A sales team of twenty people were competing with each other in a friendly, month-long contest. At their end-of-month meeting, the manager got up and announced the two winners. Everything was fun and upbeat … until he said this: “If the rest of you slackers were as intelligent and hard-working as these two, maybe you’d have been up here!”

See what I mean? “Motivation through Shame and Insults!” What was he thinking? (It didn’t work, by the way. The team was furious.) Sadly, this sort of thing happens every day, and it boggles the mind. How can you explain it? I mean, seriously, don’t they know?

Here’s the thing: they don’t know. And that’s the key to the whole problem.

If you asked him, I’m sure that manager would agree that insulting and shaming people was a bad idea. But he did it anyway. Why? From what I’ve seen, the most likely explanation is that he simply didn’t realize his words were insulting and shaming.

The truth is, people don’t generally do things they think are stupid. In fact, people usually have the opposite intentions: they think what they’re doing will be helpful, or that it will connect them with others. It doesn’t seem like it at times, but people’s intentions are almost always good, even when their actions send a different message. I know this was the case with the manager in our story. But instead of running what he was going to say past someone ahead of time, he went in there with only his good intentions, and winged it. The result? Bonehead move! And a major hit to his effectiveness as a leader.

The lesson?

“Don’t Wing it. Work on it!”: Plan and Get Feedback.

Bonehead moves like these happen to all of us, and they cost us more than you can imagine. They keep us from having the influence and impact we could, and from being as successful as we – and the whole team – otherwise would.

Don’t make the same mistake. Start planning what you’re going to say and getting feedback on your plans. I know it takes a little more time, and you need to find the right person to give you feedback. But you won’t believe the difference it will make in your work and life. And not doing it is simply too costly.

“Hi guys,

There was a patient last night [ who was transferred to our unit without you briefing us on the case ]. If you would like help in managing these cases, you need to page us. It’s not acceptable or safe to expect the nurse who wasn’t present for the case to try to relay the message of what happened and what needs to be done. In general, if you want us to see any of your patients we would appreciate a page, but especially when there are unstable patients or urgent situations. If you call the central operator (x-xxxxxx-x) they can promptly connect you to us.

Thanks.”

Based on the facts, she seemed to have a reasonable position. Also, this was not the first communication on the subject, so there was a certain amount of frustration on her part, which I think you can hear in her note.

But, to me, her email had real problems. It was antagonistic, judgmental and condescending, even calling into question the other team’s commitment to patient’s safety. Bottom line, if I had received the note, I would have felt attacked and likely dug in my heels, and been even less open to anything she had to say in the future. In other words, her note would have had the opposite effect of what she wanted.

As we talked about the situation, it seemed to me the biggest problem was the tension in their work relationship. I didn’t feel she was going to be heard on her main points until she first addressed that reality. In addition, I thought the points themselves would be more effective if presented in a more inclusive, respectful, and non-confrontational way. Here’s what we came up with as an alternate:

“Hi guys,

Sorry to have this conversation by email, but there was a situation last night that I think we need to address.

First, I want to say I know there’s been a lot of tension between us, and I am truly sorry for my role in that. I know I don’t communicate as effectively as I should – or would like to – and FYI, I’m going to start working on that. I also want to apologize if I’ve ever given you the impression that I don’t appreciate what you do or respect your work, because of course I do. I think you do a great job, and I know you only want what’s best for the patients – as we all do.

Which brings us to last night. There was a patient [ who was transferred to our unit without you briefing us on the case ].

I know we’ve talked about this sort of thing before, but I just don’t feel it works to expect the nurse who wasn’t present for the case to try to relay the message of what happened and what needs to be done. It makes things very awkward, and, more importantly, raises real concerns about patient safety. We really need to get that information directly from you, especially when there are unstable patients or urgent situations.

