In a perfect world, Crucial Conversations would always be held face-to-face. The benefits of immediate feedback and nonverbal communication makes dialogue much more rich and accurate. However, today’s global and distributed workforce doesn’t always allow for face-to-face interactions. When you’re in Singapore and need to communicate to co-workers in Germany, Brazil, and the United States, the distance, time zones, and different cultures can create huge barriers to dialogue. The next best option to face-to-face interactions is to use video conferencing for a virtual in-person meeting. Even a phone call preserves some of the nuances of conversation. When those options aren’t available, you can still use many Crucial Conversations skills in e-mail communication. Because you won’t be able to use Learn to Look to notice when safety is at risk, you may need to work harder than usual to establish safety during high-stakes e-mail conversations. This is an ideal time to use contrasting statements to clarify your good intent up front. This will ensure the e-mail recipient understands you want to be helpful or gain understanding—not questioning or accusing them. When you use STATE skills in e-mail, be sure your facts are clear. Then be very tentative with any story you tell. Be sure you own the story as your perception, not as an accusation or a conclusion. When you Ask for Others Path in an e-mail, be specific about the response you want. For example, let’s say you’ve been collaborating with someone on the other side of the world on an important report. You drafted a summary of the report and sent it to your co-worker. In response, you received a complete rewrite with a single-sentence e-mail that said, "This may work better." This isn’t the process you agreed on, so you need to address the apparent disconnect. Your e-mail might sound something like: "I got your e-mail with the rewrite of the report. I just want to check in with you on the process we’re following. I’m not unhappy with any of the work you do; I’ve enjoyed collaborating with you a lot. I just want to make sure we’re seeing the process the same way. I thought we had agreed that I would write a first draft of the report based on our collective research. When I sent you the draft, I was expecting to get your comments. Instead, I got a complete rewrite of the report. I’m a little confused by this and am wondering if we’re seeing our roles in this process differently. I’d really like to talk with you about this rather than exchange e-mails. Could you give me a couple of times that would be good for us to talk about this in person?" If it’s impossible to talk in person, your question might be, "Could you share with me your understanding of our roles in creating this report?" Then you can get the other person’s perspective and go from there. Two-way communication is always best. But when you have to use e-mail to address difficult issues, be sure to use Crucial Conversations skills to help move toward dialogue.

Any time one of our Influencers publishes new research, we pay attention. These are people with a track record of success that proves they’re experts at changing behavior. Brian Wansink is just one of those influencers. His research on eating behavior contributed to the introduction of smaller "100 calorie" packages (to prevent overeating), the use of taller glasses in bars (to prevent the overpouring of alcohol), and the removal of 500 million calories from restaurants each year (via Unilever’s Seductive Nutrition program). He was appointed by the White House to help develop the 2010 Dietary Guidelines and Food Guide Pyramid. He is also a good friend of VitalSmarts. In fact, you’ll recognize him from our very own Influencer Training. Brian has new research that he’s published in his latest book, Slim By Design. I was immediately impressed by his Source 6 approach (the influence of the environment) to improve our health. He was kind enough to answer a few questions I thought our newsletter readers would find applicable for their own influence efforts to stay healthy. So without further ado… Joseph: The subtitle of your new book, Slim by Design, is "Mindless eating solutions for everyday life." Shouldn’t we be mindful of what we eat? Brian: For ninety percent of us, the solution to mindless eating is not mindful eating—our lives are just too crazy and our willpower is too wimpy. Instead, the solution is to tweak small things in our homes, favorite restaurants, supermarkets, workplaces, and schools so we mindlessly eat less and better instead of more. It’s easier to use a small plate, face away from the buffet, and sit a Frisbee-spin away from the bread basket than it is to be a martyr on a hunger strike. Willpower is hard and has to last a lifetime. That is one of the great things about your Influencer Model—you emphasize that a huge part of changing behavior is changing your environment. Slim by Design focuses exactly on how you do it to eat better and lose weight. Joseph: Yes, but not all the ideas you write about in Slim by Design are directly related to food. What’s one you found most surprising and how are you incorporating it into your life? Brian: We all intuitively know that we probably eat worse when we’re in a bad mood than when we’re in a good mood. But there’s both good news and bad news here. The bad news is that even if we’re only in a slightly bad mood—tough day at work, mediocre report card, etc.—it dramatically worsens what and how much we eat at mealtime. The good news is that it takes very little to turn that mood around. In one of our studies, we simply asked people to describe one thing that happened that day that they were grateful for, and they ate twelve percent fewer calories. They even ate more vegetables! Within two days of discovering this, I changed what my family and I do before mealtime. Before both breakfast and lunch, I think of one thing that’s happened in my day that I’m grateful for. At dinnertime, I have a slightly different routine. Each person in the family shares what happened that day by answering four questions: 1) their high point, 2) their low point, 3) who they appreciate most and why, and 4) their plan for tomorrow. It gives us a chance to celebrate the good things that happen, realize that each of us has daily disappointments, thank a person who helped us out, and to raise our eyes toward the future. All three of my daughters get their moment in the sun, and it makes me happy to see each one shine. On most days, this is one of the most crucial conversations I have. Joseph: Slim by Design is not only about changing your habits, but it’s also about creating a movement. Can you elaborate? Brian: The Slim by Design movement is about taking small actions in the five places that booby-trap most of our eating: our home, our favorite restaurants, our corner grocery store, our office, and our child’s school lunchroom. These are small concrete, actionable solutions that my Cornell University Food and Brand Lab has developed, tested, analyzed, and tweaked in dozens of cities across the United States and abroad. To make your life slim by design, you don’t have to change the whole world—just focus on these five places or zones. You can think globally, but eat locally. All you need to do is to 1) change what you do in each of these places, and 2) let them know how they could help you eat less and eat better. For each location or zone, there’s a starter ten-point scorecard that will give you an initial idea of whether these places are making you slim or fat. There are also specific steps you can make to change things. Best yet, you don’t need any special skills to make these changes. All you need to know is what to do—and how to ask these places and people around you to help. I love the work you folks do at VitalSmarts, and this whole movement idea is based on your Influencer approach. It’s making influencers out of each of us. We’ll not only be influencing ourselves and our family, but also our neighbors and our community. We’re adding influence sources three and four to a powerful source six strategy. Joseph: How do I know whether my home is making me slim by design or fat by design? Brian: My previous book, Mindless Eating, contained about 150 proven, workable weight-loss tips we’d discovered from our studies in homes. Since that time, we’ve discovered many more tips that relate specifically to your home—such as your kitchen, cupboards, refrigerator, table, and TV room—and combined the 100 easiest ones into a Slim by Design Home Scorecard. It helps you quickly troubleshoot how a home is adding unwanted pounds and it shows exactly what changes will reverse this. For example, it will ask you things like, is the kitchen organized? Is there fruit on the counter? Is the toaster put away? To get you started, here’s an abbreviated ten-point version of the scorecard to help you see if you’re on track. Joseph: Where should a person start? Brian: Start with the scorecards. First, go to the SlimbyDesign.org website and fill out the Slim by Design scorecards for each of the five different zones. You can then share the results on Facebook or Twitter or send one of the suggested letters so that your restaurant, grocery store, work site, and child’s school lunchroom knows how they’re doing in helping to make you Slim by Design. Second, you can read Slim by Design for more ideas. Third you can follow and interact with us on social media. For more fun tips from Brian, watch his video message to our readers! All the best, Joseph Want to win a copy of Slim By Design? Brian has been kind enough to share twenty books with our newsletter readers. To be entered into a drawing to win a book, please forward this newsletter to a friend who you think could benefit from these skills or share it on your social account. Send an email to editor@vitalsmarts.com and let us know that you shared it and we’ll enter you into our book drawing

According to a recent VitalSmarts’ study of 986 parents, three-fourths overestimate their effectiveness in helping their children navigate common school-related problems, including their child’s academic performance, discipline problems, and social issues like bullying. Yet when parents were asked about how they dealt with these issues in real life, thirty-five percent failed to raise key issues with teachers or administrators, and eighteen percent more tried but described their interventions as "not at all successful." Parents see themselves as far more skilled at these discussions than teachers and administrators, yet parents put very little responsibility on themselves. "We found that even when parents DO take responsibility for their child’s school issues, their perceived ability is a lot higher than their actual ability to handle them," said author David Maxfield. "In addition to highlighting this skills gap among parents, we believe the study shows the extent to which parents ‘outsource’ these issues to teachers, rather than taking responsibility for themselves to hold these key conversations that can spell success or failure for their child." What can parents do to master these conversations? Joseph Grenny and David Maxfield offer the following tips: • Get your motives right. It’s easy to get defensive about issues with kids. Parents and teachers both feel attacked and accused. The key to a healthy conversation is to remind yourself and the other person of the shared goal—helping the child succeed. • Defuse defensiveness. Start the conversation by assuring the other person of what you are not there to do. For example, "I’m not here to blame you. I am here to understand," If you’re a parent, let the teacher know you want to help them succeed without creating more work or drama for them. If you’re a teacher, assure the parent it’s all about the child’s success, not criticizing the parent. • Start with facts. Use specific facts—details about incidents—to illustrate your concerns to the teacher or administrator. Use all facts available; if your child is partially at fault, be quick to admit it. View the results of our study in the infographic below or click here to download a copy.

