Category Archives: Emotional Intelligence

On the rise of women to the board room

The Apprentice is back.  For anyone who’s not familiar with this particular brand of car crash television, the viewer gets to watch groups of young people attempt tasks set by Sir Alan Sugar before taking a drubbing in the Board Room.  A shortlist of participants from the losing team then take a further drubbing before Sir Alan Sugar identifies his loser of the week with the words “You’re fired!”

This week, Gavin left the programme, but it was not Gavin who caught my eye.  No, it was Zoe in the following interaction:

Zoe:  “I did what I was told but didn’t get a chance to shine”

Sir Alan:  “Well, that could have been your fault!”

This interaction brought to mind the recent recommendations by Lord Davies:  that UK listed companies in the FTSE 100 should be aiming for a minimum of 25% female board member representation by 2015.  Follow this link for more information and to download a copy of the report.

Some people I have spoken with have expressed the view that it’s time to influence the men, as if it’s a change on the part of the men of this world that will make the difference.  (After all, are they not the turkeys who have no incentive to vote for Christmas?).  My own view is that the truth is more complex.  Either way, in case you are a woman aspiring to fulfil a director level role, I invite you to pause a moment to reflect on the interaction above.

What are the implications of Zoe’s comment?  It seems to me that, tucked away in Zoe’s assertion that she didn’t get the chance to shine is the implication that her chance to shine is in the gift of someone else.  In truth, many times in our careers, others do have it in their gift to help us to shine.  At the same time, the higher we go up the ladder, the more (it seems to me) we need to own that we, too, have it in our gift to shine.

As long as we look to others for some kind of opportunity or even permission to shine, the more we give our power away.  As long as women give away their power so easily – expecting something of others but not asking for it, for example – it can be said that they are not ready to step into the role of director.  But then, “power” is in itself a concept that women struggle with – and men, too.  A subject for another posting, perhaps.

I wonder, how do you respond to this vignette from The Apprentice?  And how do you respond to the recommendations of the Lord Davies report on women in the boardroom?

From the school of NLP: the “problem” and the “outcome” frame

If you listen to Radio 4 in the morning, one of the questions you will commonly hear is “Who’s to blame?”  I confess, my heart sinks when I hear this question.  I have such a yearning for a life without blame.

It’s possible that this question is common in your life, too.  If you have children it may be a daily discussion.  Perhaps you take the view that when a fight break’s out there’s someone to blame.  Perhaps your children want to prove themselves blameless by blaming each other.  In business, too, the same question is often lurking in the environs of a problem or issue.  In many organisations, the idea that some is to blame is woven into the very fabric – the culture – of the organisation.

The way we view a problem or issue has a significant effect on the way we experience it.  We experience the difference:  in the way we view things, in the way we feel (our emotions, our bodily responses), in the stories we tell ourselves.  Neurolinguistic programming (NLP) has captured this difference in the problem and the outcome frame.  As you read this posting, you can test this difference by taking a problem or issue, applying the questions below and noticing your responses.

What sort of questions do we ask when we are thinking of an issue as a problem?

  • What’s the problem?
  • Why is it such a problem?
  • What are the implications of not solving it?
  • Why haven’t you solved it yet?
  • Who’s to blame for the problem?
  • Why are they to blame?
Before you move on, just take a moment to notice the effect on you of viewing an issue through the lens of these questions.
What sort of questions do we ask when we are thinking of an issue in terms of our desired outcomes?
  • What do you want?
  • How will you know when you’ve got what you want?
  • What will be the best thing about getting what you want?
  • What other benefits will it bring?
  • What resources do you already have to help you achieve your desired outcome(s)?
  • What is your next step?

Again, I invite you to take a moment to notice the effect on you of viewing an issue through the lens of these questions.  I also invite you to notice, which set of questions (or style of questioning) is more familiar to you?  This will vary from person to person.

This is not to suggest that you abandon either set of questions entirely.  If you’re working with someone who has a strong problem focus, for example, exploring the problem with them helps to build rapport.  Only when they know you’re hearing them will they be willing to look at the problem or issue through another lens – the outcome frame.  Equally, if you are seeking to encourage change amongst people who want things to stay as they are, it may (just may) help to explore the problems associated with not changing before you even attempt to explain the benefits of change.  For me, what’s key here is the awareness that you do have an option.  You can look through either lens at any moment in time.  Building an awareness that you have an option opens up new possibilities.
I wonder, how do you experience the difference when you use a problem or an outcome frame?

Sometimes it’s all in the framing

One of the achievements of neurolinguistic programming (or NLP) has been to identify the impact on our experience of the way we frame things.  I am reminded of this by a conversation with a client who is grappling with a particular issue*.