I know it can be difficult to find the time – or even remember sometimes –  to page us, but that’s the only way I know for us to get the information we need. And, by the way, if you have any other suggestions how we can help improve these situations, please let us know. But for now, if you can please remember to page us, that will make a huge difference in our ability to quickly provide the level of care we both want for your patients.

As a reminder, you can call the central operator (x-xxxxxx-x) and they can promptly connect you to us.

Thanks for your help!”

Note that the facts themselves are presented identically. But everything else has a completely different tone. There’s empathy and humility. It calls them all to a common purpose rather than being adversarial. Most important, it addresses the relationship issues first.

The result? One person wrote back and said, “No problem, I’ll try to be better about paging you guys.” The other, more problematic individual said he wasn’t aware of the tension, had never felt a lack of respect, and was very appreciate of the work they did, too. (Nice surprise!) So the email laid the groundwork for them coming together and finding a solution that worked for everyone. Success!

Now, this case was a very specific situation. But I had a couple of other conversations around the same time that each spoke to the same primary recommendation:

In any communication – especially those with tension
involved – make sure you lead with the relationship.

What that means is, whatever state your relationship is in with the other person, address that first before you get to the actual content of your message. If the relationship is tense, as in the above example, talk about that. If it’s fine, just lead with some normal inter-personal conversation. Whatever the situation, tend to the relationship first, then get to the message itself.

Why? Because it’s a great way to be heard. The fact is, the quality of your relationship with someone dictates how open they are to what you have to say.

Think of it this way: The message you want to communicate is like a hot, fresh pizza. You’re the delivery person. The other person is in their house, and the relationship is the door. If the relationship is good, the door opens, the pizza is received. (Yum!) If not, the door stays closed. No pizza. Very sad.

Don’t let those pizzas go to waste! Take the time, plan out what you’re going to say, and as much as possible, lead with the relationship.

“Welcome, sir can I help you?” No smile.
“Anything more you’d like with that?” Nothing there.
“Do you want some napkins? Do you need your receipt?” Stone-faced.
“All right, thank you.” Not a glimmer. No movement at the corner of the mouth, at the eyes. Nothing.

Does she love her job? It sure didn’t look like it to me. Now, the truth is, of course, I don’t really know. At one time or another everyone gives an impression that’s different from what they really feel. So it’s possible she does love her job and just isn’t a smiler. But as a customer, the impression I get in that moment is all I have to go on. So, based on that, the answer is no, she does not love her job. She doesn’t even like her job. Being there, wearing that uniform, serving her customers: zero fun, for her. No pleasure whatsoever.

Now, from a management perspective, the question of whether someone who gives that sort of impression should be in a position like that is a great question. But for this discussion I’m really more interested in the question from her perspective, about what’s good for her.

In an upcoming edition of John Miller’s “Be Outstanding” show, Dan Miller (no relation) talks about the importance of finding the work we love rather than just going through the motions. And I think that’s great and wise advice. But it can take some time, too, and is not necessarily the easiest thing to do. So, in addition to searching for the job we love, sometimes the best thing to do right now, today, is to find a way to love the job we already have. And as silly as it might sound, smiling is not a bad place to start.

When we smile it makes us feel better right then in that moment. So we’re already enjoying ourselves more. But more importantly, smiling also tends to make the other person smile back and creates a sense of connection between us, and that’s really the key.

To love the job you already have, connect better with the people you work with.

Change the way you talk to them. Be a better listener. Be genuinely interested in them and their lives. In conversations with people, don’t talk about yourself all the time, talk about the other person instead. Also, talk about the emotions in whatever you’re talking about. Use feeling words and empathetic expressions, like, “Oh, that’s hard.” or “Wow, you must feel great about that!”

There are many things you can do to connect better with people—and avoid dis-connecting with them. And when you do, miracle of miracles, you’ll find yourself loving your job.

Does that mean that you can love any job, that any job can be perfect for you? No. Keep searching for the work you really truly love. But in the meantime, work on connecting better with the people you work with, and see if you don’t find a lot more enjoyment and satisfaction in the job you already have.