Dear Crucial Skills, How can you change the culture of a federal agency with constant political leadership changes? Because of constant change at the top, no one actually follows through on strategic plans. Long-time federal employees know that if they just wait it out, the leadership will change and they won’t have to. Signed, This Too Shall Pass Dear This Too Shall Pass, Confucius was once asked what changes he would make if he were emperor. His answer: I would change the language. Confucius’ argument is that language is the most fundamental influence of all; what you think, how you think, how you feel, and ultimately, how you act, are all shaped by the liberties and constraints given you by your language. Measurement is the language of organizations. If you want to change organizational behavior, start with the language. Some have tried to blame inefficient government bureaucracies on the bureaucrats. They assume the reason service stinks at the DMV and is stellar at Nordstrom is because of the people themselves. That’s baloney. We’ve done plenty of research in government agencies and found inspired, capable leaders as much in abundance as in many Fortune 500 companies. The primary obstacle to influence is that there is no external forcing function that demands accountability for results. Consequently, prioritization becomes political rather than natural. In a commercial enterprise, owners and customers create natural accountability. Organizations that don’t serve them well suffer—sooner or later. Hence, commercial enterprises are generally observant of measuring how they perform for owners and customers. In government agencies, there is no demand to measure service to owners and customers; it becomes the prerogative of leaders to measure what they will. For example, a new law can be passed demanding that having a paperless office is of higher priority than getting road projects done on time and on budget. Now I know I’m not telling you anything new here. But this background is important because my central recommendation is to focus your influence on this one key change. You’ll never change the fact that every four years or so you’ll get a new photograph on the wall to match the political appointee at the top. But what you can do is try to build support for an internally imposed measure that aligns with the needs of those you serve. A few years ago, I worked with a governor of a state in the US who was remarkably effective at driving change. Her primary influence was requiring senior civil service staff (and her appointees) to develop stakeholder aligned scorecards for their agencies. She didn’t have to reach down and micromanage much of anything. Her mantra was, "If you don’t have data, you lead by anecdotes." And she was right. By simply requiring every agency to identify mission-aligned metrics that they would track religiously, she created a sense of accountability and a motivation for change that had been lacking previously. You don’t have to be a governor to influence in this way. For example, Bill Patrick, from the State of Michigan’s Department of Human Services was able to influence a very important change. Bill worked in a state office in Fort Wayne, MI that offered financial services to low income residents. Customer service was pitiful—terrible wait times for counseling, inconvenient scheduling process, etc. Yet within a matter of months, customer satisfaction rose from 23% to 82%. The first influence key Patrick used was simple measurement. If you want to create awareness and motivation for change—change the language. Create credible measures that align with the fundamental mission of the organization and people will have a hard time resisting their effect. By simply documenting the degree of the problem, Patrick rallied support for his effort to influence change. And he succeeded spectacularly. The main thing commercial agencies have that you don’t, is a forcing function. But good leadership doesn’t wait for a forcing function. Introduce a new language (measure) that is inarguably mission-aligned, and you’ll open the possibility of dramatic change. Best wishes, Joseph

We’re excited to announce that Emily Hoffman, a Senior Master Trainer as well as VitalSmarts’ VP of Development & Delivery, will become a regular contributor to the Crucial Skills Newsletter. Dear Crucial Skills, A friend of mine works in a small office. She has a new coworker who sits on the other side of her cube. They face each other and the cubes are very low. This new office mate is very nice and she would like to have a good relationship with her, however the young woman continuously coughs without covering her mouth. My friend sometimes feels the cough on her face and it has become extremely difficult to work next to her. Is there a good way to approach this situation? Sincerely, Friend of the Coughed upon Coworker Dear Friend, Congratulations to your friend! She has already done two incredibly important things right. First, your friend recognizes the need to have a positive working relationship with her office mate. Second, she is addressing this quickly, while the coworker is still "new." Allow me to explain why these two things are worthy of congratulations. First, she has positive intent. So often it is our intent that gets in the way of holding effective crucial conversations. We quickly jump to conclusions about others (e.g. "What bad manners she has!" and "How rude and inconsiderate of her!") We consciously or subconsciously bring this to our dialogue, often through our non-verbal actions. Then, after judging the person in our hearts, we are astonished when they become defensive. Of course they become defensive! They can sense our judgment. I’d become defensive too if I thought someone was out to judge and criticize me. So, your friend has taken this crucial first step; she has withheld judgment and has a positive intent. Next, she is facing this issue while her office mate is still new. Why is this so important? Not only does it keep the problem from festering, which will almost inevitably erode any good intent she might have, it also creates more defensiveness in the other person. If you are the one coughing, it is easy to think, "Why didn’t she say something about this before? I am so embarrassed, I could die of shame!" Or, along different yet equally predictable lines, "Gee! What’s the big deal? It’s never bothered you before. Or has it? Have you been holding a grudge all this time?" Either way, your friend is significantly better off addressing this early, before emotions escalate. Okay, so enough with the back-patting congratulations. What should your friend actually say? First, start with a positive statement of intent that builds directly on what we have just discussed. "I wanted to chat with you about something. It’s been so nice working with you these past few days/weeks and I am looking forward to continuing that. I just want to catch something early." Then, be specific without being accusatory. "I noticed you coughed several times without covering your mouth. Sometimes I have even felt the cough." Be careful here. The tendency will be to use absolute language like, "you always cough . . . " or, "every time you cough . . . " You don’t need to go to extremes to open up this dialogue, and doing that will likely provoke even more defensiveness. Create additional safety by demonstrating you haven’t judged your coworker. "My guess is you aren’t even aware of this, which is why I thought I would bring it up." And then, just five sentences into the dialogue, stop. Wait. Listen. If needed, prompt with a question like, "Can we talk about this?" Remember, this is dialogue. The surest way to demonstrate good intent and your commitment to hearing the other person’s perspective is to close your mouth. Do that quickly and consistently and you will be amazed at what you will learn. At this point, you are probably thinking, "That sounds great, but what do you do when the person coughing responds? Cries? Yells? Shuts down? Starts coughing on me right then?" The thing that typically causes the most anxiety when preparing for a crucial conversation is not thinking about what we will say, it is thinking about what the other person will say. So, here is what you do: Imagine the absolute worst response you might get. Got it in your head? If you’re like me, you probably picked one of two extremes. Either the person coughing gets upset and responds defensively—"That is the rudest thing anyone has ever said to me! I can’t believe you would say that!" Or, perhaps worse, they get embarrassed but seem to be okay—"I am so sorry. Thanks for pointing that out. I will do better"—and then shuts down i.e. feels uncomfortable around you or is overly sensitive. Once you have the worst possible response in your head, make a plan for dealing with it. If they become defensive and angry, clarify your good intent. "I didn’t mean to be rude or disrespectful. I sincerely enjoy working nearby you. I am sorry if that hasn’t been apparent. I want to be able to have an open, productive, collaborative relationship with you and talk about any concerns either of us might have." If they takes the second option and shut down, do the exact same thing as above—clarify your good intent. This time it may sound more like, "It seems like maybe I have made you uncomfortable or embarrassed. If I have, I am sorry. That was not my intent at all. I really value you working here and am looking forward to a great working relationship." Having someone point out bad behavior (such as fanning a coworker’s face with your lungs) is bound to create vulnerability. Be aware of that, and be willing to admit to your own vulnerability. After all, speaking up to someone about bad behavior creates a vulnerability all its own. Good Luck, Emily

When John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd started rehearsing the 1981 film Neighbors, one of the greatest casting errors in the history of movies was set into action. John, true to type, had been cast as the zany neighbor and Dan as the conservative one. For reasons only the two of them will ever know, Belushi and Aykroyd insisted on reversing roles. Now, thousands of fans would be able to watch John Belushi—the greatest maniac of all time—acting controlled and normal. What a disaster. By the time the director shouted, "It’s a wrap," everyone associated with the film was convinced they had just created a train wreck that couldn’t be saved in post. Sure enough, when the producers previewed the movie with audiences, they quickly learned that John Q. Public wasn’t in love with the new movie, hated the fact that John Belushi was the normal character, and were generally underwhelmed. Critics universally panned the film. To avoid losing their investment, producers came up with a scheme that served as a marketing model for years to come. They chose to hype the movie with a deluge of ads for the two weeks immediately preceding the first showing—spending the entire marketing budget early on, knowing there would be nothing to market later. The plan worked. Hordes of adoring fans went to see Aykroyd and Belushi opening night, and for the first couple of weeks, the producers earned their money back—then the movie tanked as people told their friends not to go. As this was going on in Hollywood, 1,370 miles away in Detroit I was about to give a speech. Fortunately, the audience I’d be facing was made up of people who didn’t expect much from me as a speaker. I met their expectations—delivering a presentation that was lukewarm at best. Then to my surprise, I was invited to give the speech again—apparently I was the only game in town. Based on the reaction of the first speech, I now had an inkling of what the audience liked and disliked. So I altered a few slides, added a story here, clipped a silence-inducing concept there, and eventually delivered a greatly improved presentation. Based on this upgraded performance, my speaking requests skyrocketed. Soon, I was giving a weekly presentation all around the country—each speech benefiting from the previous one. By the time Neighbors was pulled from the theaters and critics had hurled their last invective, I was being heralded as a decent orator who delivered a crackerjack speech. As I’ve thought about these two events, my heart goes out to filmmakers. Producers spend tens of millions on a production, show it to audiences, and then wait for the fall out. There’s not much they can do if it doesn’t go well. The sets have been demolished, the people behind the cameras have moved on to new projects, and the principal actors have scattered to the wind. With a movie, you have one chance to get it right and then it’s on to the next one. At best, you can tweak a little here and cut a little there but nothing more than that. My speech, in contrast, provided ample opportunity for me to improve on my original disaster by running short-term mini-experiments. With each new speech, I’d try out new ideas or methods, watch the reaction, make changes, test them, and then repeat the process until, by golly, I had a finely tuned, widely accepted, finished product. In fact, that’s not even true. With a speech, you never have a finished product. With each new delivery, you’re provided one more opportunity to make improvements based on your latest audience’s reaction. And now, the reason these stories are relevant. From 1980 until now, I have received hundreds of papers from students and dozens of projects from young people I work with developing training products. I have observed that, far too often, individuals approach creative tasks as if they were producing a movie. They work hard to create a finished product and hand it to me—ta da!—never (or only barely) having tested it with an audience and too late to be altered. I suppose we develop this life-is-a-movie attitude early on in our education. We work on our first science project or term paper, hand it in, and pray for a good grade. We’re lucky to get it handed in at all, let alone tested, changed, polished, and refined. As a result, by the time I work with students in graduate school, they’re used to dashing out a project, doing the least amount possible to receive the grade they want, and then moving on. They have neither the time nor the inclination to polish anything. Unfortunately, when it comes to producing a noteworthy product, polishing is everything. Just ask professional writers about their craft. They’ll eagerly tell you, "Writing is rewriting." And if they’re smart, they’re rewriting based on the reaction of members of their target audience. This lesson can be hard to learn. I have a talented friend who published a book that was universally criticized for being slow moving and lengthy. When I asked what had happened, he sheepishly reported that only his editors had read the book before it was released—and then solely for grammar. Life is a speech, not a movie. We’re almost always given a chance to rework our projects. Unlike movie makers, people who collaborate with us don’t disappear into the wind. It doesn’t cost millions to return to our initial work. It just takes the guts and humility to share our ideas with others—early on—and then ask for honest feedback. For instance, when we develop a new training product, we don’t create two days of training and then test it with a beta group. We work feverishly on one hour of the training and then test it. Then we make changes and test it again. And again. Next, we combine two one-hour segments into a quarter day. By the time we release a finished product, every element has been vetted by real audiences, dozens of times. Working and reworking a project until it appears professional, smooth, and "effortless" can be misleading to the casual observer. When I first saw Woody Allen perform a stand-up routine on the Tonight Show, I was astonished by his ability to deliver one hilarious joke after another. Years later, I learned that before performing that remarkable set, he had put together ten jokes and tried them out at a local club. One joke survived. Then he tried out ten more and then another ten until he had the "effortless" set he delivered on TV. Mr. Allen understood that he wasn’t producing a movie, he was giving a speech—and a speech can be easily tested and improved until the finished product looks effortless. Understanding this idea gives us hope. It frees us from the frightening challenge of "getting it right the first time." Instead, when it comes to working on complex projects, we should produce a first draft, run tests, make changes, and repeat. So I’ll say it one more time: life is a speech, not a movie. And thank goodness for that.