At the outset of our conversation the camera is up real close.  The focus is on the response of a particular group of staff who are just not producing the goods.  It doesn’t feel good to be the person who is battling away to get things done and constantly faced with the question of “what can I do differently?” when staff in a matrixed organisation seem always to be too busy, to lazy, or too inept…  The word “impasse” springs to mind.  I notice that it seems quite lonely, too:  being the person – the only person – who has a role to play in making things better.

Take the camera back a little and different parts of the picture begin to emerge.  The organisation has decided to drive higher levels of performance out of this particular group of staff.  This implies raising their skill levels so that they can do work which is currently beyond their capability.  It also implies increasing levels of efficiency (getting the same people to do more work per day or week).  Is it possible?  I don’t know.  Is it the sole responsibility of my client?  Well, actually, more people come into view when we view the issue from a distance.   My client’s boss.  The line managers of the individuals concerned…  Something else comes into view – or perhaps into focus.  It’s the question, “what’s possible?”  It’s not that the goal is impossible, it’s more about the “hows” and the “whens”.  It’s the question of “is the current plan a good one – or does something need to be changed?  And how might my client find out?”

In other words, when we take a few steps back we expand the scope of our vision so that we can see more and, by seeing more, we have greater insight into a problem or issue.  Sometimes, it’s all in the framing.

Back to NLP.  One of the classic ways of framing a problem or issue is by using a problem or an outcome frame.  Look out for a posting on this on Friday.  Meantime, I invite you to take an issue that’s current for you and to step back a few paces to see what you can see from a distance that you can’t see up close.  Are you willing to share?

*I’ve taken care to keep my description vague so as not to share any information which is confidential or can identify my client.

Learning from the squirrels in my garden

I have been watching the squirrels in my garden this weekend, burying nuts in my garden which will in time begin to sprout.  I’m not sure the squirrels ever seek to retrieve them.  I was discussing this with a friend recently, laughing with her about the fact that squirrels have extraordinary ingenuity when it comes to penetrating “squirrel proof” nut dispensers which means that they have an unlimited supply of nuts – and still they haven’t worked out that they no longer need to bury them.

In truth, we are all in some way the recipients of the kind of programming that perpetuates behaviours that no longer serve us.  Some of it is handed down from one generation to another (telling your children not to put coats on the bed long after the era has gone when other people’s coats might mean head lice and other unwelcome creatures).  Some of it may well be as ancient as the squirrels’ (is it possible that our propensity to obesity in the modern era reflects the same survival instinct in an era of abundance?).

A good way of checking in with ourselves is to ask, simply, “do I know why I am doing this?”  If the answer is no, we have the opportunity to change our actions.  If the answer is “no, and still I feel compelled to do this” the path to change may require intervention at deeper levels – in our beliefs, for example, or even in our sense of who we are.

It’s easy to beat ourselves up for doing things we don’t understand and still, it’s natural.  The bigger mistake is to imagine that all our actions are totally rational.  One reason not to deny this aspect of our humanity is that it takes up time and energy to perpetuate this belief in the face of over-whelming evidence to the contrary.  Another reason is that the unintended consequences of this form of denial are many and not very pleasant or life-serving.

I wonder, what are the behaviours that you find hard to change, even though they seem to be serving no purpose?

The “bad manager” discussion – revisited

Recently I shared my response to an on-line discussion entitled What is a sign that you have a bad manager?  The discussion goes on with many people (393 responses so far) willing to list the many signs.  Today, I decided to write again, as follows, in response to this thread:


I feel so down-hearted as I read this thread because I have such a yearning for compassion towards ourselves and others – including those fellow human beings who agree to take on the role of manager.  I am not experiencing that compassion here.


What needs are we trying to meet by engaging in a discussion in which we list all the behaviours we don’t enjoy in a “bad” manager?  And how effective is this strategy in meeting those needs?


In particular, I wonder how much of our own power we give away when we see the problems we have in the workplace as down to a “bad manager”.  For example, when Irfan says a bad manager is someone who “makes you feel mediocre regardless of how well you perform” it seems to me that he is attributing responsibility for his feelings to another person.  He could instead recognise that his feelings arise from his own response to the actions of his manager (the thoughts he has when his manager behaves in a certain way – it’s my belief that his own thoughts stimulate his feelings).  I believe this is a more empowering response for us as people being managed and a more compassionate response to our manager.


And if this is a strategy we are using in relation to our managers at work I am guessing that we might also be using it with our spouse, our children, our siblings, our parents… the list goes on.  I wonder how much unhappiness is created by this kind of discussion.


