing his emotions, and doing so with friends and
colleagues added to the richness of his life. He wanted to reveal this change to
his family, but was afraid. The patterns of who he was with them were deeply
etched and, though far from perfect, were comfortable and predictable. His
detachment had costs, but they were familiar costs.
He discussed his fears with a friend, who asked Jimmy some hard questions:
“What are you really afraid of? What’s the downside?” Jimmy’s first response
was that he was acting out of obligation to his family: “Someone in my family
has to be the rational one. Otherwise, it will be chaos. The way things are now,
everything more or less works.”
All true, but Jimmy continued to consider his friend’s questions and pushed
himself for deeper answers. Eventually he discovered the fear that at some level
he knew was there all along: “What if they reject me? What if they laugh? What
if they think, ‘What’s gotten into him?’ ” Jimmy knew he’d be in for a serious
identity shake-up if his parents responded badly, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to
risk it.
Jimmy’s increased awareness of his identity concerns wasn’t the end of the
story. He determined he would show greater emotion around his family, and at
first, the going was not smooth. There were awkward moments, and some
members of his family wondered why he was acting differently. But Jimmy
persisted, and in time a more genuine set of relationships replaced the old ones.
Step Two: Complexify Your Identity (Adopt the And Stance)
Once you’ve identified which aspects of your identity are most important to you
or seem most vulnerable, you can begin to complexify your self-image. This
means moving away from the false choice between “I am perfect” and “I am
worthless,” and trying to get as clear a picture as you can about what is actually
worthless,” and trying to get as clear a picture as you can about what is actually
true about you. As for everyone, what is true about you is going to be a mix of
good and bad behavior, noble and less noble intentions, and wise and unwise
choices you’ve made along the way.
For even the best and worst among us, all-or-nothing identities oversimplify
the world. “I’m always there for my children.” “When it comes to dating, I just
have bad judgment.” “I’m always a good listener.” No one is always anything.
We each exhibit a constellation of qualities, positive and negative, and
constantly grapple with how to respond to the complicated situations life
presents. And we don’t always respond as competently or compassionately as
we’d like.
Ben’s fear of telling his boss that he has accepted another job is a good
example of this. Is Ben loyal or is he a sellout? Both of those are simplifying
labels that can’t capture the complexity of the endless interactions Ben has had
with the many people in his life. He has made many sacrifices for his family and
many for his boss. He has worked weekends, turned down other job offers,
worked hard to help the company recruit top talent. The list of things Ben has
done that indicate loyalty is long indeed.
And, Ben is leaving his job for higher paying work elsewhere. It’s reasonable
for his boss to feel abandoned. That doesn’t mean Ben is a bad person. It doesn’t
mean Ben has made a choice based on greed. He wants to put his children
through college; he has been under-compensated for years and not complained.
What, then, is the bottom line on Ben? The bottom line is that there is no
bottom line. Ben can feel good about many of his actions and choices, and
ambivalent or regretful about others. Life is too complex for any reasonable
person to feel otherwise. Indeed, a self-image that allows for complexity is
healthy and robust; it provides a sturdy foundation on which to stand.
Three Things to Accept About Yourself
No doubt, there are some aspects of who you are that you will struggle with for a
lifetime. When you look inside, you won’t always like what you see, and you’ll
find that accepting those parts of yourself takes serious work. But as you move
away from an all-or-nothing identity and toward a more complex view of who
you are, you’ll notice that it is easier to accept certain parts of yourself that have
given you trouble in the past.
There are three characteristics that are particularly important to be able to
accept about yourself in difficult conversations. The more easily you can admit
to your own mistakes, your own mixed intentions, and your own contributions to
to your own mistakes, your own mixed intentions, and your own contributions to
the problem, the more balanced you will feel during the conversation, and the
higher the chances it will go well.
1. You Will Make Mistakes. If you can’t admit to yourself that you
sometimes make mistakes, you’ll find it more difficult to understand and accept
the legitimate aspects of the other person’s story about what is going on.
Consider what happened between Rita and Isaiah. “It’s important to me to be
trustworthy – someone friends can really talk to,” Rita explains. “That’s part of
being a good friend. Isaiah, one of my co-workers, confided in me that he was
struggling with alcoholism, and I promised to keep it confidential. But I knew
that a mutual friend had faced many of the same issues in the past, and so I
talked with her about Isaiah’s problem, to get some advice.
“Then Isaiah found out, and he was really furious. At first, I kept trying to
explain that I was trying to help, and that my friend could be a valuable resource.
Eventually I realized that the reason I was arguing was that I couldn’t admit to
myself that I had violated his trust, plain and simple. I didn’t live up to my word.
Once I was able to admit to myself that I made a mistake, Isaiah and I began to
get somewhere in our conversation.”
When you hold yourself to an all-or-nothing standard, even a small mistake
can seem catastrophic and almost impossible to admit. If you are busy trying to
shore up your “no mistakes, no failures” identity, you won’t be able to engage in
a meaningful learning conversation. And if you can’t do that, you are likely to
make the same mistakes again.
One reason people are reluctant to admit mistakes is that they fear being seen
as weak or incompetent. Yet often, generally competent people who take the
possibility of mistakes in stride are seen as confident, secure, and “big enough”
not to have to be perfect, whereas those who resist acknowledging even the
possibility of a mistake are seen as insecure and lacking confidence. No one is
fooled.
2. Your Intentions Are Complex. Sometimes we get nervous about
upcoming conversations because we know that our past behavior was not always
motivated by good intentions.
Consider the situation that Sally and her boyfriend, Evan, find themselves in.
Sally wants to break up with Evan, but is afraid that he will accuse her of just
using him to get through a lonely period. Before Sally claims that her intentions
were purely positive, she should think honestly about whether they actually
were. Although in the big picture Sally didn’t want to hurt Evan and wasn’t
were. Although in the big picture Sally didn’t want to hurt Evan and wasn’t
acting maliciously, there was at least a bit of selfishness in Sally’s behavior.
By being honest with herself about the complexity of her motivations, Sally
has a better chance of staying on her feet if the accusation of having bad
intentions arises. And she can respond in a way that is genuine: “As I think about
it, some of what you’re saying makes sense. I was lonely, and being with you
helped. I don’t think that was my only reason for wanting to be with you. I did
hope it would work out. There are lots of pieces to what was going on for me.”
3. You Have Contributed to the Problem. A third crucial step for grounding
yourself involves assessing and taking responsibility for what you’ve contributed
to the problem.
This is not always easy to do. Walker recently learned that his daughter Annie
Mae is struggling with an eating disorder. Her college advisor called, letting
Walker know that Annie Mae had checked herself into the university health
clinic. Walker called to see how Annie Mae was, but couldn’t seem to get past
the surface exchange of “How are you doing, kiddo?” and “I’ll be okay, Dad.”
Walker wants to have a more genuine conversation, but he’s afraid. He
suspects that at least some of the issues Annie Mae is dealing with are connected
to their relationship. He suspects Annie Mae thinks he was not a good father, and
he fears that she might for the first time tell him so. And that prospect terrifies
him.
Up until now, without knowing for sure what his daughter thinks, Walker has
been able to live with the hope that he’s been a good father. He’d like nothing
more than for that to be true. But he suspects that the truth is more complex.
After all, he was away a lot, he wasn’t as supportive as he might have been, and
he made promises to Annie Mae that he didn’t always keep.
Walker has two options. He can try to tiptoe through the conversations with
his daughter, hoping against hope that Annie Mae doesn’t raise the issue of how
he has contributed to their troubled relationship and her current illness. Or he can
work through some of his identity issues in advance and accept in his own heart
his contribution to their problems.
It won’t be easy. In fact, it may be the toughest thing Walker ever does. But if
he’s able to accept himself and his actions for what they are, and to take
responsibility for them, both in his own mind and when talking with Annie Mae,
he’ll probably find that over time his conversations with his daughter become
easier. And, more important, Walker will find that he no longer needs to hide.
His conversations with Annie Mae won’t be fraught with the potential to strike
at his all-or-nothing identity as a good father. He can say to his daughter, “I wish
I’d been there for you more often. I’m so sorry and sad that I wasn’t,” and can
I’d been there for you more often. I’m so sorry and sad that I wasn’t,” and can
approach her with compassion instead of fear.
During the Conversation: Learn to Regain Your Balance
After observing O Sensei, the founder of Aikido, sparring with an accomplished
fighter, a young student said to the master, “You never lose your balance. What
is your secret?”
“You are wrong,” O Sensei replied. “I am constantly losing my balance. My
skill lies in my ability to regain it.”
So it is with difficult conversations. Working through your identity issues is
extremely helpful. And still, the conversation will bring its share of surprises,
testing your self-image in ways you hadn’t counted on. The question is not
whether you will get knocked over. You will. The real question is whether you
are able to get back on your feet and keep the conversation moving in a
productive direction.
Four things you can do before and during a difficult conversation to help
yourself maintain and regain your balance include: letting go of trying to control
their reaction, preparing for their response, imagining the future to gain
perspective, and if you lose your balance, taking a break.
Let Go of Trying to Control Their Reaction
Especially in conversations that implicate important identity issues, you may
already feel conflicted or ashamed, and you may want to avoid the extra pressure
of a bad reaction from the other person. “Whatever happens,” you think, “I just
don’t want them to get upset, and I especially don’t want them to be upset at
me.” You feel bad enough about yourself; a bad reaction from them would make
things unbearable. As a result, you may hold as one of your primary goals
getting through the conversation without the other person having a “bad”
reaction.
There’s nothing wrong (and plenty right) with not wanting to hurt someone, or
wanting them to like you even after you convey bad news. Yet holding this as a
purpose in the conversation leads to trouble. Just as you can’t change another
person, you can’t control their reaction — and you shouldn’t try.
When you tell your kids that you and their mother are getting a divorce, they
are likely to be upset. How could they not be? Because you care for them, it is
natural to want to minimize their hurt at this news. But there is also likely to be
an element of self-protection in this urge: “I just hope they don’t cry or get angry
or withdraw or argue,” you think, in part because of how that would make you
feel about yourself: “Maybe I’m a rotten dad, as well as a lousy husband.”
Trying to control their reaction can seem like a way to avoid the difficult work
of accepting your contribution to what’s happening — with the resulting painful
impact on your identity.
But trying to smooth over or stifle the other person’s reaction will make things
worse, not better. It’s understandable that you’d want the kids to feel that the
divorce won’t be all that bad, or to persuade your employee that being fired is
really an opportunity for her to find a better fit for her skills. Yet even if your
rosy predictions turn out to be true in the longer term, dismissing the feelings
that the other person is experiencing in the moment is disastrous. You may
intend the message “Everything will be all right,” but the message the other
person is likely to hear is “I don’t understand how you feel” or worse, “You’re
not allowed to be upset by this.”
When delivering bad news – indeed, in any difficult conversation – rather than
trying to control the other person’s reaction, adopt the And Stance. You can
come in with the purpose of letting your children know about the divorce, letting
them know how much you love and care about them, letting them know that you
honestly believe things will be okay, and giving them space to feel however they
are feeling and letting them know their feelings make sense and are okay to feel.
This gives you control over everything you can actually control (yourself), and
gives them space to be honest in response.
The same dynamic applies to giving bad news at work. When you fire
someone, that person will likely be upset, and possibly upset at you. Don’t
measure the success of the conversation by whether or not they get upset. It’s
their right to be upset, and it’s a reasonable response. Better instead to go in with
the purposes of giving them the news, of taking responsibility for your part in
this outcome (but not more), of showing that you care about how they feel, and
of trying to be helpful going forward.
Learning that you can’t control the other person’s reaction, and that it can be
destructive to try, can be incredibly liberating. It not only gives the other person
the space to react however they need to, but also takes a huge amount of pressure
off you. You will learn things about yourself based on their reaction, but if you
are prepared to learn, you’ll feel free from the desperate need for their reaction to
go one certain way.
Prepare for Their Response
Instead of trying to control the other person’s reaction, prepare for it. Take time
in advance to imagine the conversation. Instead of focusing on how badly it will
go – which may be your tendency when you are fretting late at night over
whether to raise it – focus on what you can learn about how the other person
might respond. Are they likely to cry? Sulk and withdraw? Pretend everything is
fine? Attack or reject you?
And then consider whether any of these responses implicate identity issues for
you. If so, imagine they respond in the most difficult manner possible, and ask
yourself, “What do I think this says about me?” Work through the identity issues
in advance: “Is it okay for me to make someone cry? How will I respond? What
if they attack my character or motivations? Then how would I respond?” The
more prepared you are for how the other person might react, the less surprised
you’ll be. If you’ve already considered the identity implications of how they
might react, you are far less likely to be knocked off balance in the moment.
Imagine That It’s Three Months Or Ten Years From Now
Getting some perspective on yourself is hard when the world is looking bleak
and you’re feeling confused, dejected, unlovable, or unemployable. Sometimes
projecting yourself into your own future can help you feel better about what’s
happening now with the reassurance that eventually you’ll feel better, and that
someday it may not seem so important.
Thinking of your future self looking back can also give you some direction. If
you’re in the midst of a particularly painful time, think about what it will feel
like to look back on this period in your life from thirty years hence. What do you
think you’ll have learned from the experience? How will you feel about how you
handled it? What advice can the you of thirty years from now give to the you
that is facing the pain?
Take a Break
Sometimes you’ll find that you are just too close to the problem and too
overwhelmed by your internal identity quake to engage effectively in the
conversation. You’re not at a place where you can take in more information or
untangle your thoughts. Maintaining the charade of participation in the
conversation at times like this is unlikely to be helpful to anyone.
Ask for some time to think about what you’ve heard: “I’m surprised by your
Ask for some time to think about what you’ve heard: “I’m surprised by your
reaction to this and would like some time to think about what you’ve said.” Even
ten minutes can help. Take a walk. Get some air. Check for distortions. Spend
some quiet time weighing their attack on your judgment or arrogance against
other information you have about yourself. Check for denial. In what ways is
what they are saying true? Check for exaggerations. What is the worst that could
happen here? And what might you do right now to turn the conversation around?
Some people find asking for a break embarrassing. But postponing the
conversation until you’ve regained your balance may save you from worse
things than embarrassment down the road.
Their Identity Is Also Implicated
When we’re wrapped up in our own Identity Conversation it can be difficult to
remember that the other person may be grappling with identity issues of their
own. Certainly as Walker tries to talk with Annie Mae about her illness, she’ll be
absorbed in her own Identity Conversation. Simply being in the clinic because
something is “wrong” with her may in her mind confirm her greatest fear – that
she will never be good enough or achieve enough to please her father.
One important way Walker can help his daughter is to lead her away from allor-nothing thinking. He can help provide balance to her self-image by letting her
know that everyone needs help sometimes. And he can remind her of the
positive things that are true about her and important to him: “I’m proud of you
for getting help,” he might say to Annie Mae. And he can remind her that he
loves her not because she gets all A’s in school, but because she’s his daughter.
And that won’t change no matter what.
Raising Identity Issues Explicitly
Sometimes your identity issues will be important to you, but not terribly relevant
to the person you are talking to, or to the relationship generally. You don’t need
to tell your new colleague that he reminds you of a former boyfriend with whom
you had a bad sexual experience. It’s useful for you to be aware of it, but talking
about it explicitly probably won’t move your conversations forward. You can
about it explicitly probably won’t move your conversations forward. You can
identify the issue in your own mind and recognize that it’s something for you to
work out on your own.
Other times, making the Identity Conversation explicit can help you get
directly to the heart of what is going on: “What I’m sensing this is all about is
whether I’m a good spouse or not. Is that how you’re feeling too?” “I’ve always
regretted not saying something at Dad’s funeral. That’s why it’s so important for
me to speak at Mom’s.” “I’m sensitive to criticism of my writing style. I know I
need the feedback, but it’s something for both of us to be aware of as we work
through these memos.”
You’ll be astounded how often difficult conversations are wrapped up in both
people reacting to what the conversation seems to be saying about them.
Find the Courage to Ask for Help
Sometimes life deals us a blow that we can’t cope with on our own. What
constitutes such a blow is different for each of us. It may be something as
undermining as rape or as horrifying as war. It may be a physical or mental
illness, an addiction, or a profound loss. Or it may be something that would not
disturb most other people but does disturb you.
We sometimes ascribe valor to those who suffer in silence. But when
suffering is prolonged or interferes with accomplishing what we want with our
lives, then such suffering may be more reckless than brave. Whatever it is, if
you’ve worked to get over it and can’t, we encourage you to ask for help. From
friends, from colleagues, from family, from professionals. From anyone who
might be able to offer a hand.
For many of us, that’s not easy. Our Identity Conversation tells us loud and
clear that asking for help is not okay – that it is shameful or weak and creates
burdens on others. These thoughts are powerful, but ask yourself this: If
someone you loved – an uncle or daughter, a favorite colleague – were in the
situation you find yourself in, would you think it was okay for them to ask for
help? Why should you be held to a different standard?
If part of your identity is believing that you don’t need help, then asking for it
is never going to be easy. And when you do ask, not everyone will come through
for you, and that will be painful. But many people will. And by trusting them
enough to ask, you offer them an extraordinary opportunity to do something
important for someone they care about. Then one day, you may have the
opportunity to return the favor.
opportunity to return the favor.
Create a Learning Conversation
7
What’s Your Purpose? When to Raise It and When to Let
Go
You can’t have every difficult conversation you come across. Life is too short,
the list too long. So how do you decide when to have a conversation, for the first
time or the fifteenth? And how do you let go of the issues you decide not to
raise?
These are the questions that torment us as we lie awake listening to that
barking dog next door. We’ve spent the first half of this book talking about what
you might raise. We’ll spend the next half outlining how. But before we get to
that, is there anything we can say about when?
To Raise or Not to Raise: How to Decide?
It would be easy if there were some hard-and-fast rules about when to raise
issues and when to leave well enough alone. “Never talk politics at the dinner
table,” “Whatever you do, don’t raise anything before 8 a.m.,” and “Never
disagree with your boss” have the advantage of being clear rules. They’re also
nonsense, and so not particularly helpful.
Whether or not you should raise an issue with your husband or your agent or
your mechanic is ultimately something only you can decide. Because the
specifics of each situation are different, there is no simple rule we can offer to
guide you in making a wise decision. What we can offer are a few questions and
suggestions to help you sort through whether and how you might initiate a
conversation.
How Do I Know I’ve Made the Right Choice?
When we’re trying to decide whether or not to raise something, we often think,
When we’re trying to decide whether or not to raise something, we often think,
“I wish I were better at making up my mind. If only I were smarter, this
wouldn’t be so hard for me.” The truth is, there is no “right choice.” There is no
way to know in advance how things will really turn out. So don’t spend your
time looking for the one right answer about what to do. It’s not only a useless
standard, it’s crippling.
Instead, hold as your goal to think clearly as you take on the task of making a
considered choice. That is as good as any of us can do.
Work Through the Three Conversations
In every case, work through the Three Conversations as best you can. Get a
better handle on your feelings, key identity issues, and possible distortions or
gaps in your perceptions. Think clearly about what you do know (your own
feelings, your own experiences and story, your identity issues), and what you
don’t know (their intentions, their perspective, or feelings).
This approach will help you become more aware of the process of
communication and gain insight into what’s making your conversations difficult.
Sometimes the insights you find will present a clear answer: “Raising this is
important, and now I have some ideas about how to do it differently” or “Now
I’m starting to see why having a conversation probably won’t help.”
Three Kinds of Conversations That Don’t Make Sense
As you consider whether to engage, you’ll find that while it often makes sense to
initiate a conversation, sometimes it doesn’t. In making that choice wisely, three
key questions stand out.
Is the Real Conflict Inside You?
Sometimes what’s difficult about the situation has a whole lot more to do with
what’s going on inside you than what’s going on between you and the other
person. In that case, a conversation focused on the interaction isn’t going to be
very illuminating or productive, at least until you’ve had a longer conversation
with yourself.
Insight into her Identity Conversation helped Carmen resolve a running
Insight into her Identity Conversation helped Carmen resolve a running
dispute with her husband over responsibility for managing a variety of kidrelated activities, such as carpool schedules, doctor’s appointments, and piano
lessons:
Despite the fact that I was working full-time to support the family
while Tom stayed home with the kids, I was still doing much of
the scheduling and running around. I felt like Tom wasn’t
responsible enough. As I saw it, he kept dropping the ball; I had
to pick it up to make sure things ran smoothly.
But when I began sorting through my Identity Conversation, I
started seeing the ways in which I was keeping control of this part
of the kids’ lives – perhaps because of my ambivalence about
working full-time. I love my job. I’m good at it, and I make
decent money. But I’m still nagged by guilt, and there are times
when I’m jealous that my daughter often goes to Tom with
problems before she comes to me.
Once Carmen realized that taking responsibility for the scheduling was her
way of assuring herself that she was still a good mother – still involved and
essential to her children’s well-being – she was able to let go of the resentment
she felt when things got hectic: “I both turned some things over to Tom and
shifted the way I thought about these responsibilities. They are things I’ve
chosen to take on to stay involved, rather than things he’s let slide.”
Is There a Better Way to Address the Issue Than Talking About It?
As you sort out your feelings or identify your contribution to a situation it may
become clear that what’s called for is not a conversation about the interaction,
but a change in your behavior. Sometimes actions are better than words.
Walter had endured a series of difficult conversations with his mother over the
family farm, located in northern Missouri. He tells the following story:
Since dad died, my brothers have been helping my mother run the
place. Whenever I talk with her she asks when I’m going to come
home and join the family business – or at least take old Doc
Denny’s job as the town doctor.
I enjoy living in St. Louis, where I have a terrific pediatric
practice, so the conversation I thought I needed to have more
successfully was telling my mother to leave the issue alone, to
accept that I’m not coming back – at least not anytime soon.
But as I sorted through the Three Conversations, I discovered
But as I sorted through the Three Conversations, I discovered
some things. I realized that in addition to feeling frustrated and
resentful when my mother raises this issue, I also felt appreciative
that she misses me, and grateful that I have roots and the option to
return. And I felt sad that my kids weren’t developing the close
relationship with their grandmother that my nieces have, and were
missing out on the chance to grow up on a farm, which was a
wonderful experience for me.
One of the most important insights came from imagining my
mother’s perceptions and feelings. Suddenly it occurred to me
that what my mom was really saying was that she missed
knowing what was going on with me – being a part of our lives.
She wanted me to bring my family back so that she could be more
connected and involved with us. But when she would express this
by asking when I’d be coming home, I usually reacted by cutting
the conversation short. Then I wouldn’t call her for weeks on end,
simply because I dreaded having to discuss the issue again. So I
ended up contributing to her feeling even more disconnected –
which in turn would prompt her to express how much she missed
us, and we’d go around again.
Once Walter sorted out this contribution system and the complexity of his
feelings, he realized that he didn’t need to have a conversation with his mother
about how often she asked if he was coming home. He first needed to change his
contribution to the problem.
I began phoning mom more often, sending her short notes about
the kids’ activities, and inviting her to visit in St. Louis just for
fun, rather than for a holiday or family event. When she raised the
question of when I might come home, instead of cutting the
conversation short, I shared how satisfying my practice was. I
also described my feelings of regret and confusion about not
getting to spend more time with the family, and wishing the kids
could spend more time with her. This prompted an invitation for
my daughters to spend the summer with their cousins on the farm.
Slowly, the questions about my return decreased.
And, not surprisingly, Walter grew closer to his mother.
Sometimes a conversation is simply not worth the time, or not even possible.
But you still want to do something. Fran, who is a successful workers’ rights
lobbyist, had an upsetting exchange with a toll collector on her daily commute.
Fran prefers to keep only quarters in her change drawer to pay the fifty-cent toll,
Fran prefers to keep only quarters in her change drawer to pay the fifty-cent toll,
so she doesn’t have to search in the dark and take her eyes off the road to find
the right change. Accordingly, on those occasions when she pays with a dollar
bill, she prefers to receive quarters as change. When a toll collector offers
nickels and dimes as change, Fran gives it back and asks for quarters.
Generally the collectors are fine about this, but yesterday the man collecting
snapped, “Where do rich people like you get off feeling so high-and-mighty
entitled? Doesn’t it even occur to you that I might be giving you dimes for a
reason?” Flustered, Fran responded, “Well, yes, but it just seems to me that
you’re in a better position to have change than I am.” To which the collector
replied as he slapped two quarters in her hand, “You don’t have the first idea
what my job is like. And you don’t care either! Go on.” Speechless and furious,
Fran drove on.
Reflecting on this exchange at home, Fran realized that her anger stemmed
largely from denial of several unpleasant truths: she definitely was feeling
entitled, even a little righteously so, when she demanded her quarters; it hadn’t
occurred to her to wonder what constraints the collector was operating under;
and from the collector’s point of view she does appear wealthy. All of which
conflicts with important aspects of how she likes to see herself. She still didn’t
like how the collector had behaved, but she could imagine being in his shoes at
the end of a long day with an endless line of cars stretched out before him.
The upshot for Fran was that she no longer felt angry, and stopped fantasizing
about defending herself to this man when she next met him at the toll booth. She
also saw her experience as part of a more complex picture. She still wanted to do
something about the situation, but a different approach seemed in order. So she
wrote the Turnpike Authority a letter explaining her interests in being able to
receive quarters as change without putting the toll collectors in a difficult
situation, and asking what could be done to ensure that. To her pleasant surprise,
she got a reply explaining that the toll collectors were allowed to bring only a
certain amount of change to the booth and were prohibited from leaving the
booth except at designated times. The Toll Authority thanked her for raising the
issue, and explained how they had found a creative solution to meet her request
and ease the dilemma for their collectors.
Do You Have Purposes That Make Sense?
Imagine asking the head of NASA about the purpose of a particular space
mission, and getting the answer: “Um, I don’t know. We thought we’d launch
someone into space and figure things out from there.”
Not likely. Yet we often launch into our conversations in much the same way.
We find ourselves in the middle of the conversation, and neither person is quite
sure what the point is or what a good outcome would look like.
Other times we try having conversations when our purposes are simply offbase. When that happens, whatever you say or do is not going to help (and might
even make things worse), because you’ve chosen a destination that is impossible
to reach.
Remember, You Can’t Change Other People. In many situations, our
purpose in initiating a conversation is to get the other person to change. There’s
nothing wrong with hoping for change. The urge to change others is universal.
We want them to be more loving, to show more appreciation for our hard work,
to give us more personal space, or to be more social at parties. To accept our
career choice or our sexual orientation. To believe in our God or our views on
important issues of the day.
The problem is, we can’t make these things happen. We can’t change
someone else’s mind or force them to change their behavior. If we could, many
difficult conversations would simply vanish. We’d say, “Here are the reasons
you should love me more,” and they’d say, “Now that I know those reasons, I
do.”
But we know things don’t work that way. Changes in attitudes and behavior
rarely come about because of arguments, facts, and attempts to persuade. How
often do you change your values and beliefs – or whom you love or what you
want in life – based on something someone tells you? And how likely are you to
do so when the person who is trying to change you doesn’t seem fully aware of
the reasons you see things differently in the first place?
We can have an influence, but here we need to be especially careful. The
paradox is that trying to change someone rarely results in change. On the other
hand, engaging someone in a conversation where mutual learning is the goal
often results in change. Why? Because when we set out to try to change
someone, we are more likely to argue with and attack their story and less likely
to listen. This approach increases the likelihood that they will feel defensive
rather than open to learning something new. They are more likely to change if
they think we understand them and if they feel heard and respected. They are
more likely to change if they feel free not to.
Don’t Focus on Short-Term Relief at Long-Term Cost. Another common
mistake is acting to relieve psychological tension in the short term at the cost of
creating a worse situation in the future.
Janet learned this the hard way. With twenty years of experience in nonprofit
financial management, she never thought she’d be brought to tears by a board
member questioning her competence. But here she was. Finally, sick of feeling
attacked each time she presented the budget numbers, she decided to confront
the board member, a woman named Sylvie. It did not go well. Janet explains:
Looking back, although I was saying some of the right things –
taking responsibility for my contribution and so forth – I think
what I really wanted to do was tell her off. I wanted her to feel as
small as I had. And I wanted to let her know that she couldn’t
treat me this way.
Oh, I let her have it. And I walked out of the meeting feeling
great . . . for about fifteen minutes. Then I started to regret some
of the things I’d said, and realized that I’d just made the situation
worse by feeding the antagonism between us. The fact was, she
could treat me this way, and I’d just made it more likely that she
would.
If your purpose is to change the other person or their behavior, to vent or tell
them off, then having this conversation is quite likely to produce many of the
negative consequences you fear. Saying “You are
insensitive/unreliable/unacceptable” will jeopardize the relationship. You will
probably hurt the other person’s feelings, provoke a defensive reaction, or get
yourself fired.
This is not to say that Janet is stuck being mistreated by Sylvie without any
way to address the situation. Janet might have a constructive conversation with
Sylvie if she can shift her purposes a bit. If Janet can negotiate herself into a
place of curiosity about why Sylvie reacts as she does, this could be a
worthwhile conversation. Janet can see it as an opportunity to learn Sylvie’s
story, share her own, and then figure out how they might work together better. Is
it something Janet is doing? Is Sylvie aware of the impact she’s having on Janet?
Is this the way Sylvie has gotten results in the past? What advice can Janet offer
Sylvie on how to get a better reaction from her?
If Janet can come into the conversation with this kind of curiosity stance
toward Sylvie’s view, the conversation is much less likely to provoke a bad
reaction or to damage the relationship. Janet would be investing in the
relationship by trying to work with Sylvie in figuring out why things have been
so difficult.
Negotiating with yourself to shift your purposes can lower the threshold of
how risky the conversation is likely to be and improve the odds of a constructive
outcome.
Don’t Hit-and-Run. Often, when we have something important to say, we
say it now because now is when it’s causing us frustration. Most of us are
thoughtful enough to avoid the most egregious errors of bad timing. If someone
tells us they’ve just returned from the doctor’s office and are going to have to
have that operation after all, few of us would say, “I’m sorry to hear that. Oh, by
the way, you still owe me $500.”
However, there’s another error around timing that we do make. It’s the hitand-run. An employee wanders into work late, something you’ve been meaning
to talk to them about, so you say, “Late again, eh?” and leave it at that. Or you
visit your son for the weekend, notice the empty beer bottles in the garbage, and
say, “I see you’re still drinking up a storm.”
These comments are intended to help. You hope your employee or your son
will take the message to heart. But while your comments may help you feel a bit
better (“At least I’ve said something”), they make the other person defensive and
frustrated, which is unlikely to produce the kind of change you had in mind.
A good rule to follow is: If you’re going to talk, talk. Really talk. And if
you’re really going to talk, you can’t do it on the fly. You have to plan a time to
talk. You have to be explicit about wanting ten minutes or an hour to discuss
something that is important to you. You can’t have a real conversation in thirty
seconds, and anything less than a real conversation isn’t going to help. If hitand-run is all you can muster, it’s better not to raise the issue at all.
Letting Go
The approach in this book can help you accomplish a number of astonishing
results. You’ll make better decisions about when bringing something up just
doesn’t make sense, at least until you’ve sorted through some of your own issues
or tried changing your own contribution. And when you choose to engage, you’ll
slowly get better at staying out of your own way – spotting and side-stepping the
ways you used to trip yourself up. Over time, you’ll lessen your own anxiety and
deepen your most important relationships.
But this approach is not magic. Sometimes – despite our very best efforts –
nothing helps. You can’t force the other person to want to invest in the
relationship or work things out. No matter how many times you explain to your
relationship or work things out. No matter how many times you explain to your
son how worried you are when he doesn’t call, he may not call. Your boss may
continue to lose his temper. Your mother may never come to understand how
emotionally abandoned you felt when you were young.
Sometimes you consider your purposes and some possible strategies, and
decide not to have the conversation. Holding onto the issues inside the
relationship becomes too painful or too exhausting, so you move on. You are
able to let go.