There is so much chatter about Renée Zellweger’s new look. But perhaps it’s time to turn our gaze to an underlying issue that I don’t hear the media addressing in this conversation—how do women talk to each other? For that matter, how do men talk to women? And what does it say about who we are and what we value? Human beings have this incredible, deep need to be in relationships with other people. We want to engage with each other, but what are we choosing to talk about? I’d like to explore the idea that our conversations affect how we see ourselves, and perhaps even the values we subconsciously espouse. I’ve been pregnant three times—the last with twins. Each time, I was struck by the outpouring of friendly conversation lavished upon me by strangers and friends alike. People talk to pregnant women because they know the rules for what to talk about with a mommy-to-be. You can ask about the due-date, the name of the baby, chat about food cravings, or the discomfort of pregnancy. Now, when I am out and about with the twins, I experience the same excitement from strangers. They approach me abuzz with questions about what it’s like to raise multiples. I’ve found when traveling alone for work, just sitting on an airplane next to someone invites familiar chatter. When it feels welcome and easy, strangers engage with each other. But it’s not always so welcome and easy, which is why we play on our phones and ignore each other much of the time. In my work, I have the privilege of teaching thousands of people around the globe how to build relationships and get results through dialogue. I am essentially teaching the rules for holding effective crucial conversations. People are so grateful for these rules. When we know the rules for engagement, we feel more confident and less vulnerable stepping up to these difficult conversations. However, no one teaches us the rules for casual conversations. I suspect when we greet our friends or turn to strangers to make small talk, we are not consciously connecting to our deeper values in those moments. I fear our friendly and well-intentioned chitchat could very well be contributing to the reasons that beautiful women like, Renée Zellweger, find themselves in search of a new mid-life look. Here are the kinds of things I hear us saying: "I can’t believe you just had a baby. You look amazing!" "Where did you get those shoes?" "I love your hair." "How do you stay so thin? Do you work out?" If these are the comments a woman hears day in and day out, what does she come to believe society values most about her? The social justice work she does? Her commitment to lifelong learning? The kindness she extends as a friend, a colleague, a neighbor, a wife? The discipline she demonstrates in her work, her studies, and her parenting? No. She learns that she is valued for her body, her clothes, and her image. Perhaps she comes to believe that her vitality is tied to the fleeting physical beauty of youth. And if one day she stops receiving a steady stream of these comments (or if the comments she hears are of the more disparaging, critical kind to begin with), she is left wondering how valued she really is. She might be tempted to believe that society will value her more if she could just "get a little work done" or drop a few pounds or cover the gray. It seems to me that people are hungry, maybe even desperate for human connection and face-to-face conversation. Delightful, spontaneous, kind words from strangers, friends, and acquaintances can be some of the best kind. What if, for just this week, we all tried to refrain from commenting on each other’s looks and just celebrated each other’s gorgeous spirits and beautiful ideas instead? To the mom juggling four young children with grace and humor in a crowded restaurant, "You make it look easy." To the young girl reading, "I love books, don’t you? What’s your favorite?" To the woman in the work meeting who’s holding back her contributions, "We haven’t heard from you today. I always love what you have to say. Is there anything you’d like to share?" To the older woman holding hands with her husband walking through the mall, "You guys are the sweetest. What an inspiration you are!" It’s been said that our sense of self stems from the narrative we tell about our lives. That narrative is nothing but a collection of memories. Perhaps each of us could change that collective narrative by changing what we see, what we talk about, and what we find beautiful about each other. And maybe even in ourselves. Crucial Skills Readers: What are your thoughts? How could we better prioritize the importance we place on physical beauty?

Dear Crucial Skills, I just watched Joseph Grenny’s "How to Hold Those You Love Accountable" video and although I thought it was good, I would like to know how to deal with teenagers who don’t see things as clearly. Both kids in the example well up in tears and seem extremely mature in their response. What happens when you take this same approach and they just roll their eyes, say they don’t want to talk about their feelings, and to just get on with it? What about when they’ve heard it all before from adults who really wanted to empathize and they simply like doing drugs or throwing parties? They see the benefit (popularity, hot girls, easy rush, etc.) and wish the old folks would just stop nagging. They’re right and you are wrong. What do you do then? Signed, Giving Up Dear Giving Up, With your permission I will speak very personally. You are asking a question that strikes at the heart of what parenting has meant to me. My opinions about your situation have been informed by twenty-seven years of learning to have intimate relationships with imperfect people. People like me. For those who haven’t seen the video, I shared a story of a young man at an alternative high school who was addicted to drugs and was caught using them in school. I also described how one of my teenage children threw a massive party at our home while my wife and I were away. The point I wanted to illustrate is, if we try to address accountability with those we love in the absence of emotional connection, we often provoke defensiveness. However, if we pay the price to connect emotionally first, they are more likely to feel naturally accountable for the effect their actions have on others. True accountability is the fruit of emotional connection. Anything less is little more than compulsion. Trust me, my life hasn’t been a series of photo ops. It’s been more valley than peak. I feel your pain when your best efforts seem to yield no influence. And I know the agony of watching those I love squander sacred potential. So, what do you do when, in spite of your best efforts to empathize, connect, listen, and validate others, the result is a shoulder shrug? Here are my beliefs about how to create healthy relationships with imperfect people. 1. I am responsible for influence, not results. The instant I measure my "success" by others’ choices, I am living a lie. The lie is that I can—or should—control others. I can’t. I shouldn’t. The very wish to do so is the root cause of every form of misery for myself and others. It leads to anger, despair, depression, compulsion, and pride. During our children’s infancy, we parents get seduced into the delusion that we can mold them as we please. The truth is, we are responsible to offer a worthy example, provide coaching, give support, and surrender the rest. 2. Everyone learns on their own schedule. Over the years I’ve created enormous stress for myself and family members, by unconsciously planning the lives of my children on a normative schedule. I had tacit expectations of where they should be by age eight, twelve, sixteen, eighteen, and so on. Mind you, I wasn’t aware I was doing this. It was more of an expectation I absorbed by comparing myself with "successful" parents around me. It wasn’t until one child after another deviated from that plan that I became aware I had it in the first place. It showed up in feelings of panic or discouragement. It showed up in behavior like bargaining, bribing, and criticizing. I have arrived at a very different place today. I feel an immense respect for the uniqueness of each of my children. I have enormous faith that they are learning creatures and that they each need to learn in their own way and on their own schedule. If you’ll allow a very personal aside, I also believe this learning schedule exceeds this life. I get to take part in that learning at times, but my role is much smaller than the illusory one I have so often coveted. 3. Influence can only be granted, not taken. My children grant it to me at their pleasure—and tend to do so only when they believe they can trust my intent. In the worst of cases, children surrender enormous influence because we’ve convinced them of their own incompetence. They adopt every habit and aspiration we advocate because they can hardly distinguish the boundaries of their own identity from ours. The other extreme happens when they resent your attempt to violate their agency so much that your attempts to control become the issue. You unintentionally impede their ability to learn from their mistakes because they are distracted by their resentment of your intrusions into their choices. Healthy influence happens when children are fundamentally convinced your only intent is to help them accomplish their own worthy goals, not to impose your own. This redefines parenting as a process of enabling their discovery of their own uniqueness, worth, and mission. And it gives you a small but privileged view of that unfolding. At times they’ll make monumentally stupid decisions (as did you and I). With adult children, we slow their learning when we either fight these choices or rescue them from them. Instead, our role is to help them know we believe in them, and be ready to offer feedback and counsel when—and only when—they give us permission to do so. I hope you don’t hear any of this as glib. I know the pain of parental disappointment—and even agony. I’ve come to understand, at times, that making the choice to love is making a choice to suffer. But that suffering need not turn to misery if I understand my role. When I do, I increase the likelihood of experiencing the surpassing joy that comes from being such an intimate part of another person’s life. With love, Joseph