I wonder, how does this response land with you?  And would you be willing to share what needs you are meeting in this discussion and how well?



The power of the enemy image

Monday morning.  After five days away on retreat the first piece of news to filter through is the news of the death of Osama bin Laden at the hands of America in an attack against the compound in Pakistan in which he lived.  The news and discussion in the following days has been endless and no doubt it will continue.  It seems to me to be an event too important to overlook on my blog even whilst I wonder what to say.  Finally, I settle on this:  the power of the enemy image.

I am not talking here about current debate on whether or not to release photos of the dead Osama bin Laden.  Rather, I am referring to what happens when we hold people as enemies in our minds.  It seems to me that, regardless of the acts committed by another, to hold someone as our enemy carries many risks.  Amongst these is the risk that we perpetrate all sorts of violence against others, doing things in relation to our so-called enemies that we would not do in relation to those we love and respect.  In the end, we have to live with the acts we have committed, whether or not they were in some way “justified”.

The examples are widespread – universal even.  Think of the parent who adminsters a slap alongside the admonition:  “don’t treat your brother (friend, pet rabbit etc.) in that way!”  Think of the customer who loses his or her temper in response to some act of perceived poor service, swearing and shouting at the person concerned.  Think of the friend who, upset, tells all sorts of other people what’s wrong with the person whose actions have stimulated strong emotions.  The examples are also abundant in the workplace.  Think of the individual who, not receiving from his or her boss support for which s/he yearns and for which s/he hasn’t asked begins to form an image of the boss as some kind of monster and to talk to others of the boss’s failings.  Think of the member of staff in our team who just isn’t producing the results we want and whom we begin to see as incompetent, lazy, stupid… And if it’s not the boss, or one of our direct reports, perhaps it’s our chief rival for a job (even the person who got the job we didn’t), John in Accounts, or IT, or, or, or…  Of course, the acts of violence are often subtle rather than overt.  They are in the way we think about another.  They are in the way we talk about another to third parties.  They are in the way we try to convey a message to another without openly stating what’s on our mind.  The list goes on.

In writing, I want to share my compassion for everyone involved in this spiral.  We do not know – though we may try to guess – what needs another is trying to meet or what prompts them to seek to meet those needs in a particular way.  Still, every action they take – no matter how violent or incomprehensible to us – is taken with positive intentions.  We, too, have positive intentions when we form enemy images of another in our minds or respond to violence with violence.  And when we imagine for one moment that we are in some way justified in committing acts of violence, still, we have positive intentions.  We are both perpetrator and victim.  There are moments when we are the victim of our most basic biology:  when, to use Daniel Goleman’s term, we are seized by an amygdala hijack.  In these moments our perception of a threat triggers a fight-or-flight response which was designed millennia ago as a response to threats we no longer face and which, still, kicks in in the moment.

As powerful as such moments are, we have choices to make.  We get to choose, provided we can understand the difference between stimulus and response.  In the gap between “X is happening” and “I believe Y” there is the opportunity to replace violence with nonviolence and in ways which preserve the humanity and dignity of self and other.  Either way, we lead by the choices we make.  Osama bin Laden led – as best we understand it – when he chose to perpetrate acts of violence (including the 1998 American Embassy bombings, the 2001 attack against New York’s Twin Towers).  He did so with positive intentions, seeking justice in the face of injustices, as he saw them, perpetrated by the United States against his fellow Muslims.  Right now, those of us who would wish for a different approach get to lead by the responses we choose to Osama bin Laden’s death.

I wonder, what enemy images are you harbouring towards others in your life?  And how do you choose to respond?

Seven tips for learning how to say no

Saying yes when you mean no can be the thief of time, energy, effectiveness and joy.  Regular readers will know that I wrote about this on Wednesday this week.  But what do you do when you know you find it hard to say no and want to do something about it?  These are a few tips from me:

Tip 1#
Get clear about what you want to do with your time, including everything that’s important to you (from understanding your true calling right through to rest and recreation).  It’s easier to know what to say no to when you know what you want to say yes to.

Tip 2#
Take time to clarify that a request is being made.  Sometimes, requests sneak in through the back door – in the form of an instruction from the boss, for example, or a suggestion from your partner.  E-mails, too, often imply the request to read and respond. Don’t be afraid to ask questions to find out what is being asked of you.  This raises awareness for you and for the other person that a request is, indeed, being made, it raises your awareness of the true scope of what is being asked of you and it gives you time to think.