Other times, it’s not that easy. For one reason or another, even though you
think it’s the better choice not to engage with the issue, the situation has you by
the throat. The story inside your head still carries emotional punch; you
experience a flood of emotions every time you think about it. You’ve decided to
move on, but your emotions have dug in their heels.
Some people say letting go is a choice. Others think it happens only when the
conditions are right — after contrition has been shown, after you’ve found a new
relationship, or after you’ve been forgiven. What does it take to be able truly to
let go? To open your palm and let the bitterness and exasperation and hurt and
shame sift through your fingers?
We don’t presume to know. And we’re suspicious of anyone who thinks
there’s an easy formula. Probably, it is something different for each of us.
What we do know is that letting go usually takes time, and that it is rarely a
simple journey. It’s not easy to find a place where you can set free the pain, or
shame, you carry from your experiences. A place where you can tell the story
differently in your head — where you can relinquish the role of victim or villain,
and give yourself and the other person roles that are more complex and
liberating. A place where you can accept yourself for who you’ve been and who
you are.
If someone tells you that you should have gotten over something or someone
by now, don’t believe it. Believing there’s some appropriate time frame for
getting over something is just one more way to keep yourself stuck. But neither
should you believe that there’s nothing you can do to enable yourself to let go, or
that it just takes time. There’s plenty you can do to help yourself down that road.
Adopt Some Liberating Assumptions
A good place to start is in the Identity Conversation, challenging some of the
common assumptions that can get in the way of letting go and being at peace
with our choices. Four liberating assumptions are presented below.
It’s Not My Responsibility to Make Things Better; It’s My Responsibility
to Do My Best. For Karenna, the key to closure was letting go of the fantasy that
things could be better:
I’ve failed at relationships before, and I so wanted this one to
work. But I didn’t just want it to work. Somewhere along the
way, I decided it had to work, no matter what, and that it was my
job to make it happen. I tried everything, and maybe I should
have gotten out of the relationship sooner. But it was hard to let
go of the idea that things between Paul and me might have
worked out, if only I’d been a better person, or said the right thing
at the right time, or worked harder at it, or something.
In Karenna’s situation, part of the process of letting go of the guilt and
sadness she carried was accepting that sometimes there are limits — you cannot
always make a relationship more comfortable or more nourishing or more
intimate or more durable. The best you can do is try.
They Have Limitations Too. Sometimes you’ll tell the other person about
your feelings and perspectives, or about the impact they are having on you, and
they say they understand, and you each agree to change your behavior. Then
they do whatever annoys you yet again, and you think, “Well, now they know
that this aggravates me. So what’s the story? Am I not important enough to
them? Are they trying to drive me nuts? What am I to make of this?”
One thing you can make of it is that they are as imperfect as you are. No
matter how clearly you share how much their drinking hurts you, their
forgetfulness aggravates you, or their unresponsiveness saddens you, they may
not have the capacity to be different, at least not right now.
After a lifetime of being a big sister, Alison couldn’t change being bossy
overnight even if she wanted to. At some point, her younger brother may find it
easier to accept her as her imperfect, bossy self than to continue to fight with
her. He can work through the identity issues that make it easy for Alison to get
to him, and love her for the things about her that he likes and admires.
This Conflict Is Not Who I Am. An important barrier to letting go occurs
when we integrate the conflict into our sense of who we are. In our mind’s eye,
we are the least favorite son, the long-suffering wife, part of the oppressed
group. We define ourselves in relation to our conflict with others.
Over the last four years the leadership in Rob’s firm has split over several key
strategic questions. Part of the “losing” faction, Rob’s professional identity has
strategic questions. Part of the “losing” faction, Rob’s professional identity has
been all but consumed by being one of the few still holding out, standing up to
management. Now in the wake of a sudden merger, Rob’s faction has been
handed control, and the satisfaction he feels is mingled with uneasiness. No
longer playing the opposition, Rob is not sure how to see himself. Rob’s sense of
self was perhaps too aligned with his role in the conflict.
Such dynamics play an important part in ethnic conflict. Our sense of who we
are as a community is often defined in terms of who we are not, who we are
against, and what hardships we’ve endured. Tragically, we can feel threatened
by the prospect of reconciliation, because it can rob us not only of our role, but
also of our communal identity.
These kinds of situations are notoriously difficult to manage because we don’t
want to give up who we are unless there is something better to replace it. If you
find yourself being swallowed up by a conflict, if you begin to see your very
identity as tied to the fight, try to take a step back and remember why you are
fighting. You are fighting for what is right and fair, not because you need the
conflict to survive.
Letting Go Doesn’t Mean I No Longer Care. Often we are unable to let go
because we fear that if we do, it will mean we no longer care. If you and your
sister weren’t at odds, how would you show how important she is to you, or
know that you’re just as significant in her life? Is it possible to let go and still
care enormously?
David has wrestled with this issue more deeply than most:
When my brother was murdered, I didn’t think I could ever
forgive the man who shot him – over something as stupid as a
drink in a poker game. And I have to admit that I was also angry
with my brother for being there.
I didn’t attend the trial. I couldn’t. For years every time I would
be reminded of my brother, the fury and pain of the injustice of
his death would surge through me. In my mind, I would have
conversations with my brother in which I’d tell him not only how
sad I was, but how angry I was at him for being so foolish, and
for abandoning me.
It’s only recently that I’ve begun to see the power in forgiving
each of them – my brother and the man who murdered him.
Letting go of my rage and indignation doesn’t mean I have to let
go of my love for my brother or my sense of loss. There’s nothing
I can do about it, and I’ve finally accepted that. I’ll never get over
losing my brother. I still talk to him. But the conversations aren’t
so hard. I can miss him terribly without the clutter of so many
other feelings.
David’s story shows us the power of being able to let go of anger while still
holding on to love and memories. David can’t and doesn’t want to forget what
happened. He’s learned a great deal from the experience, painful as it was, that
he applies to his relationships with his children and others. And yet in letting go
and forgiving, some of the emotional burden he’s carried since the tragedy has
eased.
Even in situations much more mundane than David’s, letting go of the
emotions and identity issues wrapped up in a difficult conversation can be one of
the most challenging things you do. Difficult conversations operate at the core of
our being — where the people and the principles we care about most intersect
with our self-image and self-esteem. Letting go, at heart, is about how to handle
with skill and grace not having a difficult conversation.
Of course, the better you become at engaging difficult conversations, the less
there will be for you to let go of. One key to improving is having sound
purposes.
If You Raise It: Three Purposes That Work
We’ve talked about purposes that will get you into trouble. But how about
purposes that make sense? The gold standard here is working for mutual
understanding. Not mutual agreement, necessarily, but a better understanding of
each of your stories, so that you can make informed decisions (alone or together)
about what to do next.
Anytime you think a conversation might be difficult, keep the following three
purposes front and center in your consciousness.
1. Learning Their Story
Exploring the other person’s perspective takes us into each of the Three
Conversations. What information do they see that we missed or don’t have
access to? What past experiences influence them? What is their reasoning for
why they did what they did? What were their intentions? How did our actions
impact them? What do they think we are contributing to the problem? What are
impact them? What do they think we are contributing to the problem? What are
they feeling? What does this situation mean to them? How does it affect their
identity? What’s at stake?
2. Expressing Your Views and Feelings
Your goal should be to express your views and feelings to your own satisfaction.
You hope that the other person will understand what you are saying, and perhaps
be moved by it, but you can’t count on that. What you can do is say, as well as
you can, what is important for you to say about your views, intentions,
contributions, feelings, and identity issues. You can share your story.
3. Problem-Solving Together
Given what you and the other person have each learned, what would improve the
situation going forward? Can you brainstorm creative ways to satisfy both of
your needs? Where your needs conflict, can you use equitable standards to
ensure a fair and workable way to resolve the conflict?
Stance and Purpose Go Hand in Hand
These three purposes accommodate the fact that you and the other person see the
world differently, that you each have powerful feelings about what is going on,
and that you each have your own identity issues to work through. Each of you, in
short, has your own story. You need purposes that can reckon with this reality.
These are the purposes that emerge from a learning stance, from working
through the Three Conversations and shifting your internal orientation from
certainty to curiosity, from debate to exploration, from simplicity to complexity,
from “either/or” to “and.” They may seem simple – perhaps even simplistic. But
their straightforwardness masks both the difficulty involved in doing them well
and the power they have to transform the way you handle your conversations.
Working from a learning stance with these purposes in mind, the rest of this
book explores in detail how to conduct a learning conversation, from getting
started to getting unstuck.
8
Getting Started: Begin from the Third Story
The most stressful moment of a difficult conversation is often the beginning. We
may learn in the first few seconds that the news for us is not good, that the other
person sees things very differently, that we aren’t likely to get what we want.
They may become angry or distraught or we may discover that they don’t want
to talk to us at all.
But while the beginning is fraught with peril, it is also an opportunity. It’s
when you have the greatest leverage to influence the entire direction of the
conversation. Sure, you can begin in a way that sends things careening into a
brick wall; we’ve all done that. But it doesn’t have to go that way. What you say
at the outset can put you squarely on the road toward understanding and
problem-solving. There are techniques you can learn for how to take advantage
of the opportunity the beginning presents, and simple principles for
understanding why your usual approaches so often go awry.
How to begin a conversation? Let’s first consider how not to.
Why Our Typical Openings Don’t Help
One way or another, if we are going to have a conversation, we have to start by
saying something. So, perhaps recalling advice from a childhood swimming
coach, we close our eyes, take a deep breath, and jump in:
If you contest Dad’s will, it’s going to tear the family apart.
I was very upset by what you said in front of our supervisor.
Your son Nathan can be difficult in class – disruptive and
argumentative. You’ve said in the past that things at home are
fine, but something must be troubling him.
Before we know it, we’re in over our heads. The other person becomes hurt or
angry, we feel defensive, our preparation goes out the window, and we wonder
why we thought having this conversation was a good idea in the first place.
What went wrong?
We Begin Inside Our Own Story
When we jump into conversations we typically begin inside our story. We
describe the problem from our own perspective and, in doing so, trigger just the
kinds of reactions we hope to avoid. We begin from precisely the place the other
person thinks is causing the problem. If they agreed with our story, we probably
wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place. Our story sends up flares,
warning them to defend themselves or to counterattack.
We Trigger Their Identity Conversation from the Start
Our story invariably (though often unintentionally) communicates a judgment
about them – the kind of person they are – and the fact that inside our version of
the events, they are the problem. Something as simple as an opening sentence
can give us away. Let’s take a look at the lines offered above:
We could imagine even worse ways to begin, but it’s not hard to see why
these provoke defensiveness. We trigger the other person’s Identity
Conversation from the outset, and there’s no room in our agenda for their story.
It’s natural that they would reject our version and want to get their own on the
table: “I’m not trying to tear the family apart, I’m just sticking up for what Dad
wanted.” Or, “Nathan is not a problem child. People who know how to handle
wanted.” Or, “Nathan is not a problem child. People who know how to handle
children see that he’s a very sweet boy.”
By leaving their story out, we implicitly set up a trade-off between their
version of events and our version, between our feelings and theirs.
The question is what to do instead. Below, we lay out two powerful guidelines
for starting the conversation off in the right direction: (1) begin the conversation
from the “Third Story,” and (2) offer an invitation to explore the issues jointly.
Step One: Begin from the Third Story
In addition to your story and the other person’s story, every difficult
conversation includes an invisible Third Story. The Third Story is the one a keen
observer would tell, someone with no stake in your particular problem. For
example, in the battle between bicycles and cars for the streets of the city, the
Third Story would be the one told by city planners, who can understand each
side’s concerns and see why each group is frustrated with the other. When
tensions arise in a marriage, the Third Story might be the one offered by a
marriage counselor. In a dispute between friends, the Third Story may be the
perspective of a mutual friend who sees each side as having valid concerns that
need to be addressed.
Think Like a Mediator
The urban planner, marriage counselor, and mutual friend each have the vantage
point of a neutral observer, or mediator. Mediators are third parties who help
people solve their problems. Unlike judges or arbitrators, though, mediators have
no power to impose a solution; they are there to help the two sides communicate
more effectively, and to explore possible ways of moving forward.
One of the most helpful tools a mediator has is the ability to identify this
invisible Third Story. This means describing the problem between the parties in
a way that rings true for both sides simultaneously. It’s easy to describe the
problem so that only one of the disputants would agree with it – in fact, that’s
what each of us does when we begin inside our own story. The trick is being
able to get two people with different stories to sign on to the same description of
what is going on.
Mediators don’t possess some magical intuition that allows them to do this.
They are relying on a formula (and a lot of practice), and this formula can be
They are relying on a formula (and a lot of practice), and this formula can be
learned by anyone. You don’t have to be an impartial third party to begin from
the Third Story. You can begin your own conversations this way.
Not Right or Wrong, Not Better or Worse - Just Different
The key is learning to describe the gap – or difference – between your story and
the other person’s story. Whatever else you may think and feel, you can at least
agree that you and the other person see things differently. Consider an example.
Jason’s Story. Jason’s roommate, Jill, leaves dishes in the sink for days on
end. This drives Jason crazy, and means that he ends up doing much of the
cleaning up, since he can’t stand to let them sit. In the past, Jason has raised the
issue with Jill by saying, “Do I have to do everything around here? You can’t let
dishes sit this long – it’s a health risk.”
Obviously, Jason is speaking from inside his story. Jill is not going to be
thrilled with this start to a conversation, and will likely respond by defending
herself or attacking Jason. This would be true even if Jason began with more
tact, offering something like, “Jill we need to talk about your problem with
getting the dishes done.” Tact or not, it’s still his story.
Jill’s Story. If Jill were to raise the problem, she would begin differently :
“Jason, we need to talk about the fact that you are so annoyingly anal about the
dishes. Last night you practically cleared the table before I was finished eating.
You need to relax.” This, of course, suits Jill but not Jason.
The Third Story. The Third Story would remove the judgment from the
description, and instead describe the problem as a difference between Jason and
Jill. It might go like this: “Jason and Jill have different preferences around when
the dishes are done, and different standards for what constitutes appropriate or
obsessive cleanliness. Each is unhappy with the other’s approach.” That’s how a
mediator or observant friend might describe the problem. Both Jason and Jill can
sign on to this difference.
Clearly, there is a difference, and in the Third Story there is no judgment
about who is right or even whose view is more common. The Third Story simply
captures the difference. That’s what allows both sides to buy into the same
description of the problem: each feels that their story is acknowledged as a
legitimate part of the discussion.
legitimate part of the discussion.
Once you find it, you can begin with the Third Story yourself. So Jason might
say, “Jill, you and I seem to have different preferences about when the dishes get
done or beliefs about when they should be done. I wonder if that’s something we
could talk about?” Jason can offer that without sacrificing his own views (soon
enough, he’ll ask about Jill’s story, and describe his own), and Jill can sign on
without defensiveness.
Importantly, you don’t have to know what the other person’s story entails to
include it in initiating the conversation this way. All you have to do is
acknowledge that it’s there: that there are probably lots of things you don’t
understand about their perspective, and that one of the reasons you want to talk
is that you want to learn more about their view. You can begin from the Third
Story by saying, “My sense is that you and I see this situation differently. I’d
like to share how I’m seeing it, and learn more about how you’re seeing it.”
Opening Lines
From Inside Your Story: If you contest Dad’s will, it’s going to tear
our family apart.
From the Third Story: I wanted to talk about Dad’s will. You and I
obviously have different understandings of what Dad intended, and of
what’s fair to each of us. I wanted to understand why you see things
the way you do, and to share with you my perspective and feelings. In
addition, I have strong feelings and fears about what a court fight
would mean for the family; I suspect you do too.
From Inside Your Story : I was very upset by what you said in front of
our supervisor.
From the Third Story: I wanted to talk to you about what happened
in the meeting this morning. I was upset by something you said. I
wanted to explain what was bothering me, and also hear your
perspective on the situation.
From Inside Your Story: Your son Nathan can be difficult in class —
disruptive and argumentative. You’ve said in the past that things at
home are fine, but something must be troubling him.
From the Third Story: I wanted to share with you my concerns about
Nathan’s behavior in class, and hear more about your sense of what
might be contributing to it. I know from our past conversation that you
and I have different thinking on this. My sense is that if a child is
having trouble at school, something is usually bothering him at home,
and I know you’ve felt strongly that that’s not true in this case. Maybe
together we can figure out what’s motivating Nathan and how to
handle it.
Most conversations can be initiated from the Third Story to include both
perspectives and invite joint exploration. Consider the openings we looked at
earlier, and how they might sound if begun from the Third Story:
Stepping out of your story doesn’t mean giving up your point of view. Your
purpose in opening the conversation is to invite the other person into a joint
exploration. In the course of that exploration you’ll spend time in each side’s
perspective, and then come back to adjust your own views based on what you’ve
learned and what you’ve shared.
After talking with your brother about how you each think your father’s estate
should be divided, where those views come from, and how you feel about the
current conflict, it may be that your view of what’s fair changes. Your brother’s
view may also shift. And the two of you may find a way to settle the issue that
feels fair to both of you.
Or the two of you may still disagree. You think that the estate should be
evenly divided among the three kids. Your brother says Dad meant it to be
divided equally among the seven grandchildren — so that his branch of the
family with its three grandsons gets more than you and your only daughter. Even
if you disagree on the substance of the dispute, you’ve had the chance to express
how upsetting, sad, and worrisome the conflict is for you, and to gain a deeper
understanding of why your brother sees it as he does. You may be able to find a
process for working through the differences while protecting your family
relationships from being ravaged by a nasty fight. Keeping communication open
and understanding the feelings and perspectives involved sends an important
message that even when we disagree, we care about each other. That we are
going to stay in communication with each other, even while we take the
questions we can’t agree on to an arbitrator or probate court to be decided. If
nothing else, you will be better able to separate the substantive disagreements
from the importance of the relationships.
If They Start the Conversation, You Can Still Step to the Third Story
Of course, you won’t always have the chance to reflect on how you want to
begin the conversation. Sometimes difficult conversations will simply descend
upon you – presenting themselves in your office or on your doorstep – whether
you are ready for them or not.
You can follow the Third Story guidelines even when you are not the initiator
of the conversation. Here’s what you do. You take whatever the other person
says and use it as their half of a description from the Third Story. Since the Third
Story includes their story, starting the conversation with their view doesn’t mean
you’re off track.
If Jill comes to Jason and says, “We need to talk about how you ruin all our
meals by being so obsessive about the dishes,” Jason might find himself wanting
to respond from inside his story: “What? You’re the one with the problem.
You’re the biggest slob I know!” But if he does, he’ll send the conversation
headlong toward that brick wall.
Instead, Jason can treat Jill’s opening as her part of the Third Story. He might
say, “It sounds like you’re pretty unhappy with how I handle the dishes. I have
trouble with how you deal with the dishes too, so I think we each have different
preferences and assumptions around that. It seems like that would be a good
thing for us to talk about. . . .”
Jason has not only acknowledged Jill’s story as an important part of the
conversation, but also included his own as part of the process of understanding
the problem. And in doing so Jason has succeeded in shifting the purpose of the
conversation from arguing toward understanding.
Step Two: Extend an Invitation
The second step in getting off to a good start is to offer a simple invitation: I’ve
described the problem in a way we can each accept. Now I want to propose
mutual understanding and problem-solving as purposes, check to see if this
makes sense to you, and invite you to join me in a conversation.
Describe Your Purposes
If the other person is going to accept your invitation, they need to know what it
If the other person is going to accept your invitation, they need to know what it
is they are agreeing to do. Letting them know up front that your goal for the
discussion is to understand their perspective better, share your own, and talk
about how to go forward together makes the conversation significantly less
mysterious and threatening. Knowing that their perspective has a place in the
conversation, and that this isn’t a campaign to change them, makes it more likely
that they will accept your invitation.
Invite, Don’t Impose
An invitation, of course, can be turned down. Neither person can force the other
to engage in a conversation. If you conceptualize your task as “setting the
description of the problem and purposes for the conversation,” even a wellcrafted opening may meet with some resistance, because this is now your
version of the Third Story. So your offer should be open to modification by the
other person.
Think of the goal rather as “offering and discussing a possible description and
purpose” for your conversation. In other words, the task of describing the
problem and of setting purposes is itself a joint task.
Make Them Your Partner in Figuring It Out
Your invitation is more likely to be accepted if you offer the other person an
appealing role in managing the problem. You need to side-step the temptation to
cast them as “the problem,” or in an unappealing light, since this will trigger
their Identity Conversation and stop the conversation cold. So if, in a stalled
contract negotiation, you were to say, “I can see that we have different ideas
about what salary makes sense here,” so far so good. But if you then add, “and
since you’re new at this, I can tell you how it’s usually done,” you cast them as
the neophyte, and sink the ship.
If accepting your invitation requires the other person to acknowledge that they
are naive, callous, manipulative, or in any other way unsavory or inadequate,
they are substantially less likely to accept. If, on the other hand, you say, “Can
you help me understand . . . ?” you offer the role of advisor. “Let’s work on how
we might . . . .” invites a partnership. “I wonder whether it’s possible to . . . .”
throws out a challenge, one which offers the other person the potential role of
hero.
The role you offer has to be genuine. But don’t be fooled into thinking that
your original depiction – the story that casts the other person as the villain, for
your original depiction – the story that casts the other person as the villain, for
example – is any more genuine than other roles you can find for them. It may be
that recasting them into a more attractive role requires recognizing that if you are
going to gain a more complete picture of what’s going on – and make any real
progress – you need their help.
Sometimes the most genuine thing you can do is share your internal struggle
to cast them in a more positive role. You can say something like, “The story I’m
telling in my head about what is going on is that you are being inconsiderate. At
some level I know that’s unfair to you, and I need you to help me put things in
better perspective. I need you to help me understand where you are coming from
on this.” It’s honest and, at the same time, offers them the role of “someone who
can help me get my perspective back.”
Be Persistent
Being persistent is not inconsistent with the advice to invite rather than impose.
It may take a little work to help them understand what it is you are proposing.
Ruth wants to have a conversation with her ex-husband about the time he
spends with their daughter, Alexis. In the past, their conversations have resulted
in fights. This time, Ruth begins from the Third Story and offers some useful
purposes. Even so, it takes some negotiating to get her ex-husband to
understand:
RUTH: Brian, it seems to me that we’re having a hard time being
clear with each other about how likely it is that you’ll make it for
your time with Lexi.
BRIAN: I know, I know. I’m sorry, okay? We had a crisis on the
shop floor and I was tied up in meetings trying to address it.
RUTH: I understand that things sometimes come up. I guess I
was thinking about the bigger picture, since there have been
several times in the last few months when I thought we’d
confirmed plans for you to spend the day with Lexi, and later
learned that you understood our plans to be more tentative. You
thought the plan was that you’d come by if you could get away.
BRIAN: That was what I said. If I could get away, I’d visit.
RUTH: See, and I thought we’d agreed to a definite plan — that
you’ll be here no matter what. So you and I are misunderstanding
each other. I’d like to sort this out, because it’s awfully hard on
Alexis when you and I get our signals crossed. Can we spend
some time trying to figure this thing out?
BRIAN: Sure. I don’t want to upset Lexi. . . .
BRIAN: Sure. I don’t want to upset Lexi. . . .
Notice that Brian didn’t accept or perhaps even understand Ruth’s description
of the problem or purposes at the beginning. He expected to be yelled at for not
showing up, and reacted accordingly. But Ruth does a nice job of being both
persistent and open to Brian’s response.
Some Specific Kinds of Conversations
In addition to the general advice to open the conversation from the Third Story,
we can offer more specific advice on getting started, depending on the nature of
the difficult conversation you are anticipating.
Delivering Bad News
As we said in Chapter 2, even delivering bad news should be a conversation, and
it’s usually best to put the bad news up front. Don’t try to trick the other person
into saying it first, by asking, for example, “So, what do you think of the
relationship?” when what you mean is “I want to break up.” And don’t talk for
two hours about some of the “issues” you’ve been having with the relationship,
if you know that in the end what you want to do is break up.
If you are letting your parents know that you and your family won’t be
coming for Christmas, you might say, “We’ve talked a lot about how important
it is to you for us to come home for the holidays, and also how difficult it is
financially and emotionally for us to do that. I’m calling because Juan and I have
talked a lot about it, and have decided that we are going to spend this Christmas
here with the kids. It was a really difficult decision, and I feel bad about
disappointing you. I wanted to let you know as early as I could, and to talk a
little bit, if you’d like, about your reactions and our thinking.”
This doesn’t mean that if you have both good news and bad news that you
necessarily have to start with the bad. Rather, be clear that you have both.
Indeed, you might discuss where to start with the recipient. Or there may be a
logical order to follow that you can share.
Making Requests
Some difficult conversations center on our desire to get something. A common
example is asking for a raise. How to begin?
“I Wonder If It Would Make Sense . . . ?” The simple advice about making
requests is this: Don’t make it a demand. Instead, invite an exploration of
whether a raise is fair, whether it makes sense. That’s not being unassertive,
that’s being in better touch with reality. Your boss has information about you
and your colleagues that you don’t have. It may sound like nitpicking, but in fact
you can’t know that you deserve a raise until you’ve explored the issue with
your boss.
At some level you know this, which is one of the big reasons asking for a raise
causes anxiety. Try replacing “I think I deserve a raise” with “I’d like to explore
whether a raise for me might make sense. From the information I have, I think I
deserve one. [Here’s my reasoning.] I wonder how you see it?” This seemingly
small change in how you begin should not only reduce stress but also get the
conversation off on an even keel. In the end, you may learn that you don’t
deserve a raise, or that you deserve an even bigger one than you initially thought
you did.
Revisiting Conversations Gone Wrong
Sometimes you know, perhaps from past experience, that the other person is
likely to react negatively the minute you raise an especially sensitive topic. Your
son doesn’t want to talk about his grades, your wife doesn’t want to talk about
the finances, and the minute you raise the question of racism in the department
your colleagues roll their eyes. How can you open a more constructive
conversation when conversations haven’t gone well in the past and the simple
fact of raising the old issue casts you as the nag?
Talk About How to Talk About It. The easiest approach is first to talk about
how to talk. Treat “the way things usually go when we try to have this
conversation” as the problem, and describe it from the Third Story: “I know that
in the past when I’ve raised the question of who’s getting promoted and what
role race plays in that process, people have sometimes felt accused or
exasperated. I don’t mean to accuse anyone, or to make people feel
uncomfortable. At the same time, it feels important to me to discuss. I’m
wondering whether we could talk about how we each react to that conversation,
and whether there’s a better way we could address these issues?”
Or imagine that you have a friend who you think is so overbooked with
commitments that it’s affecting her health. Only she doesn’t see it that way, and
whenever you try to bring it up, she gets defensive. Raising it by talking about
how you talk might sound like this: “I definitely get the sense that you don’t like
discussing your schedule, at least not the way I bring it up. The problem for me
is that I feel worried and I would like to share why in a way that’s helpful. I
don’t seem to know how to do that, and I was wondering if you had any advice.”
Your friend may still tell you to butt out. But it’s also possible that she’ll
engage: “You know what, I more or less agree with you. But so many people are
hitting me with this from so many angles right now that what I really need is
someone who’ll just be supportive without trying to give me advice. Just listen
while I think things through and decide what to cut out. You know what I
mean?”
A Map for Going Forward: Third Story, Their Story,
Your Story
Beginning from the Third Story gets you safely to the base of the mountain. But
then there’s the mountain itself to climb. Once a description of the problem is on
the table, and your purposes are clear, then you will need to spend time
exploring the Three Conversations from each of your perspectives. The other
person will share their views and feelings, and you’ll step back into your story
and share yours.
What to Talk About: The Three Conversations
As you share your stories, each of the Three Conversations offers a useful path
to explore. You can talk about the past experiences that have led each of you to
see the current situation the way you do: “I think the reason I reacted so strongly
is that the last time we didn’t receive payment from a vendor, the situation only
went from bad to worse.”
You can ask about the other person’s intentions, and share the impact of their
behavior on you: “I don’t know whether you realize this or not, but when you
didn’t call, I was frantic with worry.” You can empathize with how they might
be feeling: “If I were you, I’d be pretty frustrated at this point.” Or share what’s
be feeling: “If I were you, I’d be pretty frustrated at this point.” Or share what’s
going on with your Identity Conversation: “I think the reason I find this so hard
is that being fair is so important to me. It’s upsetting to think that the way I
handled this situation might not have been fair to you.” Ultimately, what you
choose to share will depend upon the context and the relationship and what feels
appropriate and helpful.
What to Talk About
Explore where each story comes from
“My reactions here probably have a lot to do with my experiences in a
previous job. . . .”
Share the impact on you
“I don’t know whether you intended this, but I felt extremely
uncomfortable when . . . .”
Take responsibility for your contribution
“There are a number of things I’ve done that have made this situation
harder. . . .”
Describe feelings
“I’m anxious about bringing this up, but at the same time, it’s
important to me that we talk about it. . . .”
Reflect on the identity issues “I think the reason this subject hooks
me is that I don’t like thinking of myself as someone who . . . .”
How to Talk About It: Listening, Expression, and Problem-Solving
The Three Conversations provide a useful map for what to talk about; the next
few chapters delve more deeply into how to talk about it.
To be able to see the other person’s story from the inside you’ll need some
specific skills in inquiring, listening, and acknowledgment. To share your own
story with clarity and power, you need to feel entitled and be precise in speaking
only for yourself. Chapters 9 and 10 explore these challenges and offer
guidelines for effectiveness. Of course, it will never be as tidy as moving from
the Third Story, to Their Story, to Your Story. A real conversation is an
interactive process — one where you are constantly going to be listening,
sharing your view, asking questions, and negotiating to get the conversation
back on track when it starts to go off the rails. Chapter 11 provides guidance on
how to manage this interactive process and how to move toward problemsolving. Finally, Chapter 12 returns to our original story of Jack and Michael and
offers an extended example illustrating how it all works in practice.
9
Learning: Listen from the Inside Out
Andrew is visiting his Uncle Doug. While Doug is on the phone, Andrew tugs
on his uncle’s pant leg, saying, “Uncle Doug, I want to go outside.”
“Not now, Andrew, I’m on the phone,” says Doug.
Andrew persists: “But Uncle Doug, I want to go outside!”
“Not now Andrew!” comes Doug’s response.
“But I want to go out!” Andrew repeats.
After several more rounds, Doug tries a different approach: “Hey, Andrew.
You really want to go outside, don’t you?”
“ Yes,” says Andrew. Then without further comment, Andrew walks off and
begins playing by himself. Andrew, it turns out, just wanted to know that his
uncle understood him. He wanted to know he’d been heard.
Andrew’s story demonstrates something that is true for all of us: we have a
deep desire to feel heard, and to know that others care enough to listen.
Some people think they are already good listeners. Others know they are not,
but don’t much care. If you’re in either group you might be tempted to skip this
chapter. Don’t. Listening well is one of the most powerful skills you can bring to
a difficult conversation. It helps you understand the other person. And,
importantly, it helps them understand you.
Listening Transforms the Conversation
A year ago, Greta’s mother learned she had diabetes and was ordered to follow a
strict regimen of medication, diet, and exercise. Greta is concerned that her
mother is not following the regimen, but Greta has had little success encouraging
her mother to do so. A typical conversation between them goes like this:
GRETA: Mom, you need to stay on the exercise plan. I worry that
you don’t understand how important it is.
MOM: Greta, please stop hounding me about this. You don’t
MOM: Greta, please stop hounding me about this. You don’t
understand. I’m doing the best I can.
GRETA: Mom, I do understand. I know that exercising can be
difficult, but I want you to stay well. I want you to be around for
your grandchildren.
MOM: Greta, I really don’t like these conversations. It’s all very
hard for me, the diet, the exercise.