Most of us who teach Crucial Conversations love to coach our trainees. Often this happens in the classroom during the training process, but sometimes we get the opportunity to coach one-on-one after the primary learning has taken place. This can be a great opportunity for us and the trainee if we approach it correctly. There are two key steps we will explore here: encouraging the one-on-one process and the actual coaching process itself. Our goal should be to help the trainee prepare to take action in his own impending crucial conversation—transitioning from learner to doer. If you don’t normally have people contact you for this type of coaching, but would like to offer it, here are a couple of tips. After the acid test activity in Get Unstuck is complete, let the class know you are available after the two class days for one-on-one coaching. Let them know that you have a sign-up sheet handy and that they can book time with you now based on their availability. Reinforce this point at the end of day one, the beginning of day two, and in the wrap-up. Typically, if they don’t sign up in class, they never will. It’s also important to let them know you will respect their confidentiality—assuming you can legally do that—and that they do not have to share personal details with you. Make sure they know your goal is to get them from learner to doer. Once you’ve begun the coaching process, the next step is to establish Mutual Purpose. What exactly does the trainee expect from the coach? What do I expect of the trainee? What am I willing to do as the coach? Starting with Mutual Purpose allows us to have clear expectations of each other and be clear about what we are trying to achieve. In this process, we also have to make sure the trainee has realistic expectations of himself. A little bit like Goldilocks, the expectations shoule be not too low, not too high, but just right. As Joseph has said many times, "We can’t talk our way out of something we behaved our way into." If the trainee is expecting a miracle conversation, we need to help him/her be realistic. If the trainee is aiming too low, we need to help him/her use CPR to identify the right conversation to hold. Many trainees leave our classrooms feeling a bit overwhelmed. They are unsure where to start or which skills to apply in their own crucial conversations. As you already know, it is impossible for even the best learner to leave the classroom as a master of all the skills. As coaches, we can help our trainees by determining which skills have the greatest application right now. This allows them to focus on learning and applying a manageable amount of what they learned and then add additional skills in the future as their confidence builds. Please share your ideas below.

Looking for a great present this holiday season? Check out Kerry Patterson’s new book about how one person can make the difference in a hostile environment. An excellent gift for kids and adults alike! Order now at a special pre-release price. Book orders placed by November 15 will be guaranteed for delivery by December 23. You can also discover Kerry’s inspiration for this book in a video conversation between Kerry and the illustrator, David Habben.

Dear Crucial Skills, I’m president of my church choir’s advisory council. The choir has long had a "slush fund" that is used for various choir-related expenses, but it is not administered by the advisory council. I would like to change this, but am unsure of how to approach the "owners" of the fund. These are members of the choir who make decisions on whether money can be spent without any general choir input. Recently, they denied the advisory council’s request for a small amount of money saying it was an "inappropriate" use of funds. I don’t want to turn this into the Inquisition, but the advisory council members think we should all have more input. Any suggestions as to how to approach our colleagues and gain their cooperation? Signed, Looking for Guidance Dear Looking, This situation may seem very unique, but it isn’t. I think many of us have felt the need to change an established system that is supported by entrenched interests. How do we make these changes? And how do we involve people who believe they will lose power, money, prestige, etc. as a result of these changes? Get the facts. I would begin by learning the history behind the current arrangement. The creation of the "slush fund," which seems peculiar now, probably made a lot of sense at the time it was established. For example, maybe it was part of a contract the church negotiated when hiring key choir members. Determine the original rationale for the arrangement and evaluate whether those reasons still make sense. Enlarge the decision-making group. The change you are suggesting should not devolve into a power play between your advisory group and the current owners of the fund. Instead, the interests of the entire church should be foremost. This means involving a broader group of respected decision makers who aren’t identified with your group or the current owners of the fund. This more objective group will have greater credibility with the whole church. Involve the current owners in the decision. Don’t let them feel excluded or disrespected. Make sure they have a seat at the decision-making table. They will be the best advocates for the current arrangement, and the decision makers need their perspective. Maintain respect. When changes are made, the people who created or supported the prior arrangement are often made to look bad. In this case, using words like "slush fund" paints them as corrupt. I doubt they are corrupt. The facts are that they created and managed a system that has worked—at least to some extent—for years. They shouldn’t be vilified for this. If the church can create a new system that works better, that’s great. It doesn’t mean that the old system was somehow evil, unfair, or incompetent. Give time for the transition. Don’t pull the plug in a sudden way. Instead, create a gradual, orderly transition. For example, if the current owners already have a two-year plan for the funds, go ahead and approve it. Let them take their plan to completion, and then get their involvement in creating the next plan. If the transition is abrupt, it may be seen as a money grab, instead of as a long-term structural improvement. I hope these ideas help. David

Dear Crucial Skills, How do you respond to work colleagues who complain that management never asks our opinion? I agree it’s good to get insight from management on how and why things are the way they are. But my coworkers seem to forget there are some things administration just can’t get everyone’s viewpoint on—because a consensus would never be reached. I feel our administration does keep us in the loop as much as they can, and these childish attitudes from my coworkers are more frustrating and demoralizing than what they’re complaining about. Signed, Done with Complainers Dear Done, Charles Kettering is often credited with the saying, "A problem well stated is half solved." When it comes to crucial conversations, knowing what conversation to have, and whom to have it with, is more than half the battle. The situation you find yourself in plays out hundreds of thousands of times a day in offices across the world. A coworker has a problem with someone else—whether with management, other coworkers, or a direct report—and rather than addressing that concern with the person, they come to you. There are a lot of names for this: venting, complaining, whining, etc. At VitalSmarts, we call them "drive-bys." Rather than getting to the heart of the difficult conversations they need to have—in this case, expressing their concerns with management about hearing employee input—they drop into your office, share all their concerns, and look for sympathy. Then they leave, feeling they have said what they needed to say. In reality, they have completely dodged the crucial conversation they are responsible for having. The question then is: what do YOU want to do about it? You have a few options and which one you choose will completely depend on what you really want—for yourself, for the other person, for your relationship, and for the organization. Option 1: Commiserate This is the easy option. You nod your head, and say soothing things like "I know. That is so tough." You listen, and listen, and listen . . . until the other person finishes speaking. Then, you sagely say "It is what it is," and you both go back to work. The obvious downside of taking this option is, nothing changes. Ever. The pattern will repeat. And repeat. And repeat. And worse, you sacrifice your integrity as you pretend to agree with something just for the sake of keeping the peace. Option 2: Defend This option can be almost as easy, and certainly more fun, than option number one. In this scenario, you get to become the standard bearer of an administration done wrong. When you next see your coworker headed toward your office with a couple of tall, skinny, caramel macchiatos and a need to vent, you can gather together all of your righteous indignation and explain to your coworker that they have it all wrong. Management is great. They are doing their best. We as workers need to grow up and accept our role in the grand economic schema. The obvious downside of this option is that you may end up alienating your coworkers and probably won’t be getting any more caramel macchiatos. Worse, you have taken on a responsibility that isn’t yours—defending management. Your responsibility is to own your voice and share your views. You don’t need to play defense just because a coworker chooses to play offense. Option 3: Coach In this option, you recognize that the real conversation that needs to be had—the right conversation—is between your coworkers and leadership. You are not a player in this conversation. But you can be an invaluable coach. As a coach, your job should be to share a different point of view (in this case, yours) and suggest that your coworkers would benefit from having a direct conversation with management about his or her concerns. Now, we all know what the response will be: "Management never listens to us so what is the point of talking to them about how they never listen to us?" This is where a great coach makes the difference. Most of us would say: "You’re probably right." But a crucial conversation coach would help them see that this "management never listens" line is a story he or she is telling themselves. Help your colleague consider what it is he or she really wants and how best to share it, while listening to the other side as well. Too often we think only about using crucial conversations skills in our own crucial conversations. We fail to recognize the power we have to teach, coach, and support others in using these skills. So, don’t get caught up in thinking this is your conversation. It is not. But, it is a conversation you can help someone have. Understanding what the right conversation is, and whom it is with, will often get you more than halfway to a successful resolution. Good Luck, Emily