There are two big mistakes people make with PowerPoint: 1) They make the slides the star; 2) They have boring, unreadable slides.

Most of the advice for improving PP presentations focuses on the second item. But I think the first is much more important.

Here’s the classic example of making the slides the star, and I’m guessing you’ve seen this too. The screen is front and center, the lights are dimmed (so people can see the screen), and the presenter is off to the side at a podium, reading their notes—which happen to be the same, word for word, as what’s on the screen.

Friends, that’s not a presentation. That’s torture. And in large part because there’s absolutely no personal connection with the speaker.

Think about this for a moment. I was at the National Speakers Association’s national convention last Summer. This is an organization made up of the most professional, experienced, and successful speakers in the world. In other words, it’s a group that knows how to connect with an audience! And you know what? In not one of the general sessions did I see a single slide. Not one. There’s a lesson there for all of us.

Being effective with your audience is about connecting with them. And that’s not about slides, it’s about you. People relate to people. Your best tools for connecting are your voice, your body, your stories, and your expertise.

The message is, if you want to improve your presentations, focus on you first and your slides second. Here’s how.

First, as you plan your talk, write the first draft as if there won’t be any slides at all. Just think about what you want to say. Or better yet, what your audience needs to hear. Come up with a good story to open with, and a closing that summarizes your points and sends people off on a positive note. Then, once you have your comments in place, NOW you can start to add in slides, but only to reinforce the points you’re making. Here’s an example:

You: “Today I want to talk to you about three things.”
Slide: 3 Things

You: “The good”
Slide: (Under 3 Things, first bullet appears) The Good

You: “The Bad”
Slide: (Second bullet) The Bad

You: “The Ugly”
Slide: (Text fades to single image) Photo of you in a truly awful sweater.

See? Single words. Large type. No more than four lines of text. Single images. Sparse. Simple. Supporting. This way, you’re the contact, you’re the leader of the discussion, and the slides support you, not the other way around.

That doesn’t mean, however, that I don’t still get nervous beforehand, because I definitely do. Here’s a tip I use that helps: “Be the Host.”

Before my presentation begins, I look out at the audience and imagine I’m hosting a dinner party, and they’re my guests. So, I don’t see them as strangers, wondering who I am (and who I think I am to be coming in here telling them anything), but as my friends, who are genuinely interested in what I have to say. They’re not sitting in judgement of me, demanding I earn their respect or be quickly dismissed. They know and like me already, and are looking forward to spending some time together. Best of all, I’m not frightened at the thought of going out there and making a fool of myself. I’ve planned things out, I’m feeling good about what I’ve prepared, and I’m genuinely looking forward to sharing it with them and making sure they enjoy themselves. And you know what? They are going to enjoy themselves—and I am too.

This might seem silly, but it works for me. No, it doesn’t get rid of all my nerves, but it does help quite a bit.

One of the problems with stage fright is that it gets us thinking only about ourselves—Are they going to be able to see me shaking? Will I remember my script, or even my own name, for that matter? Will I ever live this down?—when what we really need for an effective presentation is to be thinking about the audience—How can I help them? What do they need to know from me? How can I make sure the material is clear and resonates with them?

That’s the beauty of the “host” technique: It lowers my fear levels, boosts my confidence, and gets me back to a place where I’m actually looking forward to the presentation. Most important, it gets my focus off of myself and back on the audience where it belongs.

If you’re someone who dreads giving presentations, next time try the “Be the Host” technique. And, if hosting a party isn’t the image that works for you, I’m sure you can think of one that does. Whatever you choose, try it out next time and let me know how it helps. Who knows? Maybe you’ll start loving giving presentations too!