GRETA: I know it’s hard. Exercising is no fun, but the thing is,
after a week or two, it gets easier, and you start to look forward to
it. We can find you some sort of activity that you’ll really enjoy.
MOM: [choked up] You don’t realize . . . . It’s very stressful. I’m
just not going to talk about it anymore. That’s all there is to it!
Not surprisingly, these conversations leave Greta feeling frustrated,
powerless, and deeply sad. Greta wonders how she might be more assertive, how
she can persuade her mother to change.
But assertiveness isn’t Greta’s problem. What’s missing from her stance is
curiosity. In a follow-up conversation, Greta shifts her goal from persuasion to
learning. To do this she limits herself to listening, asking questions, and
acknowledging her mother’s feelings:
GRETA: I know you don’t like talking about your diabetes and
exercising.
MOM: I really don’t. It’s very upsetting to me.
GRETA: When you say it’s upsetting, what do you mean? In
what ways?
MOM: Greta, the whole thing! Do you think it’s fun for me?
GRETA: No, Mom, I know it’s really hard. I just don’t know
much about what you think about it, what it means to you, what
you feel about it.
MOM: I’ll tell you, if your father were alive, it would be
different. He was so sweet when I would get sick. Having to
follow all these complicated rules, that’s what he would have
been good at. He would have taken care of the whole thing. Being
sick, it just makes me miss him so much.
GRETA: It sounds like you’ve been feeling really lonely without
Dad.
MOM: I have friends, and you’ve been wonderful, but it’s not the
same as having your father here to help. I suppose I really do feel
lonely, but I hate to talk about that. I don’t want to be a burden on
you kids.
you kids.
GRETA: You feel like if you tell us you’re lonely, it will be a
burden? We’ll worry?
MOM: I just don’t want you to have to go through what my
mother went through. You know her mother died of diabetes.
GRETA: I didn’t know. Wow.
MOM: It’s scary to be told you have what your grandmother died
of. It’s hard for me to accept. I know the medications are better
now, which is why I should be following all those rules, but if I
follow all those rules, it just makes me feel like some sick old
lady.
GRETA: So keeping to the regimen would feel like accepting
something that you don’t really totally accept yet?
MOM: It’s irrational. I’m not saying it’s not. [choked up] It’s just
very frightening and overwhelming.
GRETA: I know it is, Mom.
MOM: I’ll tell you something else. I don’t even understand what
I’m supposed to be doing. The eating, the exercise. If you do one,
it affects the other, and you have to keep track. It’s complicated,
and the doctor isn’t terribly helpful in explaining it. I don’t know
where to begin. Your father would know.
GRETA: Maybe that’s something I could help you with.
MOM: Greta, I don’t want to be a burden.
GRETA: I want to help. It would actually make me feel better.
Not so powerless.
MOM: If you could, that would take a big load off my mind....
Greta was astonished and delighted at how much better her conversations
became after she began truly listening to her mother. She came to see the issues
from her mother’s point of view, how much deeper they ran than she suspected,
and how she might be able to help her mother in ways that her mother wanted to
be helped. This is perhaps the most obvious benefit of listening: learning about
the other person. But there is a second, more surprising benefit as well.
Listening to Them Helps Them Listen to You
Ironically, when Greta shifted away from trying to persuade her mother to
exercise and toward simply listening and acknowledging, she ended up
achieving the goal that had eluded her up to that point. This is not an accident.
One of the most common complaints we hear from people engaged in difficult
conversations is that the other person won’t listen. And when we hear that, our
standard advice is “You need to spend more time listening to them.”
When the other person is not listening, you may imagine it is because they’re
stubborn or don’t understand what you’re trying to say. (If they did, they’d
understand why they should listen to it.) So you may try to break through that by
repeating, trying new ways to explain yourself, talking more loudly, and so forth.
On the face of it, these would seem to be good strategies. But they’re not.
Why? Because in the great majority of cases, the reason the other person is not
listening to you is not because they are stubborn, but because they don’t feel
heard. In other words, they aren’t listening to you for the same reason you aren’t
listening to them: they think you are slow or stubborn. So they repeat
themselves, find new ways to say things, talk more loudly, and so forth.
If the block to their listening is that they don’t feel heard, then the way to
remove that block is by helping them feel heard – by bending over backwards to
listen to what they have to say, and perhaps most important, by demonstrating
that you understand what they are saying and how they are feeling.
If you don’t quite believe this, try it. Find the most stubborn person you know,
the person who never seems to take in anything you say, the person who repeats
himself or herself in every conversation you ever have – and listen to them.
Especially, listen for feelings, like frustration or pride or fear, and acknowledge
those feelings. See whether that person doesn’t become a better listener after all.
The Stance of Curiosity: How to Listen from the Inside
Out
What, specifically, does Greta do differently in the second conversation? She
asks questions. She paraphrases what her mother says to make sure she
understands it, and to make sure her mother understands that Greta understands.
Greta is also listening for the feelings that might be behind what her mother is
saying, and acknowledges them when she hears them.
Each of these is enormously important to good listening. But none is enough.
The single most important thing Greta has done is to shift her internal stance
from “I understand” to “Help me understand.” Everything else follows from that.
Forget the Words, Focus on Authenticity
Scores of workshops and books on “active listening” teach you what you should
do to be a good listener. Their advice is relatively similar – ask questions,
paraphrase back what the other person has said, acknowledge their view, sit
attentively and look them in the eye – all good advice. You emerge from these
courses eager to try out your new skills, only to become discouraged when your
friends or colleagues complain that you sound phony or mechanical. “Don’t use
that active listening stuff on me,” they say.
The problem is this: you are taught what to say and how to sit, but the heart of
good listening is authenticity. People “read” not only your words and posture,
but what’s going on inside of you. If your “stance” isn’t genuine, the words
won’t matter. What will be communicated almost invariably is whether you are
genuinely curious, whether you genuinely care about the other person. If your
intentions are false, no amount of careful wording or good posture will help. If
your intentions are good, even clumsy language won’t hinder you.
Listening is only powerful and effective if it is authentic. Authenticity means
that you are listening because you are curious and because you care, not just
because you are supposed to. The issue, then, is this: Are you curious? Do you
care?
The Commentator in Your Head: Become More Aware of Your Internal
Voice
You can tell what’s going on inside of you by listening to yourself. Finding and
paying attention to your own internal voice – what you’re thinking but not
saying – is the crucial first step in overcoming the biggest barrier to inauthentic
listening. Left unattended, that voice blocks good listening; to the extent you’re
listening to your own internal voice, you’re at best only half listening to the
other person.
Take a moment to locate the commentator in your head. It’s saying something
like “Hmm, this internal voice is an interesting concept” or “What are they
talking about? I don’t have an internal voice” (that’s the voice).
Don’t Turn It Off, Turn It Up
Perhaps surprisingly, our advice is not to turn off your internal voice, or even to
turn it down. You can’t. Instead, we urge you to do the opposite – turn up your
internal voice, at least for the time being, and get to know the kinds of things it
says. In other words, listen to it. Only when you’re fully aware of your own
thoughts can you begin to manage them and focus on the other person.
There are endless thoughts and feelings you might have while you’re
listening, but by now you know the patterns: your voice will be chattering away
in each of the Three Conversations. In the “What Happened?” Conversation,
you’ll find yourself thinking things like “I’m right,” “I did not intend to hurt
you,” and “This isn’t my fault.” You’ll also notice plenty of feelings (“I can’t
believe she thinks that about me! I’m so furious!”) and identity issues (“Was I
really that thoughtless? I couldn’t have been”). Or not uncommonly, you may
simply be daydreaming (“I wonder if there’s enough meatloaf for the in-laws”)
or beginning to prepare your response (“When it’s my turn to talk, there are four
points I’m going to make”).
No wonder the person you’re listening to doesn’t feel they have your full
attention.
Managing Your Internal Voice
How then can you give the other person your full attention and listen with
curiosity when your internal commentator is chattering away? You can try two
things. First, see if you can negotiate your way to curiosity. See if you can get
your internal voice into a learning mode. If this doesn’t work, and sometimes it
won’t, you may first have to express your internal voice before trying to listen to
the other person.
Negotiate Your Way to Curiosity. It’s a mistake to think your internal voice
can’t change. If you find your curiosity failing, you can work to rev it up.
Remind yourself that the task of understanding the other person’s world is
always harder than it seems. Remind yourself that if you think you already
understand how someone else feels or what they are trying to say, it is a
delusion. Remember a time when you were sure you were right and then
discovered one little fact that changed everything. There is always more to learn.
Remind yourself of the depth, complexities, contradictions, and nuances that
make up the stories of each of our lives.
Audrey’s six-year-old daughter, Jocie, woke her up in the middle of the night.
Jocie was scared because of a movie they’d seen about a puppy’s mother who
ran away and never came back. Audrey assumed Jocie was worried about being
abandoned herself, and she explained to Jocie that “I would never run away and
leave you by yourself.”
leave you by yourself.”
But it turned out that that wasn’t what Jocie was worried about at all. She was
anxious about her new turtle. The movie had caused her to wonder whether her
turtle might be someone’s mother, and whether there was a baby turtle
somewhere that needed its mother back. In fact, Jocie’s turtle was itself a baby,
but Jocie didn’t know that and was consumed with fear and guilt. Audrey had
fallen into the trap of listening to her internal voice rather than to her daughter.
Her internal voice was saying, “I know what this is all about,” and that was the
end of her curiosity.
Another way to rekindle your curiosity is to keep focused on your purpose in
the conversation. If your purpose is to persuade or win or get the other person to
do something, your internal voice will be saying things in line with those
purposes, such as, “Why don’t you just do this – it’s obviously the best answer.”
If, instead, you hold as one of your primary purposes understanding the other
person, it motivates your internal voice to ask questions, such as “What else do I
need to know for that to make more sense?” or “I wonder how I can understand
the world in such a way that that would make sense?”
Don’t Listen: Talk. Sometimes you’ll find that your internal voice is just too
strong to take on. You try to negotiate your way to curiosity, but you just can’t
get there. If you’re sitting on feelings of pain or outrage or betrayal, or,
conversely, if you’re overcome with joy or love, then listening may be a
hopeless task.
Listening certainly feels out of reach for Dalila as she learns that Heather, her
roommate of six months, is bisexual. As Heather talks, Dalila sits feeling
confused, embarrassed, even a little angry. Rather than pretending to listen,
Dalila needs to do the opposite. To remain authentic in the conversation she
needs first to be honest about what she is thinking and feeling: “I’m glad you
trust me enough to tell me this, and I really want to listen. At the same time, this
is very upsetting for me. I’m feeling awkward, like I’m not sure how to act
around you right now, and I’m just overwhelmed about what this means.”
Dalila and Heather have a tough conversation ahead. Not only will each of
them have strong feelings to sort through and share, but they have very different
views about sexuality. As they talk about their friendship and how to handle
their ongoing rooming situation, it will be critically important that each has the
ability to listen to the other. At times, to be able to listen they’ll need first to
speak.
When you find yourself in this situation, let the other person know that you
want to listen and that you care about what they have to say, but that you can’t
want to listen and that you care about what they have to say, but that you can’t
listen right now. Often it’s enough to give a headline of what you’re thinking:
“I’m surprised to hear you say that. I think I disagree, but say more about how
you see it,” or “I have to admit that as much as I want to hear what you have to
say, I’m feeling a little defensive right now.” With that on the table, you can get
back to listening, knowing that you’ve signaled your difference and will get back
to your view in time.
In some cases, you may decide that you can neither listen nor talk. This may
be because you’re too upset or confused, or simply because you need to be doing
something else. Rather than give the other person half your attention, it’s better
to say, “This is important to me, I want to find a time to talk about it, and right
now I’m not able to.”
Managing your internal voice is not easy, especially at first. But it is at the
heart of good listening.
Three Skills: Inquiry, Paraphrasing, and
Acknowledgment
While your internal stance is the key to good listening, there are some specific
techniques we can pass along, some how-tos that people find helpful. In addition
to the stance of curiosity, there are three primary skills that good listeners
employ: inquiry, paraphrasing, and acknowledgment. Below are some dos and
don’ts relating to each.
Inquire to Learn
The heading says it all: inquire to learn. And only to learn. You can tell whether
a question will help the conversation or hurt it by thinking about why you asked
it. The only good answer is “To learn.”
Don’t Make Statements Disguised as Questions
Anyone who has ever been a kid in a car has uttered the cranky words “Are we
there yet?” You know you’re not there yet, and your parents know you know,
there yet?” You know you’re not there yet, and your parents know you know,
and so they respond in a tone as cranky as yours. What you really meant was
“I’m feeling restless” or “I wish we were there” or “This is a long trip for me.”
Any of these would likely elicit a more productive response from Mom and Dad.
This illustrates an important rule about inquiry: If you don’t have a question,
don’t ask a question. Never dress up an assertion as a question. Doing so creates
confusion and resentment, because such questions are inevitably heard as
sarcastic and sometimes mean-spirited. Consider some examples of assertions
disguised as questions:
“Are you going to leave the refrigerator door open like that?”
(Instead of “Please close the refrigerator door” or “I feel
frustrated when you leave the refrigerator door open.”)
“Is it impossible for you to focus on me just once?” (Instead of “I
feel ignored” or “I’d like you to pay more attention to me.”)
“Do you have to drive so fast?” (Instead of “I’m feeling nervous”
or “It’s hard for me to relax when I’m not in control.”)
Notice that these examples of disguised assertions are either about feelings or
about requests. This should not be surprising. Sharing our feelings and making
requests are two things that many of us have difficulty doing directly. They can
make us feel vulnerable. Turning what we have to say into an attack – a sarcastic
question – can feel safer. But this safety is an illusion, and we lose more than we
gain. Saying “I’d like you to pay more attention to me” is more likely to produce
a conversation (and a satisfying outcome) than “Is it impossible for you to focus
on me just once?”
Why? Because instead of hearing the underlying feeling or request, the other
person focuses on the sarcasm and the attack. Instead of hearing that you feel
lonely, they hear that you think they are thoughtless. The real message doesn’t
get through, because they are distracted by the need to defend themselves. In
fact, they are likely to respond in kind: “Well, sure, I can focus on you just
once.” And things deteriorate from there.
Don’t Use Questions to Cross-Examine
A second error that gets us into trouble is using questions to shoot holes in the
other person’s argument. For example:
“You seem to think this is my fault. But surely you’d agree that
you made more mistakes than I did, wouldn’t you?”
“If it’s true that you did everything you could have done to make
the sale, how do you explain the fact that Kate was able to make
the sale so soon after you gave up?”
These questions are wrong-footed from the start. They emerge from a purpose
of trying to persuade the other person that you are right and they are wrong,
rather than trying to learn.
To use the ideas in these questions constructively, pull out the statements
embedded in the questions and express them — but not as facts. Rather than
asserting them as true, share them as open questions or perceptions, and ask for
the other person’s reaction. Rather than assuming that this is an argument they
have ignored, assume that they have thought about it and have reason to tell a
different story. You might say, for example, “I understand that you feel you did
everything you could to make the sale. To me, that seems inconsistent with the
fact that Kate made the sale right after you gave up. What’s your thinking about
that?”
Ask Open-Ended Questions
Open-ended questions are questions that give the other person broad latitude in
how to answer. They elicit more information than yes/no questions or offering
menus, such as, “Were you trying to do A or B?” Instead ask “What were you
trying to do?” This way you don’t bias the answer or distract the other person’s
thinking by the need to process your ideas. It lets them direct their response
toward what is important to them. Typical open-ended questions are variations
on “Tell me more” and “Help me understand better . . . .”
Ask for More Concrete Information
To understand where the other person’s conclusions came from and enrich your
understanding of what they envision going forward, it helps to ask them to be
more explicit about their reasoning and their vision. “What leads you to say
that?” “Can you give me an example?” “What would that look like?” “How
would that work?” “How would we test that hypothesis?”
Consider the situation Ross ran into with his boss. He received a flyer for a
professional seminar he wanted to take. It would help him in his job as a product
manager, so he figured the conversation with his boss about getting the time off
and the course paid for would be a cinch.
and the course paid for would be a cinch.
He was wrong. The conversation went like this:
BOSS: For me even to consider having the company pay for you
to go to that seminar I’d need more evidence that you’re
dedicated to working here for the long term, and right now I just
don’t see it.
ROSS: What? I’m totally dedicated to the company. I’ve told you
that. That’s the whole point of me wanting to take this seminar.
BOSS: I don’t see it that way. I get the sense you view this job as
a stepping stone to something else.
ROSS: Well, I don’t know what else I can say, except that I love
it here and plan to stay. And the seminar would be very helpful
for the work I do....
It’s not hard to see why this is an unproductive exchange. There’s virtually no
information being transferred back and forth except “Am so!” and “Are not!” In
essence, Ross’s boss is saying, “I don’t think you’re dedicated, but I’m not going
to tell you why.” And unfortunately, Ross isn’t asking.
After some coaching, Ross took up the issue again, but this time asked for
more concrete information:
ROSS: Say more about how you judge dedication, and what
you’ve observed in me that suggests to you that I’m not as
dedicated as you’d like me to be.
BOSS: Well, obviously it’s a lot of things. One piece of it is that
you seem uninterested in the social events here. In my experience
that has always been a pretty good indicator of dedication. People
who are in this for the long haul know the importance of building
and maintaining good relationships with their coworkers, and
they make sure to get to as many social events as possible.
ROSS: Huh. I’m totally surprised to hear you say that. I was
assuming you measured dedication based on things like working
late and doing a lot of assignments well.
BOSS: That’s very important too. But sometimes people do that
to build a good record for when they decide to move on to the
next job. In my experience the socializing aspect is the most
tightly correlated to long-term interest....
Finally, Ross and his boss were getting somewhere. By the end of the
conversation, they had a much deeper understanding of why they each reached a
different conclusion about Ross’s commitment to the company, important
information for Ross to know.
information for Ross to know.
Ask Questions About the Three Conversations
Each of the Three Conversations provides fertile ground for curiosity:
• Can you say a little more about how you see things?
• What information might you have that I don’t?
• How do you see it differently?
• What impact have my actions had on you?
• Can you say a little more about why you think this is my fault?
• Were you reacting to something I did?
• How are you feeling about all of this?
• Say more about why this is important to you.
• What would it mean to you if that happened?
If the answers aren’t entirely clear, keep digging. If necessary, say what’s still
unclear or inconsistent to you, and ask for clarification: “Okay, so your view is
that Kate made the sale because she could offer a reduced price on the service
contract. I can see how that would make a difference. What I’m still not clear on,
though, is why you couldn’t offer that or get permission to offer that. Can you
say more about that?”
Make It Safe for Them Not to Answer
Sometimes even the most skillful question provokes defensiveness. You ask a
question out of genuine caring toward the other person and a genuine desire to
learn, and still they react by shutting down, defending, counterattacking,
accusing you of bad intentions, or changing the subject.
One response is to say that you are trying to help and that there is no need to
be defensive, and then continue to press for an answer. But this can be
experienced as an attempt to control them, provoking further resistance. It’s
better to make your question an invitation rather than a demand, and to make
that clear. The difference is that an invitation can be declined without penalty.
This offers a greater sense of safety and, especially if the other person declines
to respond and your reaction makes that okay, it builds trust between you.
Whether you are talking with your boss or your eight-year-old daughter,
giving them the choice of whether to answer increases the chance that they will
respond and respond honestly. Even if they don’t answer now, they may later,
after they think about it. Knowing that it’s their choice underscores your caring
after they think about it. Knowing that it’s their choice underscores your caring
intent and frees them to think about the question.
Paraphrase for Clarity
The second skill a good listener brings to the conversation is paraphrasing.
Paraphrasing is when you express to the other person, in your own words, your
understanding of what they are saying. There are two significant benefits to
paraphrasing.
Check Your Understanding
First, paraphrasing gives you a chance to check your understanding. Difficult
conversations are made harder when an important misunderstanding exists, and
such misunderstandings are more common than we imagine. Paraphrasing gives
the other person the chance to say, “No, that’s not quite what I meant. What I
really meant was . . . .”
Show That You’ve Heard
Second, paraphrasing lets the other person know they’ve been heard. Usually the
reason someone repeats himself or herself in a conversation is because they have
no indication that you’ve actually taken in what they’ve said. If you notice that
the other person is saying the same thing over and over again, take it as a signal
that you need to paraphrase more. Once they feel heard, they are significantly
more likely to listen to you. They will no longer be absorbed by their internal
voice, and can focus on what you have to say.
Consider this conversation between Rachel and Ron, a married couple who
frequently argue about how strictly to observe Shabbat (the Jewish Sabbath) and
its traditional rules restricting travel:
RON: I told Chris I’d come by tomorrow.
RACHEL: Ron, tomorrow’s Saturday. You know you can’t drive
over to Chris’s on Shabbat. Besides, we’ve got temple in the
morning.
RON: I know, but I told Chris I’d come. It’s the only day he had
available.
available.
RACHEL: Well, I think it’s important that we go to services as a
family. Why don’t you go over there on Sunday?
RON: Chris can’t do it on Sunday – he’s got church and stuff.
RACHEL: Oh, so his religious practices are more important than
ours?
Neither Rachel nor Ron feels heard in this conversation. If they are going to
break this cycle, one of them has to decide to listen and to paraphrase. Let’s
assume that Ron decides to try:
RON: I told Chris I’d come by tomorrow.
RACHEL: Ron, tomorrow’s Saturday. You know you can’t drive
over to Chris’s on Shabbat. Besides, we’ve got temple in the
morning.
RON: It sounds like my making plans is frustrating to you.
RACHEL: You bet it’s frustrating. I assumed we were going.
RON: So part of the problem is that I made plans without
consulting you?
RACHEL: No, it’s more that I hate being the one who always
nags us to go to temple.
RON: You feel like I make you the one responsible for our
religious life.
RACHEL: Yeah. I hate feeling like the Shabbat police. Plus, I
worry about the message it sends to the kids.
RON: So you’re afraid that if the kids see me breaking the
Sabbath they won’t take it seriously?
RACHEL: That’s part of it, but it’s a lot of things. It’s lonely
when I go by myself. And I want you to go to temple because you
want to go, not because I’m making you go.
RON: I can see how that would be lonely. I do want to go for
myself. I think that sometimes when I feel pressured to go, I resist
because I don’t like being told what to do. Also, sometimes I feel
like I am following the spirit of the law by doing other things.
RACHEL: [skeptical] Like what?
RON: Well, like helping out Chris. He’s having a really rough
time in his marriage right now, and I wanted to try to spend some
time with him. That makes me feel like I’m connecting with
people in our community, which is part of what I get out of
services. And I’d like the kids to see that caring for people is a
big part of what this is all about. Maybe we could talk to them
big part of what this is all about. Maybe we could talk to them
about this.
RACHEL: Well, that would help....
RON: But that might not meet your interest in going to services
together, or not wanting to carry the weight of responsibility for it
in our family. Can you say more about that? . . .
This time Rachel and Ron are starting to get somewhere in a complex and
emotionally charged issue. Ron’s paraphrasing lets Rachel know that he is trying
to understand her and that he cares about her feelings. He stops repeating
himself, and she starts listening.
Acknowledge Their Feelings
Notice that Ron begins paraphrasing by responding not to what Rachel says, but
to what she doesn’t say: that she’s frustrated. It is a fundamental rule: feelings
crave acknowledgment. Like free radicals, feelings wander around the
conversation looking for some acknowledgment to hook onto. They won’t be
happy until they get it, and nothing else will do. Unless they get the
acknowledgment they need, feelings will cause trouble in the conversation – like
a kid desperate for attention, positive or negative. And if you provide that
acknowledgment, you give the other person and the relationship something quite
precious, something, perhaps, that they can only get from you.
Answer the Invisible Questions
Why is acknowledgment so important? Because attached to each expression of
feelings is a set of invisible questions: “Are my feelings okay?” “Do you
understand them?” “Do you care about them?” “Do you care about me?” These
questions are important, and we have trouble moving on in the conversation until
we know the answers. Taking time to acknowledge the other person’s feelings
says loud and clear that the answer to each question is yes.
How to Acknowledge
An acknowledgment is simply this: any indication that you are struggling to
understand the emotional content of what the other person is saying. If the other
understand the emotional content of what the other person is saying. If the other
person says to you, “I’m confused by the fact that you lied to me,” you might say
any of the following:
Well, it won’t happen again.
I should explain that I did not lie.
It sounds like you’re overreacting a bit here.
Each of these is an understandable response. The first two respond to the
substance of what is being said; the third judges the feeling. But none simply
acknowledges the feeling, or responds to the invisible questions. In contrast, any
of the following would count as an acknowledgment:
It sounds like you’re really upset about this.
This seems really important to you.
If I were in your shoes I’d probably feel confused too.
There is no one perfect thing to say. In fact, you may not need to say anything.
Sometimes you can acknowledge the other person with a simple nod, or even by
the look in your eyes.
Order Matters: Acknowledge Before Problem-Solving
Ultimately, of course, people want their problems addressed. Questions like
“What are we going to do about this?” “Why did you do what you did?” “How
do you explain what happened?” are important. But order matters. Whether they
say it or not, often people need some acknowledgment of feelings before they
can move on to the “What Happened?” Conversation.
Too often in difficult conversations and with the best of intentions, we skip
right to problem-solving without acknowledging, and the loss is significant.
“You’re working too hard,” says your husband. “I never see you anymore.” You
realize he’s right, and say, “Well, for the next month, my workload is a lot
lighter. I’ll make a real effort to be home every night by six o’clock.” Your
husband doesn’t seem satisfied, and you are left wondering what more you could
have said.
But your husband’s complaint is not a math problem. You may think you’ve
“solved” the problem, but his invisible questions haven’t been addressed. Your
husband wants his feelings acknowledged. “It’s been a tough time, these last few
husband wants his feelings acknowledged. “It’s been a tough time, these last few
months, hasn’t it?” or “It sounds like you’re feeling abandoned” would be more
appropriate. Problem-solving is important, but it has to wait.
Acknowledging Is Not Agreeing
The most common concern that arises around the issue of acknowledging is this:
What if I don’t agree with what the other person is saying? This is an important
concern. It is useful to distinguish here between the Feelings Conversation and
the “What Happened?” Conversation. While you may not agree with the
substance of what the other person is saying, you can still acknowledge the
importance of their feelings.
For example, a supervisor has transferred one of her subordinates to a
different department, and he comes into her office to complain. Notice how the
supervisor acknowledges his feelings without agreeing with his conclusion:
SUBORDINATE: I have worked so hard for you and now you’re
shipping me out. It’s just not fair. I’ve been a loyal team player
and now what’s going to happen to me?
SUPERVISOR: Sounds like you feel really hurt and betrayed. I
can see why that would be upsetting.
SUBORDINATE: So you agree with me that this is unfair?
SUPERVISOR: What I’m saying is that I can see how upset
you’re feeling, and it hurts me to see you so upset. I also think I
understand why you think this transfer is unfair, and why it could
feel like I’ve betrayed your loyalty. Those factors made the
decision to transfer you very difficult for me. I fought hard to
make this work. I feel badly about how it’s turned out, but I do
think it’s the right decision, and overall I don’t think it’s unfair.
We should talk about why.
It requires thought to make these kinds of distinctions, but it can help
immensely. Too often we assume that we either have to agree or disagree with
the other person. In fact, we can acknowledge the power and importance of the
feelings, while disagreeing with the substance of what is being said.
A Final Thought: Empathy Is a Journey, Not a
Destination
The deepest form of understanding another person is empathy. Empathy
involves a shift from my observing how you seem on the outside, to my
imagining what it feels like to be you on the inside, wrapped in your skin with
your set of experiences and background, and looking out at the world through
your eyes.
As an empathetic listener, you are on a journey with a direction but no
destination. You will never “arrive.” You will never be able to say, “I truly
understand you.” We are all too complex for that, and our skills to imagine
ourselves into other people’s lives too limited. But in a sense this is good news.
Psychologists have found that we are each more interested in knowing that the
other person is trying to emphathize with us – that they are willing to struggle to
understand how we feel and see how we see – than we are in believing that they
have actually accomplished that goal. Good listening, as we’ve said, is
profoundly communicative. And struggling to understand communicates the
most positive message of all.
10
Expression: Speak for Yourself with Clarity and Power
Beginning from the Third Story is a productive way to open a conversation.
Listening to the other person’s story with a real desire to learn what they are
thinking and feeling is a crucial next step. But understanding them is rarely the
end of the matter; the other person also needs to hear your story. You need to
express yourself.
Orators Need Not Apply
Expressing yourself well in a difficult conversation has nothing to do with how
big your vocabulary is or how eloquent or quick-witted you are. Winston
Churchill and Martin Luther King, Jr. were great orators, but in difficult
conversations their powers of oration would be of no particular assistance.
In a difficult conversation your primary task is not to persuade, impress, trick,
outwit, convert, or win over the other person. It is to express what you see and
why you see it that way, how you feel, and maybe who you are. Self-knowledge
and the belief that what you want to share is important will take you significantly
further than eloquence and wit.
In the first part of this chapter we take up the issue of entitlement. To
communicate with clarity and power, you must first negotiate yourself into a
place where you truly believe that what you want to express is worthy of
expression – a belief that your views and feelings are as important as anyone
else’s. Period. In the second part of the chapter, we look at how to figure out
what you want to express and how you might best express it. We’ll examine
several common but significant expression errors, ways to avoid them, and
methods for expressing yourself well.
You’re Entitled (Yes, You)
John, a second-year law student, was preparing to meet with a well-respected
federal judge to discuss several concerns he had about his upcoming clerkship.
The judge had a reputation for being a sometimes prickly and argumentative
fellow, and John was anxious about losing his courage once he stepped into the
judge’s chambers.
John’s favorite professor offered advice: “Whenever I have felt intimidated or
mistreated by someone above me, I remember this – we are all equal in the eyes
of God.”
No More, But No Less
Regardless of our spiritual orientation, we can all benefit from the message: No
matter who we are, no matter how high and mighty we fancy ourselves, or how
low and unworthy we may feel, we all deserve to be treated with respect and
dignity. My views and feelings are as legitimate, valuable, and important as
yours – no more, but no less. For some people, that’s utterly obvious. For others,
it comes as important news.
In an essay in her book, Sister Outsider, poet and activist Audre Lorde
pondered the question of expression and entitlement shortly after she learned she
had breast cancer:
I have come to believe . . . . that what is most important to me
must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of
having it bruised or misunderstood....
In becoming forcibly and essentially aware of my mortality,
and of what I wished and wanted for my life, however short it
might be, priorities and omissions became strongly etched in a
merciless light, and what I most regretted were my silences.... I
was going to die, if not sooner then later, whether or not I had
ever spoken myself. My silences had not protected me. Your
silence will not protect you. . . .
We can learn to work and speak when we are afraid in the
same way we have learned to work and speak when we are tired.
For we have been socialized to respect fear more than our own
needs for language and definition, and while we wait in silence
for that final luxury of fearlessness, the weight of that silence will
choke us.
choke us.
Lorde sees substantial risks in expressing oneself. But she recognizes that the
costs of silence are even greater. Recognizing your entitlement can help you find
your voice in a conversation and the courage to stand up for yourself when you
feel frightened or powerless.
Beware Self-Sabotage
Sometimes we can feel trapped between the belief that we should stand up for
ourselves and a hidden feeling that we don’t deserve to be heard, that we’re not
entitled. In this situation our unconscious mind can offer a devious – and illusory
– “solution”: We go through the motions of trying, but incompetently, so that in
the end we fail. We wait to speak until there’s not enough time to deal with our
concerns. We conveniently forget our materials. All our points suddenly
disappear from our head. And voilà! All of our interests are satisfied: we can feel
good about trying, and secretly satisfied that we didn’t succeed. This is the art of
self-sabotage.