http://static.vitalsmartscdn.com/kerryingon/Kerryingong201411_LawofTheHog.mp3 When David Maxfield and I pulled up to the plywood mill, we were surprised to see an ambulance parked out front. We had come to study the impact of an upcoming leadership training program, but I must admit it was difficult to think about research as we walked by a vehicle that had "Sisters of Mercy Hospital" painted on both sides in large, red letters. Our guess was that an employee had suffered an accident. After all, the place sported gigantic saw blades, menacing debarkers, and a terrifying machine known as "the hog." Which, by the way, you’re not allowed to go near, unless you’re wearing a safety belt that keeps you from falling into a hole in the floor that leads to an assortment of razor-sharp, spinning blades. It turns out, there had been no accident. According to Tony, the HR manager who was now taking us on a tour of the facility, a supervisor on the graveyard shift had confronted Max, an hourly employee who wasn’t following correct procedures. Max disagreed. One thing led to another until Max pushed Tony, who pushed back, and then Max fell and cut a large gash in his forehead. "But we’re trying to turn that around," explained the HR manager. "That’s why we’re implementing a leadership training program. We want you to help us determine if the instruction we’ll be providing actually works." As Max was loaded into the ambulance, David and I walked to the main conference room just down the hall. There, scattered around a table, sat eight randomly selected employees who had been scheduled to talk with us about what it was like working in a plywood mill. This was to be the first of two dozen such group interviews. As I cleared my throat to start the conversation, as if on cue, the ambulance driver sounded the siren. Everyone turned to the window to watch the emergency vehicle haul their coworker away. Then, in unison, the eight employees turned their heads back toward David and me and shot us a look that said, "What do you think of the place so far?" By now I was aching to know what these employees thought about the shoving match that had just occurred. So I asked, "What happens around this place if you dislike how you’ve been treated by one of your leaders?" After a brief pause, a fellow looked me in the eye, smiled contemptuously, and uttered two words that to this day reverberate in my mind. "The hog!" As the blood drained from my face I managed to ask, "You mean that machine with the nasty blades that you use to cut up scrap veneer?" "Exactly!" he replied. By now I was envisioning a team of angry employees wrestling their foreman to the ground and stuffing him into that frightening hole in the floor. "So, precisely what do you mean when you say ‘the hog’?" I continued as I prayed for an answer that didn’t involve death and dismemberment. "When our boss leaves our work area, we take perfectly good veneer and throw it into the hog," one of the interviewees answered politely. "That’s right," another employee chimed in. "The hog is used for chopping up scrap. When someone grinds up good veneer, it hurts the foreman’s numbers. That gets the foreman in trouble with the plant manager." "Absolutely. If you want to get even with a supervisor who just insulted you or tried to jerk you around," explained still another interviewee, "you feed the hog." It was from this incident that David and I created the expression "The Law of the Hog." It means that if you talk with someone who has disappointed you or behaved poorly, but you do so in a way that is less than professional, others may find a way to get even—i.e., "feed the hog." Over the years, we’ve learned that every organization has its own version of feeding the hog. In one freight-shipping company, employees who become upset at being mistreated have been known to throw perfectly good parts into the deep blue sea. At a computer chip manufacturer, disgruntled associates flush gold chips down the toilet. At a software company, angry code writers purposely write errors into the program. These acts of sabotage are a means of seeking revenge on the leaders. Of course, not everyone who believes he or she has been treated poorly seeks such direct and active revenge. The most common method of feeding the hog takes the form of lost focus, energy, and engagement. After being harshly treated by a leader, employees spend time talking about what just happened rather than doing their job. Next, they refuse to put in extra effort. Eventually they disengage. But there’s more to the hog story. Years later I asked David (who had talked extensively with Tony, the abusive supervisor) how Tony felt about the incident. "Actually," replied David, "he was devastated. He had worked at the mill for years. When he was finally promoted to foreman, he discovered that it was difficult to get people to listen to him. He desperately wanted employees to follow procedures and meet deadlines, but they often ignored him. With time," David continued, "he learned to rely on intimidation but he hated doing so. It was a small town. Some of Tony’s direct reports were neighbors, others relatives, and now they all saw him as the enemy. Tony’s own wife refused to go to church with him or otherwise be seen with him in public." So this wasn’t merely a story of aggression followed by revenge. Tony wasn’t the bad guy and the employees weren’t innocent bystanders exacting justice. It was a more complex tale about creating a culture of accountability. Fortunately, the leadership training we were hired to study actually did teach foremen how to hold others accountable. By learning best practices, Tony and the other leaders discovered what many skilled leaders had known for years. When you carefully study how to hold others accountable, and then actually use the skills you’ve learned, you don’t have to rely on intimidation, threats, and abuse. You can deal with deviations and disappointments without feeding the hog. And, unless you’re the hog, that’s a good thing. You can also go to our YouTube channel to see a video version of The Law of the Hog.

New research by Joseph Grenny and David Maxfield shows that a few small changes in how parents talk about Christmas makes a huge difference in whether Christmas traditions make kids selfish or generous. "We wanted to find out whether parents were unwittingly undermining their own goals," said Maxfield. "Specifically, we wondered if the way parents talk about Christmas has a significant influence on whether kids become self-centered or empathic during the holidays." In the study conducted in October, twenty-seven percent of parents said they talk to their children more about giving than getting, yet eighty-six percent want their holiday traditions to support generosity and gratefulness. So how can parents and families close the gap between what we say and what we do? Joseph Grenny and David Maxfield offer the following six tips: 1. Take children shopping for presents they will give. 2. Expect them to use some of their own money to buy gifts. 3. Involve kids in doing some kind of charitable work to get into the holiday spirit. 4. Help kids write a "gift" list as well as a "wish" list—detailing things they want to make or do for those they love. 5. Collect presents for a "Sub for Santa" or other holiday giving cause. 6. Make a donation of a valued toy or other possession for someone less fortunate. View the results of our study in the infographic below or download a copy for yourself.

In our newly released video, Santa’s Elf holds out two tantalizing foil-wrapped chocolate Christmas bears to Emma and Alex. One chocolate bear is a wonderfully chubby eight inches tall. The other is tiny—the size and girth of a clothespin. "Sorry," the Elf says, "we only have one big bear left." He turns to Emma, the subject child: "Here, you choose—which do you want?" Will Emma take the big one and stiff Alex, or in the spirit of the season, will she decide it’s more blessed to give than to receive? Words matter. A lot. The words you choose to frame a problem powerfully influence the way you and others feel about it. For example, if Ethan takes a cupcake without asking, a parent who begins with, "Ethan, you disobeyed Mommy," sets up an entirely different conversation than one who says, "Ethan, you have broken my trust." A boss who says, "We have an unacceptable error rate," has framed the problem as meeting the boss’ expectations. One who says, "Our error rate is putting patient lives at risk," has framed it as a moral imperative. Research shows that small tweaks in verbal frames can provoke resentment or invite commitment about the same issue! Reviewing that research made the VitalSmarts research team wonder, "What about Christmas?" Each of us could think of Christmas mornings where kids had behaved like ravenous hyenas, tearing through wrapping paper to get at the next indulgence. Yet, we could also recall instances of sweet, selfless generosity, where a child sacrificed hard-earned cash to bring a smile to someone they loved. After surveying our various memories, we were left asking, "Overall, does Christmas make us naughtier or nicer? Or is it the way we talk about Christmas that determines the influence of the season?" So we invited roughly sixty kids, ages six to eight, to a Christmas party. After enjoying a rollicking good time decorating, eating cookies, and playing holiday games, the children were invited to visit with Santa, two at a time. The first child was a subject, and the second was a confederate—our secret scientific helper! In the first condition, Santa used his age-old script, "What do you want for Christmas?" Kids have been preparing for this dialogue since they were in diapers. All of them were armed with a Christmas shopping list for the Jolly Old Elf. When they finished, Santa said, "Thank you for visiting me! If you’ll go over there and see my elf, he has a surprise for you!" The kids gleefully complied. The pair of tots faced the elf who announced sadly, "Oh no! I’m almost out of big chocolate bears. I only have one big one left. One of you can have the large one and the other will get the small one." The elf then turned to the subject child and said, "Here—you choose. Which do you want?" Few deliberated for long. Over two-thirds snatched the big one. One little guy didn’t even wait for the elf to finish. When his eyes landed on the gargantuan bear he seized it, exclaimed "I’m out of here!" and fled. In the second condition, the children had the exact same experience but with one small change—just a few words. Santa greeted the kids warmly and asked, "What gifts do you want to give this Christmas?" Most of the kids couldn’t even hear him! They began to recite wish lists like a kidnapper dictating ransom terms. Santa would smile and say, "Those sound like great wishes! And are there any presents you want to give to someone?" After two or three attempts to clarify his bizarre departure from the sacred Santa liturgy, their eyes would widen, and they’d offer a few thoughtful ideas. Now came the moment of truth. The subject and confederate would approach Santa’s helper. The elf would sadly announce the tragic chocolate bear situation. He would offer the choice to the subject child. This time, not only did most kids answer more slowly, they responded more generously. One little girl removed both bears from the elf’s hands, examined them closely, reading the label, "Hmm . . . melted chocolate. Hmm . . . . Here—you take the big one!" She smiled, gripped the little bear and skipped out of the room. Simply changing the Christmas "frame" influenced over forty percent of kids to behave more graciously! When you’re talking about problems at work, decisions with family members, or goals with colleagues, the words you choose to frame the issues are very influential. We at VitalSmarts hope the words you use this holiday season will bring you great joy, meaning, and connection with those you love. Sincerely, Joseph

The following article was first published on November 2, 2004. Dear Crucial Skills, As a manager, I resist micromanaging at all costs; it’s not the way I want to be managed and it’s not the way I want to manage. However, I may well be a manager who can be taken advantage of, and that doesn’t feel particularly good. I’m in higher education where there is high value placed on collegiality. This translates most often into a great deal of autonomy at the expense of accountability. If I’ve ever had to have a crucial conversation, I feel I can only do so with extreme delicacy. How can managers find the proper balance with employees? Sincerely, Dr. Delicate Dear Dr. Delicate, As I respond to your question, I want to extend it to other situations. I don’t think people want to micromanage or be micromanaged anywhere. Micromanagement is not desirable even in tense environments such as airport towers, nuclear power plants, or emergency rooms. It’s certainly not what people want at home with partners or with children. "Take out the garbage. Did you put in a new liner? Did you put the lid on the garbage can? Did you close the garage door?" All of this sounds like nagging. It certainly minimizes autonomy and initiative. And, as you noted, it minimizes collegiality and other positive forms of relationships. On the other hand, particularly in high-risk situations or where there is a track record of performance problems, managers or leaders don’t want to say, "I don’t want to micromanage, so I’ll just trust you to perform and get back to me when you find it convenient." So what can be done to hold people accountable without micromanaging? Here are a few suggestions. Excellent performance begins with clear expectations. As you set expectations with individuals or groups, make sure you not only include what the desired results are, but also get agreement about how you will talk about issues or problems that come up. Talk about the process of accountability and about how you define management vs. micromanagement—from both sides. It could sound something like this: "We’ve agreed that the proposal will be submitted for review to me by next Tuesday at noon. Can we talk for a few minutes about what each of us should do if we run into problems or barriers?" In this discussion, you can talk about what the other person will do to keep you informed in advance if there is the possibility of a delay, or if he or she needs additional input, or whatever. Also, you can get agreement about how you’ll check in with the person. The outcome of this conversation is that both of you should feel comfortable with and clear about the outcomes and the process you’ll use to ensure accountability. Ask specific questions such as, "Do you feel okay about the process?" and "Are you comfortable with our plan concerning accountability?" These questions give you opportunities to make sure that your intention is to get results and not to micromanage. To emphasize this point, you need agreements about how you hold others accountable. What is your comfort level about frequency and specificity? What is the other person’s comfort level? The balance comes from the dialogue you have up front. Look at your story. Too often people tell themselves that if they confront someone, the person will see it as micromanaging. This can be a "Sucker’s Choice"—a choice where we see only two options—both of them bad. For example, "If I confront people, they’ll see it as being ‘on their case’; or I can not confront them and let the results suffer." In reality, there is often a third, better alternative; you can confront the issue of accountability AND not micromanage. So you mentally push yourself to find the AND. "How can I confront this issue so the results are achieved AND avoid having the other person think I’m micromanaging? In fact, how can I deal with performance issues AND strengthen our relationship?" Such questions, of course, help you to focus on what you really want for you, for the other person, and for the relationship. You don’t have to choose between performance and relationship . . . you can get both. Describe the gap. If you need to discuss a performance issue, you can create the safety needed for a helpful discussion by describing the gap. Describe what you agreed on and then what you observed and how it differed from what you expected. The gap between these two is what you are going to talk about. If you can begin well, the rest is often easy. Make sure you start with facts, not emotions or conclusions. You begin with an observation, not an accusation. When you can do this well, you send a message that says, "I’ve noticed this and I’m interested in learning what happened—I have not pre-judged you or the issue." Also, when you have an agreement upfront about how accountability discussions will be held, there are no surprises. With no surprises and lots of safety, holding talks about performance is not seen as micromanaging. I hope these three points help. I also hope that you and others can see how they can be applied at a college, in manufacturing, other businesses, and at home. Best Wishes, Al