The idea grew out of a habit of mine to take this week between Christmas and New Year’s to reflect on the year past, and think about the one to come. But really, it’s a little reflection and a lot of thinking about the year to come. What am I going to do next year? What am I excited about? Where are things going to be this time next year? It’s a fun and helpful process, but since this New Year’s Day will also New Decade’s Day, I’m changing things a bit this year. Instead of focusing only on 2010, I’m also thinking about 2020.

How about you? Where do you want to be in ten years? What’s your 2020 Vision? How different will things be then from the way they are today? Most important, what choices will you make, starting today, to put you on a path to getting there?

There’s an old proverb that says, “The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is right now.” What better time than the start of a new decade to take that idea to heart? Let’s plant some trees, shall we?

Here’s a great gift to give yourself this holiday season: 1) Come up with a ten-year vision for yourself that you’re excited about. 2) Start making choices today that support that vision.

One last thought. As it says in Don’t Just Talk, Be Heard!, “The single most important factor in a person’s success is not their knowledge, education, experience, or charisma, it’s their ability to communicate effectively with others.” Whatever vision you come up with for yourself (or your team), your communication skills are going to be key to getting there. After you come up with your 2020 Vision, let’s find a few minutes to talk about ways I could help you get there. Drop me a note or give me a call. I’d love to have the conversation. And I’d be honored to help.

Happy New Decade!

Be Heard!

“Peter, where are you? What are you doing?”
“Don’t come in here.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s something you’re not going to like!”

Another example: Coming home from playing at a friend’s house, as soon as we got in the car, Peter announced, “When we get home, I’m heading straight upstairs to play, because I’ve got something COOL in my pocket!” He had “borrowed” (without permission) a tiny lego piece to replace one he’d lost at home. I’m not even sure he considered it stealing, and I’m definitely sure his friend would never have noticed it was gone. But we had a little talk, nonetheless, and he returned the piece the next day, with apologies.

Funny stuff. And I know he’ll figure all that deception stuff out soon enough, so I’m appreciating the innocence while it lasts!

Speaking of comedy … Peter’s been working on Knock-Knock jokes lately. (His favorites: “Awtch. Awtch who? Bless you!” “Boo. Boo who? Oh, you don’t have to cry!” “Tank. Tank who? You’re welcome!”) So, he’s starting to get the format, but one of the classics tripped him up. I’ll spare you the whole routine, but his version of the punch line was, “Banana you glad I didn’t say flower again?”

This next one isn’t so much classic comedy as it is a classic parenting situation. We were talking over lunch. Peter started to tell me about someone he’d seen earlier who was, well, as he put it, “really fat … and short!” (Oh dear.) Summoning up my best, Happy Inclusive Parent voice, I said, “Well, I guess people come in all shapes and sizes, don’t they?” To which, after a short pause, he replied, “But there’s no triangle people.”

Boy’s got a point there.

Finally, this isn’t from Peter, but it is actual conversations overheard recently during a visit to Santa. First, a little boy, probably 7 or 8, asked for a wide-screen plasma TV. Santa, who seemed to know how to stand up for himself, replied, with a smile, “Well, I don’t know. That’s a pretty tall order!” Then, a little girl about the same age got up and said, “I want infinity money, and …” at which point Santa interjected, “Okay, no, you have to get down now. You can’t ask for anything more after ‘infinity money.’ ”

Infinity money. That’s quite a concept.

Whatever you wish for this Christmas, may all your wishes come true! And if, by chance, you actually get infinity money, please visit our web store! :-)

Merry Christmas!

The point is, when Margret first introduced me to her folks, I can’t imagine they were too thrilled. I mean, I’m sure I was nice and upbeat and all that. But still, a musician? For their little girl? (Margret is the youngest of seven.) Honestly, it must have sent shivers down their spines. But if it did, they never let me know. From the very first day, Joyce and Jim welcomed me into their family, and have shown me nothing but kindness and respect ever since.