If this feels like a familiar trick in your repertoire, then you may need to pay
more attention to when you are feeling ambivalent. When you sense that vaguely
sick or confused feeling, imagine an enormous STOP sign to halt you in your
tracks. Before proceeding, you need to engage your Identity Conversation. Why
aren’t you entitled? Whose voice from your past do you hear in your head telling
you you’re not? What would you need to feel fully entitled to speak up?
Failure to Express Yourself Keeps You Out of the Relationship
The ferry tickets to the island of Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts, read like
many transportation tickets. Perforated in the middle, the ticket carries a warning
that it will be “void if detached.”
We run the same risks in difficult conversations. When we fail to share what’s
most important to us, we detach ourselves from others and damage our
relationships.
Most of us actually prefer being with someone who will speak their mind.
Angela broke off her engagement because her fiancé was “too nice.” He never
stated a preference, never argued, never raised his voice, never asked for
anything. While she appreciated his kindness, she felt something was missing:
him.
If you are sometimes lonely or despondent and never share this with those
If you are sometimes lonely or despondent and never share this with those
close to you, then you deny them the chance to come to know a part of you. You
presume that they will not respect or like or admire you as much if they knew the
way you really think and feel. But it’s hard to present only this sanitized version
of yourself. Often, to hide parts of who we are, we end up hiding all of who we
are. And so we present a front that appears lifeless and removed.
Expressing yourself can be difficult and trying, but it gives the relationship a
chance to change and to become stronger. Callie, a Native American woman, did
not feel particularly close to her coworkers at a tutoring program for troubled
teens. Partly because they were white, she suspected they wouldn’t really
understand her; indeed, she often found them to be insensitive.
But one day she took a risk and shared some stories. She described how she
had been called names and teased when she was younger, and how for years she
yearned to be “normal.” These revelations significantly changed her relationship
with her colleagues, who came to have great admiration for her. Her colleagues,
in turn, felt encouraged to share their own stories of feeling left out or awkward.
If Callie had not shared her story, she would have deprived her colleagues of the
chance to rebut a stereotype she herself harbored – that “white people don’t
understand and don’t care.” And she wouldn’t have offered them the
opportunity, perhaps for the first time, to understand and care about her.
A relationship takes hold and grows when both participants experience
themselves and the other as being authentic. Such relationships are both more
comfortable (it’s more relaxing to be yourself) and nourishing to the soul (“My
boss knows some of my vulnerabilities and still thinks I’m okay”).
Feel Entitled, Feel Encouraged, But Don’t Feel Obligated
You are entitled to express yourself. If you do not believe this to your core then
you’ve got some work to do.
But being entitled doesn’t mean you’re obligated. That turns entitlement into
another way to beat yourself up: “I should be saying what’s on my mind, but I’m
too afraid. I can’t do anything right!” Expressing yourself is often extremely
difficult. Finding the courage to do it is a lifelong process. If you aren’t doing it
as much as you’d like, it’s something to work on, but not something to punish
yourself about.
Speak the Heart of the Matter
The first step toward expressing yourself is finding your sense of entitlement to
speak up; the next step is figuring out what, exactly, you want to say.
Start with What Matters Most
There’s no better place to begin your story than with what is at the very heart of
the matter for you: “For me, what this is really about is . . . . What I’m feeling is
. . . . What is important to me is . . . .”
Sharing what is important to you is common sense, and yet it’s advice we
often neglect. Consider the story of Charlie, the oldest of four brothers, who
wants to improve his relationship with his youngest brother, sixteen-year-old
Gage. Gage is dyslexic, which is especially tough since his older brothers all
graduated near the top of their high school classes and went to college on
academic scholarships. Gage struggles in school, is prone to act out, and has
increasingly turned to drinking for solace.
Charlie wants to help by offering the benefit of his experience and advice:
“You should definitely do the debate team. The coach is great, and it will help
your college applications.” And, “You know, Gage, don’t overdo the drinking
thing. It can really be bad news.” But whatever Charlie says makes Gage feel
criticized, defensive, and patronized. As a result, the two brothers have grown
increasingly distant.
When we asked Charlie why the relationship is important to him, the story
took a different turn. Charlie admires the way Gage works so hard to succeed.
He feels bad about how he treated Gage when they were younger. And
ultimately, it turns out that Charlie needs deeply to feel like a good brother, who
loves and is loved in turn. As he revealed this, Charlie cried.
When Charlie finally shared these things with his brother, Gage was riveted.
Charlie needed him. Charlie needed Gage’s help in being a good brother. It
proved a turning point in their relationship.
Gage would have had to be a mind reader to perceive even a hint of these
meanings in Charlie’s original communication. The heart of the message simply
wasn’t there. Nor was there a hint of the enormous depth of feelings at stake.
Instead, there was a completely different message in its place: “You’re a screwup who needs my help and is too dumb to ask for it.”
This is unfortunately all too typical of many difficult conversations. We say
the least important things, sometimes over and over again, and wonder why the
other person doesn’t realize what we really think and how we really feel.
As you embark upon a difficult conversation, ask yourself, “Have I said what
is at the heart of the matter for me? Have I shared what is at stake?” If not, ask
is at the heart of the matter for me? Have I shared what is at stake?” If not, ask
yourself why, and see if you can find the courage to try.
Say What You Mean: Don’t Make Them Guess
One way we often skirt sharing things that are important to us is by embedding
them in the subtext of the conversation rather than simply stating them outright.
Don’t Rely on Subtext. Think back to the Introduction, where we discussed
the dilemma of whether to engage in a conversation or to try to avoid it. One
common way to manage this dilemma – especially when you’re not sure you’re
really entitled to bring something up – is to communicate through subtext. You
try to get your message across indirectly, through jokes, questions, offhand
comments, or body language.
Bringing it up by not quite bringing it up seems a happy medium between
avoiding and engaging. It is a way of doing neither and doing both. The problem
is, to the extent you are doing both, you’re doing both badly. You end up
triggering all of the problems you worried you’d create by bringing it up,
without getting the benefit of clearly saying what you want to say.
Imagine that you and your husband have usually spent Saturdays sleeping in,
puttering around the house, walking the dog, or doing errands together.
Recently, however, he has discovered golf, and has begun playing eighteen holes
every Saturday morning. Your Saturday regime has never been particularly
important – it’s not like it was a date or something – but now that it’s gone,
you’re missing it. The two of you don’t spend much time alone together during
the rest of the week, and as a result, you’re feeling more and more irritated with
his new hobby.
You could avoid conflict altogether by simply saying nothing, though as
we’ve seen, your unhappiness would probably still leak out in spite of yourself.
Or you might try to bring it up indirectly: “Honey, there’s really a lot to be done
around the house this weekend.” “Is golf so important that you need to play it
this often?” “Honey, you are simply playing too much golf!”
None of these comments conveys what you really mean, which is: “I want to
spend more time with you.” Let’s consider the text and subtext of what each
statement is saying:
“Honey, there’s really a lot to be done around the house this
weekend.” This comment falls short on several grounds. First,
it’s simply the wrong subject. Working around the house is
related to but different from spending time together. Second, even
if work were the issue, the statement is shared as “truth.” Your
husband can reply, “There’s not that much to do, and we’ll talk
about it when I get back.”
“Is golf so important that you need to play it this often?” This
is a classic example of a statement masquerading as a question.
It’s obvious that the meaning of the comment is conveyed in the
subtext. What is less obvious is what the meaning is supposed to
be. Your tone conveys anger or frustration. But it’s not clear what
is causing the anger or what your husband is supposed to do about
it. Are you angry that your husband is engaged in a meaningless
sport rather than community service or household chores? Are
you angry that he’s not taking you along? Are you angry that you
aren’t spending enough time together? How would he know?
“Honey, you are simply playing too much golf!” This statement
is an opinion couched as a fact. Your husband is left to wonder,
“Too much golf in relation to what?” “How much golf is too
much golf?” “How much would be an appropriate amount of
golf?” “Even if I am playing too much golf, so what?” Of course,
even if he knew the answers to these questions, he would not
have received the message intended. The gap between “You are
playing too much golf ” and “I would like to spend more time
with you” is just too great.
To do better, you need to figure out what you are really thinking and feeling,
and then say it directly: “I’d like to spend more time with you, and Saturday
morning was one of the few times we had to spend together. As a result, I’m
finding your interest in golf irritating.”
Sometimes, you’ll find yourself wishing you didn’t have to be explicit. You
wish the other person already knew that there was a problem and would do
something about it. This is a common and understandable fantasy – our ideal
mate or perfect colleague should be able to read our mind and meet our needs
without our having to ask. Unfortunately, such people don’t exist. Over time, we
may come to know better how we each think and feel, but we will never be
perfect. Being disappointed that someone isn’t reading our mind is one of our
contributions to the problem.
Avoid Easing In. A related and often destructive way to communicate
through subtext is what Professor Chris Argyris of Harvard Business School has
called easing in. Easing in is where you try to soften a message by delivering it
indirectly through hints and leading questions. This is all too common in
performance reviews: “So, how do you think you’ve done?” “Do you think
you’ve really done as much as you could have?” “I have the same problem, but it
probably would have been a little better to . . . . Wouldn’t you agree?”
Easing in conveys three messages: “I have a view,” “This is too embarrassing
to discuss directly,” and “I’m not going to be straight with you.” Not
surprisingly, these messages increase both sides’ anxiety and defensiveness. And
the recipient’s imagination almost always conjures up a message worse than the
real one.
A better approach is to make the subject clear and discussable by stating your
thoughts straight out, while also indicating, honestly, that you are interested in
whether the other person sees the situation differently and, if so, how: “Based on
what I know, it seems to me that you might have gotten more done. However,
you know more about what happened. In what ways would you see it
differently?” Then if you disagree, you can talk directly about how to test or
otherwise reconcile or deal with your different views.
Don’t Make Your Story Simplistic: Use the “Me-Me” And
We’ve all learned that for others to understand us, we need to make what we say
clear and simple. Fair enough, as far as it goes. The problem is this: What’s
going on in our heads is often a jumble of complex thoughts, feelings,
assumptions, and perceptions. When we try to be simple, we often end up being
incomplete.
Imagine that you receive a memo from a co-worker that leaves you confused.
You are thinking, “This memo shows incredible creativity, and at the same time
is so badly organized that it makes me crazy.” In your attempt to be clear, you
say, “Your memo is so badly organized it makes me crazy,” or worse, “Your
memo makes me crazy.”
You can avoid oversimplifying by using the Me-Me And. The And Stance
recognizes that each of various perceptions, feelings, and assumptions is
important to talk about. This is true of the other person’s perceptions and your
perceptions, the other person’s feelings and yours. It’s also true of the various
perceptions, feelings, and assumptions that are going on just inside you. The
“and” in this case is connecting two aspects of what you think or feel. And
though complex, it’s both clear and accurate. Me-Me And statements sound like
this:
I do think you are bright and talented, and I think you’re not
working hard enough.
I feel badly for how rough things have been for you, and I’m
feeling disappointed in you.
I’m upset with myself for not noticing that you were so lonely.
And I also was having problems during that time.
I feel relieved and happy that I finally went through with the
divorce — it was the right decision. And I do miss him
sometimes.
The Me-Me And is also useful for overcoming a common obstacle to starting
a difficult conversation: the fear of being misunderstood. You think your team
would be the best one to take on a new client, but fear that it will sound selfserving, that you’re in it only for the glory and the bonus. If this is the fear, share
it along with your argument: “I have a view on this that I want to share, and I
have to say that I’m nervous about doing so because I’m afraid it may sound
self-serving. So if you see anything in what I say that doesn’t seem legitimate,
please say so and let’s discuss it.” Or, in a different situation, “I’m having a
strong reaction here that I’d like to share, and I’m worried about feeling
embarrassed if I’m not able to be clear or unemotional at first. I hope if that
happens that you’ll bear with me and help me stay with it until I can put it
succinctly.”
Telling Your Story with Clarity: Three Guidelines
Obviously, how you express yourself makes a difference. How you say what you
want to say will determine, in part, how others respond to you, and how the
conversation will go. So when you choose to share something important, you’ll
want to do so in a way that will maximize the chance that the other person will
understand and respond productively. Clarity is the key.
1. Don’t Present Your Conclusions as The Truth
Some aspects of difficult conversations will continue to be rough even when you
communicate with great skill: sharing feelings of vulnerability, delivering bad
news, learning something painful about how others see you. But presenting your
story as the truth – which creates resentment, defensiveness, and leads to
arguments – is a wholly avoidable disaster.
It is an easy mistake to make. It’s based on an error of thought: we often
experience our beliefs, opinions, and judgments as facts. When you’re arguing
about a favorite movie or food or sports hero, sharing judgment as the truth is
fine. But in difficult conversations it doesn’t wash. Facts are facts. Everything
else is everything else. And you need to be scrupulously vigilant about the
distinction.
If you and your friend disagree about whether it is ever okay to spank your
child, you add to the conflict if you state your view as the truth: “Spanking
children is just plain wrong.” This statement muddies the already turbulent
waters, and your friend may hear it as accusatory or presumptuous. Instead of
engaging you on the issue, your friend may react by saying, “Who are you to
proclaim what’s right and wrong?!”
Far better to say any of these: “I believe spanking children is wrong,” “I’ve
read several books that say spanking children is harmful to them,” “I was
spanked as a child and I feel sad and frightened when I hear of a child being
spanked,” or even “I’m not sure why I feel this way, but I just feel so strongly
that spanking children is wrong.” Each of these clearly distinguishes between
what your view or feeling is and what the facts are.
Some words – like “attractive,” “ugly,” “good,” and “bad” – carry judgments
that are obvious. But be careful with words like “inappropriate,” “should,” or
“professional.” The judgments contained in these words are less obvious, but can
still provoke the “Who are you to tell me?!” response. If you want to say
something is “inappropriate,” preface your judgment with “My view is that . . .
.” Better still, avoid these words altogether.
This is not an argument that there is no truth, or that all opinions are equally
valid. It simply distinguishes opinion from fact, and allows you to have a careful
discussion that leads to better understanding and better decisions rather than to
defensiveness and pointless fighting.
2. Share Where Your Conclusions Come From
The first step toward clarity, then, is to share your conclusions and opinions as
your conclusions and opinions and not as the truth. The second step is to share
what’s beneath your conclusions — the information you have and how you have
interpreted it.
As we saw in Chapter 2, often we merely trade our conclusions back and
forth, and never get into the process of exploring where these views come from.
You have information about yourself that the other person has no access to. That
kind of information can be important; consider sharing it. And you have life
experiences that are influencing what you think and why, as well as how you
feel. When you tell these stories, it puts some meat onto the bones of your views.
You and your wife argue about whether to send your daughter, Carol, to
private school. Your wife says, “I really think we should do it this year. It’s an
important age and I know we can come up with the money.” You say in
response, “I think she’s doing fine in public school. I think we should keep her
there.”
If this conversation is going to get anywhere, the two of you need to share
where these conclusions come from: What specific information is in your heads?
What past experiences influence how you’re thinking about this? You need to
share your own experience in private school – the fear you felt the first few
months, the sense of never quite fitting in. How guilty you felt that your parents
weren’t able to buy a car because they were paying your tuition for so many
years. Tell that story with all the vividness and detail that’s in your head as you
discuss your concerns about the decision. Nothing else you say will make sense
if your wife is unaware of the experiences that inform your feelings on this
subject.
3. Don’t Exaggerate with “Always” and “Never”: Give Them Room to
Change
In the heat of the moment, it’s easy to express frustration through a bit of
exaggeration: “Why do you always criticize my clothes?” “You never give one
word of appreciation or encouragement. The only time anyone hears anything
from you is when there’s something wrong!”
“Always” and “never” do a pretty good job of conveying frustration, but they
have two serious drawbacks. First, it is seldom strictly accurate that someone
criticizes every time, or that they haven’t at some point said something positive.
Using such words invites an argument over the question of frequency: “That’s
not true. I said several nice things to you last year when you won the interoffice
new idea competition” – a response that will most likely increase your
exasperation.
“Always” and “never” also make it harder – rather than easier – for the other
person to consider changing their behavior. In fact, “always” and “never”
suggest that change will be difficult or impossible. The implicit message is,
“What is wrong with you such that you are driven to criticize my clothes?” or
even “You are obviously incapable of acting like a normal person.”
A better approach is to proceed as if (however hard it may be to believe) the
other person is simply unaware of the impact of their actions on you, and, being
a good person, would certainly wish to change their behavior once they became
aware of it. You could say something like: “When you tell me my suit reminds
you of wrinkled old curtains, I feel hurt. Criticizing my clothes feels like an
attack on my judgment and makes me feel incompetent.” If you can also suggest
what you would wish to hear instead, so much the better: “I wish I could feel
more often like you believed in me. It would really feel great to hear even
something as simple as, ‘I think that color looks good on you.’ Anything, as long
as it was positive.”
The key is to communicate your feelings in a way that invites and encourages
the recipient to consider new ways of behaving, rather than suggesting they’re a
schmuck and it’s too bad there’s nothing they can do about it.
Help Them Understand You
It’s not easy to step into someone else’s story. It’s especially hard when the
issues are emotionally charged or when your views are rooted in a different
generation or radically dissimilar corporate culture. You’ll need their help in
understanding them. And they’ll need your help in understanding you.
If you feel overwhelmed with anxiety when leaving your children with a
babysitter, and your husband says that you should “just learn to relax,” you can
express your anxiety in terms he might understand: “It’s like your fear of flying.
You know how when I try to tell you to relax during take-off it has no impact,
and in fact it makes it worse? Well this is the same sort of thing.”
And recognize that different people take in information at different speeds and
in different ways. For example, some people are visually oriented. For them, you
may want to use visual metaphors and refer to pictures or, in a business setting,
charts. Some people prefer to get their arms around the whole problem first, and
can’t listen to anything else you say until they do. Others like all the details up
front. Pay attention to these differences.
front. Pay attention to these differences.
Ask Them to Paraphrase Back
Paraphrasing the other person helps you check your understanding and helps
them know you’ve heard. You can ask them to do the same thing for you: “Let
me check to see if I’m being clear. Would you mind just playing back what
you’ve heard me say so far?”
Ask How They See It Differently — and Why
Explaining your story clearly is a first step toward being understood. But don’t
expect instant success. Real understanding may take some back and forth. If the
other person seems puzzled or unpersuaded by your story, rather than putting it
more forcefully or trying to tell it in a different way, ask how they see it. In
particular, ask how they see it differently.
A common tendency is to ask for agreement, perhaps because it’s reassuring:
“Does that make sense?” “Wouldn’t you agree?” But asking the other person
how they see it differently is more helpful. If you ask for agreement, people may
be reluctant to share their doubts and reservations. They aren’t sure whether you
really want to hear them. They say, “Yes, I suppose so,” but you don’t know
whether they’re actually thinking, “Yes, in a limited, warped kind of way that’s
just like you.” If you ask explicitly for how they see it differently, you are more
likely to discover their true reaction. Then you can begin to have a real
conversation.
The secret of powerful expression is recognizing that you are the ultimate
authority on you. You are an expert on what you think, how you feel, and why
you’ve come to this place. If you think it or feel it, you are entitled to say it, and
no one can legitimately contradict you. You only get in trouble if you try to
assert what you are not the final authority on — who is right, who intended
what, what happened. Speak fully the range of your experience and you will be
clear. Speak for yourself and you can speak with power.
11
Problem-Solving: Take the Lead
It may be that the person you’re talking to has read this book and understands
how to engage in a learning conversation. But don’t count on it.
More likely, you’ll talk about understanding, and they’ll talk about who’s
right. You’ll talk about contribution, while they’re stuck in blame. You’ll bend
over backwards to listen and acknowledge their feelings, and in return you’ll be
attacked, interrupted, and judged. You’re doing your best to improve the way the
two of you communicate; they’re doing their best to ensure that no constructive
communication ever occurs between you. It may be that they are still worried
about being blamed, or don’t understand the terminology you’re using. Perhaps
they don’t yet trust you and your new behavior, which after all is different from
the last time you had this conversation.
What to do?
Skills for Leading the Conversation
If your conversations are going to get anywhere, you’re going to have to take the
lead. There are a set of powerful “moves” you can make during the conversation
– reframing, listening, and naming the dynamic – that can help keep the
conversation on track, whether the other person is being cooperative or not.
When the other person heads in a destructive direction, reframing puts the
conversation back on course. It allows you to translate unhelpful statements into
helpful ones. Listening is not only the skill that lets you into the other person’s
world; it is also the single most powerful move you can make to keep the
conversation constructive. And naming the dynamic is useful when you want to
address a troubling aspect of the conversation. It is a particularly good strategy if
the other person is dominating the conversation and seems unwilling to follow
your lead.
Reframe, Reframe, Reframe
Reframing means taking the essence of what the other person says and
“translating it” into concepts that are more helpful — specifically, concepts from
the Three Conversations framework. You are walking down a new path and
inviting the other person to join you. You’re illuminating the way.
Let’s return to the situation between Miguel and Sydney from Chapter 4.
Recall that Sydney is leading a team of engineers on a project in Brazil. After
initially resisting her leadership, Miguel has become Sydney’s most ardent
supporter. Unfortunately for Sydney, Miguel’s enthusiasm has apparently
progressed to romantic interest as well. He has taken to following her around,
expressing how much he likes spending time with her, and inviting her for quiet
walks alone on the beach.
When Sydney steps away from her own focus on blame, she begins to see the
mixed signals she may be sending to Miguel. She realizes that by not expressing
her discomfort directly, she is contributing to the situation. Sydney decides to
raise the issue with Miguel. She knows that for the conversation to be successful,
she’s going to have to be persistent in reframing the conversation from blame to
contribution. We pick up the dialogue partway in:
SYDNEY: I should have brought this up with you earlier, which
is why it’s really important to me that we talk about it now....
MIGUEL: Of course you should bring it up with me if you feel
uncomfortable! This is the reason you are uncomfortable. A team
leader should know how to handle this better.
SYDNEY: Whether I should or shouldn’t, I guess I didn’t. It
makes sense to me that by not bringing it up, I probably
exacerbated the problem. Rather than focus on which one of us is
to blame, I’m trying to figure out how we got into this spot in the
first place. I think we each did – or didn’t do – some things that
made the situation worse.
MIGUEL: Well, I think this whole thing is because you are
American. American women are oversensitive to these issues and
create problems where there aren’t any.
SYDNEY: You and I could probably argue all day about whether
or not American women are oversensitive. What’s important is
perhaps that you and I are coming at this from very different
cultural perspectives. So I experienced your comments as
suggestive and uncomfortable, and you seemed to see our
suggestive and uncomfortable, and you seemed to see our
interaction as not out of place in a working relationship. Is that
right?
MIGUEL: That is true. For me, what I did was normal and not a
big deal.
SYDNEY: When you say “normal,” do you mean normal for two
people in just a professional relationship? Or do you mean normal
that two people in a professional relationship might choose to
pursue something further?
MIGUEL: Either one. We can tease each other. I can tell you how
much I like you. If you are not interested, you can ignore it. If
you are, you can respond in kind. The problem here is that you
are overreacting, and you should have brought this up sooner.
SYDNEY: As I said at the beginning, I agree with you that if I
had brought it up, we might have avoided some of this. I think I
felt frustrated that I was trying to ignore it, and you persisted.
Like when I kept turning down your invitations to have a drink in
the bar or take a walk on the beach.
MIGUEL: You know, there were times I could tell something
was wrong. I suppose I could have also asked you if things were
okay, or if I had offended you for some reason. And maybe we
should have just talked about our expectations of each other up
front....
With this last statement Miguel is finally starting to sense the difference
between contribution and blame, and is starting to feel comfortable enough to
begin to acknowledge his own contribution. But to get to this point, Sydney had
to be persistent in redirecting him away from blame.
You Can Reframe Anything
Reframing works on all fronts; you can reframe anything the other person says
to move toward a learning conversation. Consider these examples:
THEY SAY: I’m right, and there are no two ways about it!
You Can Reframe
YOU REFRAME: I want to make sure I understand your
perspective. You obviously feel very strongly about it. I’d also
like to share my perspective on the situation.
THEY SAY: You hurt me on purpose!
YOU REFRAME: I can see that you’re feeling really angry about
what I did, which is upsetting to me. It wasn’t my intention. Can
you say more about how you felt?
THEY SAY: This is all your fault!
YOU REFRAME: I’m sure I’ve contributed to the problem; I
think we both have. Rather than focus on whose fault this is, I’d
like just to look at how we got here – at what we each contributed
to the situation.
THEY SAY: You are the nastiest person I’ve ever met.
YOU REFRAME: It sounds like you’re feeling really badly.
THEY SAY: I am not a bad neighbor!
YOU REFRAME: Heavens, I don’t think you are either. And I
certainly hope you don’t think I’m a lousy neighbor. I do think
that we disagree about how this should be handled, and I think
that’s pretty normal between good neighbors. The question is
whether we can work together to figure out how to address both
of our concerns.
Of course, one sentence alone is unlikely to do the trick, but these examples
give you a sense of where to start. Like Sydney, you’ll need to be persistent, and
you should expect to be constantly reframing the conversation to help keep it on
a productive track.
a productive track.
The “You-Me” And
A second reframing move you can make is from “either/or” to “and.” If the other
person is setting up a choice between what you think and what they think,
between how you feel and how they feel, you can reject that choice by moving to
the And Stance.
In the previous chapter, we took a look at the Me-Me And. In terms of
managing the interactive conversation, it is the You-Me And that is crucial. This
is not the “and” within us, but between us. It’s the one that says, “I can listen and
understand what you have to say, and you can listen and understand what I have
to say.”
Stacy found the You-Me And helpful in her quest to find her birth mother.
Stacy’s adoptive mother, Joyce, argued that Stacy’s search was sure to be
fruitless and painful. Stacy avoided engaging in an argument over whether or not
that was true by using “and” to embrace both stories: “You might be right. It
may be that all my efforts won’t turn up anything, and even if I do find her, I
might be disappointed. She might not want to see me at all. And it’s still
important to me to try. Here’s why. . . .”
When Joyce said, “After all we’ve done to love you and raise you, what could
you possibly need that your birth mother could provide?” Stacy responded with
some Me-Me Ands and You-Me Ands. If this sounds complex, it is. And that’s
why Stacy’s response was so constructive and effective: “It sounds like my
search is really hard for you. You’re the best mother in the world, and the only
mother I’ll ever have. That’s not going to change. This is hard for me too,
because it’s hard for me to see you feeling hurt like this — sometimes I think
I’m just being selfish or ungrateful. At the same time, I have questions that I
really want to answer. I hope we can keep talking about what this means to each
of us as I begin to pursue this.” Stacy was able to assert herself without
invalidating the power and importance of her mother’s concerns.
It’s Always the Right Time to Listen
No matter how good you get at reframing, the single most important rule about
managing the interaction is this: You can’t move the conversation in a more
positive direction until the other person feels heard and understood. And they
won’t feel heard and understood until you’ve listened. When the other person
becomes highly emotional, listen and acknowledge. When they say their version
of the story is the only version that makes sense, paraphrase what you’re hearing
and ask them some questions about why they think this. If they level accusations
against you, before defending yourself, try to understand their view.
Whenever you feel overwhelmed or unsure how to proceed, remember that it
is always a good time to listen.
Be Persistent About Listening
We often assume that the listener is playing a passive role in the conversation,
but that’s not necessarily true. You can use listening to direct the conversation.
Consider this telephone conversation between Harpreet and his wife,
Monisha. Monisha is a sales representative for a large pharmaceutical company
and spends a significant amount of time on the road. The distance highlights
what has been a tense issue throughout their relationship.
MONISHA: Okay, well, I better get some sleep. I’ve got a big
presentation first thing in the morning.
HARPREET: So I’ll see you on Thursday?
MONISHA: Yeah, Thursday night. I should be home around
seven.
HARPREET: Okay, sleep tight.... [silence] I love you.
MONISHA: Good night. See you Thursday.
Harpreet hangs up hurt and frustrated. “She never tells me that she loves me,”
he complains. “Whenever I bring it up, she’ll say something like, ‘You know I
love you, so why do I need to say it all the time?’ ”
This issue is obviously important to Harpreet. And for that reason, it makes
sense that he should be persistent in raising it with Monisha. Many people think
that being persistent means asserting your view – in other words, that Harpreet
should just repeat himself. But that doesn’t work.
You have to find a way to be persistent, while remembering that you are in a
two-way conversation. Persistence in a difficult conversation means remaining
as stubbornly interested in hearing the other person’s views as you are in
asserting your own.
In thinking through the Three Conversations, Harpreet began to be curious
about why Monisha reacted the way she did. In the next conversation, Harpreet
decided that his purpose was mainly to listen, ask questions, and try to
decided that his purpose was mainly to listen, ask questions, and try to
understand how Monisha experienced this issue.
HARPREET: When I say that I love you, what are you thinking?
MONISHA: I’m thinking, “Okay, he’s waiting for me to say it
back to him.” So it makes me not want to say it then, because I
feel pressured into it. Besides, you know I love you.
HARPREET: Sometimes I do feel confident that you love me.
But sometimes I feel less sure. When you say that I know, how
are you thinking I would know?
MONISHA: Well, I’m still with you, right?
HARPREET: That’s a pretty low standard! Besides, my parents
stayed together for years after they stopped loving each other.
Maybe that’s why I sometimes feel nervous about this....
MONISHA: Hmm. I guess I have the opposite experience. My
parents were crazy about each other, and were always saying
these sappy things in front of us. I thought it was embarrassing. It
just seems like if you really love each other you don’t have to say
it all the time. You can just show it.
HARPREET: Show it how?
MONISHA: I don’t know, like by being kind to each other. Like
when I dropped everything and flew to Phoenix that weekend
your mom was sick. I did it because I knew how hard it was for
you, and I wanted to be there to help....
Harpreet and Monisha have some distance to go. But simply by listening
through the retorts and arguments for the feelings and stories, Harpreet is
helping them have a much more interesting and constructive conversation on a
topic that is hard for both of them.
Name the Dynamic: Make the Trouble Explicit
Reframing and listening involve leading the conversation in the direction you
want it to go. These tools are powerful, and most of your conversations will call
on both. Sometimes, though, they are not enough. No matter how well you
listen, no matter how many times you reframe, the other person will continue to
interrupt, attack, or dismiss you. Every time you begin to get somewhere, they
have another reason why the problem isn’t a problem after all. Or perhaps
they’re acting upset, but each time you ask about it, they say, “No, no, I’m fine.
I’m not upset at all.”
At times like these, naming the dynamic can help. You put on the table as a
topic for discussion what you see happening in the conversation itself. In a
sense, you are acting as your own “conversation doctor,” diagnosing the problem
and prescribing a way back to health. These kind of diagnoses, and suggestions,
sound like this:
I’ve noticed that we keep running out of time whenever we start
talking about this. Maybe we should designate an hour when we
can both really focus on this and address it then.
I’ve tried to say what I was thinking three times now, and each
time you’ve started talking over me. I don’t know whether you’re
aware that it’s happening, but I’m finding it frustrating. If there’s
something important about what you’re saying that I’m not
understanding, please share it. And then I want to be able to finish
what I’m saying.
Here’s what I’m noticing. I ask you if you are feeling hurt by
what I said, and you say, “No, no, no, of course not. I’m not that
kind of person.” But then you keep acting toward me in ways that
people act when they’re hurt or mad at me. At least that’s how
I’m seeing this. It seems to me the best thing to do is to try to
figure out what I’m doing that might be upsetting to you.
Otherwise, I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere.
Hang on a second. Several times now, when I’ve said the things
that are important to me, you’ve gotten very angry to the point
where I feel threatened. I don’t know what’s causing your
response. If you’re upset, I’m interested to hear why. If you’re
trying to intimidate me into changing my mind, it won’t work. I
really do want to know what’s upsetting you, and I want us to
find a way to talk about it that doesn’t feel intimidating to me.