The following article was first published on December 21, 2005. Dear Crucial Skills, I am a divorced father of two young children. The separation occurred two years ago. We are doing a very good job of co-parenting. My ex-wife, "Sue," and I had agreed from early on that we would NOT be introducing people we are dating into the lives of our daughters unless it was well into the relationship (e.g., six months with the possibility of remarriage). This is to protect the children from the revolving door of people coming and going in their lives. That lasted for about a year. The last two Christmases, my daughters have woken up to two different men in Sue’s house. It’s almost Christmas, and I am afraid it will be yet another man on Christmas morning, creating more confusion for the children. While I can’t control what Sue does, I would like her to know that this could be harmful to our children as well as their future values or opinions of their mother. But by confronting her on this, I feel like I would come across as way too judgmental, and would open myself up to her criticism of my parenting, just like I am being of hers in this regard. Sincerely, Perplexed Dear Perplexed, Let me start by acknowledging you for the spirit of your question. I’m sure that everyone who reads it will be inspired by the pure desire it shows to put your children first. I’m grateful for adults like you—and your ex-wife—who are willing to suck it up when their own emotions are raw and do what’s best for the most vulnerable people involved—the children. Bless you. With that said, let me re-frame the problem. This isn’t about what "may or may not happen." This is about what has already happened. You had an agreement. She appears to have broken it. That’s the conversation you need to have. You are rightly sensitive that if you appear to be throwing rocks at her she might defensively throw some back at you. In other words, if you come across as moralistic, judgmental, or accusatory, you will be incapable of focusing on the real issue: the agreement the two of you made in the best interests of the children. So be sure to be hyper-attentive as you begin and as you proceed in the conversation to creating safety for her. She needs to be affirmed, respected, and appreciated enough that she understands this is not about you judging her, but about you wanting to have a strong relationship with her while you attempt to do what’s best for the kids. Remember, people feel safe when they know that a) you care about their interests and problems, and b) you care about and respect them. So you might begin like this: "Sue, I want to discuss a concern I’ve got when it works for you to do so. I want you to know I have no other agenda than to keep the air clear between us so we can continue working well together for the children. First and foremost, I want you to understand how much I appreciate your efforts to work with me over the past two years. I know it hasn’t been easy. But you’ve been wonderful to work with. Thank you for all you’ve done." Next, move into "Describing the Gap" between what you expected and what you got. Again, do so in a way that ensures she feels safe—that she interprets your intent correctly. Also, focus on the facts—not your interpretations or judgments of the facts: "The issue is this: two years ago I think we agreed that we would not introduce new people to the children until we had a relationship that looked close to marriage. Is that right? I think we both felt at the time that this would help them appreciate the importance of commitment and would minimize instability in their lives. The past two Christmases the children have said that when they woke up in your house on Christmas there was a man who had slept over, greeting them in the morning." Now that you’ve laid out your concern—it’s time to encourage dialogue and reassure safety: "Now, I realize that I might have some facts wrong. I realize also that even if this is what happened, your feelings and needs are an important consideration. I don’t want to be judgmental at all—or to keep you from something that’s important to you. But I want to be clear on our agreements with each other and continue to put the children first. So am I seeing this wrong? Is there something I’m missing here?" At this point you follow the dialogue where it needs to go. Remember though, to keep the conversation focused on what you really want—what’s best for the kids. Not on your need to punish Sue for her behavior, or jealousy, etc. This is a conversation about a broken commitment, not a moral code. Thanks again for your splendid example to me and others. I wish you the best in this accountability conversation and have every confidence your good heart will lead you right. And I wish you a Merry Christmas as well. Joseph

http://static.vitalsmartscdn.com/kerryingon/KerryingOn_201412.mp3 One brisk December morning as my five-year-old son Taylor and I skittered across the local mall’s icy parking lot in search of gifts for his two older sisters, Taylor turned to me and asked, "What was your bestest and most favorite Christmas present ever?" I have contemplated the answer to that question over the years since. Despite the fact that as a child I had perched over the toy section of the Sears catalogue (much like a monk musing over a sacred manuscript), my favorite gift never made it into Mr. Sears’ marvelous book. In fact, it was never sold in any store. More curious still, it sat in a box, unopened for almost fifty years. To appreciate this magical gift, you have to know a little bit about how the human mind works. Although nobody completely understands how anything as complicated as the brain actually functions, I like to think of it as thousands of tiny shelves that sit in long rows inside our head. On these shelves sit millions of even tinier boxes. And inside these boxes you find memories. Some of the boxes remain unopened and unattended for years and the thoughts left inside evaporate like dry ice on a hot summer day. Other memories remain active and vital because we pull a box off the shelf, open it, and relive the experience. Of course, every time we crack open a memory box we change the contents ever so slightly. That’s because when we visit a memory, we add a little here and snip a little there. With each new peek into the box we make subtle alterations until one day, all that is left is the memory of a memory of a memory; little more than a faint and blurred copy. The original is gone forever. But not always. Every once in a while the most amazing thing happens. A mysterious force knocks a box off one of our memory shelves—a box that has sat untouched for years suddenly bursts open. And when it does, you relive a precious moment—unchanged and straight from your childhood. That’s what happened to me one December morning a few years ago. I was preparing for my granddaughter who would soon be making a Christmas visit. As I fussed and fidgeted and tried to make the house safe for a curious child, I spotted a small shiny object on the floor, just under our living room couch. As I drew closer I could see that it was a dime. "We can’t have that lying around!" I muttered to myself, as I dropped to my hands and knees. At that very moment, a song that I had learned in the first grade started playing on the radio: "Christmas is coming; the goose is getting fat. . . ." The image of the shiny dime coupled with the haunting melody of a childhood song pushed an untouched package off my memory shelf. Whoosh! As the lid from this tiny box popped open and the contents tumbled out, I was suddenly six years old. The dime I had been staring at under the couch magically transformed into a dime lying under my grandfather’s candy counter. When I was a boy my grandpa owned a corner grocery store and every day on the way home from elementary school I’d stop by to see him. Grandpa was always as interested in the characters portrayed in my childhood primer as I was. "Spot ran away, and Sally and Puff are looking for him," I’d explain. "Really?" he would ask with genuine interest. "Do you think they’ll find him?" Grandpa always wore a lime green apron that looked clean and stiff and official. As the sole proprietor of our only neighborhood store, I thought he was about as important as any person alive—maybe as important as a brain surgeon, a judge, or even a fireman. I loved my Grandpa as much as I loved anyone or anything. Grandpa loved me in return. He was proud of everything I did. When I earned a gold star at school, he acted as if I had invented penicillin. Even when I didn’t do very well he’d smile warmly and tell me not to worry. Sometimes Grandpa would use me as a prop. On rainy days (which was most of the time in Bellingham, Washington), I’d stop by the store and he would go through the same routine. Grandpa would be chatting with a grownup customer and as soon as I’d walk up next to him he’d mention how miserable the weather was. Then he’d look out at the drizzle and say, "You know, I wish the sun would come out. Not so much for myself but for my grandson." Then he’d pat me on the head and explain, "I’ve seen the sun before, but my grandson never has!" Everyone would laugh. On this day—that is, the day that fell down from my memory shelf—I was on my hands and knees doing what little boys do when they’re at their grandfather’s grocery store, next to the candy counter. I was looking for coins. Sometimes grownups would drop a penny, and if you were lucky, you’d end up with a tasty treat. Only this time, I spotted a shiny new dime. Ten whole cents! I can still remember what I bought—one licorice whip, one red-hot jawbreaker, two sour cherries, one raspberry vine, and ten Whoppers—Whoppers were two for a penny. Grandpa smiled wide as I scampered out of his store. You would have thought that he was the one with the pocketful of candy. Since I was still a child when this took place—and still believed in miracles—the next day I ran out the back door of school, raced down the hill, burst into Grandpa’s store, and dropped to my knees in search of treasure. Then I crawled around and looked and sniffed, and probed, and hunted until—guess what? I found another dime. I couldn’t believe my good fortune! This time I bought my older brother an Oh Henry! candy bar and myself five pieces of penny candy. And so it went. Every day I’d drop to my hands and knees, find a dime, and marvel at my good luck. Sometimes I’d only spend five cents, and the next day I’d buy a fifteen-cent kite. All through that spring and well into the summer I bought Fudgesicles on hot days, kites on windy days, and candy bars when I was thinking of my brother. And every single day Grandpa would smile wide as I ran from the store with my treasures in hand. This was the box that fell from my memory shelf when I knelt to pick up a dime the day my granddaughter was coming for Christmas. The entire rush of thought—complete with Whoppers, kites, and licorice whips—passed in a flash. As I arose from my hands and knees nearly fifty years after finding that first dime, the adult inside me returned. "Why Grandpa!" I thought to myself, "You put those dimes there didn’t you!" Sure enough, at age seventy-two, he had gingerly lowered himself to the floor and secretly hidden a dime in a different spot each morning. He didn’t do it for the thanks. He never told me what he had done. He did it because he loved me. I had a friend growing up who was given some of the most amazing gifts for Christmas. The year he turned sixteen his parents gave him an entire automobile. Not just a leather steering-wheel cover, or one of those smelly cardboard pine trees you hang on the rearview mirror—but an entire car. If his five-year-old son were to ask him about his "bestest and most favorite" Christmas present ever, I bet he would talk about that shiny red Chevy. But for me, my favorite gift fell off a shelf after it sat untouched for nearly fifty years. It was wrapped in childhood innocence and when the lid popped off and the contents tumbled out, it bathed me in the warm glow of my grandfather’s love. Sometimes when I’m feeling blue, I open that glorious box and look at the kites and penny candy and relive the joy. Sometimes the box falls down all by itself. I’ll be walking down the street when a person wearing lime green clothing passes by me and bumps the box. Plunk. And you know what—I think sometimes my Grandpa from somewhere far away whispers, "Happy Christmas!" and the breeze from his sweet voice gently nudges the box. Whatever causes the package to tumble, the result is always the same. I taste the sweet Fudgesicles, feel the tug of a kite, and imagine my Grandpa on his hands and knees—hiding a dime for his beloved grandson. And even though my "bestest and most favorite" present was never listed in any department store catalog, that extraordinary box—that memory box filled with Grandpa’s love—is far more precious to me than anything ever shaped by human hands. I shall cherish it forever.

