It’s not you

I busted my left knee a little more than 15 years ago in a skiing accident – torn ACL, meniscus tear, the works.  I was on ski vacation with 20 people I didn’t know, the guest of a member this big group.  The first morning, I awoke groggily at 7am to a foot of fresh snow piled on the window sills.  But most of the group slept in, and between putting on snow tires and getting ski rentals for nearly everyone, we only made it to the top of the mountain by noon.  Young, eager and frustrated, I soon pitched myself past a sign marked “cliff area.” Three turns in, I discovered a side of mountain without a lick of snow.  Crash!  It’s amazing I didn’t do more damage.

That was in 1993, and over the years I’ve quietly eliminated one high-impact sport after another in deference to my ailing knee. A year ago, my knee started acting up again, and with it went the last semi-high-impact activity – squash – that was left in my repertoire. The good news is that, thanks to a good (if gruff) orthopedic surgeon, a successful arthroscopic surgery and some rehab, I’m back on my feet, and slowly making my way back onto the squash court after a one-year hiatus.

As the excitement of getting back on the court has waned, I’m smack in the middle of ample opportunity for self-criticism – all the things my squash game once was and is no more. And this has gotten me thinking: how can I fix the things that I need to fix on the court without spending all my time thinking, “I’m terrible! This is awful! That’s an easy shot I just missed!”? How do I grow without all the self-criticism?

Which of course is connected to my professional life.

I’m a firm believer that the best jobs are ones that offer real opportunity for growth.  People often take that to mean jobs where you can take on more responsibility and get promoted, but I think that’s only half the equation.  The other half is finding an environment where people give real, constructive criticism (positive and negative) about what you can do to grow into the leader you want to be.  Work environments that encourage and nurture this kind of feedback are rare.  Rarer still is having the professional trust and personal confidence to be able to take on this kind of criticism, hear it for what it is (constructive), and integrate it in a positive way.

Which brings me back to the squash court, and all the games that I used to win that I’m currently losing.  And it’s forced me to ask: why is it easier to acknowledge a criticism on the court than it is at work?

I think the answer is that, on the squash court, (self) criticism is about what you do.  “Don’t stand too close to the ball.”  “Anticipate the next shot sooner.”  “Take your racquet back earlier.”

At work, self (or external) criticism feels like it’s about who you are.  So when someone gives you feedback on how you run meetings or speak in public or what you put in emails or the way you go about analyzing problems, you first reaction might be, “How dare he say that about me?”  

“About me,” not “about what I do.” This is where you might trip yourself up.

The trick is to remember that both situations are the same. Both are about what you do, and how doing some things differently, some other things more, and another set of things less, you can be more effective.

Separating yourself (the actor) from the things that you do (the action) might just give you the space to hear the criticism for what it is: an act of support; an offering by someone who wants you to succeed, showing you what you can do differently to be the leader you want to be.

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The sound of silence

One of the newest, and most interesting (also potentially most unsettling) phenomena for public speakers is the prospect of your audience tweeting your presentation in real-time.  If done right, it can serve as instantaneous feedback for parallel conversations that enrich discussions in real time.

But before going all high-tech on you, let me ask: 140 character real-time commentary notwithstanding, how do you know how your presentation is going?

Try this: listen for the sound of silence.

Recently I had the chance to listen to a series of excellent presentations to a medium-sized (45 person) group.  Sometimes, instead of giving all my attention to the presenter, I started listening to the room, and I discovered a distinct difference between quiet and silence.

Quiet was when people were listening.  But they were also taking notes and shifting around and perhaps doing some other small thing.

Silence was when the presenter got everyone’s full attention.  It’s the “you could hear a pin drop” moment  when the entire room was energized and focused on the speaker, hanging on each and every word.

And guess what?  9 of 10 times, it’s powerful stories that create that silence.

If the goal of your presentation is to convince people to act, if you’re trying to sell them on an idea, if you want them to remember what you said after they (and you) walk out the door, how much of their attention do you think you need?

You need it all, for as long as you can get it and hold it.

So lead with your stories.  Lead with the memorable narratives that capture people’s attention.

Your first objective isn’t trying to convince people that you’re smart or credible or have done your homework.  Your first objective is to convince them you’re worth listening to.  Get their attention first,  capture their imagination, get them to put everything else aside and engage with you personally and with your ideas.    Once you’ve done this, tell them what you want them to do.

But not the other way around.

So listen for silence, and build your presentation around finding ways to create it and exploit it.

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Why do you read?

You’re reading this blog right now.  Why?

It might be for entertainment, or a diversion.  Or it might be because you want some ideas about how to do things differently.

If you’re interested in doing things differently, you have to ask yourself: do I want just to be exposed to new ideas, or do I actually want to act differently (today, someday)?

If it’s about acting differently, what will it take to get you there?

It’s probably been two years since I read Seth Godin’s missive on Really Bad Powerpoint, and I’ve been carrying around his maxim of “No more than 6 words on a slide. EVER. ” since then.  I’ve also made a million excuses why this is a nice idea but it’s not realistic; why it doesn’t apply to my own storytelling.  Or I’ve said, “6 words per slide is a nice idea, but what he really means is fewer words per slide.  I can hack that.”  That’s a cop out.