Naming the dynamic between you can be enormously helpful in clearing the
air. It draws what you are each really thinking and feeling but not saying onto
the table for honest discussion. And it can stop frustrating interactions in their
tracks; often the other person is not aware that they are doing something that is
upsetting to you. However, it does take the conversation off the substance, and
sometimes, it can escalate tension. So naming the dynamic is probably best
thought of as something to try when nothing else has worked.
Now What? Begin to Problem-Solve
Often simply sorting out the Three Conversations and bringing to light the heart
of the matter for each person clears up the issues between you. But not always.
You’ve come a long way in understanding each other’s stories, and untangling
what’s happened. You have a better grasp on the feelings involved. But at the
end of the day, you still need to decide how to go forward together, and you may
not agree on how to do that.
This is the time for problem-solving. Fundamentally, problem-solving consists
of gathering information and testing your perceptions, creating options that
would meet both sides’ primary concerns, and, where you can’t, trying to find
fair ways to resolve the difference.
It Takes Two to Agree
Difficult conversations require a certain amount of compromise and mutual
accommodation to the other’s needs. If you find problem-solving difficult and
anxiety producing, it may be because you are focused on persuading them.
Those caught in this trap struggle like a fish on a hook, desperately trying to
satisfy the seemingly insatiable demands of the other and reach some reasonable
agreement on how to move forward. And no wonder. This frame gives the other
side total control – until and unless they are satisfied, you must continue to
struggle.
Describing the pattern this way illuminates its flaw: there are two people
involved, and there will be no agreement unless both concur. You need to
persuade them no more and no less than they need to persuade you. Thus, you
always have the option to turn the tables, to invite them to persuade you and
insist that they do. As long as you are open to persuasion, and prepared, if
absolutely necessary, to live with no agreement, you can do this as firmly as you
would like: “I understand that you are determined to have your article reviewed
this week, and I’m still not persuaded that I should spend my vacation doing it.”
For many people, realizing that they don’t have to agree brings a sense of
great liberation, relief, and empowerment.
Gather Information and Test Your Perceptions
Henry had planned this weekend away with friends months ago. He worked
Henry had planned this weekend away with friends months ago. He worked
extra hours all week finishing up the new displays and work schedules. It was
Friday morning when Henry’s boss, Rosario, approached him in the back room.
“Hank, I’ve got big problems with this supplier. We’ve got to get it figured
out over the weekend, so that we’re sure we’ve got the stock to handle the
holiday rush next month,” she explained. “I’m really sorry, because I know that
you had plans this weekend. But I need you to stay. I’m sure you can reschedule
with your friends, right?”
Propose Crafting a Test. Rather than explode or argue, Henry decided to
learn more about why Rosario was so concerned. As Henry and Rosario sorted
through their stories, they discovered that they had different assumptions about
their relationship with the supplier in question. Henry believed that even if they
ran into problems down the road, the supplier would work with them to rush
their order overnight. Rosario has had too many bad experiences with suppliers
over the years to believe that anything other than getting it right the first time
would ensure that the holidays would go smoothly.
Divergent views are often rooted in one or more conflicting assumptions or
hypotheses. If these can be identified, then you can discuss what would
constitute a fair test of which assumption is empirically valid, or to what extent it
is valid. Henry suggested that they call the supplier and ask about the availability
of the stock in question, and whether someone would be willing to work with
them if they ran into problems in the coming weeks. Rosario wanted to make
sure they asked a series of what-if questions and established a personal
relationship with someone on the other end who could take responsibility for
making it work. To be persuasive, of course, such a test needs to satisfy both
parties that it is fair and adequate.
Say What Is Still Missing. As you struggle with conflicting perceptions and
conclusions, each of you needs to say unambiguously where the other person’s
story still doesn’t make sense to you. As you follow their reasoning, what’s
missing that would make their version make sense? So Henry might say, “I think
I understand now why stock problems caused us to lose money last year. It does
seem that we need to get it sorted out early. Yet right now we’ve got a thirty-day
head start on the problem, so I’m not understanding why this weekend is going
to make the difference.”
Say What Would Persuade You. Being open to persuasion is a powerful
stance to have. It allows you to be honest and firm about your current views, and
to listen to theirs. “Based on my understanding, it seems to me that my assistant
manager, Bill, has the training to do the inventory this weekend, giving me a
head start on the problem next week. Is your understanding different? Maybe
you’ve got concerns about Bill that would be persuasive to me.”
Ask What (If Anything) Would Persuade Them. “I have offered a number
of what seem to me good reasons why it doesn’t make sense for me to cancel my
plans and work this weekend. Yet you remain adamant that I stay. Is there a
reason I haven’t heard? If not, I’m wondering if there is anything I could say that
would persuade you otherwise and, if so, what it would be?”
Ask Their Advice. “Help me understand how you would feel and how you
might think about the situation, if you were in my shoes. What would you do?
Why? Could you imagine a way of staying that would not end up making it more
likely that something like this would happen again?”
Our experience has been that people who understand that persuasion must be a
two-way street rarely find themselves in situations like this. Their reputation for
not being a pushover gains them both general respect and a wider berth from
those who might otherwise be inclined to try taking advantage.
Invent Options
Let’s come back to your neighbors with the barking dog. When you finally raise
the issue, you learn that they feel the dog’s barking is important for security
reasons, and that the reason he’s left outside at night is that they fear he might
accidentally hurt the new baby (whom he adores). This makes sense to you, and
you are able nonetheless to share how frustrating and exhausting it is for you to
be kept awake. When it comes time to figure out what to do about it, you may
get stuck. Your answer (get rid of the dog) isn’t so appealing to them, and their
answer (wear earplugs or close the windows) seems ridiculous to you.
Many difficult situations are amenable to creative solutions that meet most of
everyone’s needs, but which may not be obvious and may take some effort to
find. This calls for determined joint brainstorming. “I wonder if we can work to
find a creative way to meet both interests here. What do you think? Are you
willing to try?” Odds are, persistence will pay off.
Brainstorming might yield some useful ideas. For example, your son might
spend time with the neighbors’ dog so that the dog gets more exercise and
attention during this busy period with the new baby. This might also meet some
of your son’s interests in getting a dog of his own. Or your neighbors might
of your son’s interests in getting a dog of his own. Or your neighbors might
decide to get a second dog to keep the first one company, or to bring the dog
indoors after 10 p.m. and close the door to the baby’s room. Or perhaps they’ll
ask you to call when the barking starts to bother you, so that they can address the
problem right away and you don’t spend another sleepless night.
What’s more important is that you both recognize that if you are going to
continue to live next door, you need to work together to find a solution that
satisfies everyone – you, them, and the dog.
Ask What Standards Should Apply
Generally the best way to manage conflict in a way that safeguards a relationship
is to look for standards or fair principles to guide a resolution, rather than trying
to haggle with or intimidate the other person. If you can’t find a creative way to
solve the problem, ask what standards of fairness should apply, and why. In the
case of the dog, there may be a local ordinance pertaining to noise, or a method
other dog owners in the neighborhood have used to keep their pooches quiet.
Industry or local practices, legal precedents, and ethical principles all offer ways
to settle the matter without anyone having to back down or lose face.
Not all standards are equally persuasive, of course. Some will seem more
directly on point, more widely accepted, or more immediately relevant in terms
of time, place, or circumstance. This is one more topic for discussion as you
explore the relative fairness of different standards.
The Principle of Mutual Caretaking. One dynamic to remember at this
stage of a difficult conversation is the tendency we all have to believe that our
way of doing things is the “right” way. This can lead us to ascribe the problem to
something wrong with “the way they are,” and to suggest a “solution” that boils
down to doing it our way: “If you would just change, there wouldn’t be a
problem.”
The frustration is understandable, but the argument is not persuasive. Both the
challenge and the spice of relationships is in people’s differences. Occasional
frustration is the price of admission. And as we’ve noted, no relationship will
endure if one party always gives in to the other. A good resolution will usually
require each party to accommodate somewhat to the other’s differences, or
perhaps to reciprocate – going one way on some issues and the other way on
others. This is the principle of mutual caretaking.
If You Still Can’t Agree, Consider Your Alternatives
Not every conflict can be resolved by mutual agreement. Sometimes, even after
highly skilled communication, you and the other person will simply fail to come
up with an option that works for both of you. Then you’re faced with a decision:
Should you accept less than what you want, or should you accept the
consequences of not agreeing?
Let’s come back to Henry and Rosario. Rosario’s the boss. Henry’s a valuable
employee. If they can’t arrive at a solution to the problem of whether Henry will
work the weekend, then they each face some choices. Each needs to think about
what they will do if they can’t arrive at a solution together.
If you are going to walk away without agreeing, you need two things. First,
you need to explain why you are walking away. What interests and concerns are
not met by the solutions you’ve been discussing? Let’s imagine Henry decides to
take the weekend off despite Rosario’s continued insistence that he stay. Rather
than just storming out, Henry should be clear about his feelings, interests, and
choices. He might say, “Rosario, I really am sorry. I want very much to be a
good employee, and to help out when I can. Normally, I’m happy to work
weekends and nights – I hope you’ve seen that in the past. It’s simply a matter of
notice. I feel badly about leaving you in the lurch; at the same time, these plans
are really important to me, and I gave you plenty of notice and worked hard all
week so that I could go away. So I don’t like the choice, but given the choice,
I’m going to go.”
Now Henry needs the second thing: a willingness to accept the consequences.
He may return on Monday to find that he no longer has a job. If he can live with
that, or indeed prefers that, then going off with his friends makes sense. And as
often as not, he may return to find Rosario is both unhappy and more respecting
of him and his time. Perhaps she will even apologize, or ask to talk about how to
avoid such situations in the future.
If Henry can’t live with the possibility of losing his job, then his best choice is
probably to work the weekend. He’ll feel disappointed that he didn’t get to spend
time with his friends, but he’ll know he handled the conversation skillfully and
made a wise choice in the end.
It Takes Time
Most difficult conversations are not, in actuality, a single conversation. They are
Most difficult conversations are not, in actuality, a single conversation. They are
a series of exchanges and explorations that happen over time. Assuming that
Henry and Rosario work things out this time, there will be plenty of other issues
that arise between them. Work demands will continue to be high, and they’ll
have to work together to figure out ways to balance this with Henry’s personal
commitments. Michael and Jack, the friends arguing over the brochure in
Chapter 1, will need to find ways to repair their friendship, and explore whether
and how to work together in the future. You and your neighbors will have to try
out having your son care for the dog, or letting the dog inside at night, and see
how it goes. And however it goes, you should have follow-up conversations to
check in and, if necessary, look for new ways to cope.
12
Putting It All Together
Jack would like to take another crack at a conversation with Michael.
“I thought that once we got the brochure out of the way, things would settle
down between us,” he explains. But months later, Michael remains distant and
the friendship has become awkward. Jack knows he should talk to Michael, but
about what? Jack believes that the bottom line is this: Michael was just being a
jerk.
Step One: Prepare by Walking Through the Three
Conversations
In preparation for his conversation Jack sat down and walked himself through
the Three Conversations, making notes to himself about how Michael might be
seeing things, and what they’ve each contributed to the problem (an abbreviated
version of Jack’s notes is included on p. 218). Along the way, Jack made a few
discoveries. He realized that Michael probably didn’t know Jack had put aside
other things and had worked through the night. Jack doesn’t really know whether
Michael meant to intimidate him. He saw the ways in which he had contributed
to the problem by not raising his feelings with Michael at the time, or as soon as
the brochure was done.
This reinforced Jack’s determination to change this contribution and raise his
feelings now. “Rethinking my assumptions about what happened succeeded in
shaking my confidence that I was right and that the problem here was Michael,”
says Jack. “Probably the biggest thing I realized was just that I didn’t really
understand this thing at all from Michael’s perspective. I’m willing to try.”
Jack’s Preparation Notes

Shaking your confidence may seem like a funny way to prepare for a
conversation. But as a result, Jack is more open to hearing what Michael has to
say, more curious about learning what he doesn’t know (like about Michael’s
intentions, or what Michael thinks Jack has contributed). And in an important
sense, Jack is more confident. Accepting his own role in the problem has helped
him to feel more grounded rather than less. While he’s no longer sure that his
story is “right” and that Michael’s is “wrong,” Jack is absolutely certain that
each of their stories matters.
Step Two: Check Your Purposes and Decide Whether to
Raise It
Most important, Jack feels more secure that raising these issues is a good thing
to try regardless of how Michael reacts. “At first, as I considered whether to
raise this issue again, I thought, ‘Well, what if Michael thinks it’s not important,
or just brushes it off? Then I’ll feel foolish, or like I failed.’ I played with the
idea of not raising things, but I would have been running away rather than
making a clear-headed choice to let go.
“So I wanted to raise it, but I was nervous. Then I remembered the advice
about not trying to control the other person’s reaction. I’m raising it because I
think it’s important, and I’m going to do it as well as I can, and if Michael isn’t
interested in talking, or if he isn’t open, well, at least I tried, and I can feel good
that I stuck up for myself.”
Below, we present parts of the conversation between Jack and Michael as it
might realistically go – with one difference: to put what Jack is doing well and
less well into higher relief, we’re giving him a consultant to coach him when he
gets stuck. We’re also going to give Jack the chance to start and stop, and to start
over if things aren’t going quite right.
Step Three: Start from the Third Story
Below, Jack’s first try at getting started, and the result.
JACK: Listen, Michael, say what you will, but the problem on
that financial brochure was that after all the work I did, you
treated me badly, and you know it!
MICHAEL: The problem on that project was that I had the poor
judgment to use you in the first place. I’ll never make that
mistake again!
JACK: Okay, cut. This isn’t going right.
COACH: What went wrong?
JACK: I don’t know. He didn’t react very well.
COACH: Notice that you began the conversation from inside
your story.
JACK: I should have started from the Third Story. That’s right.
I’ll start over.
JACK: Michael, I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened
between us on the financial brochure. I found the experience
frustrating, and I suspect you did as well. What’s most worrisome
to me is that it feels like it has affected our friendship. I wonder
whether we could talk about that? I’d like to understand better
what was happening for you, and how you felt about working
together, and I’d also like to share what I found upsetting.
MICHAEL: Well, Jack, the problem is that you’re just not careful
enough, and then you can’t admit it when you make a mistake. It
really made me angry when you started making excuses.
JACK: Okay, he’s attacking me. I thought if I started from the
Third Story he was supposed to be nicer.
COACH: Well, Michael’s reaction wasn’t nearly as
confrontational as it was in your first try. You’re actually off to a
good start. You did a great job of beginning from the Third Story.
Remember, persistence. Michael’s not immediately going to
understand that you’re trying to have a learning conversation.
You have to be prepared for him to be somewhat defensive.
JACK: And say what, if he attacks me?
COACH: He’s already into his story. The best thing you can do
for the conversation is to listen from a stance of real curiosity, to
ask questions, and to pay special attention to the feelings behind
the words.
Step Four: Explore Their Story and Yours
JACK: You felt I was making excuses? Say more about that.
MICHAEL: The truth is, Jack, you shouldn’t have argued with
MICHAEL: The truth is, Jack, you shouldn’t have argued with
me about the chart. You should have just redone the brochure.
JACK: So your thinking was that since the graph was off, it was
up to me to correct it and reprint the brochures. And it sounds like
when I questioned this, that was frustrating for you.
MICHAEL: Yeah, it was frustrating. I had the client breathing
down my neck, already less than happy with us.
JACK: Why?
MICHAEL: Because she thought this photograph in one of the
other publications was the wrong one. It wasn’t, but you just
don’t argue at times like that. That’s what really frustrated me,
Jack. You don’t seem to understand that the customer is always
right.
JACK: So the client was already looking for things to be unhappy
about?
MICHAEL: It sure felt that way. And if there was something you
were going to screw up, the revenue chart was the first thing she
was going to notice. Her investors are already unhappy with some
of her recent decisions. Yes, the chart was only off by a small
amount, and it’s not something we’d always rerun, but in this
case, given the situation, it was something that we had to get just
right.
JACK: I didn’t realize some of this background. It sounds like
there was a lot going on for you during all of this.
JACK: Time out.
COACH: You’re doing great!
JACK: Yeah, maybe. It’s helpful, actually. I’m beginning to get a
sense for how he’s seeing things. But he’s not getting a sense for
how I’m seeing things. When do I get to give my side of the story?
COACH: You’ve done some good listening. Michael may be in a
better place to start to listen to you.
JACK: From my point of view, Michael, the problem was that I
did this favor for you, and then you mistreated me. You acted
badly.
badly.
COACH: Cut! Yes, you want to move into your perspective, but
first you need a transition sentence, something that acknowledges
that you’re beginning to understand his view on this, and that you
want to share yours. And when you do share yours, if you want to
share feelings, do so. But what you said above is a judgment
about Michael, which is rarely helpful. Better to say how you feel.
JACK: I’m beginning to get a sense for how you’re seeing things,
and that’s helpful to me. I also want to try to give you a sense for
how I was seeing things, and for how I was feeling.
MICHAEL: Okay.
JACK: Hmm. I’m not always good at talking about my feelings,
but I’ll try. I felt hurt by some of the things you said –
MICHAEL: Jack, I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I just needed the
brochure done right! Sometimes I think you’re too sensitive.
JACK: Okay, after all the listening I did, now he’s gone and
interrupted me right off the bat. I didn’t even get a chance to get
the first sentence out. That’s just how Michael is. He always
interrupts, and I can never get what I think on the table.
COACH: This is where you have to be persistent, a little more
assertive in getting your story out there. You can interrupt him to
create space for what you’re trying to say. You need to be very
explicit that you are still explaining your view, and you’d like him
to listen.
JACK: Well, hang on a second. Before we get into how you feel
about how I feel, I just want to tell you a little more about how
I’m seeing things.
MICHAEL: That’s fine, but what I’m saying is that you’re taking
this question of our business interactions too personally –
JACK: He did it again. See? That’s what he does.
COACH: He is good at interrupting. So how are you feeling at
this point?
JACK: I’m feeling really frustrated.
COACH: So you have a few choices here. You could give up, but
I think it’s way too early for that. You could do some more
listening, which is always a good idea. But let’s say you don’t
want to do that at the moment. Instead, you could try two other
things. One is, you could simply reassert that you want to get
your view on the table, and I suspect that would eventually work.
A second is you could share your frustration at being interrupted.
JACK: If I do that he’ll interrupt to tell me I shouldn’t be
frustrated. I think I’ll try once more to be assertive.
JACK: Michael, I understand you think I’m taking things too
personally. We can come to that. Before we do, I want to give
you a better sense of where I’m at.
COACH: Brilliant! You started with listening, and paraphrasing
his sense that you take things too personally. For him, that helps
take away the need to keep saying it. And now you’re in a good
place to continue your story.
JACK: I’m getting the hang of it.
JACK: So bear with me. Um, here’s the thing. When you called,
here’s what I was thinking to myself: “Oh my God, I’m already
overloaded at the moment. I need to get the Anders materials out
by tomorrow, and I’m supposed to have dinner with Charlotte
tonight.” And then I thought, “Well, I’m just going to have to call
the Anders folks and let them know their stuff will be a day late,
and call Charlotte and cancel dinner.” Because, Michael, you
sounded like it was an emergency, and I really wanted to help you
out.
MICHAEL: And I appreciated that –
JACK: But you never said that. From my point of view, after
JACK: But you never said that. From my point of view, after
making these sacrifices, the first feedback I heard was, “Gee,
Jack, you really screwed this one up!” Can you see why I would
feel upset by that?
MICHAEL: I shouldn’t have said that, Jack. I meant to say thank
you. I guess I was overloaded with my own frustrations at that
point. It’s interesting. I wasn’t thinking that you were doing me a
favor, to be honest, although I can see now that you were. What I
was thinking, and what I still think, is that I was also doing you a
favor. You know, giving you the business. There were other
people I could have called, but I thought you’d appreciate the
business.
JACK: Which I did. I guess on my end, I was so caught up in just
trying to get everything done that it wasn’t feeling like a favor
from you. But obviously, I do appreciate the business.
JACK: This is getting almost fun.
COACH: You’re doing a great job. Keep going.
MICHAEL: Jack, I still want to talk to you about something else.
If we’re putting all our cards on the table, I get really upset when
you try to deny that you’ve done something wrong. You know,
you say that the graph is fine, when it’s not.
JACK: Okay, it’s getting less fun again.
COACH: That’s how difficult conversations are. They go up and
down. You have to keep working at it.
JACK: Michael, I wasn’t denying anything. I didn’t do anything
wrong!
COACH: Okay, let’s slow down. You’re at a tricky point here,
and there’s the potential either to get into a big argument or to
straighten some things out in a very helpful way.
JACK: I believe you, but I’m not seeing it.
COACH: Look back at what Michael said. He said he gets really
upset when you try to deny that you’ve done something wrong.
He’s making one of the big mistakes around impact and
intentions, and you’re making the other one. In Michael’s
statement, he’s assuming he knows what you were trying to do,
what your intentions were.
JACK: Which he doesn’t.
COACH: Right. So he’s making the mistake of assuming he
knows what your intentions are when in fact he doesn’t. When we
do that in conversations, it creates just what happened here. The
other person defends himself, and you get into a pointless
argument.
JACK: How can I not defend myself?
COACH: The best way to handle confusion around impact and
intent isn’t to defend yourself. First, you have to acknowledge the
other person’s feelings, and only then should you try to clarify
what your intentions were.
JACK: I hear that my response was frustrating for you.
MICHAEL: It was. I’m not trying to be a bad guy. I’m just trying
to get it done right.
JACK: Let me try to explain my response. I wasn’t trying to
pretend nothing was wrong, or trying to put one over on you. I
genuinely felt that the graph was fine the way it was. As we’ve
talked about it, I see that my reaction wasn’t based on all the
information. I’m not sure what I think about the graph at this
point. What I do know is that if I thought it should be redone I’d
be the first to admit it.
MICHAEL: I don’t know about that. I still get a sense that you
are sometimes defensive about making mistakes.
JACK: That’s not true.
COACH: You did a great job of sorting through the intentions
question. It’s not easy. Now we’re getting into another tricky
area. Is it true, in your heart of hearts, that you have no problem
with mistakes?
JACK: Of course not! I hate making mistakes. I can’t stand it. It
makes me crazy when I make a mistake, especially a stupid one.
COACH: So why did you say you have no problem with them?
JACK: I guess I didn’t want to admit that I do have a little bit of
trouble around owning up to mistakes.
COACH: Here’s the thing. Michael, for one reason or another,
senses that you have issues around making mistakes. You might
do better by sharing some of your Identity Conversation with him.
It’s a risk, but in this case, not a very big one since he seems to
already know it.
JACK: Actually, Michael, as I think about it, admitting mistakes
is something I do sometimes have trouble with. Even that is hard
for me to say.
MICHAEL: Well, I appreciate your saying that. I wish you’d just
admit them and then we can get on to the work of correcting
them.
JACK: Well, I don’t want to confuse two issues. I did make a
mistake with the graph, and it was my strong judgment, at least at
the time we were talking, that the problem was so inconsequential
that it didn’t need to be redone.
COACH: Fabulous. You owned up to a real issue you have, and
you also did a great job of using the And Stance to clarify that in
this case you felt like you were using good judgment.
JACK: So what’s next for me? Are we almost done?
COACH: You’re getting there. What else feels important for you
to say? What else feels important for you to learn?
JACK: We’ve talked about what I did wrong on the brochure, but
we haven’t talked at all about what Michael did wrong. After all,
he reviewed it and gave me the go-ahead.
COACH: That’s an important issue. See if you can bring it up as
an issue of joint contribution rather than blame.
JACK: Michael, there’s another issue I want to raise. I get the
sense that you’re thinking the fact that the brochure was off was
entirely my doing.
MICHAEL: Jack, we don’t need to get into that again. I’m not
trying to beat you over the head with it. I understand that you
worked hard on the brochure and I appreciate that.
JACK: I know. I just want to offer a different angle on this blame
question. You’re reaction was that since I did the work, the graph
problem was my fault. And my initial reaction was that since you
looked it over and gave the go-ahead it was also your fault –
MICHAEL: No, I never said I proofread it. That was your job.
What I indicated was that assuming there were no mistakes, it
was okay for you to print.
JACK: That’s just my point. I’m saying that we both had a hand
in the problem. We misunderstood each other. I’m not saying
there’s a right or wrong. If we had each understood the other
more clearly, we would have been less likely to have gotten into
the mess we did.
MICHAEL: That’s certainly true. But so what?
JACK: The point is, we are more likely to avoid this kind of
problem in the future if we are more careful to communicate
clearly. I should have asked you point-blank whether you had
read the brochure carefully, and you might have said more clearly
that you had not. Either one of those would have been useful, and
would be useful next time.
MICHAEL: I think that makes sense.
JACK: Wow. That was much easier to discuss than blame, and
much more helpful.
COACH: And notice that talking about contribution focuses you
naturally on problem-solving. Let’s work a bit more on that. You
each have your own view on whether the brochure should have
been redone. Do a little problem-solving on that issue.
Step Five: Problem-Solving
JACK: Michael, let’s think about how we should handle a
difference of judgment if it happens again in the future. For
example, whether the brochure needs to be redone.
MICHAEL: I think as the client in this situation, we should just
do it my way. I don’t see it as some sort of joint decision.
JACK: I agree, in terms of the final decision. You should make it
in that case. I guess I’m wondering how to give you the benefit of
my judgment before the decision is made. I can imagine there will
be times when you have a certain view, and then we talk about it,
and you change your mind.
MICHAEL: That’s true. So maybe if we’re more clear about what
the purpose of the conversation is, then instead of thinking you’re
trying to make the final decision, I’ll know that you’re just giving
me your opinion.
JACK: That makes sense.
MICHAEL: But sometimes I don’t have time to have a long
conversation about it.
JACK: I understand that. It would help me if you would tell me
that. Otherwise I don’t understand why you’re getting so
frustrated in the conversation.
MICHAEL: So I can just say, “I don’t have time to talk about it”?
JACK: Yes, and also tell me why. That you’ve got to get
something out by noon, or that this revenue issue is a touchy one,
or that we can talk about it later. It’ll only take five seconds, and
it’ll save me from getting frustrated with you for not listening.
MICHAEL: I can see why that would be frustrating.
COACH: Jack, you and Michael are on your way. Nice job!
JACK: As long as I’m on a roll, I want to bring up with Michael
the thing that in some ways is the most difficult, and that’s the
question of our friendship. I want to make sure that none of this
hurts our friendship.
COACH: Check your purposes on that. “Making sure that none
of this hurt our friendship” sounds like you’re going to put words
in his mouth. It’s a little controlling. If you’re going to ask a
question, make sure it’s an open question. Just ask him how he’s
feeling about your friendship. If the problem did hurt your
friendship, you want him to be open about saying so.
JACK: I’m glad we’re working through these issues. I think it’s
hard to work with friends. I guess I wonder whether you think
this has affected our friendship.
MICHAEL: Well, what’s your answer to that question?
JACK: Honestly? Now that we’ve talked it through I feel much
better about things. Before we talked I was pretty angry. And
probably a little hurt, too. If we hadn’t discussed this at some
point, it would have been easy for me to figure we were not going
to stay friends.
MICHAEL: I’m surprised by that. You and I certainly react
differently to this kind of thing. I was not happy with our working
relationship, but I thought our friendship was fine. I view them as
separate. But since you obviously think about it differently, I’m
glad we talked about it.
JACK: Looks like we’re friends again!
COACH: You handled it skillfully.
JACK: Thanks. I suspect we won’t have these sorts of problems in
the future.
COACH: I don’t know about that. In fact, I think you are better
off assuming that you will. Now, though, you know that it’s okay
to talk about them, so the misunderstandings may not be as
emotionally draining and are less likely to threaten the
relationship. But is this the last difficult conversation you’ll have
with Michael? I doubt it.
As the saying goes, “Life is just one damn thing after another.” It is, of course.
And now you have some skills to handle it.
A Difficult Conversations Checklist
Step 1: Prepare by Walking Through the Three Conversations
1. Sort out What Happened.
• Where does your story come from
(information, past experiences, rules)?
Theirs?
• What impact has this situation had on
you? What might their intentions have
been?
• What have you each contributed to the
problem?
2. Understand Emotions.
• Explore your emotional footprint, and
the bundle of emotions you experience.
3. Ground Your Identity.
• What’s at stake for you about you?
What do you need to accept to be better
grounded?
Step 2: Check Your Purposes and Decide Whether to Raise the Issue
• Purposes: What do you hope to accomplish by having this
conversation? Shift your stance to support learning, sharing,
and problem-solving.
• Deciding: Is this the best way to address the issue and
achieve your purposes? Is the issue really embedded in your
Identity Conversation? Can you affect the problem by
changing your contributions? If you don’t raise it, what can
you do to help yourself let go?
Step 3: Start from the Third Story
1. Describe the problem as the difference between your
stories. Include both viewpoints as a legitimate part of the
discussion.
2. Share your purposes.
3. Invite them to join you as a partner in sorting out the
situation together.
Step 4: Explore Their Story and Yours
• Listen to understand their perspective on what happened.
Ask questions. Acknowledge the feelings behind the
arguments and accusations. Paraphrase to see if you’ve got
it. Try to unravel how the two of you got to this place.
• Share your own viewpoint, your past experiences,
intentions, feelings.
• Reframe, reframe, reframe to keep on track. From truth
to perceptions, blame to contribution, accusations to
feelings, and so on.
Step 5: Problem-Solving
• Invent options that meet each side’s most important
concerns and interests.
• Look to standards for what should happen. Keep in mind
the standard of mutual caretaking; relationships that always
go one way rarely last.
• Talk about how to keep communication open as you go
forward.
Ten Questions People Ask About Difficult Conversations
Ten Questions People Ask About Difficult
Conversations
1. It sounds like you’re saying everything is relative. Aren’t some
things just true, and can’t someone simply be wrong?
2. What if the other person really does have bad intentions –
lying, bullying, or intentionally derailing the conversation to get
what they want?
3. What if the other person is genuinely difficult, perhaps even
mentally ill?
4. How does this work with someone who has all the power – like
my boss?
5. If I’m the boss/parent, why can’t I just tell my subordinates/
children what to do?
6. Isn’t this a very American approach? How does it work in
other cultures?
7. What about conversations that aren’t face-to-face? What
should I do differently if I’m on the phone or e-mail?
8. Why do you advise people to “bring feelings into the
workplace”? I’m not a therapist, and shouldn’t business decisions
be made on the merits?
9. Who has time for all this in the real world?
10. My identity conversation keeps getting stuck in either-or: I’m
perfect or I’m horrible. I can’t seem to get past that. What can I
do?
1. It sounds like you’re saying everything is relative.
Aren’t some things just true, and can’t someone simply be
wrong?
Some people who read Difficult Conversations wonder if we’re arguing that
facts are irrelevant or that all views are equally reasonable. This question arises
both in practical discussions (“We should close the Newark plant”; “I should be
first author”; “Jasper should be grounded for a month”) and in more profound
ones about values and beliefs (“Health care is a human right”; “Abortion is
murder”; “My God is the one true God”).
Facts aren’t relative, but they can be hard to pin down
Facts exist, and people can be right or wrong about them. Let’s start with a
simple everyday example. If the dinner bill is $30, and you conclude that a 15
percent tip is $6.00, you are wrong; 15 percent is $4.50. But if you think 15
percent is too little and that 20 percent is “the correct tip,” that’s a judgment, not
a fact – even if it is based on an actual survey showing that 20 percent is the
usual and customary level of tipping for that service in that location. Those are
facts, but they don’t necessarily make 20 percent the correct amount.
To make conversations productive, especially in a context of strong emotion,
high stakes, and complex perceptions, a critical first step is to distinguish clearly
between facts on the one hand, and opinions, assumptions, values, interests,
predictions, and judgments on the other. That your five-year-old threw his dinner
on the floor is a fact; whether and how he should be disciplined is a judgment.