Dear Crucial Skills, I’m a cofounder of a company that recently brought in a new CEO who I don’t know well. I want to talk to the CEO about taking an executive role in the company and obtaining his mentorship. The problem is I feel very strongly about this position and my contribution, and tend to get emotional about it. I know I’ve made a very significant contribution to the company’s growth, but I’m also fundamentally insecure about my skills. I also don’t have the resume that investors are looking for. The new CEO is a very level-headed person who doesn’t get emotional about anything, and I don’t want to lose credibility with him as I negotiate my role in this growing company. Can you give me some pointers for preparing for this conversation? Sincerely, Looking for a Promotion Dear Looking, Of course you get emotional about your role in the company you cofounded! This company is your brainchild; you’ve invested your blood, sweat, and tears. Any conversation about your role going forward is high stakes indeed. And strong emotions are often the biggest barrier to effectively influencing others. As you take stock of the company’s needs, and of the skills you need in order to fulfill an executive role, you are wise to seek the new CEO’s mentorship. So how do you have the crucial conversation with the CEO about taking on an executive role? Start with heart. As you contemplate having this conversation, ask yourself, "What do I really want? For myself? For the new CEO? For the company?" Of course you want the company to be successful. You also want to support the CEO and help him succeed. In addition, you want to occupy an executive position and be effective in that role. Keep in mind that you are not a beggar or a thief. You are not asking for a position you do not deserve, nor are you expecting a role that benefits you and hurts the company. You want to add value and make a meaningful contribution. These are good motives—helpful motives. As you focus on these thoughts, your brain will be in gear and your emotions will dissipate. Create mutual purpose. An important beginning to this crucial conversation is to help the CEO understand your intentions—your motives. You might want to say something like, "I want to talk with you about my role in the company. I am absolutely committed to making the company succeed. I also want to do everything within my power to help you be successful in your new role as CEO." Such a strong declaration will do a lot to make it safe for the CEO to discuss the topic with you openly. Next, share your meaning. As with bringing up any sensitive topic, I would encourage you to share the facts. Help the CEO understand your history with the company and the many contributions you’ve made. There’s no need to feel embarrassed or shy. You are not bragging or "tooting your own horn." You are giving the CEO important information he needs to make decisions about how to best utilize your abilities. Then tell your story by sharing with the CEO your honest evaluation of your strengths and weaknesses. Our tendency is to ‘spin’ our histories by embellishing our strengths and understating our weaknesses. I once worked with a colleague who was always trying to ‘sell’ me. When advocating his point of view, he emphasized the reasons to do what he wanted, and left unmentioned the downside. I grew to discount his statements and distrust his motives. You do not want to do this. Identify where you see yourself as the most capable and where you need more development. This kind of honesty, openness, and insight will help your CEO appreciate the kind of person you are and trust your candor. Next, make your proposal. Explain the position you want to fill and its responsibilities. Ask that the CEO mentor you and help you strengthen the areas you’ve identified for improvement. Finally, ask for the CEO’s input. You’ve put a lot of meaning in the pool; now is the time to get his. Ask questions and listen. How does he see the situation? How does he view the fit between you and the executive position? This appeal will not necessarily guarantee that you end up with the position you desire. However, this approach will increase the likelihood your emotions will not get in the way, and there will be greater mutual understanding. Good Luck, Ron

When people outside of work find out that I spend a lot of time teaching groups, they often ask about the more challenging situations I encounter. "What are the biggest pitfalls? And how do you recover when you run into these problems?" I tell them, "A picture is worth a thousand words." Some time ago, I attended a presentation from a nationally acclaimed photographer about the ABCs of photography. He expressed the idea that photography is a form of communication, and like language, has its own alphabet. While language uses letters to communicate ideas, similarly, photography uses assembled elements to create meaning in a visual format. In the middle of sharing this deep philosophical explanation about how to effectively communicate through photography, he was interrupted by a question from the audience. "Are you conscious about ensuring all the elements are present before taking the shot?" Interesting question, but not as interesting as his answer. He explained that he used to take a photo, realize it hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected, and he wouldn’t be able to understand why. But since then, he’d learned to bring the photo to a mentor who would then look at it with him to figure out what to do differently next time. His answer caused me to reflect on my many classroom experiences. I’ve had my share of less than desirable outcomes. And one of the most frustrating things is knowing a class hasn’t turned out well, but not knowing the reason why—especially early on. I came to the conclusion that we ought to be doing the same thing with our classes that the photographer was doing with his photographs. We need to take a mental picture of what’s going on so that we can analyze it and do better. We should take stock of the classroom—prior to running into a problem. What’s happening with the group? What are people doing or not doing? How is the physical space set up? Is it conducive to learning? In essence, what do I notice that cues me to stop and reframe before moving on? Then we can share these mental photos with mentors. We can compare the not so good ones to the better ones and figure out the difference. Most especially, we can use them to cue ourselves for better outcomes in the future. Good luck! And remember to post those mental photos on the VitalSmarts Trainer LinkedIn and Facebook groups.

The Style Under Stress Test asks participants to pick a specific person or situation where they have a hard time staying in dialogue, and then directs them to answer all the questions in regards to that specific person or situation. The results of the test are not a measure of personality i.e., scoring high on "violence" does not mean you are a "violent person," but rather it measures our tendencies and skills in a specific situation. Put yourself in a different situation and you’ll behave differently. Sometimes we use personality type to justify our extreme Style Under Stress (silence or violence). We might say things like, "Of course I treated him that way. I’m an INTJ. That’s just who I am." Or, "Yes, I said that. But it’s because I’m a ‘yellow’." I sometimes use these as examples of helpless stories in the introduction of Master My Stories. Specifically, I bring it up on the slide that says "When it matters most, we often do our worst—and we feel like we are doing the right thing." We behave badly when the stakes are high, then we justify the behavior with our personality type, without realizing we have other options that will help us return to healthy dialogue. This is a quick example that participants might not have thought of, and pointing it out usually gets a good laugh.

Dear Crucial Skills, About a month ago, my director was investigated for violating policy. I provided information against her in this process. During the investigation, my director told my coworkers that the allegations were all lies. This caused my coworkers to view me as a troublemaker and a liar. I suspect she said the same to the heads of our company. As a result, she has been able to keep her job and I feel like my credibility is damaged. How do I move forward from here? Signed, Credibility Crisis Dear Credibility Crisis, Some decisions are hard. This one isn’t. You’ve got to go. The only way I would temper that advice is if you think there is a possibility you are wrong. If the following are facts and not fear-based stories you are telling yourself: 1. Your director violated the policy. 2. The violation is a serious ethical breach—not some trivial technicality (e.g., she used company funds to refurnish her beach house vs. she used an outdated company logo in a PowerPoint presentation). 3. Your senior leaders believe you lied in your testimony against your director. 4. Your colleagues likewise believe you lied. . . . then you are in as compromised a social situation as you could be. You’ve got two problems here. First, you are working in an organization that seems either unable or unwilling to hold high standards. Do you really want to work in that kind of place? And second, you have none of the social support you will need to get things done and to be rewarded for doing so. You owe it to yourself to put yourself into circumstances where you will be honored for your integrity, where you will be able to do your best work, and where you will be recognized for doing so. I wish I had a magic answer that would allow you to remedy the situation. But I would be less than a genuine friend if I suggested I have ever seen a situation like yours end well. Your choices are a quick exit or a slow meltdown. A graceful redemption isn’t in the cards. However, if objective and informed people among your colleagues disagree with #1-4 above—then improvement is possible. For example, if: 1. Your director’s actions are more of a gray area. 2. The policy isn’t morally significant. 3. Your senior leaders disagree with your view, but don’t believe you lied. 4. Few of your colleagues are especially aware or see this as an honest disagreement between you and your director. . . . then there is room for hope. But only if you are willing to hold a truly humble, open, and honest crucial conversation with your director. You will need to come to this conversation curious. You will need to suspend your judgments and be open to new information that might revise your view of her actions. But you will also need to come prepared to be honest if the new "meaning" you acquire does not change your view. The only path forward is through this conversation in which the two of you open up the possibility of gaining new insight into each other’s actions, motives, and perspectives. I wish you the best in this profoundly important decision. Warmly, Joseph