Tip 3#
When you receive a request, check in with yourself to see how it lands with you.  Notice every aspect of your response, from your instant somatic response (from the sinking of the stomach to the gladdening of the heart) to the voices in your head (including the voice that uses such words as should and ought).  Based on you initial reaction, is your inner response a yes, no or maybe?

Tip 4#
Take time to connect with your needs as well as with the needs of the person making the request.  Your initial reactions (see Tip 3# above) will give you clues to your needs.  I encourage you to notice those needs that you meet by saying yes when you mean no.  These can include a need for acceptance – can you meet this need in other ways?  Taking time to check in with your underlying needs gives you the chance to make the right decision rather than to make the first decision that comes to you and to regret it later.

Tip 5#
Be aware that people can meet their needs in many ways – asking for your help is just one of them.  The more you understand this, the more you will find it easy to meet your own needs by saying no as well as yes.

Tip 6#
Don’t share your decision until you are ready to.  Whether you are CEO of a major corporation, of your own small business or simply of your life, it’s OK to say, “I need some time to think”.  This gives you time to check in with all your needs before you meet your need to contribute (and perhaps some other needs, too).

Tip 7#
Take time after the event to track your progress in learning to say no.  Notice and celebrate the times when you said no and got it right for you – times when you might have said yes before and regretted it afterwards.  Also notice with compassion the times when you said yes and came to regret it.  This is a way of celebrating your progress and understanding what progress you still want to make in learning to say yes and no with ease.

Please leave your comments below.  How do these tips land with you?  Which tip is most helpful?  Would you enjoy reading more tips on this and other subjects? And what tips do you have for others on how to say no?
 

Who’s driving your bus?

Some years ago a friend of mine, now retired, told me that when he took up a senior role in the head office of his company his colleagues warned him to “watch out, they’ll drown you in paperwork”.  Never a fan of upward delegation, he had a stamp made for use when anything crossed his desk which he deemed inappropriate for someone of his seniority to handle.  Effectively, it said:  “I haven’t looked at this.  Deal with it yourself”.  He applied this to incoming mail before he returned it to sender.

I was reminded of this on Monday when my conversation with a coaching client highlighted the ability to maintain clear boundaries as a critical component in her plans to launch a new business.  I know she is far from alone in this:  our early socialisation combined with our natural desire to contribute positively to others can make it hard to say no to requests from a wide variety of colleagues, clients, friends and family.

This inability (by which I mean a lack of ability at this time, rather than a once and for all inability) to say no can lead to some interesting outcomes.  The time we give to others is not available to pursue our own plans, for example.  Perhaps we try to help others and to pursue our own plans and end up exhausted.  Perhaps we start to feel resentful towards those who make requests of us even though it is our inability to say no that is causing problems.  Over time we may experience a sense of imbalance in our individual relationships and even across all our relationships:  we become a “net exporter” of help, advice and other support.  Perhaps it is those people who make requests of us who determine the contribution we make rather than we ourselves (this can be a sure fire way to limit our contribution and to fail to achieve our true potential).  We may even believe that this is the natural way of things…

It’s not just that we suffer from our inability to say no:  in the end, there are consequences for those to whom we say yes when really we want to say no.  They may well have a lingering sense of our underlying resentment even though they can’t quite name it.  Or they may wonder when we mean yes and when we mean no, yearning for us to say yes when we can do so with a glad heart and hating the moments when they discover that the favour we did back then we did only with a sinking heart.  Or perhaps they are oblivious of our needs, receiving our favours gladly whilst being unaware of their creeping dependence on us or of their lack of self belief.

And let’s be clear, there are plenty of people who will learn to look to us for help.  They include family members.  They include friends.  They include our peers at work.  They include those we lead (who can, indeed, become remarkably adept at delegating upwards).

Recognising that we find it hard to say no is a major step forward.  Recognising that the problem is ours and taking responsibility for addressing it is also a major step forward.  And still, the question of how to reach a point where we can say yes or no from a place of insight rather than as a reflex response remains.  If you’d like some ideas please read my next posting.  Meantime, what is your experience of learning to say no?

When the “guilt trip” strikes

I missed the opportunity recently to respond in a timely way to an invitation from a friend and colleague.  She mentioned over lunch one day that she was going to hear Marianne Williamson speak and asked if I would like to join her.  By the time I checked my diary it was too late.  I found it hard not to put myself in the wrong.  Perhaps I was pre-empting the possibility that, by not meeting the needs of my friend (for consideration, perhaps, or clarity) my friend, too, would put me in the wrong.  Sheepishly I dropped her a line and said:


The time has flown since we met and I realise I didn’t get back to you to say I wouldn’t be joining you to hear Marianne Williamson.  I am trying not to give myself a guilt trip – and not quite succeeding!  I do regret that I didn’t let you know sooner – I’d like to have met my needs to show respect and consideration.