The time at which you arrived for work this morning is a fact; your boss’s view
that arriving late reflects a poor work ethic is an assumption. That hundreds of
thousands of people were murdered in the Rwandan genocide is a fact; whether
the United States should have intervened is a matter of interests, values, and
assumptions.
Facts can be clarified, verified, and measured, though sometimes even facts
are hard to pin down. Watch any courtroom drama to see examples. A video that
has been entered into evidence appears to reveal that no one was present at the
time in question, but is its time stamp accurate? Has the video been edited?
There are factual answers to these questions, but we may have difficulty
determining what they are.
Moreover, when memory is a factor, the level of uncertainty increases
Moreover, when memory is a factor, the level of uncertainty increases
dramatically. Studies show that people are, on the whole, not very reliable
witnesses, even when they are paying attention. We often feel certain of
memories that are in fact erroneous. We can even transform memories
unconsciously, misplacing events in time and location and misremembering who
was present, even when the memory itself remains vividly specific. Brain
scientists are beginning to understand how this process works neurologically and
to confirm that it is not uncommon. Some of the latest research, for example, has
found that each time you recollect or retell a memory, you actually rewrite it as
you put it back into storage. Even as little as twenty-four hours later, your
recollection of what happened may be version 18, depending on how much
you’ve been dwelling on it.
So even when discussing facts, where there is disagreement it is imperative to
find out what the other is seeing and how they make sense of it. Is it simple
error, a lack of information, misinformation, or selective and revised memories,
or are the facts themselves more ambiguous than you had appreciated?
Not all stories are equal, but it takes a learning conversation to find out
The need to understand the basis of the other person’s story intensifies when the
disagreement is about interpretations and judgments – about what the facts
mean. And this is another domain where the question of relativity arises: “Are
you saying that his interpretation is just as valid as mine? Because it isn’t!” We
all feel this sometimes. “I understand where his expectation comes from; I just
don’t think it’s reasonable. I think it’s a reflection of his ‘issues’ and neuroses,
not of what’s fair.”
To be clear, we are not saying that all interpretations and stories are equal.
Some interpretations are more reasonable than others, or at least are likely to
seem so to most people. There are a number of reasons for this. Some stories
reflect a more complete understanding of a given situation – that is, they take
account of more of the available information. Others rely on fewer or less
extreme assumptions, or on assumptions that are more closely tied in time or
place to the situation at hand. Still others have fewer logical leaps or internal
contradictions.
But again, to be able to compare stories by such standards – and maximize
your chances of changing the other person’s view – you first have to engage in a
learning conversation to explore each story, where it comes from and what it’s
based on, and how the two stories intersect. This is equally true whether you are
trying to persuade an adversary, a teammate, or other observing constituents.
The bottom line? When you think their view is “just plain wrong,” take a
moment to re-examine your assumptions. There’s always a chance that they
know something you don’t and there’s no downside to testing your own view
and seeking to understand theirs. Often multiple interpretations of a situation
may all make sense, as with the famous ambiguous picture that can be seen as
either an old woman or a young one. So inquire into their view looking for the
sense rather than the nonsense in it. Paraphrase it back, share where and why you
see it differently, and ask them for their reactions. Look for different
information, different interpretations of ambiguous information, or different
assumptions about missing information that help explain your differing views.
At the end of the day, your counterpart may simply not be persuaded however
robust your learning conversation, or may choose not to acknowledge what you
or others see, and you will need to assess at what point you are better off moving
on to your no-agreement alternative. But most of us give up too soon, before
we’ve really understood and had a fair chance to weigh the integrity of the
other’s story.
One thing it may help to ask before giving up is what they would have to learn
to persuade them to change or reconsider their view. Even if they say that
nothing would persuade them, you gain valuable information: you learn that any
further attempt to persuade them may be a waste of effort. On the other hand, if
their answer is more nuanced, you’ve identified the challenge and can assess
your ability to meet it. (By the way, it’s also worth asking yourself what you
would have to learn to change your view.)
Whether or not some truths are absolute, as human beings our ability to
perceive such truths is limited
Finally we come to the question of dealing with people – ourselves or others –
who hold particular beliefs as certain, absolute truth. These may be people with
religious views based on a sacred source, such as the Bible, Torah, or Quran. Or
they may be people who reject any such faith-based beliefs and insist only on the
primacy of observable, measurable facts and evidence.
Our own beliefs notwithstanding, the question for us is how to talk about or
across such views productively. While it may seem more difficult in this context,
our answer is the same as for any learning conversation: Be respectful, and seek
to understand the sense in how others see it. You may have something to learn,
and understanding their story helps you know how best to help them learn.
When we ourselves hold beliefs as absolute truth, we tend to think, “surely
this should be an exception to that general rule of mutual understanding. If the
this should be an exception to that general rule of mutual understanding. If the
truth is absolute, isn’t it just a question of helping them see it?” In a word, no.
We have no power to make other people see something as we do, and our urgent
attempts at one-way persuasion usually result in increased resistance rather than
greater understanding.
The problem, of course, is that people disagree about what the truth is.
However certain we feel, others with different views feel just as sure. Even in a
community that believes wholeheartedly in certain absolute truths, there may
still be disagreement on the implications and meaning of those truths. Our own
experience facilitating a discussion of these issues at a seminary allowed us to
witness a deep and complex appreciation of the challenges of being a moral
leader and shepherd while maintaining appropriate humility about the ability of
any man to perceive the mind of God. “Though we are made in God’s image, we
all have limited human understanding,” one theologian pointed out. “We are all
thousand-watt souls with forty-watt bulbs.”
2
Scientists, too, appreciate the problem. Although scientists assert that there are
observable facts and propositions, such as the “laws” of physics, most scientists
working on the edges of what we know and understand have a healthy
skepticism regarding the current state of knowledge. They know that the next
scientific discovery may turn what we assumed to be true on its head, whether
that’s in space exploration, medical research, or particle physics.
In this sense, the critical question is less whether there is absolute truth than
whether and how well we can perceive it. Perhaps the only thing a human being
can be truly sure of is that one can’t be completely sure. That is the realm of
God, even if you don’t believe in God.
This doesn’t mean we can’t argue with passion and conviction over issues
about which we care deeply. But when we do so, we should avoid hubris and
maintain some humility and respect. After all, even our own views sometimes
change with time. Likewise, those who disagree with us are not necessarily bad
or simpleminded, or people who have not thought the issue through.
If finding “truth” is more a journey than a destination, then spirited
conversation with those who see things differently is exactly what we need to
shed light on our blind spots, recognize and test our assumptions, and expand
and deepen our own understanding.
We can do better
As we write this in the spring of 2010, our corner of the world, and many others,
face a challenging set of social, political, religious, and moral divides –
face a challenging set of social, political, religious, and moral divides –
including the appropriate size and role of government, health care reform,
education reform, abortion, gay marriage, immigration policy, homeland
security, climate and energy policy, and, of course, the economy. There is at
least a perception that fewer and fewer of us are moderates, and that the gap
between people of divergent views is growing. Anger and even outrage are
prevalent on both sides of the divide. If we are righteous, we think, it is because
there is so much at stake, so much to fear, and because we are so tired of the
other side’s not listening and not caring. We’re sick of the corruption, the lying,
the stupidity, the self-interested nonsense that passes for informed opinion and
public policy.
Where do the authors of this book come down on all of this? Our various
views on the substance of these debates are not relevant. But we have strong
views on the process. As divides grow larger and more passionate, good
communication becomes more difficult and more important. With a passionate
viewpoint comes the responsibility to be informed about the issues involved and
to listen to how people with a different point of view see them. Not necessarily
with the goal of agreeing or even of finding common ground. But at least with
the goal of understanding how your neighbor sees it. Not the media, not the
Internet or the blogosphere, not bumper stickers and placards, but your neighbor,
whether across the street or across the country.
Consider this assertion: The more passionate we are about the issues that
matter most to us, the more likely we are to have a cartoonish view of those who
see things differently. That statement may infuriate you. You may find yourself
chafing against such a ridiculous generalization. But flip it around: When others
think your view is self-interested or shallow, base, and maybe even evil, do you
think they see you clearly? Is what they’ve heard and read an accurate portrayal
of what you see and feel? No. They’ve turned you into a cartoon they can
dismiss without having to confront the fact that you care as much as they do, that
you are a person of principle and conviction, that you’re working hard to do
what’s right in the face of the very same human limitations and frailties we all
confront.
And they are too.
3
2. What if the other person really does have bad intentions
— lying, bullying, or intentionally derailing the
conversation to get what they want?
We can’t know for sure what is motivating another person. What feels deliberate
and strategically intentional to us may be a hotheaded emotional reaction in
response to a trigger we’re unaware of, or an unthinking response by someone at
the limits of their ability to stay constructive. Surprisingly often, an “obvious”
and self-serving lie turns out to be a person’s actual belief.
Nevertheless, people do lie and sometimes have quite bad intentions toward
us. And certainly there are situations where people – intentionally or otherwise –
manipulate, threaten, delay, obfuscate, bully, or derail in an attempt to get their
way.
In these situations we have three initial pieces of advice. First, be careful
about rewarding bad behavior. If you give up and hand people what they want
simply “to avoid the hassle,” you end up teaching them that behaving badly pays
off, and you will soon see more of the same.
Second, beware of reacting in kind or “playing their game.” Remember that
your behavior can affect your reputation far beyond this one interaction. So even
if you are being lied to, it will rarely serve you to lie in return and undercut your
reputation for integrity.
Note that being trustworthy is not the same as being trusting. If they haven’t
earned your trust, you have no obligation to offer it. If they “dare” you,
remember the “And Stance”: “Don’t you trust me?” “Actually, I don’t know you
well enough to be sure, and if you are telling the truth I assume you have no
problem offering verification or a guaranty.” Rather than simply reacting in
kind, focus on your objective and how to move toward it.
Third, seek to understand why they think their intentions and actions are
justified. We tend to ascribe bad behavior to bad character: They lie because
they are bad people. Unfortunately, if we make that assumption, there’s not
much to be done – they’re hopeless. In reality, people are likely to feel that their
intentions are somehow justified (for example, by how they believe you have
treated them), and that under the circumstances their behavior is necessary to
avoid being taken advantage of. While we may not agree with their views, it is
helpful to understand their logic. Because there is a logic, there is the possibility
that you can persuade them that another approach makes sense.
Let’s look at an example.
Colin’s Story
Colin and Matt are fifty-fifty co-owners of a Web design firm. Colin explains:
Matt is usually reasonable enough, but when he really wants
something, he uses anger and threats to get it. Recently we were
something, he uses anger and threats to get it. Recently we were
discussing our branding, and suddenly he exploded. “We’re
redoing everything! I’m sick of you always playing it safe!” I said
that I liked our current direction. He responded with a threat: “I’ll
pull the plug and sell my interest in the partnership if we don’t do
this my way.” At first when he would do something like that, I
would just give in. That helped for a while, but of course Matt
would fly into a rage the next time he wanted his way, and I got
more and more resentful. So lately, I’ve been trying to give as
good as I get: when he yells, I yell louder. But that just escalates
the conflict, and now it feels like things are almost out of control.
Colin has tried to manage this problem both by giving in and, more recently,
by reacting in kind. Neither has helped.
Giving in. There are times to give in – when you’re persuaded the other
person is right; when the other person cares a lot about the outcome and you care
little; when any solution is better than no solution and you need an answer
immediately. But as a long-term strategy for dealing with difficult behavior, it’s
not going to help. Giving in rewards bad behavior, and what gets rewarded gets
repeated.
Reacting in kind: playing their game. There are relationships where
reciprocal volatility is the norm – an equilibrium that is satisfactory to both
sides. Sometimes people say to us, “My husband and I yell and fight all the time,
and then we’re over it. Are you saying that’s not okay?” Our response is that if
it’s working for both of you, then it’s fine. What matters is that both parties be
comfortable with whatever level of engagement occurs and that they make the
same meaning out of it.
For many people such relationships are not comfortable. They reason: “For
them to treat me this way is a sign of disrespect. They know how upsetting it is
to me.” Like Colin, such people can take hours or days to recover from a heated
argument or personal attack.
What Might Help
We can see why Colin feels stuck. If giving in rarely helps, and reacting in kind
is no better, then what?
First, of course, it can help to imagine how Matt may see the situation and to
look for a possible vicious cycle of act-react contributions. For example, perhaps
Matt feels that Colin is bullying him by vetoing all change. Matt may even see it
as a deliberate – and therefore infuriating – passive-aggressive strategy.
Such insights offer one potentially fruitful new path for discussion. But for
our purposes let’s suppose that Matt is sticking with his ultimatum approach, in
the belief, conscious or unconscious, that it will work. What else can Colin do?
Name the dynamic: make the trouble explicit. In Chapter 11, we explain
the power of this technique. Naming the dynamic is something to try when
persistent good faith efforts at listening and problem solving have failed.
Naming the dynamic requires you to “put on the table as a topic for discussion
what you see happening in the conversation.” Of particular value is making
explicit the other side’s implied rule for how to make decisions. In this case the
implied rule that Matt seems to want Colin to adopt is: “When I get upset, I get
my way.” Put that way, it’s obvious this would be a lousy way to run a business
or maintain a working relationship. The problem becomes even clearer when you
apply the test of reciprocity: What if we were both using this strategy? A
business is not going to succeed by allocating resources or choosing a marketing
campaign based on who can cry or shout the loudest.
When Colin names the dynamic, he should avoid the attribution of intent. He
shouldn’t say, “You try to get your way by being angry.” Matt may not
recognize or acknowledge that he’s angry, and is very likely to take exception to
the idea that he’s simply trying to get his way by throwing a tantrum. That
conversation will likely veer off into a pointless argument over Matt’s actual
intentions.
Instead, Colin should use the third story to describe the dilemma and invite
joint problem solving: “You feel strongly that you want to start over with our
branding materials. I like them the way they are. When you and I strongly
disagree, how should we decide what to do?” If Matt responds by saying, “Well,
if we don’t do it my way, I’m quitting,” Colin can name that dynamic: “So one
way we can decide is based on who’s more willing to quit. That doesn’t seem
like a sustainable decision-making process or one likely to produce the best
decisions. I think a better approach is for us to step back and look again at our
goals for these materials, and then to. . . .”
Naming the dynamic is at once neutral (the third story) and neutralizing (Colin
can’t force Matt to believe what he does not, but neither can Matt force Colin).
Colin’s stance is solid and centered: “I’m open to persuasion, but I’m not yet
persuaded. And I’m the one who determines when I am. Your anger underscores
persuaded. And I’m the one who determines when I am. Your anger underscores
how strongly you feel, but doesn’t affect the legitimate data, reasoning, and
principles that would help persuade me.”
Clarify consequences. Based on his description, it’s hard to know for sure
how upset Colin is. Is Matt’s behavior just an annoyance, or does Colin feel like
a punching bag? If the latter, there’s a temptation for Colin to want to give the
“enough is enough” speech, where Colin demands that Matt reform his mercurial
behavior: “I’ve had it with the yelling and the threats. I’m just not going to put
up with it anymore! Enough is enough!”
That sounds good in your head when you’re rehearsing just exactly how to let
them have it. The problem comes when you examine carefully whether it’s
going to be an effective strategy. While Colin is giving his speech, consider what
might be going on in Matt’s internal voice. He may be thinking, “You’re crazy, I
don’t get angry,” or “More proof that you’re oversensitive,” or “Don’t tell me
what to do,” or “I’m more passionate than you – so what?” And notice, from
Matt’s point of view, he was already giving the “enough is enough” speech when
he told Colin he was sick of playing it safe. That hasn’t had a very good impact
on Colin, and there’s little reason to believe that Colin would achieve more by
trying the same thing on Matt.
So we’d recommend something different. Colin can resolve in his mind that
enough is enough – nothing wrong with feeling resolute. But rather than trying
to control Matt (by actually saying enough is enough), he should focus on what
he, Colin, sees, thinks, wants, and will do. Key points might include:
• Here’s what I see.
• Here’s the impact on me.
• You may disagree with my perceptions or feel that your behavior is
justified.
• It doesn’t matter which one of us is right about that. Our current way
of interacting doesn’t work for me.
• I am asking you to change this behavior.
• If it continues, here’s what I’m going to do.
Colin is not insisting that he is right. He thinks he’s right, but he can’t know
he’s right. What he does know is that things aren’t working for him as they are.
Colin needs Matt to understand this, not to control Matt, but to give him the
information he needs to make informed choices about whether and how to
modify his behavior. Of course, to use this approach Colin will have to think
carefully about what the real consequences of no change will be and describe
them clearly to Matt.
These same strategies are equally helpful with other difficult behaviors. If
they are always changing the topic or turning the conversation into an attack on
you, work hard to understand their point of view and be open to good faith
problem solving. But if they keep making moves that feel like intentional
attempts to derail or bully, name the dynamic (there are more examples in
Chapter 11), and, if needed, clarify the consequences of no change.
3. What if the other person is genuinely difficult, perhaps
even mentally ill?
A theme of this book is that human interactions are complex. Trouble arises
from the intersection of styles, behaviors, assumptions, and interests, not
because one person is all good and the other all bad.
Even so, some people really are more difficult to deal with than others.
Depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, addiction, obsessive-compulsive
disorder, narcissism, attention deficit disorder, and other underlying pathologies
(which can vary in intensity from mild to severe
4
) can contribute to any number
of interpersonal challenges that cause friends and colleagues worry, inefficiency,
frustration, and despair. Anyone who lives or works with someone who is
mentally ill knows how challenging it can be. Good communication skills can
help, especially when you think of the many types of conversations that attend
these challenges, but more important will be the support of family, colleagues,
and community, as well as mental health professionals.
At least two additional things can help. First, although we often describe the
mentally ill person’s perspective and behavior as “crazy” or “illogical,” in fact,
many syndromes actually do have an internal logic. Someone with obsessivecompulsive disorder feels they must follow certain rituals or face potentially
extreme (though usually imagined) negative consequences. Though disruptive
and in some cases incapacitating, the rituals are a form of self-medication
against intense anxiety.
Addiction likewise has an internal logic: The addict is choosing short-term
pleasure (or reduction in pain) over short-term pain. Ignoring the fact that this is
likely to lead to even greater pain tomorrow makes a certain sense if your goal is
just to make it through the day. This doesn’t make the logic right or rational or a
good choice. But if we can understand the illness from the inside, it can lend
good choice. But if we can understand the illness from the inside, it can lend
insight into why our loved ones or colleagues are behaving as they are, whether
and how we can help them, and what we sometimes do that unintentionally
makes their symptoms worse.
After all, those struggling with depression, phobias, and mental and emotional
disorders are not intentionally being difficult to hurt or frustrate those around
them. They are often doing what they can to cope with the distorted worldview
imposed upon them by the illness. This does not relieve them of responsibility
for their actions. But reminding ourselves that it’s the disease that is compelling
them to behave in upsetting ways can help dampen the impact on us.
And let’s remember that aside from clinically diagnosed mental illness, less
extreme challenges can also cause serious disconnects in our relationships. Some
people are unpredictably emotional, quick to anger, brittle, self-absorbed, or just
not very open to seeing things differently. You ask your co-worker how her
vacation was, and she fires back that she was “only gone for three days!” Her
response seems weirdly defensive until you realize she “heard” your question as
an accusation: “Why were you on vacation for so long!?” We all on occasion
attribute overly negative intentions. That’s our point in Chapter 3. But some
people do it more often than most and with greater certainty (“I know it was an
accusation!”). The self-fulfilling loops that result are crazy making and hard to
break out of.
In the face of such challenges, it is important to remember that there is no way
to guarantee a particular outcome. You can’t force another person to change, or
to do what you want. Moreover, if you define success by what you can get others
to do, you cede to them control of the outcome and set yourself up for
aggravation. Your goal should be to do the best you can to fuel a productive
interchange and to make sure as best you can that your own actions aren’t part of
the problem and somehow contributing to the other’s reactions.
With that caveat, there often are approaches that can help to change difficult
dynamics. The details depend on the specific context, but in each case they flow
from first trying to get inside the other’s perspective to understand the sense it
makes to them, however different or bizarre it may seem to you. To illustrate,
let’s take a look at three examples.
Addy’s Story
Addy is caught in the middle of a feud between her mother and her mother’s
sister, Addy’s aunt Robin:
Aunt Robin tells me how selfish and horrible my mother is, and
tries to get me to agree. For the last five years, I’ve gently but
tries to get me to agree. For the last five years, I’ve gently but
firmly defended my mother, while trying to help Robin bring
some balance to her view. But Robin literally screams into the
phone. She’ll say almost random things, like, “Your mother says I
never remember to send birthday cards to her grandchildren!
Well, your mother’s a goddamn liar!” I calmly explain my
mother’s view. Doesn’t help. I’ve also tried sharing impacts:
“Robin, when you say things about my mother, I feel upset.”
Doesn’t help. I try empathy, acknowledging that she’s going
through a tough time. Doesn’t help. I point out Robin’s
contribution to the feud. Doesn’t help. And on occasion, I lose my
temper: “How dare you talk about my mother like that!” That
doesn’t help either.
What Might Help
Distinguish helping from fixing. Addy knows that her aunt Robin is lonely
as well as difficult, and part of her motivation in interacting with Robin is to help
ease those feelings. At least, if asked, this is what Addy would say, and this is
what she believes. But when she looks deeper, she finds that her motivation is
not only to help Robin but to fix her, to get her to conform her behavior to
Addy’s view of how people should talk and interact.
But such change is beyond Addy’s control. In her mind, Addy is like Max in
Where the Wild Things Are, the seagoing boy-king who shipwrecks on an island
populated by incorrigible and frightening “wild things.” Max waves his wand
and utters the words “be still.” And they are.
Alas, our world doesn’t work that way. While it’s hard to give up this illusion
of control, doing so is the first step toward finding an approach that helps.
Think about what might be going on for Robin. Something important is at
stake for Robin in these conversations, or she wouldn’t keep pursuing them. The
connection matters to her. Negative interaction is better than no interaction at all.
Robin probably wants to feel loved, that she belongs, and that she has a valued
role in the family. In addition, we can assume from her frustration level that
Robin feels unheard. She wants to tell someone that she’s upset with her sister,
but can’t get anyone to listen. Addy needs an approach that acknowledges these
core interests and at the same time points the conversation in a different
direction.
Consider the Big Reframe. This approach is intended to knock the
conversation off its center. That’s usually not a good idea, but if things are stuck
or going drastically wrong, sometimes bringing some big energy from a different
direction can help.
Here’s an example of what Addy might say: “Well, my mother sure can be a
pain in the butt! Goodness knows, she’s not perfect! Maybe everyone in our
family is a pain in the butt. But one thing I know is that my mother loves you,
and you love her, and I know that means a lot to both of you.”
There are several reasons a statement like this might be useful. First, there’s
some humor in it, a sense of lightness that serves as a reminder that it isn’t the
end of the world. Second, there’s a strong empathy move at the outset. Agreeing
that Addy’s mother can be a pain in the butt may seem disloyal, but it’s probably
true (to the extent that everyone can be sometimes, especially in families). Robin
has spent years trying to get someone to move beyond defending her sister and to
hear her frustration.
Third, it expresses love. By saying “you love each other and it’s important to
each of you,” Addy is reassuring Robin that she is loved and giving her an
important role in the family, which should help to assuage her fear of being
alone.
5
Peter’s Story
Peter is Lucera’s boss at a large pharmaceutical firm. As Peter explains:
Lucera is a brilliant scientist, extremely hardworking, and has
great instincts in the lab. But she’s very difficult to work with.
When anyone tries to give her feedback, she rejects it almost
aggressively, explaining why it’s wrong, biased, political,
whatever. I recently talked to her about two of her direct reports
who found her to be overcritical, and her response in each case
was, “Look at the source.” She then added that she had in fact
toned down her criticism of late, and had been trying to show
more appreciation toward her co-workers, which is why she
found it particularly obnoxious that they were trying to sabotage
her like this. I asked if there could be any validity to their
feelings, and she said no, it was obvious that their attack had been
motivated by professional jealousy.
What Might Help
Recognize “Blind Spots.” Peter’s story suggests that Lucera may be hobbled
by a lack of awareness. In this dynamic, the very signals that communicate anger
or defensiveness or disgust or vulnerability lie outside of the communicator’s
awareness, in what we call a “blind spot.” The big three blind spots are tone of
voice, facial expressions, and body language. The listener is very aware of these,
the talker is not. “Yes, I was disgusted by their failure, but I didn’t say anything
about it, so how would they know?” They know because to them it’s obvious;
the messages leak out nonverbally, outside the speaker’s awareness.
What this means for Lucera is that she is missing a lot of information about
why people are doing what they’re doing. From her point of view, the “new
Lucera” is friendly and tolerant, even in the face of all the incompetence around
her. She does not see her more subtle but equally impactful ongoing
contributions to the problem (for example, how she communicates disgust by
eye rolling and tone of voice). When others then say they are mistreated by her,
she is thinking, “But I’m not mistreating them.” She is then left to wonder why
they are claiming to be mistreated when they are not. The answer must be that
they have a motivation to give her negative feedback — they are jealous or
ambitious or petty or themselves difficult people.
Thus, the reason Lucera has an explanation for why each piece of feedback
she is getting is unjust is that she actually believes it to be so. It’s the only
explanation she can think of.
Two things might help Peter break through Lucera’s self-sealing perceptual
deficit.
Give Lucera the missing data. Lucera may be able to perceive the behaviors
she is currently unaware of if she watches herself on videotape. Assuming
Lucera is sensitive to such behavior in others when it is directed at her,
6 she
should be able to identify it when watching herself, though it may be a painful
realization. Having established that Lucera may be communicating in ways of
which she is unaware, it should be easier for her to entertain other explanations
for her reports’ comments. Peter can then work with her to rethink what’s
happened with her reports and recraft how she deals with them.
Address the implications of the alternate view. Another thing Peter might
say is, “Let’s put aside for a minute the question of whether this complaint is
true and instead ask what if it were true? What would it mean? What would be
the implications for you?”
As we know, one reason people argue about what happened is that the other
person’s view threatens their identity. This approach addresses that interest
directly, perhaps allowing Peter to help Lucera find a way to feel less threatened
by the prospect of learning that her behavior has had unintended consequences.
Matamba’s Story
Matamba was working in a group that didn’t much like its new boss:
Our old boss was very collaborative and tried to make all
decisions on the merits. And if you disagreed, he was pretty easy
to confront, and at least you’d get a hearing. The new guy is very
hierarchical, even a little dictatorial. Asking questions is tolerated
but hardly welcomed. But sometimes he becomes downright
rigid, and you get the sense that there will be retaliation if you
push back. We don’t want to reward bad behavior, so the group
tries to stand up to him in these moments, but that always seems
to cause a very rapid and destructive escalation in the conflict.
“Naming the dynamic” and asking to talk about it doesn’t seem to
work either!
What Helped
Recognize that aggression can spring from fear. In Matamba’s case, a
consultant friend suggested the possibility that in these difficult moments the
new boss was actually terrified. Matamba knew that his boss was ambitious and
very concerned about always appearing successful, and the consultant’s
questions highlighted the fact that these difficult moments with the boss tended
to occur when his subordinates were proposing an untested course of action. The
consultant suggested that the boss feared that his subordinates’ ideas might result
in loss of face, embarrassment, and public “failure.”
Clarify and validate the concern. Rather than dig in and oppose the boss
more firmly, as the group had been doing, the consultant recommended that
Matamba and his colleagues ask their boss what he is worried about: “What are
you concerned might happen if we go in this direction?” When they tried this,
they were surprised at how ready he was with an answer. He laid out a plausible
problematic scenario, though not one the group thought likely. Understanding
the fear allowed them to validate and address it: “Wow, that would concern me,
too! So let’s make sure that doesn’t happen. What if we agree to do this, so it
can’t happen?” This in turn led the boss to a response the group didn’t expect:
“Oh. That would be fine. As long as that’s clear, do whatever you want.”
Two Final Thoughts
Remember joint contribution. The danger in acknowledging that some
people are more difficult than others is that we let ourselves off the hook. Even a
genuinely challenging personality may become more challenging when you are
provocative. As the saying goes, just because he’s paranoid doesn’t mean they’re
not out to get him. You should always consider how you may be – wittingly or
unwittingly – helping to create or sustain a difficult dynamic. And because
seeing your own contribution can be difficult, you may need to enlist the eyes
and insights of neutral observers with no stake in the outcome.
Patience and persistence pay. Often when someone resists acknowledging
their contribution to a situation, it’s because to do so would threaten their
identity. In these moments, the other person may need your help in finding a way
to frame their contribution that preserves their identity or helps them take a more
nuanced view of themselves.
For many of us, the concepts of multiple valid perspectives, joint contribution,
contribution without blame, and identity without perfection may be novel. It may
take them a while to understand these ideas and get comfortable with them.
Don’t give up too easily or be surprised if change comes haltingly over time. It is
an all too common tragedy that, by the time someone starts to show a bit of
openness to collaborative dialogue, we have so lost heart that we fail to
recognize their subtle overtures.
4. How does this work with someone who has all the power
— like my boss?
Whether in the context of disagreeing with your boss in a meeting or talking
one-on-one to clarify an assignment, using the skills in this book surely feels
tougher going up the hierarchy than down. Lots of bosses say they want their
tougher going up the hierarchy than down. Lots of bosses say they want their
employees to challenge them, but far fewer actually mean it. If employees are
punished, even subtly, for raising tough issues, then they won’t. People align
their actions with implicit incentives, not official rhetoric.
We don’t encourage you to take risks for the thrill of it or even because it’s
“the right thing to do.” This is not a book about the righteousness of speaking up
and getting fired. It’s a matter of cost and benefit. There are rare occasions when
speaking out really is worth getting fired for, but in most cases it’s not. The
consequences of speaking up are rarely so extreme, and there are often unseen
benefits in doing so. Speaking up (with confidence and skill) may ruffle feathers
in the short term but earn you long-term respect among your colleagues, and
often even from your boss. And on many occasions, speaking up will not ruffle
any feathers at all.
There are some perceptual binds that heighten the challenge. Surveys suggest
that a great majority of bosses believe their employees view them as effective,
competent, and caring, yet only a minority of employees report that they view
their bosses in so positive a light. That’s not surprising; getting negative
feedback or bad news to move up an organization is like reversing the direction
of a waterfall.
What to do?
Use the power of influence. Let’s distinguish between two kinds of power:
control and influence. Control is the unilateral ability to make something
happen. Influence is the ability to affect someone else’s thinking. Within limits,
your boss has the power of control. They could fire or transfer you, or give you
projects with little appeal, without having to negotiate. (Of course this is a
caricature. Usually there are formal and informal limits on people’s ability to
implement such unilateral decisions.)
In contrast, you can’t fire or transfer your boss. And in fact, explicitly
acknowledging that they are the decision maker can actually make them more
receptive to listening to your input. So you might say to your boss, “I know there
are lots of factors you have to take into consideration, and at the end of the day,
I’m onboard with whatever you decide. I just want to make sure that as you think
about it, you are aware that. . . .”
Your boss is now more likely to be open to influence, because they don’t need
to push back, defend their turf, or clarify that this is their decision to make.
You’ve given them a clear signal acknowledging their status, which will help
them relax and be receptive.
Now tell your boss what matters to you and why. It’s surprising how often
Now tell your boss what matters to you and why. It’s surprising how often
people will tell us they’ve “tried everything” to influence their boss, yet when
we ask, “Have you told your boss this is important to you?” they respond, “Well,
I assume my boss must know.” They’ve never actually said, “This matters to
me.” Being clear that something matters to you, and why, has an impact on the
other person. It may or may not persuade them – that will depend on the strength
of your argument and competing considerations – but it will have an impact. The
purpose is not to threaten, but to provide your boss the information they need to
make an informed decision.