Dear Crucial Skills, My boss likes to leave things open for change until the last moment and this stresses me out completely. A few examples: (1) We were presenting to senior management and had agreed to drop several items from the presentation based on specific logical reasons. Two hours before the presentation, he decided we needed to add those items back into the presentation without reason. (2) We were launching a high-visibility product—from senior management’s perspective—and he tried to change the launch material that was already delayed going into production. If we had done as he wanted, we would have missed the launch deadline and faced huge embarrassment. (3) We were in the middle of an event and he texted me asking to change the schedule during the event! Situations like these are causing immense stress for me. I like to plan things well in advance and do not like surprises at the last moment. How can I successfully communicate this with him? Sincerely, Stressed Out Dear Stressed Out, Great question! And thanks for sharing the detailed examples. Often we have to work back from our emotions to the story that drives them, and then to the facts behind our story. As I see it, you’re dealing with the following: • Emotions: Stress and frustration. • Story: "My boss likes to leave things open for change until the last moment." • Facts: The three incidents you describe. Challenge your story. I want to begin by challenging your story just a bit. As humans, we often make what psychologists call "The Fundamental Attribution Error." We attribute others’ bad behavior to internal dispositions (as you do when you suggest, "My boss likes . . . "), and ignore external factors that might be influencing his or her behavior. Take a bit more time exploring why your boss might be leaving things open to the last minute. Here are a few possibilities: • He is distracted by other tasks and doesn’t really attend to your priorities until the last minute. Then, when he finally gets his head in the game, he wants to make changes. • Other leaders he must accommodate don’t pay attention to your priorities until the last minute. Then they demand changes, and your boss passes them along to you—as if they were his. • Perhaps some situations are so fluid that they really do require last minute changes. (I’d be surprised if this last one is actually true, but it’s worth considering.) A robust solution to your problem needs to address all of these influences. If you focus too narrowly on motivating him, without acknowledging the reasons for his last-minute meddling, he’s likely to feel attacked and become defensive. Determine what you really want. Focus on what you want long-term for the organization, your boss, yourself, and for your working relationship. Take pains to avoid a self-focused perspective (such as when you say, "Situations like these are causing immense stress for me. I like to plan things well in advance and do not like surprises at the last moment.") Instead, focus on the benefits you want to achieve. Trust me. If you are feeling stress, then others are as well. And the organizational costs of these last-minute changes can be profound. I’ve seen organizations grind to a halt, as managers stop taking action and making decisions because they fear others will second-guess them at the last minute. If you can introduce greater predictability and stability, you will be helping your organization, your boss, and many others—including yourself. Establish expectations that work for everyone. In our Crucial Accountability course we teach a skill called Describe the Gap. The gap is the difference between what you expect and what you’ve observed. In your case, the gap is between what you expect and what your boss and other stakeholders expect. Your conversation will succeed to the extent you can align these expectations. I suggest using principles and terms from project management best practices to describe your expectations. A good process involves the right people (your boss and other stakeholders) at the right times, before decisions become last-minute. Learn how project management is done in your organization and use what you discover in the conversation. Your goal will be to have your boss and other stakeholders commit to following a project management process that will make their lives easier, and improve the effectiveness of the organization. Move important decisions forward in time. Since the problem is that your boss isn’t making decisions until they are urgent, a part of the solution is to create this urgency earlier. Project plans are supposed to do this by establishing checkpoints that involve people early in the process. However, this involvement only works if people take the plans seriously—if the checkpoints create a sense of urgency. You need to make sure you are getting people’s mind share and serious involvement when you need it—early in the process. If you can’t get serious involvement early, then count on getting it at the last minute. Get permission to hold people accountable to the project plan. Your first test will come when your boss and others skip project checkpoints or arrive unprepared. Talk with them in advance about this potential. If they don’t get their heads into the project on time—as called for in the project plan—then the whole planning process will break down, and you’ll be back to last-minute changes. Some organizations even introduce a shorthand way of referring to the negative cycle. One I work with calls it "Skipping the D" and "Hijacking the D" (meaning "Skipping the Decision" and "Hijacking the Decision"). Everyone knows what these phrases mean and they use them as reminders to hold each other accountable. I hope that some of these suggestions will work for you. Let me know how it goes. David

It was the wish of Bellingham School District No. 501 that starting in the seventh grade, each student write a weekly theme and an annual term paper—and continue this practice throughout all of his or her junior high and high school years. Themes were easy. I would sit down and write whatever cockamamie idea came to mind, turn it in, and then have it torn apart by college English majors who graded my work with a red pencil and hatchet. Unfortunately, we weren’t taught much about how to actually write. In fact, I don’t remember being taught anything about writing. The theory was: throw young writers in the water and see if they learn to avoid torturing a metaphor. In any case, every week I wrote a paper that would come back marked with terms such as AWK, ¶, and DANG MOD. This confidence-killing technique was small potatoes compared to the esteem-crushing, soul-sucking damage caused by the annual term paper. Unlike themes, term papers required library research from original sources. That meant I had to walk a mile to my grandfather’s grocery store and buy three-by-five note cards. "Poe, Twain—and I believe the Bard himself—used three-by-five cards," My seventh-grade English teacher, Mr. Lewis, explained. "It’s how you organize your thoughts." Required cards in hand, I walked another mile and a half to the city library to start my research. And yes, I did have to fight off wild dogs along the way. It was the fifties and wild dogs roamed the countryside. No kidding. Once I arrived at the library, I milled about looking confused until Mrs. Huffington, the reference librarian, asked me if I needed help. This was, of course, said in a tone that indicated needing help was a sign of being hopelessly dimwitted. I told her about my upcoming term paper, explaining that I had narrowed my subject matter from a treatise on the universe to twelve pages about the planets. Mrs. Huffington sneered at my topic, which she said was "grossly unfocused," took me to a three-mile-long card catalog, and then stood me in front of the P drawers. I chuckled at the sound of the expression "P drawers," while thumbing my way through an endless list of references about planets. Eventually I picked a reference, recorded the code required to find it, and headed to the stacks. After a long and dispiriting search, I came to a group of journals that sported numbers, letters, and secret symbols similar to the code I had written, only to discover that the edition I wanted wasn’t on the shelf. So I hiked back to the sea of boxes, selected another reference, wandered the stacks, found the journal, turned to the section that had the information about planets, and—voilà—discovered that the pages I needed had been ripped out! This heinous act had surely been perpetrated by a previous student who didn’t want to go to the trouble of writing down the information on his three-by-five cards. And obviously they couldn’t photo copy the pages because the copy machines you can now find in every library nook and cranny hadn’t been invented yet. By now it was growing late, so I exited the library and started down the road that would take me the two-and-a-half miles home—without a single piece of information for my term paper. It only got worse. Between slogs to the library, I had to read extremely complicated material about the planets—including Saturn, Neptune, Pluto, Mickey, and Dopey. (I was tempted to work this line into my term paper, but came to my senses). I also had to learn about the proper use of Latin footnote terms such as "op. cit." and "ibid" in preparation for the imminent resurgence of the Roman Empire. Then came the monumental job of typing the paper on our family’s manual Remington portable typewriter. And heaven forbid I make a mistake! Typos had to be erased with a steel-belted, paper-shredding Eberhard Faber eraser. I made so many mistakes and attempted so many corrections, that my final product was a real dog’s breakfast. It was so trashed, if you held it up to the light, it looked like a papyrus manuscript—had ancient scholars used an Aramaic Remington portable. After feverishly working on my project for several weeks, I submitted it and eagerly awaited my grade. I had worked hard and was proud of my final document. I shouldn’t have been. It came back covered with red marks of all sorts—and the grade of a C- over a D+. "Look at this wonderful paper," Mr. Lewis exclaimed as he held up Sally Welch’s glorious effort. My classmate, Sally, had her term paper typed by her mother on a fancy electric machine, and it had zero typos. Plus her parents had done most of the research and writing, earning Sally an A+ over an A+. But that didn’t stop Sally from smiling broadly as Mr. Lewis heaped on the praise. She was clearly bound for glory. Whereas I, the C- over D+ student, would probably end up in the food services industry as my school guidance counselor had suggested earlier that year. No lie. At this point you may think I’m about to launch into a rant about questionable teaching methods and egregious inequities. Not so. I’m simply trying to provide background material, particularly for people under the age of forty, for the thanks I’m about to offer. "What thanks?" you ask. I recently spoke to a group of Google executives. But before I started into my assigned topic, I offered my heartfelt appreciation for their work, as well as the work of other search-engine designers. I had just completed an entire book, chock full of citations from original material, and in so doing, was not once attacked by a dog. I never had to hike in the pouring rain only to discover the reference book I sought was missing. I never had to pull a journal down from the shelf only to have key pages ripped out. Instead, I cheerfully scooted my computer mouse here and there, occasionally twitched my index finger, and magically uncovered material that years earlier, would have taken days to find. I now have the entire library of congress—along with just about anything anybody who ever had a thought has had to say—at my fingertips. Thank you search-engine inventors, code writers, data scanners, and people who vacuum and do the plumbing for The Cloud. Thank you for turning our world into a place where information is as available and cheap as air itself. I know, we’re not always sure what to do with all the information that silently beams into our space in giga-, tera-, and super-giga-tera bundles. Nevertheless, it’s time to offer a "good on ya" to everyone out there who has made information that used to be largely unattainable a mere click away. My guess is that my grandkids will never have a clue how hard it used to be to research and write a term paper—and I’m fine with that. But one thing is for certain: as they put together their papers, they won’t be chased by dogs.