In recent years, Joyce has taken to referring to her children and grandchildren as “Wonderful, beautiful.” She’ll write in birthday cards, “To wonderful, beautiful Peter!” And tell them in person: “Hello, you wonderful, beautiful child!” I must confess that it seems a little over-the-top to me at times, but I can be something of a party-pooper, too, so pay me no mind. The truth is, it’s sweet and sincere, and the kids love her, as does everyone in her life. Or, to be technically correct, I should say, “as did everyone in her life.” Joyce passed away this last weekend.

Joyce Lenarz was 86 years old, the mother of seven children, and had just celebrated her 60th wedding anniversary. She died at home after a hospice period in which her family was able to provide round-the-clock care right up to the end.

I’m thankful to Joyce for many things, number one being welcoming me into the family in the first place. And what a family it is! As I first got to know the them, I used to joke that they were the Von Trapp’s from The Sound of Music—and the joke wasn’t that far off. Two strong, supportive parents; seven genuinely nice and loving children who got along with and cared about each other. The family would even sing together—in three-part harmony—as they cleaned up after meals. (See what I mean?)

Now, no family is without its tensions and conflicts. And my Von Trapp jokes used to irritate Margret, I think for that very reason. But still, one of the greatest good fortunes in my life has been to find myself a member of Jim and Joyce’s family. I’ll be forever grateful to them for making it so effortless.

The second thing I’m thankful to Joyce for came as something of a surprise to me: The chance to experience the beauty of a dignified death. You hear about it, but to see it for yourself is an inspiration. Which is not to say it wasn’t difficult, because of course it was. But so is birth, as well as much of life itself. Joyce’s process, as well as the way the family embraced and supported the process, was truly beautiful to me—and important. I’m sure the rest of my life will be better for having been a part of it.

Finally, I was reminded of the importance of having conversations while we still can. As well as Joyce’s passing went, I also imagine it left some unresolved issues and regrets. How could it not? Can every problem we have with others be resolved before we go? I don’t suppose so. But it seems to me much better to have tried and come up short than to have avoided it until it’s truly too late. In any case, the reminder gives me a new opportunity to test the theory—and I will.

So, for that, and all the rest, thank you, wonderful, beautiful Joyce. You’ve made a real difference in my life. You will be missed.

How about you? Any conversations you would regret not having if it got to be too late? As you head into the holidays and find yourself passing the peas to Uncle Hank, who’s always busting your chops, or cousin Cindy, who just can’t keep her nose out of other people’s business, take a breath and think about it. If so, lighten up, open up, and find a way to have the conversation. It doesn’t have to be today, but do try to do it while you still can.

Back then, I was on the road full-time playing music, and had a band of my own, called, originally enough, The David Levin Band. We played a lot of places in the middle of nowhere and had a good bit of fun doing it. (A sad sort of fun, in retrospect. But hey, we were young!) I should also say that I wasn’t much of a band leader. In those days, I was generally more interested in hanging out with my buddies than running a business. But during one particular band meeting I apparently felt some sudden misguided impulse to take charge or something because I distinctly remember saying to the band, “Guys, this is not a democracy!”

Twenty-five years later, I’m still paying for it.

Actually, we laugh about it now. (I’m still friends with several of the guys.) But the point is, we remember it. And I have no doubt it played a role in that band breaking up not long afterward.

There’s a famous quotation, attributed to Grace Hopper, that says, “It’s easier to ask forgiveness than to get permission.” I’ve always liked the quote, and I’m sure it’s true in a lot of situations. But communication is not one of them. In fact, with communication it’s the opposite. Once you drop that bomb, that’s it. There’s no taking it back. No do-overs. And the truth is, it’s ten times harder to undo a communication mistake than it is to get it right in the first place, if the mistake can even be undone at all.

Communication is too important to just go with your gut in the moment. If you have something that needs to be said, take the time to say it right. Think it through ahead of time. Plan it out. Be on the lookout for any disconnects. And, of course, make sure to run it past a feedback buddy first.