We are often asked how to discuss “joint contribution” when the other person
involved is your boss. In most cases it’s probably not a good idea to say to your
boss, “Sure, I’ve contributed to the problem, but you’ve contributed even more!”
Yet that doesn’t mean you have to drop the subject altogether. Whether your
boss admits it or not, they have contributed to whatever the problem is, in large
ways or small. It may be that they’re difficult to approach, or overly confident of
their views, expect you to be a mind-reader, or make it clear to you that you
aren’t supposed to ask questions. Perhaps their “open-door policy” comes with
penalties for those who actually drop by to talk.
Use the language of request. How to raise these concerns? One way is to use
what we call the language of request instead of the language of joint
contribution. Instead of saying, “Part of the reason I wasn’t able to get this in on
time was that you waited until Friday afternoon to ask me to work on it,” say,
“I’m totally committed to ensuring that this doesn’t happen again. We’ve
identified three things that I need to do differently: [x, y, and z]. Something else
that would be really helpful to me is if I had more lead time on the more
complicated projects. If I can get the assignments on Wednesday instead of
Friday, that would enable me to balance new projects with my current projects
and other hard-to-move commitments. I don’t know to what extent that’s
possible on your end. What are your thoughts on that?”
Listen! Paradoxically, there is also considerable persuasion power in inquiry
and listening. As we say in Chapter 9, listening is not just about taking in
information. Listening well has an impact on the other person – it quiets their
internal voice. When they feel heard and acknowledged, it is easier for them to
hear you. And it also lets you know what they care about, which lays the
foundation for creative problem solving.
Say what’s in it for the boss. Explain how having a conversation is in your
boss’s interest: “I want to make this initiative a great success. To do that I need a
little more help in making sure I understand the logic well enough to execute
effectively.” Of course for this approach to work, you have to be open to
learning. If your real goal in having a conversation is to show your boss he’s
wrong, you’re on dangerous ground, and you’re likely to experience all the usual
problems with delivering a message from a stance of certainty.
Being open to learning doesn’t mean giving up your view. If you don’t see
how the new boss’s idea will work, then your goal should be to figure out what
you might be missing — as well as what you may know that the boss does not.
After all, if your boss is the third new manager to come in and recommend a
particular approach, there is likely some validity to the view, even if all the
department veterans think it’s crazy.
If the prospect of “more talk” is frustrating, but likely necessary for collective
success, you can acknowledge both of those interests in framing the
conversation: “I’m sure we’d all like to move on quickly. At the same time, I
imagine it is even more important to all of us that this work. I would very much
like this initiative to succeed but don’t yet feel confident in my ability to pull it
off. Specifically, it would help to spell out how we might answer a couple of the
objections I can imagine coming our way. For example. . . .”
What if my boss simply refuses to talk about my concerns / our
relationship?
First, on process, it’s crucial when dealing with a difficult boss not to do a hitand-run conversation. You must schedule time on your boss’s calendar. You
need undivided attention and a defined amount of time.
Once in the meeting, how to start? Say what’s on your mind, framing from the
third story and why it should be of concern to your boss. For example: “I want to
talk about how we raise things, as I think it’s affecting morale and productivity.”
“I want to talk about the best way to disagree with you in a meeting. What’s
your advice?”
You can’t force your boss to talk to you about a particular concern, but you
can assertively make the case. This is particularly tough when your boss insists
that discussing the matter further is itself a sign of incompetence or weakness on
your part. Here, it’s crucial to be well prepared. Do the necessary reading or
research and try everything you can think of to deal with the issue on your own.
This way, when you approach your boss you can say confidently that you’ve
exhausted all other angles and that you’re coming to your boss because they are
the right person to come to.
What if my boss is abusive?
In his provocatively titled book The No Asshole Rule: Building a Civilized
Workplace and Surviving One That Isn’t, Stanford Business School professor
Robert Sutton shows readers how to deal with “bullies, creeps, jerks, tyrants,
tormentors, despots, backstabbers, egomaniacs, and all the other [people]” at
work who can make our lives miserable.
7 Citing the emotional, physical, and
financial havoc such people wreak, the author’s advice is this: No matter how
important such people seem to your business, don’t tolerate them. But of course
many businesses do, for reasons ranging from fear of loss of competitiveness to
the complexity of sorting through competing claims and perceptions.
There are a variety of reasons people bully. (By the way, bullies are not
always bosses, and studies show that the perpetrator is at least as likely to be a
woman as a man.) They may suffer from a mental illness or mood disorder. Or
they may have “learned” that such behaviors are simply the best way to get what
they want, or assume that their particular business culture requires it. For some,
this attitude results from the belief that the right to fully indulge their bad moods
is a perk of success.
Compounding these problems, often the person with the difficult behavior is
blind to it. Consider this example: You inform your boss that your team did not
meet its third-quarter targets. Your boss explodes. He verbally attacks you, your
teammates, and your customers – anyone who comes to mind as having been
responsible for the shortfall. You point out to your boss how angry he seems. He
responds by saying, “I wasn’t angry; the numbers were bad,” as if only one
could be true at a time. And that’s how he actually experiences it. For him, anger
is a self-justifying emotion: It somehow “doesn’t count” if there’s a “cause.”
Which makes trying to address the issue even more challenging.
A big piece of the battle with someone who is abusive relates to your own
identity conversation. Their tactics of anger and shaming can undermine your
sense of competence, confidence, and worth. You shouldn’t take their feedback
at face value – nor should you reject it wholesale. Instead, try to find ways to
evaluate your work that are independent of the abusive person’s assessment.
Easier said than done, we know. But working at it helps.
Sometimes the best strategy is a workaround. Deal with the person only when
required, cultivate as many other relationships as you can, and try to avoid any
obvious triggers. In conjunction with that, recognize that most situations are not
all or nothing. You may not get the week off you’d wanted, but you might get a
three-day weekend. You might not get the plum assignment you think you
deserve, but you might be allowed some input. Accumulating small wins can
make a big difference to your peace of mind over time.
make a big difference to your peace of mind over time.
Be aware of structural and formal channels within an organization. If your
boss is difficult or abusive, you might talk to HR or register a formal complaint
with your union. If your boss quashes real communication, several workers (or
groups of workers) can band together to raise the issue. If you find your boss’s
behavior intolerable, you can offer a warning that you will leave your job or take
other action if your boss doesn’t relent.
At the end of the day, you may find yourself facing these questions : “What
are my alternatives?” and “Is this worth it?” We’re not arguing that you should
leave a job if you see no other prospects on the horizon (especially if you have
dependents). But sometimes just knowing there’s some out gives you the
confidence to take a stand against bullying tactics. Nothing builds confidence
quicker than the knowledge that you can survive the worst that can happen.
Professor Sutton eloquently sums up the complexity of dealing with these
tough questions. If you feel stuck, you can
. . . protect your body and mind by reframing the abuse as
something that isn’t your fault and won’t magically disappear....
You might also . . . seek and fight those little battles that you have
a good chance of winning. Those modest victories will help you
feel in control and just might help make things a bit better, and if
you keep chipping away and others join your quest, things just
might get a lot better for everyone in the long haul.... But there is
a dark side to these ideas. They might provide just enough
protection . . . to stop people from bailing out of . . . relentlessly
demeaning situations – even when they have exit options.
8
5. If I’m the boss / parent, why can’t I just tell my
subordinates / children what to do?
You can. One of the most frustrating misconceptions we encounter about
Difficult Conversations is that the authors are against people making and
implementing decisions; that talking is more important than doing; that everyone
should have an equal say; that unless everyone is onboard, nothing can move
forward. That’s not our view. Whether you’re a CEO or a parent, we encourage
you to make decisions as early and efficiently as possible, to explain those
decisions clearly, and to take responsibility for their implementation and
effectiveness.
It is equally true that whether you are making a decision, implementing it, or
problem solving, you can’t always, or even usually, succeed merely by “telling.”
Indeed, it is useful in decision making to distinguish those times when you are:
• commanding (I decide, I tell you my decision)
from those situations where you are:
• consulting (I ask for your input, then I decide and tell you);
• collaborating or negotiating (we decide together); or
• delegating (you decide).
9
Whatever category you choose, make sure to communicate to others what you
expect from them. If you are consulting and they think you’re collaborating, they
may be surprised to learn that while you heard their advice, you didn’t take their
advice. Role clarity up-front is the key. Even if this requires a bit of a difficult
conversation when you put someone in a different bucket than they were
expecting, it is far easier to have that conversation up front than wait until you
get to the point when you are making a decision they don’t like.
But let’s acknowledge the frustration. We’ve all felt it: “I’m in charge. I
should be able to tell you what to do, and you should do it.” Do this assignment,
well and on time. Be home by midnight, sober. Get your team aligned with my
vision, heart and soul.
Whether or not these should happen, it is simply true that they often don’t. It’s
like a car that doesn’t go when you press the gas pedal. The car doesn’t care
what your rules are about what cars should do. The car doesn’t care if you need
to get somewhere. The car doesn’t care if you’re angry. The one thing we know
that doesn’t help is simply continuing to press the gas pedal. Yet that’s often
what we do as bosses and parents. We keep “telling,” even when we’re not
getting the results we expect.
If your car were stalled, the first thing you would do is diagnose the cause:
Are you out of gas? Is the transmission faulty? Is the battery dead?
That’s the step we often skip when we’re trying to influence someone else’s
behavior. Why aren’t they doing what we want? An answer we highlight in the
main text is joint contribution. When something goes wrong, making it right is
rarely in either person’s full control. If you and your employee have both
contributed to the problem, then one-way commands are unlikely to solve it.
But engaging in two-way communication doesn’t mean you give up your role,
rights, and responsibilities as boss or parent. It all comes back to the And Stance.
Consider an example between a parent and child. Should your teenager be
allowed to drink and drive? No. This is not a question about which your teenager
needs to be consulted. Yet delivering this message clearly and firmly is not the
end of the conversation. You need to listen to your teenager’s thoughts, feelings,
and questions. Not because you’re negotiating the rule, but because there are
issues that relate to the rule — and especially to having confidence in its
implementation — that may require further clarification and perhaps some
problem solving. Is getting high the same as drinking? Is going just three blocks
considered driving? What’s the best way for your son or daughter to contact
you? How will discipline be handled if your child engages in underage drinking
and calls you for a ride home? What pressures does your child experience
around drinking, popularity, and intimacy, and how can they be managed?
Let’s take a workplace example. You’ve decided to put an employee on
probation. Beyond informing them of this, what is there to discuss? After all, the
decision is final.
Keep the And Stance front and center. As the boss, you’ve made a decision
that is clear, firm, and final. And, to understand the various causes of the
problem, to build a human connection and improve the working relationship, and
to make sure your decision and its consequences are in fact clear, you need to
have a two-way conversation. It might sound in part like this: “I understand that
you don’t think being put on probation is fair. Let’s talk about that. I want to
hear your view and share mine. Before we do, I want to clarify, though, that I’m
not negotiating this or deciding in collaboration with you. I’ve already made the
decision. The purpose of talking is to figure out why we’ve had a disconnect on
this, so that we can try to avoid doing it again as we go forward, and so I can
perhaps give you more effective coaching.”
That’s an example of deciding and still needing to have a two-way
conversation. Let’s consider the reverse: having a two-way conversation and still
needing to decide. Imagine that you’ve just had an efficient, in-depth learning
conversation with an employee about why they consistently take twice as long to
finish assignments as their colleagues. You’ve identified your own contributions
to this as well as theirs and examined some institutional and structural drags on
their productivity. You’ve “mapped the contribution system,” as described in
Chapter 4.
Now it’s decision time. Your employee’s preferred outcome is to fix these
various drags – they’ll change their contribution, you’ll change yours, and
institutional and structural impediments will be addressed. They are certain their
productivity will rise dramatically.
You see it differently. After giving the matter serious thought, your
conclusion is that while there are important inputs to the problem over which
conclusion is that while there are important inputs to the problem over which
they have no control, your employee is in a role within the organization that does
not play to their strengths. Adjusting other contributions will help, but not
enough. You think they should be moved into a role that carries less
responsibility.
What to do? If you are the decision maker, make the decision. Having a
conversation about joint contribution gives you a clearer picture of the
underlying inputs into the problem and helps you make a wise decision; it
doesn’t mandate a particular solution or change who owns the decision.
Do I always have to start with listening and inquiry?
No. In Chapter 11 we say, “It’s always the right time to listen,” meaning, it’s
always a good time, and indeed, all things being equal, it is better to listen first.
But all things aren’t equal, so there are exceptions. Readers who take our plug
for listening as a wholesale ban on asserting their views inevitably get all tangled
up. A boss, for example, who wants to address his employee’s failure to deliver
on schedule might end up in a conversation like this:
BOSS: How do you think you’re doing in terms of getting work
in on time?
EMPLOYEE: Great.
BOSS: But don’t you think there have been a few times when
you’ve been late on important things?
EMPLOYEE: Not really.
BOSS: Well, what about the Vancouver Project?
EMPLOYEE: I thought it went well.
BOSS: But don’t you think it was late?
Instead of asking this absurd set of leading questions, the boss needs to assert:
“Let’s talk about the Vancouver Project. It was three days late. Let’s figure out
why, assess the impact, and decide how to avoid this going forward.” Once
you’ve set the problem on the table, and shared your view if you have one, that’s
when you switch into inquiry mode, and from there, you’ll use a mix of inquiry
and assertiveness.
The touchstone, as always, is purpose. One could imagine a conversation
where a boss’s sole purpose was to learn the employee’s point of view, but that’s
not the boss’s purpose in the conversation above. Use questions when you want
to learn and statements when you have something to convey. Ultimately it is the
combination of assertiveness and inquiry that helps us pool our insights, learn
combination of assertiveness and inquiry that helps us pool our insights, learn
things we didn’t know, and lay the foundation for creative and effective problem
solving.
We emphasize listening here because the far more common mistake in
conversation is failure to listen rather than failure to assert. When we’re in a
conversation where we feel angry, hurt, fearful, or under pressure, our internal
voice roars full blast, and curiosity fades away. That’s why, to get yourself to
listen well during a difficult conversation, you need to remind yourself again and
again (and perhaps enlist others as well to remind you in the moment): “I may
feel upset, I may feel like I already know their view, but there’s always
something I need to learn. In addition to asserting, I’m going to need to inquire,
and then inquire some more.”
6. Isn’t this a very American approach? How does it work
in other cultures?
People from outside the United States often accuse Difficult Conversations of
offering a very “American” method of addressing this topic. “We don’t talk this
way in Korea/Kazakhstan/Colombia/[fill in your region here],” they say.
“Well, most Americans don’t talk this way either,” we respond. The language
we use in our dialogue examples is not how people normally talk in any country.
We use stylized language for conceptual clarity — for example, to help readers
recognize the difference between a true question of curiosity and a “loaded”
question that’s really an accusation. We assume that once you understand the
concepts, you will translate the words into language that feels more comfortable
and appropriate given how people really talk in your family, organization, and
part of the world.
Still, the question of how these ideas apply across different cultures is
important, and, with the impact of globalization, never more so than now.
What we have found is that the underlying structure of difficult conversations
– the things your internal voice is busy with during a conversation – seems to be
the same around the world. People in South Africa and South Carolina are
equally focused on who’s right and who’s to blame. People in India and Iowa all
struggle with strong feelings. People in Turkey and Tennessee are reacting to
identity quakes (sometimes described as a struggle to “save face”).
The phenomenon of an internal voice and the three conversations within it
seems to be a universal and fundamental aspect of being human. What does
differ across cultures is whether, when, and how the internal voice is expressed.
Americans have a reputation for being direct, and for not paying much
attention to hierarchy. We feel free to criticize our political leaders and to
confess our sins and feelings on reality TV. In contrast, the British have a
reputation for being relatively buttoned-up about feelings, and many countries in
Asia are thought of as being restrictive about whether it is ever appropriate to
disagree or speak up in a hierarchy. So it’s easy to view our encouragement to
raise things directly, rather than avoiding and letting them fester, as simply part
and parcel of our immersion in American culture.
But of course, culture is more complex than these stereotypes. There is a wide
variation in directness across regions of the United States, and even between one
family and another on the same block. Some American companies are
hierarchical; others pride themselves on being flat. Some industries have a
“polite” culture; others have direct and aggressive communication norms.
Gender equality is the law but not always the reality, and assumptions about
appropriate gender roles still vary widely.
To add to the complexity, an outsider’s perceptions of the communication
norms of another culture are often based on simple misinterpretation. For
instance, an American might conclude that in Japan people aren’t allowed to
speak up to their boss. But many Japanese would argue that, although they don’t
speak up explicitly, they send clear signals to their boss when they are not
onboard with a decision. Sometimes they’re conveyed through body language, or
word choice, or simply silence. The communication is there — it’s just
translated into a culturally appropriate language. The American in the room is
missing those cues and assumes nothing is being “said.” It’s all a question of the
appropriate time, place, and mode of expression.
The degree of directness or indirectness that people think is appropriate is
often tied to assumptions about what is necessary to protect the relationship (or
whether that matters). In some places (and families), the norm is vociferous and
sometimes heated debate: “Forget the touchy-feely stuff. If I like you, and I
respect you, I’m going to tell you what I think. That’s the sign of a healthy
relationship!” In others, nurturing and protecting the relationship means being
indirect about any conflict. It may be hinted at, channeled through third parties,
or spoken of in metaphors for fear that anything more direct could risk a
disastrous fracture. In some contexts and for some people, relationship is wholly
subordinated to outcome: “If you want a relationship, give me what I want.” For
others, it is the reverse: “Rather than risk the relationship, I’ll just give you what
you want.”
In our view, however, you don’t have to choose between protecting the
relationship and having a good conversation about the issues between you. It is
relationship and having a good conversation about the issues between you. It is
possible to be respectful and affirming of the relationship even if and as you
disagree. It is genuine listening, empathy, and being open to persuasion that
preserve and strengthen the relationship, not the degree of agreement. You can
make the case for how you see it, explain how and to what extent the other’s
argument modifies your view and why, and agree only if and as you are
persuaded without ever saying – or thinking – “I’m right and you’re wrong.”
Instead you can think, “You may be right, and I may well be missing something
(it wouldn’t be the first time), and yet so far I don’t see it.”
To achieve this, no matter what your culture, you must first make the kinds of
mental shifts in your internal voice that we talk about in Chapters 2 through 6:
Without these shifts, simply being “direct” isn’t going to help. There’s no way
to throw a diplomatic hand grenade, whether you’re speaking French, Arabic, or
Mayan. Dumping blame and self-righteousness into the conversation unfiltered
doesn’t go over well anywhere.
On the other hand, once you’ve made these shifts in your thinking, it’s easier
in any culture to be more direct, even with those higher in the pecking order.
We’ve worked with people on six continents over the last ten years, listened to
their internal voices, and helped them shift their thinking and engage important
issues successfully. People do sometimes worry that we are about to put
someone’s “face” at risk, but then visibly relax as they realize that we have put a
joint problem on the table (from the third story, of course) with no hint of the
blame frame.
Perhaps even more significant, precisely because of the differences between
cultures, these skills have proven critical for successfully navigating crosscultural communication challenges. As people work in multinational contexts,
and especially in virtual teams across geographies by e-mail and conference
calls, we find ourselves constantly stepping on each other’s toes. Being able to
talk about the unintended impacts we’re having on one another becomes critical
to maintaining good working relationships. Seeing our own contribution to the
confusion or frustration, and getting curious about why our colleagues in
Uruguay or Uganda feel so strongly about an issue that seems to us of little
importance enables us to sort out the differences in our interests, values,
assumptions, and implicit rules.
7. What about conversations that aren’t face-to-face?
What should I do differently if I’m on the phone or e-
mail?
E-mail and texting have become the primary channels of communication for
many of us in both our professional and personal lives. Interestingly, this is true
whether we work with colleagues many time zones away or a few steps down
the hall. E-mail has benefits and drawbacks: we should learn to use it wisely and
avoid its tendency to escalate conflict.
E-mail is a wildly efficient way to keep in touch; it allows reflection and
carefully crafted responses, and it maintains an ongoing record of a given
conversation. If you’re angry, you can take time to cool down before composing
a message. If you’re tired, you can do it later. If you don’t really have time to
chat, you can drop an e-mail to at least let your mom know you’re thinking about
her. Many people use e-mail to initiate hard conversations they don’t have the
courage to confront in person. For the day-to-day tasks of keeping up with a
friend or moving a project forward, it’s just about perfect.
But ask e-mail to do anything even slightly more complicated in a
relationship, and you can quickly run into trouble. Why? Precisely because of
the benefits mentioned above. E-mail isn’t dialogue – it’s serial monologue.
There’s no opportunity to interrupt for clarification, to see the other’s reaction
and correct course, or to test our assumptions about their intentions before
locking into interpretations and emotional reactions.
E-mail doesn’t convey tone of voice, facial expressions, or body language —
all of which help us make sense of the sender’s intentions (which as we know
from Chapter 3 is difficult even when we’re talking face-to-face). When you get
an e-mail that reads “I was hoping to have your memo by now” does it mean
“I’m excited about reading it” or “You’re in trouble”? Is your neighbor writing
in all caps because she’s enraged, thrilled, clueless, or just a little bit nuts? When
your friend writes “You’re such a loser! ☺” is it playful intimacy or an actual
jab? You write back to ask, and your friend replies: “If I thought you were
actually a loser I’d never write that in an e-mail – or would I? ;-)” Hmm. Even
with emoticons, intentions can be hard to determine.
It’s tempting to think of e-mail as an emotion-free zone; it’s just text, after all.
But in practice e-mail can be the most emotional channel of communication in
an organization. Although rarely stated directly, emotions often suffuse the text,
triggering emotional reactions in the recipients, which then get fired back,
directly or indirectly. Over time simply seeing certain people’s names in your inbox provokes dread or anxiety. By the time we open the e-mail itself, we are
reading the sender’s words through the lens of our own frustration, resentment,
and attributions.
and attributions.
And it’s often happening onstage. E-mail is routinely used to communicate to
multiple team members, family members, or friends, so the exchange has an
audience, upping the stakes and putting everybody’s identity more deeply on the
line. “Don’t make it look like I’m the one being difficult about this!” we think to
ourselves, before shooting back the “correct” story for the benefit of the boss
who is cc’d. Even when the exchange is private, we both know it can be
forwarded at any time, with accompanying commentary: “Can you believe
this?”
Other than that, though, e-mail works great, right? Texting, too, has its
challenges. Using half sentences and abbreviations increases the chance of
ambiguity and misunderstanding.
So, how to avoid the downward spiral of attributions and misperceptions?
When reading:
1. Question your attributions. Once triggered, your attributions about the
sender’s intentions and personality flood in. And when you’re tired, stressed, or
feeling a bit vulnerable, you’re even more likely to see negatives. Remind
yourself that you don’t actually know their intentions. Your initial reading is as
likely to be off-target as on. The sender may have mixed or even positive
intentions, or, most often, no particular intention about you at all. A week
without hearing from them is far more likely to mean they are busy than that
they are hoping to make you sweat. And what you experience as an attack might
in their mind be meant as a defense against your attack. What, you say, you
never attacked them? Ah, there’s the rub.
2. Hit pause. If an e-mail elicits a strong negative emotion, stop. Do nothing.
Unless there’s an urgent reason why you need to respond instantly – and
“because I’m really mad right now” doesn’t count – then wait. An hour at least
or, ideally, overnight. Come back to the e-mail when you’re feeling more
balanced. Often you’ll have the strange sensation of wondering why you felt so
bent out of shape. But if, after taking some time, you’re still revved up, move to
step three.
3. Pick up the phone or talk in person. Bottom line: You can’t resolve an email conflict with e-mail. For all practical purposes there are no exceptions to
this rule. Once any sort of emotion enters the arena – annoyance, confusion,
hurt, anxiety – it’s time to switch your mode of communication. “But I’m a
good, clear writer,” you think. “I’ll be extra careful and thoughtful, and I’ll even
take the high road.” Don’t get suckered in. Anything you write during a conflict
can be taken the wrong way. When your colleague gets your generous, wellreasoned, and beautifully crafted e-mail, he might think “How lovely.” Or he
might think: “Just like her to send that kind of bogus e-mail, with all that ‘I’m
calm and rational’ crap. She makes me sick!” So save yourself a heap of trouble
and pick up the phone or talk in person.
When writing:
1. Be extra explicit about your intentions, reasoning, and (when they are
appropriate to share) your emotions. Go out of your way to explain yourself.
Being clear about your purposes, reasoning, and feelings can help ward off
misunderstanding, whether your e-mail is to a close colleague or a contractor
from another culture halfway across the world: “I’m asking because my boss
will ask, and I want to be sure we’re aligned,” or “I’m unclear on whether and
when I should be doing. . . ,” or “My thinking is that there is no significant
downside to doing this now, while it will be quite costly if we wait and have to
do it later,” or “I’m frustrated that this has happened again, so it’s really
important to me that we spend time diagnosing what happened and coming up
with some credible way to reduce the chances of yet another repetition.” Even “I
get frustrated when this happens” is better than a snippy “FINE! WHATEVER
YOU SAY.” If you’re going to inject your feelings, being explicit invites a
conversation, whereas being curt feels like judgment, which they are sure to
resent, thus further damaging the relationship.
2. Let them know if there will be a delay – don’t leave them hanging. One
of the most common communication disconnects that occurs with e-mail is the
result of delays in responding. One party sends a question. The person receiving
it thinks, “Good question. I’m not sure of the answer. I’ll have to think about it
or ask So-and-so.” So they wait to respond until they have a substantive
response, which often ends up taking longer than they at first expected. In the
meantime the person waiting for the answer is left to interpret the silence,
wondering, “Why aren’t they answering me?” and answering with their fears: “I
must have upset them,” or “They obviously don’t care,” or “They’re avoiding
me,” and perhaps concluding, “I can’t work with this person.” This pattern is
predictable and avoidable. If you’re not going to answer right away, send a quick
note explaining why and when you expect to get back to them. “Let me check
with Dan, and I’ll get back to you in a few days. If you haven’t heard from me
by Tuesday, please send a reminder. Thanks!”
3. Take it step-by-step. If you’re wondering about the tone or intent behind
their last e-mail, rather than make assumptions, write them a short note to check
before you respond. “I can’t tell if you’re annoyed. Was I supposed to respond
earlier?” Clear up the ambiguity before you fire off a shot that further escalates
the exchange.
4. Ask for reactions, thoughts, and what you’re missing. Given the
monologue nature of e-mail, work to invite honest dialogue and reactions.
Taking seriously the possibility that there’s something important you don’t know
and showing genuine openness to their thinking makes it easier for them to share
their internal voice and help correct misunderstandings or missed assumptions
earlier rather than later.
On the Phone:
As a medium for difficult conversations, the phone is less perilous than e-mail,
but perilous still. Although the phone conveys tone of voice (a step up from email in that regard), it does not convey facial expressions. That makes
understanding subtle emotions and meaning tougher. You hear the other person
complaining, but you don’t see the vulnerability and sadness in their eyes. If
you’re talking to your elderly mother about how she’s coping with your dad’s
encroaching dementia, it’s easy to flip into problem solving (“You have to get
help”) or cheerleading (“Everything is going to be fine!”). It requires an extra
effort and self-reminder to offer empathy (“Mom, I can’t even imagine how
stressful this has been for you”) and appreciation (“Given all you’re going
through, you’re doing such an amazing job; it’s absolutely inspiring to me”).
8. Why do you advise people to “bring feelings into the
workplace”? I’m not a therapist, and shouldn’t business
decisions be made on the merits?
Every organization has some feelings that are accepted and expressed often and
others that are supposed to remain hidden. Stress, frustration, pride, loyalty, and
enthusiasm are often an accepted part of organizational culture. Disappointment,
self-doubt, jealousy, and hurt are usually less acceptable and less likely to be
expressed directly.
But whatever the implicit rules are, the official line in many organizations
remains this: stay on task and check your feelings at the door. They distract us
from getting things done.
Yet as human beings, we can’t simply leave feelings behind. They are an
integral part of how our brains and bodies work. So we read our e-mail or sit in
meetings or listen to people talk about our work — and we have emotional
reactions. Surprise, anger, confusion, betrayal, anxiety, dread, indignation . . .
the list goes on.
Contrary, then, to the official line, your workplace is already suffused with
feelings. In fact, we’d argue that keeping them out of the workplace (if you
could) would actually be a bad thing. It is because of feelings like determination,
pride, satisfaction, commitment, and even anxiety and frustration that people
come to work, persist in grappling with seemingly insoluble problems, and find
creative solutions. And on the flip side, it is not negative feelings in themselves
that distract us from productivity, but the failure to acknowledge them, and to
deal with them directly, efficiently, and honestly.
Moreover, a certain amount of emotion is necessary for making decisions.
People whose access to feelings is damaged as the result of a brain injury often
have trouble making even simple choices, like when to schedule a meeting. They
can list the consequences of competing options but not formulate a preference.
10
Given that feelings are already present in the workplace, the question becomes
how to deal with them. Typically we allow them to drive the energy of a
conversation — the raised voices, curt e-mail responses, or veiled put-downs —
without talking about them explicitly. We often translate feelings into
arguments, accusations, or simply silence and withdrawal. When we translate or
ignore feelings, we fail to deal directly with what’s actually going on (the
feelings and their causes). As a result, people feel badly treated, working
relationships become strained, morale drops, and feelings start to get in the way
of work actually getting done.
Why? Because by the time an issue becomes the subject of a difficult
conversation, you usually have at least two problems: the substantive business
issue or disagreement (what strategy is best, who should handle this issue, or
how much should we pay given that mistakes have been made?) and the matter
of how people have felt treated in the conversations so far (ignored, publicly
embarrassed, left out of the loop, or unfairly blamed).
It’s hard to solve the business problem and get on with doing the work if you
don’t understand and address what has gone wrong in the working relationship.
This might be as simple as saying, “I’m frustrated. It seems like we’re going in
circles,” or “I was disappointed not to be chosen for that assignment,” or “I’m
not sure why we’re having a hard time getting this done.” Or it may take more
work, exploring perceptions of what happened and the meaning different stories
hold for people, given their past experience.
We’re not arguing for a workplace where people sit around idly chatting about
every emotion that comes upon them. We’re saying that often, dealing more
directly with feelings enables you to get to the heart of the matter more quickly –
and with a better chance of finding a satisfying resolution.
Isn’t it risky to share your feelings at work?
It can be, depending on what you share, when, and how. If in your corporate
culture people don’t talk directly about their feelings, then breaking this pattern
can feel uncomfortable. Sometimes it’s even made explicit that talking about
feelings is considered weak, unprofessional, or a waste of time.
In such a culture, it’s important to use language that is acceptable and to make
clear up front that the point of any discussion involving feelings is to further a
business goal. If saying “I feel hurt and taken for granted,” will be poorly
received, consider something like this: “I’d like to find a way to get this done
earlier each quarter. I know I often leave these meetings frustrated, and I
imagine you also periodically feel frustrated. Can we talk about why that is and
how we might design a better process?”
Timing, location, and context also matter. When you’re facing a deadline, it’s
probably not a good time to initiate a discussion about how you’re feeling about
your job. Neither is a random meeting in a hallway. But a quarterly coaching
session with your boss might be.
Finally, how you raise the matter of feelings is critical. Talking about
emotions by being emotional – crying, screaming, pouting, eye-rolling, or foot
stomping – will often make you appear weak, out-of-control, or
unprofessional.
11
In terms of what you share, some feelings are less risky than others.
Expressing authentic appreciation for work done by your colleagues or
subordinates is rarely rebuffed. Sharing enthusiasm for a new project or pride in
a job well done is almost always welcome. Even admitting that you feel
confused about your role or the scope of your task, anxious about the potential
impact of a decision you’ve made on your teammates, or curious about others’
perspectives are likely to be heard as invitations to engage together in
constructive problem solving.