Tomorrow, in a big, very visible, very important meeting, I’m giving a presentation that has 17 slides and 51 words.  I’m giving it a shot.

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while you might have thought it interesting to consider reorganizing your RSS feed, changing the way you write email or conduct conference calls, or practicing your storytelling.   If you’ve been reading Seth’s blog, you might have thought about getting a professional picture on Twitter, learning graphic design, or listening to your sneezers.

But are you stuck thinking “this idea might be interesting someday” or are you actually doing things differently?

Sometimes it takes a few tries to get there.  It took me more than two years to take the plunge on my next PowerPoint.  But you should be honest with yourself and ask if you’re reading as a passive observer or as someone who is going to act.

Go ahead, act.

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Plus first

In February I blogged about Randy Nelson’s, President of Pixar University, talk about the core skill of innovators being “failure recovery, not error avoidance.”

Before getting to this point, Randy talks about the environment that nurtures creativity at Pixar.  One important element is having a culture where the expectation is that you will “plus” other people’s ideas.  Randy explains this by talking about improvisational theatre, the core principle of which is that you have to accept any idea that’s thrown out by the other actor(s) on stage (you can also hear Emily Levine talk about this at TED) and then build on it.

For example, if you’re an improve actor and you say, “It’s a lovely day today” and the other actor says, “Yes, except for that 20 foot wave that’s crashing to shore,” you have to accept what that actor has said and work with it (so you could say, “Yes, which is why I have this inflatable suit on, just in case.”)

In many professional situations, there’s a real tendency to skip this step and instead jump to the contrary point, the little bit that could be improved, your small suggestion.

All of you smart, critically-minded people out there (you know who you are) ask yourself how often, when asked to give feedback of one sort or another, jump right in to all the little or big changes you think should be made.  This is actually the easy way out: you feel like you’re being helpful, improving the output, and it makes you look smart to boot.  And when you’re talking to someone you like and respect, you assume they know you think they’re smart/capable/etc. and that the thing they’ve just done (the practice presentation, the brainstormed idea) is pretty good.

Try plus-ing first instead.  If something is mostly good, start with that.  And don’t talk in general terms (“It’s really great.”) as this is neither credible nor useful.  Give this part real attention and thought.  Give it as much analysis as you give your (subsequent) critique. Tell the person what’s good.  Be very specific about what you like.

This will accomplish three things: first, it will give the person just as much feedback about what works as about what doesn’t, so she has a chance to amplify and strengthen the best part of what she’s done.  Second, the person will feel good and gain in confidence.

Perhaps most important, it gives you practice at giving positive feedback in an honest, genuine, and specific fashion – which is actually much harder than it looks.

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How to Listen to your Critics

Recently I took a short vacation at a well-known family resort. Before going, I had searched the Web looking for feedback about the hotel from other travelers who had been there.  Mostly I found a lot of complaints about ‘terrible service.’

To my surprise, virtually every person working at the resort was incredibly polite and professional – the check-in woman who got us a room right when we arrived, 4 hours before check-in (after a 4:30am wakeup that morning); the woman who mercifully got a load of laundry done on a Sunday; the guys renting the giant water tricycles…you get the idea.

More surprising still, the day I was leaving I rode up the elevator with two women, one of whom was in the middle of a rant to her friend.  “I’ve never, ever, been to a hotel with such unbelievably poor service!  Never, in all my years!!!”

Who do you think is more likely to run home and share their opinions on a travel discussion board?

The point is, we all know intellectually that the people who stand up and give feedback are, in general, those who represent the most extreme views.  They might be the angriest or the happiest, but they’re not average (and I do think people tend to speak up more when they’re unhappy).  Even knowing this, it’s very easy to feel like the best way to listen is to respond to the people who talk the loudest.

Another example: I recently held a meeting for a group of 10 people to ask for their feedback on a new program.  Over the course of the one-hour meeting, six people spoke freely, three made a few comments, and one person said nothing.  After the meeting, we sent a note to the participants and were very specific and very direct that we really wanted feedback and further thoughts.  Only then did the person who had been silent in the meeting write an incredibly thoughtful, two-page email in response.

There are two points here:

1. Listen to those who talk the loudest, and be honest with yourself in reflecting on the feedback you’re hearing.  If there’s a kernel of truth, that person is a “canary in a coal mine” – someone who is speaking up early and probably represents a silent majority.  But also be ready to hear the feedback, consider it, and discard it.  This too is a form of leadership.

2. Make sure you ask for feedback lots of times in lots of ways.  This is as much about creating a culture of feedback (within your organization and with your stakeholders) as it is about how you ask, being genuine when you ask, and asking a lot of times in lots of different ways.

To end, a quotation from the Buddha:

Believe nothing, no matter where you read it
or who has said it,
not even if I have said it,
unless it agrees with your own reason
and your own common sense.