She responded promptly and told me:


Absolutely no need for a guilt trip – and I’m now doing giraffe* in to make sure it doesn’t come to me!  The truth is I had forgotten that part of our conversation – sorry – so it didn’t really have an impact at all.


She also took time to share what she did remember – and appreciate – from our conversation.


In our culture, the idea that, at any moment in time, we are “in the right” or “in the wrong” is endemic.  Tucked away beneath it are some positive intentions – though they are not easy to connect with.  (Kelly Bryson, in his book Don’t Be Nice, Be Real:  Balancing Passion for Self with Compassion for Others highlights Piaget’s writing in this area.  Piaget suggests that when we teach children to do things from a sense of duty and obligation, we impede their development, so that it becomes less likely that they will do things because they want to and know they have free choice).  Believing that something is right or wrong can keep us from connecting with our own truth or the truth of others.  So, sharing my feelings of guilt with my friend and hearing her honest response helped me to recalibrate – to recognise that whilst some people would judge me for my action (in this case, for my inaction) to do so is just a choice.


As I write I am reflecting on my own choice to judge myself.  I am getting better over time at letting go of this habit – even whilst having a little way to go.


*In nonviolent communication (or NVC) the giraffe is a metaphor for connecting with needs – our own and others’.  Hearing another’s feelings of guilt, the giraffe seeks to understand what needs are being expressed. 




For love AND money

Every now and then, I come across someone – a friend, client – who is grappling with one of life’s classic dilemmas:  how can I do what I love and meet my needs for security and safety?  I’ve had a little flurry of conversations this week in which some quite diverse people have raised this issue and decided to address this subject here today.

Let’s be clear, if you are nurturing this dilemma, you are far from alone.  As we embark on our careers at least some of us will make choices which favour earning a good living over having fun at work doing those things we most love.  Perhaps we have parents who have programmed us this way.  Perhaps we are already clear that we want to be in a position to marry and have children.  Perhaps, right now, we’re looking out of the window and recognising the economic climate that awaits us with all its challenges.  Later in life, when we have the spouse, the children and the mortgage and who knows what else we may find ourselves sitting in our offices looking out of the window thinking “if only…”, even whilst holding the conviction that we couldn’t possibly leave our well paid job to pursue our heart’s desires.

One of the challenges we face is that, as long as we hold the belief that the joy of work and financial rewards are mutually exclusive, we won’t begin to engage with the question I posed above:  how can I do what I love and meet my needs for security and safety?  Perhaps it will knock on our door every now and again only to be summarily dismissed.  The yearnings won’t go away (perhaps they’ll become louder over time or manifest as some lingering discontent or even as some physical unease) and at the same time, the voice we most sponsor within ourselves will be speaking to another agenda (think of the mortgage, think of your pension, think of your kids…).

There are paradoxes of course.  Richard Branson (as you know, I have recently been reading his autobiography, Losing My Virginity) did not set out to become rich, nor did he worry about his pension.  He set out to have fun and got rich in the process.  Stephen King (author of Carrie and many other best selling books) was not always wealthy.  He pursued a talent for and a love of writing, and he did it in his own way despite feedback from his teachers (in On Writing:  A Memoir of the Craft he describes how he sold a story he’d written to his fellow pupils at school and was summoned to the principal’s office, where he was told he couldn’t turn the school into a marketplace.  ‘What I don’t understand, Stevie’, his teacher said, ‘is why you’d write junk like this in the first place.  You’re talented. Why do you want to waste your abilities?’).  Along the paths to many extraordinary successes lie periods of poverty, feedback that discourages and the sheer surprise of doing something you love and finding, suddenly, you’ve become an ‘overnight’ success.

I could mention some of the resources available for people who are grappling with this dilemma.  Perhaps I will, though not today.  For now, it simply occurs to me to say that one of the reasons we experience it as a dilemma – as an either/or – is that, within ourselves, our yearning to do work we love and our longing for safety are sponsored by different parts of us so that we imagine that what we carry within ourselves is also true out in the world.

Check this out:  is it true for you?  Do you find that the part of you that yearns to get paid to do work you love is at odds with that part of you that is fearful and longs for security?  If it is, you might like to read a posting I wrote a while back, called welcoming your parts to the party.  This, in turn, will lead you to a couple more postings which touch on the subject of our inner dialogue and its effect on our lives.

PS  And to those of you with whom I had conversations this week on this subject:  I dedicate this posting to you.  You know who you are.