Starting to share these kinds of feelings can be a low-risk way to begin to shift
how you and your co-workers deal with each other. Your example may
encourage others to do the same, and soon you’ve influenced your team’s little
corner of the larger corporate culture. After all, a “corporate culture” is actually
made up of many individual relationships, and each relationship you change
improves the overall culture.
Shouldn’t business decisions be made “rationally,” on the merits? How does
talking about feelings help with that?
People often fear that talking about feelings will result in lousy decisions. And it
can, if you’re not careful.
Consider the decision faced by NASA and Morton Thiokol engineers in 1986
about whether, given cold weather conditions, it was safe to launch the Space
Shuttle Challenger. In a teleconference, Morton Thiokol engineers at first
informed NASA that it was their determination that it was not safe. In the
ensuing discussion of the safety data, a leading member of NASA’s team said he
would go along with Morton Thiokol’s decision, but that he was “appalled” at
their reading of the data and that the information about cold weather was being
relayed so late in the process. The word itself – “appalled” – so strong and
visceral, seemed to play a significant role in Morton Thiokol’s ultimate reversal
of their view, even though, as outside observers we know that the description of
one person’s emotional state has no relationship to whether a launch is safe.
12
Yet not talking about feelings can also result in poor decisions.
Acknowledging that feelings are in play – making them discussable – positions
them appropriately as another factor to be weighed on their merits.
A client’s preferences on staffing, for example, are worth knowing and
understanding before deciding about a change. Identifying people’s fears and
concerns about how a reorganization might affect their own career may facilitate
some creative problem solving or simple clarification that greatly reduces
resistance. Or it may illuminate longer-term incentive effects that can help avoid
unintended consequences. If, for example, workers feel penalized for taking
risks, and such penalties hurt morale and future risk taking, management needs
to be able to engage that discussion. If workers are bottled up and not allowed to
discuss feeling unfairly treated, management won’t know that the current system
discuss feeling unfairly treated, management won’t know that the current system
is discouraging the very behavior they seek.
In such cases, the presence of the feeling itself may not be a reason for making
a particular decision, but it may be a clue pointing to a legitimate business
reason to consider other approaches. It should be explored and followed up. For
example, in the conversation about the Challenger launch, Morton Thiokol could
have responded to the “appalled” comment not by changing their
recommendation, but by validating the concern and inquiring further: “As to the
timing of our informing you, it is late in the game, and that’s putting tremendous
pressure on all of us. We just learned of the expected launch temperature, which
is lower than ever before, but our concerns have been building over time. We
should look at our communication process going forward and make sure this
doesn’t happen again. As to our interpretation of the data, tell us more about
what seems problematic to you or why you read the data differently.”
And of course the NASA engineer could do the same: “I hear your concern,
and I am aware that you are closest to the data, so it troubles me that the data
seems so much less clear to me. I’m wondering what you see that we don’t. Why
don’t you take us through your reasoning again step by step?” The emotion is
part of the discussion, but the mere presence of strong emotion shouldn’t drive
the decision.
Perhaps an even more important reason to make feelings part of a business
conversation is precisely so they don’t overwhelm people’s thinking. Listening,
understanding, and showing empathy with feelings are the things that help
dissipate them, making it easier for the person having those feelings to calm
down and open up to other perspectives.
If an employee is not being promoted, for example, they are likely to feel
disappointed and hurt no matter what. But if they can’t talk with you about their
reactions, they may also feel betrayed, unappreciated, frustrated, and ignored.
Then they’re likely to start making attributions about you — that you’re a
difficult person to work for, or that you don’t like them and are playing favorites,
perhaps. If, on the other hand, you elicit their feelings and show that you care
about their reaction, they’re much more likely to be able to take in your
reasoning for not promoting them, and to work with you to improve their
performance. Listening to their feelings, and genuinely seeking to understand
them, helps relationships and morale, even if it doesn’t change your decision.
And of course it’s possible that you might learn something in listening that
would change your view.
Aside from discomfort with the expression of feelings, the main reason we
worry about bringing them into business (or personal) conversations is the
instinctive fear that the only way to deal with feelings is to give the other person
instinctive fear that the only way to deal with feelings is to give the other person
what they want – that, for example, the only way to “fix” the employee’s anger
is to promote them.
But of course it’s not. The key to managing feelings well is to separate
acknowledgment from decision making and to give up the responsibility of
fixing them. It helps to be explicit about your intentions: “I’d like to talk about
how we’re each feeling about this situation, and what we each think, so I have as
much information as possible in making this decision. Of course, in the end, I’ll
have to decide based on my assessment of your performance, the criteria for the
position, and my sense of what’s best for the company.” This allows you to
listen to and understand how disappointed and angry your employee is and
nonetheless to decide on the merits whether or not to promote them.
9. Who has time for all this in the real world?
Nobody.
No one wants to spend time struggling to understand why someone else
disagrees with your (obviously) brilliant strategic solution. Nobody wants to
devote part of their afternoon to dealing with a challenging colleague, or worse,
two difficult people who can’t get along and are disrupting your team’s ability to
function effectively or everyone’s ability to enjoy the holidays.
After all, you’ve got data to crunch, presentations to make, experiments to
run, e-mail to answer, and kids to pick up from school. These are all pressing
tasks, and ones that have tangible outcomes that can be satisfyingly crossed off
your to-do list. In contrast, opening up a messy conversation just isn’t that
inviting. The emotional energy involved makes it exhausting, and there’s no
guarantee of a good outcome. It’s no wonder that in the short term we choose to
focus on less disagreeable tasks and to avoid the mishigas of a conversation.
But it’s a false choice. We imagine the choice looks like this. Should I:
(a) spend time tackling this difficult conversation? or
(b) save myself the time and hassle and have the problem
magically disappear?
If that were the choice, well, we wouldn’t need this book to begin with. Here’s
a more realistic assessment of the choice.
We’re already spending time and energy dwelling on it. Unresolved
conflict in our work and personal relationships sucks up energy and attention in
sneaky ways that we often don’t take account of. We should be adding up the
time we spend fuming to ourselves, venting to colleagues, complaining to our
spouses, designing a workaround, lying awake thinking about what we should
have said to them, and looking up their personality disorders on the Internet to
bolster our case.
How we’re spending our time is actually making it worse. Triangulating to
a colleague gives us a place to vent our frustration but may relieve us of the need
we feel to address the problem directly. And now our colleague is pulled into the
conflict, either because we’ve succeeded in passing on our negative view and
annoyance or because they’re getting it from both sides and are caught in the
middle. Complaining to a friend or spouse often reinforces our already one-sided
story about why the other person is “impossible” and we’re the innocent victim.
Even if the friend can see what we’re doing to make the situation worse, we
rarely give them permission to challenge us – to help us see the other side’s
perspective and our own contribution. Hence, we walk away convinced our
friend is on our side, which is further justification for our righteous indignation.
This in turn makes us more likely to spew a skewed set of accusations and
assertions, if and when we actually have the conversation.
Instead, aim energy in useful and efficient directions. Given that we’re
already dwelling on the problem, we might as well use that time and energy in
ways that will help rather than hurt. Rather than simply venting to third parties
and (implicitly) asking them to agree with us, why not enlist their genuine advice
and coaching? Friends and colleagues can help us appreciate the other side’s
perspective, understand our own contribution, and think about the other side’s
intentions or the identity issues that are making us overreact. They can help us
think through what’s at the heart of the matter and how we might share our
perspective clearly.
As you get accustomed to using the preparation checklist in this book and
adapting it to your own particular style and habits, you’ll get faster and more
efficient at preparing. Pretty soon you will be able to think through the checklist
on your commute in to work in the morning or while muting the conference call
for a minute or two. Suddenly you’re using the time to feel better about a
situation, and to formulate a plan for how to tackle it, rather than to wallow in
misery.
Spend seven minutes now and save seven hours later
We fear that readers sometimes get the impression that we’re suggesting you
tackle every conversation with your name on it, and that each one should be an
ongoing, possibly endless endeavor. Let’s be clear: Life is too short, and no one
has that kind of emotional energy.
In fact, our assumption is that many of these conversations can be quick. The
earlier you raise an issue, catch a misunderstanding, or ask a question to clarify
intentions, the sooner you clear it up and move on. The longer you let things
fester, the bigger the problem becomes. So investing seven minutes now to sort
through why you and your client seem to have different expectations about the
scope of a project will save you seven hours (or seven months) of confusion,
frustration, and cost overruns down the road.
And the more skillful you can be about how you raise and discuss something,
the more effective and efficient the conversation is likely to be. Asking a
supplier a question about why your request poses a problem, rather than simply
insisting that it must be honored, will help illuminate why they are resistant and
put you on the same side solving the problem. You avoid arguing about it for ten
minutes, hanging up frustrated, and then needing to make several more calls to
their boss, your boss, or alternate providers.
Finally, as our colleague Stevenson Carlebach says, the time we spend in easy
conversations versus difficult conversations is like the difference between
human years and dog years. It can feel as if the conversation is lasting seven
times as long as it actually is, but that doesn’t make it so. In fact, some people
we’ve worked with have started correcting their internal sense of the time spent.
After a tough phone call that seems to have lasted forever, they look at the phone
display as they are hanging up and note exactly how long the call lasted. Time
and again they discover that the “forever” phone call actually took just four
minutes – and addressed the real issues.
That’s time well spent.
10. My identity conversation keeps getting stuck in eitheror: I’m perfect or I’m horrible. I can’t seem to get past
that. What can I do?
Let’s start with an example.
Let’s start with an example.
Antonio’s Story
When I get criticized, whether at work or at home, I tend to react
by criticizing back. Things escalate, or the other person
withdraws. The sad part is that this happens even when I know
the feedback is right! I keep resolving to respond with a simple,
“That’s helpful, I’m going to work on that,” or, “Thank you, let’s
talk about it,” but when the moment comes, I repeat the pattern as
if I’d never even thought this through before. I know it’s hurting
my relationships, but I can’t seem to change it.
Having reflected on this, Antonio has come to see that this behavior is rooted
in the belief that a good and valued person doesn’t disappoint people or let them
down. He worries that if he does let someone down, he’ll be rejected, or even
disowned. And maybe more important, he fears he won’t be able to live with
himself: “If I know anything about myself, it’s that I don’t hurt others, I don’t let
others down.” To avoid feeling intolerable guilt or shame, Antonio determines,
at least in the moment, that the criticism must be wrong or ill-intended. Now
angry, he tries to show that the situation was actually the result of mistakes other
people made, particularly the person raising the concerns.
Later, when his emotions settle down, Antonio can see how provocative and
insecure his response appears, but he can’t see what’s happening when it’s
happening, or think what else to do. Intellectually, he understands that even
good, competent, and valued people sometimes have an off day, make an illadvised or selfish choice, or are just plain mindless. But emotionally, in the
moment, he doesn’t feel permission to be less than perfect. His heart pounds
with fear and desperation, and long-honed instincts take over.
We all know this frustration.
Why is it so hard to change such behaviors and the assumptions about
ourselves and our relationships that drive them? And is there anything to be done
about it?
Where identity comes from
Identities develop from the complex interplay of our hard-wiring,
13
life
experiences, and what we choose to make of those experiences (in other words,
the story we tell). We can’t change our wiring (although the new science of
neuroplasticity is usefully questioning this assumption), and we can’t change our
past experiences. But we can change our story about those experiences.
As infants and small children, we take for granted that we deserve whatever
we get from our parents – good or bad – and construct a story to explain why we
deserve it. “I got spanked because I am bad.” “My parents love me because I am
so cute.” “I am worthwhile because I am always kind to my sister.”
Even before we can talk, we begin to develop images of ourselves in
relationship with others.
14 As the middle child in a conflict-riddled family, for
example, one colleague of ours noticed that she was rewarded for being the
peacemaker. She developed an image of herself as “the rational one, who never
loses her temper.” As an adult, she is much sought after by friends who value her
even-handed approach in stressful situations, but she has a hard time sticking up
for what she really wants or expressing strong emotion. She sees her identity as
the one who makes conflict go away, not as the one who creates it.
These images can develop from our everyday experiences and relationships,
but also from traumatic, life-changing events. Antonio, whose parents divorced
when he was five, believed that he was the cause of their breakup. The lesson:
“My dad left because I was bad. I will never permit myself to be bad again.”
This helps explain why it is so threatening to Antonio to feel like he is anything
less than perfect. Someone else, of course, might learn a different lesson from
divorce: “Being good didn’t help. People leave, so don’t rely on them.” This
might contribute to an identity as a fiercely independent person, or conversely,
as a victim.
As life continues to throw new experiences at Antonio, he will try – as we all
do – to interpret these experiences in a way that is consistent with how he sees
himself. If he gets feedback that he screwed up, it threatens a key pillar of his
identity: “I will never be bad again.” If that pillar is destroyed, there’s nothing
left to hold him up. To protect it, he lashes out: “It wasn’t me! It couldn’t be!”
Though Antonio now recognizes the downsides of this piece of his selfdefinition, it remains a struggle to change it. It is familiar, deeply embedded,
almost unconscious – and the alternatives seem unclear and scary. Although he’s
not fully aware of it, Antonio sees two choices: preserve the pillar (denial), or let
things collapse (exaggerate).
What helps?
As we say in Chapter 6, it is helpful to bring this dilemma to light, to recognize
unrealistic all-or-nothing assumptions, and to reset our self-expectations to
something more realistic. But what if, as with Antonio, that’s not enough,
something more realistic. But what if, as with Antonio, that’s not enough,
because it doesn’t “stick”?
The root of the difficulty is that although Antonio recognizes his problematic
identity theme and its consequences, he hasn’t really found a way to accept
himself as someone who could disappoint others. There are several things one
can do to help with that kind of challenge.
Explore the roots of the theme, and re-evaluate them. It often helps to
reflect on where and how we learned to be the way we are. In addition to the
divorce, Antonio reflects on two other important memories that likely shaped his
identity. One is of a time when his older brother Hector received such bad grades
that he was forced to withdraw from the parochial school he attended. Antonio
heard his father pronounce his disappointment and label his brother a “failure,”
and heard his brother crying himself to sleep for days. The other was when
Antonio won a school prize for a paper he wrote in fifth grade. Antonio was
surprised and hurt when the only reaction he got from his own parents was,
“That’s nice, Antonio.” From these two experiences, Antonio determined that
love was contingent upon success, and that even stellar performance might not
be enough to win it.
Imagine Antonio’s shock years later when he asked his mother about his
parents’ reaction to his award: “We were so proud of you! No one in our family
had ever had such academic success. But we tried not to make a big deal of your
achievement, because we were told by the school psychologist that gifted
children who are given too much praise can get the message that they are only
loved for their achievements.” As for his father’s reaction to his brother, that was
more complex. His father later confessed his regret over being too harsh: “I just
didn’t want to see Hector make the same mistakes with his life that I made,” he
confided.
So, love was not as contingent as Antonio thought, it was just being expressed
in ways he didn’t understand. Antonio had been living within the constraints of
narrow rules about how relationships work that he had learned as a small child.
Seeing that, and finding different ways to interpret key memories has helped
diminish his identity quakes.
Antonio’s brother faced a different challenge. Having internalized his father’s
judgment that he was a “failure,” Hector refused to put himself forward for
leadership positions at work or in his community and would decline them when
offered. In time, he learned that his trouble in school was due in part to dyslexia,
and in part to a learning style that needed to grasp the big picture before details
would make sense. But at some level Hector still saw himself as the same
fifteen-year-old who had “failed” so embarrassingly. As a result, he was both
determined not to put himself in that position again and unable to see himself as
determined not to put himself in that position again and unable to see himself as
someone worth trusting with responsibility.
Colleagues, who saw Hector as thoughtful and wise and often sought his
advice, had trouble understanding his reticence. Insight came only when Hector
opened up to a close friend who wanted him to join a community leadership
group. “Hector,” the friend said, “what would you say to a fifteen-year-old in
that situation? Would you say they were doomed to fail forever? Or would you
say they should learn from the experience and do better next time? You are
nothing like the kid you were then.” With this prodding, Hector was able to look
at himself afresh as the man that boy had grown into. Then, with some wonder
and dawning pride, though not without trepidation, he began to take on
leadership roles that were offered. With each success, Hector’s confidence rose
and the fearful boy retreated.
But none of this is easy. Some of us are physically or emotionally abused by
parents, teachers, classmates, or neighbors, and the impacts on identity can run
deep. Especially in the case of trauma, there may be physiological changes that
inhibit our ability to tell a more empowering or optimistic story about what was
going on.
And even in the absence of trauma there is not infinite play in the joints; there
are limits to how you can reinterpret experiences. If you had few friends in high
school, it’s nonsensical to decide years later that you were actually Mr. Popular.
If you got lousy grades in school, it’s not going to be helpful to “remember” that
you were valedictorian.
Coming to grips with your experience is not about making things up; it’s
about looking under the simplistic identity labels we give ourselves, putting
events in context, and, if necessary, grieving the fact that things happened as
they did. If you decide that poor grades in high school mean you are “stupid,”
well, that’s a wild and unhelpful generalization. Similarly, and perhaps
surprisingly, being labeled “smart” causes some people to be risk-averse and
easily frustrated when solving problems. Such people worry that their
reputations are on the line with each new challenge. In truth, we are all fast and
slow, strong and weak, motivated and lazy in a thousand tiny ways throughout
our days that the generalizations simply don’t capture.
Nor are the “right” lessons to be drawn from our experience automatically
clear. One person might attribute his strong marriage to his early lessons in
resilience during an emotionally tumultuous childhood, while another might see
his troubled relationships as the inevitable result of such deprivation.
In Antonio’s case, his reflections have helped him loosen the grip of an eitheror identity, reducing the panic he has traditionally felt at the prospect of
disappointing people. In that calmer space he is somewhat better able to
disappointing people. In that calmer space he is somewhat better able to
remember the alternative responses he would like to try. And with each good
experience, each succeeding effort gets easier.
Create positive experiences. In addition to reinterpreting past experience,
you can also create new experiences that offer positive reinforcement for
behaving and seeing yourself in different ways. This may involve acting as if
something is true even when you’re not sure that it is, just to see what happens.
Antonio might seek out negative feedback from colleagues, with the mindset of
being “someone who is great at learning from feedback.” He knows that that’s
not an accurate description of himself, but as an experiment he can act as if it
were true. And if he listens and works at it, it will be true, at least this once – at
which point he’ll have some positive experience to build on, manufactured but
real.
Enlist help to stimulate and reinforce new behaviors. Under stress, we are
likely to fall back on old ways of acting. The neural pathways are simply too
well-worn. Without external help, we won’t notice, and we won’t be able to
interrupt these established patterns in a lasting way. To push against this, it is
often helpful to enlist the assistance of a friend or colleague. Antonio asked two
of his peers to help: “I’m working on taking feedback. I don’t find it easy or
natural, but you can help me by pointing out when I get defensive. I’m giving
you explicit permission to coach me on this, to be direct. At the same time, I’m
asking you to be patient. I’ll surely mess up, and when I do, please remember
that I’m trying hard.”
Give yourself some empathy. We’ve all made sense of our experiences as
best we could – often with very little guidance – and made choices that did and
did not work out.
Life is not easy. What we need is a little empathy for ourselves.
Accepting our whole selves – our mistakes, failures, and shortcomings, our
moments of weakness, selfishness, and stupidity – and forgiving ourselves these,
are essential steps toward finding balance now and growth in the future. For
some, this feeling of deep caring toward oneself comes in a flash of insight; for
most of us, it’s a lifelong project of small adjustments and daily reminders. It’s
not about making excuses or shifting responsibility toward others. It’s the simple
intention to accept and care for what is.
If we’re not satisfied, then we can apologize and grieve, and we can try for
better starting right now.
better starting right now.
A final thought
We are often approached by readers who share with us just how impossible their
teenager/brother/boss/business partner is. They seem eager for help. We ask
some questions and make a few suggestions, each of which is quickly dismissed:
“tried that,” “nope,” “won’t work.”
It was a few years before we recognized that they were not in fact asking for
advice; they were asking for permission to give up. “I’m exhausted. I’ve had it.
Is it okay for me to quit?” So we started giving a different answer: “Sounds like
you’ve done your best and tried just about everything.”
People loved this response; many could scarcely hide their glee. We could
almost hear the conversation they were going to have when they got home:
“Honey, I went to that talk and I got a professional opinion: Your mother is
officially impossible!”
Working your way through difficult conversations is hard and often
discouraging work – especially when you’re not seeing your openness
reciprocated or your willingness to be accountable for your contributions
appreciated. In many cases you are fighting to break out of deeply embedded
patterns and to ease years of friction. If change is coming, it’s taking its time.
But then, after months of reaching out and feeling rebuffed, you notice a slight
tremor; something is shifting after all. You’ll get an appreciative note about the
holidays, or at least a less irritable voice-mail. You’ll see glimpses of warmth, or
notice that the usual opening to an argument is passed by.
If you feel that these gestures are making a genuine difference, and can
negotiate with yourself to be patient, then these initial small changes may be
enough to sustain you.
But we don’t mean to suggest that you should beat your head against the wall,
or that you should stay indefinitely in a relationship that is doing damage to your
self-esteem. You may be making some progress with your paranoid boss, but
your family still suffers from your deepening Monday dread. You have empathy
for your sister’s troubled circumstances, but her addiction continues to wreak
havoc with your marriage. You’ve tried your best. It hasn’t helped.
You’re allowed to give up.
As we’ve said, you can’t change other people. When you finally give up the
idea that you have the power to change others, you are giving up something you
idea that you have the power to change others, you are giving up something you
never had anyway – control. If someone is unwilling to examine their own
contribution to a problem or take responsibility for the impacts of their actions,
you can’t force them to. All you can do is take a hard look at yourself, be open to
seeing things differently, change your own contribution, and be honest about
what matters to you.
You can extend an invitation to join you in working to improve things. It’s up
to them whether to RSVP.
Giving up is hard. You want to be the kind of person who is loyal and
supportive, a caring colleague and loving daughter. You are deeply committed to
the other person, to the company, neighborhood, and school. Giving up requires
you to have a difficult conversation with yourself about making a healthy choice
– for yourself and those you love – and to be able to forgive yourself. That may
be the toughest conversation of all, but one well worth having.
Good luck.
Notes on Some Relevant Organizations
The Harvard Negotiation Project
The Harvard Negotiation Project (HNP) is a research project founded in 1979 at
Harvard University to develop and disseminate improved methods of dealing
with conflict. It stimulated the founding and is part of the Program on
Negotiation at Harvard Law School, an inter-university consortium of scholars
and activities with a multidisciplinary approach to the theory and practice of
negotiation and conflict management. HNP’s activities include action research,
theory building, education and training, and writing.
Action Research. HNP works with people involved in real-world problems to
offer help, learn from experience, and develop new theory. For example, the
Project has contributed to the resolution of conflicts such as the U.S.-Iranian
hostage conflict in 1980, helped to create a substantially improved relationship
between the United States and Soviet Union, and helped to structure negotiation
and peacemaking processes in Central America and South Africa.
Theory Building. Among the ideas developed at HNP are the one-text
mediation procedure used by the United States in Middle East peace negotiations
since the 1978 Camp David summit, the method of “principled” or “mutualgains” negotiation, the “core concerns” framework for managing emotions in
negotiation, and the approach to productive conversation summarized in this
book.
Education and Training. HNP developed the seminal Negotiation Workshop
taught at Harvard Law School that has influenced educators around the world.
Each year in June the Project offers intensive one-week courses on negotiation
and difficult conversations to lawyers and the general public as part of the
Harvard Negotiation Institute. (For information, contact HNI At 617-495-7703
or on the Web at www.pon.harvard.edu.)
Publications. Work at the Project has spawned many publications, including
International Mediation: A Working Guide, Getting to YES: Negotiating
Agreement Without Giving In, Getting Together: Building Relationships as We
Negotiate, Getting Ready to Negotiate, Getting Past No: Dealing with Difficult
People and Situations, Beyond Machiavelli, Coping with International Conflict,
The Third Side, Getting It Done: How to Lead When You’re Not in Charge,
Beyond Reason: Using Emotions as You Negotiate, The Power of a Positive No,
and this book, as well as articles, teacher’s guides, curricula, and negotiation
exercises. (For information on teaching materials, contact the Program on
Negotiation Clearinghouse at 800-258-4406 [from within the U.S.] or 1-781-
239-1111, by e-mail at chouse@law.harvard.edu, or on the Web at
www.pon.org.) For the latest ideas in the field, subscribe to the Program’s
Negotiation Journal or the Negotiation Newsletter (see
www.pon.harvard.edu/publications).
The following two organizations were founded by members of the Harvard
Negotiation Project and authors of Difficult Conversations. While each has a
somewhat different strategic focus, they are the only two licensed suppliers
of Difficult Conversations® courses and coaching.
Vantage Partners, LLC
Bruce Patton is one of five founders of Vantage Partners, a global management
consulting firm. It is the recognized leader in helping companies achieve
measurable, breakthrough business results by transforming the way they
negotiate with, and manage relationships with, key business partners. In addition
to offering strategic negotiation advice, Vantage practice areas include strategic
alliances strategy and management, sourcing and supplier management,
outsourcing governance and relationship management, sales negotiation and key
account management, managing internal conflict, and corporate education.
Vantage’s partners have worked with Fortune 500/Global 1000 companies for
more than twenty-five years to drive billions of dollars in savings and increased
profit by taking an integrated approach that addresses how strategy, organization
structure, business tools and processes, cultural assumptions, leadership
messages, and behavioral skills work together to enable or hinder negotiation
success, resilient relationships, cross-matrix efficiency, innovation, and
competitive advantage. Meanwhile, customized Vantage corporate education
workshops have enabled more than a hundred thousand participants to be more
confident and effective in managing internal and external negotiations and
relationships and in making difficult conversations productive.
Vantage’s partners teach at Harvard Law School, the Tuck School of Business
at Dartmouth, and the U.S. Military Academy at West Point; publish regularly in
professional and industry journals and in the Harvard Business Review, as well
as coauthor books such as Getting to YES, Getting Ready to Negotiate, The Point
of the Deal: How to Negotiate When Yes Is Not Enough, and Difficult
Conversations ; and engage in pro bono peace-building activities through the
conflict management arm of Mercy Corps.
For more information, call 617-354-6090 or visit Vantage Partners on the Web
at www.vantagepartners.com.
Triad Consulting Group
Douglas Stone and Sheila Heen founded Triad Consulting Group, a corporate
education and communication consulting firm. The leader in difficult
conversations and management communication training worldwide, we believe
that key organizational initiatives succeed or fail one conversation at a time —
colleague to colleague, inside and across teams and functions. Whether you’re
making tough strategic choices, creating a culture where honest feedback
matters, managing conflict among team members, rolling out a major change
initiative, or seeking to improve the day-to-day management skills of senior
executives, Triad can help.
Triad’s clients span six continents and a dozen industries, and include Boeing,
Capital One, Citigroup, Fidelity, General Mills, Honda, Merck, Microsoft,
Prudential, PwC, Ropes & Gray, TimeWarner, and Unilever. In the public
sector, we have worked with the White House, Justice Department, Singapore
Supreme Court, Ethiopian Parliament, UN-AIDS, The Nature Conservancy, The
Citadel, and New England Organ Bank. Triad consultants have taught and
mediated in South Africa, the Middle East, Kashmir, Iraq, Afghanistan, and
Cyprus, and have taught at Harvard Law School, Georgetown, Wisconsin,
Dartmouth, and MIT Sloan. Triad consultants have authored dozens of popular
and scholarly books and articles in the field.
Triad builds capacity through corporate education, off-site presentations,
systems design, executive coaching, consulting, mediation, facilitation, and team
interventions. We design our programs to respond to the needs and context of
each client, ensuring that the approach is relevant, realistic, and useful.
For more information, call us at 617-547-1728 or visit Triad on the Web at
www.diffcon.com.
1
We have received permission from Ali to share his story; his correspondence has
been edited slightly for concision.
2
Father Dominic Holtz, O.P., in conversation with Celeste Mueller, Eric Wagner,
C.R., Scott Steinkerchner, O.P., Dominic McManus, O.P., Ann Garrido, D.Min.,
and Sheila Heen on February 27, 2009, in conjunction with the Truth
Symposium Project at the Aquinas Institute, St. Louis, Missouri.
3
This is an essential lesson from the work of the Public Conversations Project,
which facilitates respectful dialogue among strong proponents of opposing views
on issues such as abortion and gay marriage. Time and again, participants in
these facilitated learning conversations are surprised to learn how much their
deeper values overlap with those of longtime “opponents.” Often they have
discovered that their profoundly divergent conclusions hinge on the most subtle
differences in the weight they attach to the same shared concerns. And always,
they come to see the very human face of the “other.” For more on this, see the
Web site of the Public Conversations Project at www.publicconversations.org.
4
We tend to think that people are either mentally ill or not, that they either “have
something” or they don’t. But it’s not either-or. In their book Shadow
Syndromes, John Ratey and Catherine Johnson argue that people who are not
clinically diagnosed with a mental illness or personality disorder can still be
suffering from physiologically induced pathologies – “shadow” forms of wellknown disorders like obsessive-compulsive disorder, depression, anxiety,
addiction, and rage, and that such pathologies are less rare than we assume.
5
The October 13, 2003 issue of the New Yorker has an article by Tad Friend about
people who jump off the Golden Gate Bridge intending to commit suicide. The
article mentions Kevin Briggs, a motorcycle patrolman, who “has a knack for
spotting jumpers and talking them back from the edge; he has coaxed in more
than two hundred potential jumpers without losing one over the side. . . .ʼʼ
Briggs doesn’t talk directly about jumping or not jumping. Instead, he uses the
Big Reframe: “What’s your plan for tomorrow?” he asks. If they don’t have one,
he says, “Well, let’s make one.” (This story first came to our attention in the
song “Gatekeeper,” by Meg Hutchinson.)
6
If Lucera is not sensitive to such cues in others, it’s at least possible that she
suffers from a disorder like Asperger’s syndrome on the autism spectrum. Since
she is generally high functioning, it is likely that with work she could increase
her awareness of such cues in herself and others.
7
Robert I. Sutton, The No Asshole Rule: Building a Civilized Workplace and
Surviving One That Isn’t (Warner Business Books, 2007), back cover.
8
The No Asshole Rule, pp. 152-53.
9
These distinctions, or what he calls “buckets,” come from Mark Gordon, senior
adviser to the Harvard Negotiation Project and a director of Vantage Partners,
LLC.
10
See Antonio R. Damasio, Descartes’ Error: Emotion, Reason, and the Human
Brain (Penguin, 2005), pp. 193-94.
11
We would assert, however, that in some contexts, crying is not only okay but a
good thing. It is not uncommon, for example, for football players to cry when
they announce their retirement. It is seen as authentic and human. So too, in the
workplace, sorrow or other overwhelming emotion, whether personal or
professional, can lead to tears that bring two people together or allow one person
to give important support to another. But context does matter. It’s less good, for
example, to cry because the lawyer on the other side of the table is “being
mean.”
12
The decision to launch ended in disaster, with the explosion of the shuttle
seventy-three seconds after launch. This account is taken from an online article
by Roger M. Boisjoly, a Morton Thiokol engineer and key participant in the
decision
(http://www.onlineethics.org/Topics/ProfPractice/PPEssays/thiokolshuttle/shuttle_telecon.asp13
See, for example, Jerome Kagan, who asserts that the strength of a baby’s
“startle response” is a strong predictor of whether a person will become
adventurous or withdrawn, outgoing or shy. The Long Shadow of Temperament,
by Jerome Kagan and Nancy Snidman (Belknap Press, 2004).
14
See, for example, Inside the Family, by David Kantor and William Lehr
(Meredith Winter Press, 2003).