Dear David, How should I handle a very opinionated person who says things to me that are hateful and mean? This particular person is so opinionated that I could try giving my point of view until I’m blue in the face and they won’t hear a word I say. When I’ve tried expressing how their comments make me feel, it doesn’t seem to matter to them and they respond with, "Well that’s just the way I feel. That’s my opinion." However, they want to then continue on with the relationship and act like nothing has happened, yet I’m left harboring negative feelings about the hurtful things they’ve said. This relationship is very important to me so I want to get past it. How do I forgive and forget so that the relationship can move forward? Regards, Drowning in Opinions Dear Drowning, This is the point where a parent might say, "Just find better friends." But I’m betting that’s too simple, right? For example, let’s assume that this opinionated person isn’t just a friend—she’s your mom. I’ll try a few suggestions. What do you really want? You say you want to "forgive and forget so the relationship can move forward." This is a worthy goal, but it’s also a goal that demands a lot from you. I’ll focus on the "forgive" part. I’m not sure the "forget" part is as important as "moving forward." Negative stories. This person (let’s say it’s your mother) is telling herself an unflattering story about you—about your character, your capabilities, your motives, or your future. Some of this negative narrative is based on facts, i.e., her experiences with you over the years. But this narrative is also affected by her own strong opinions, which are obviously different from yours. The result is that your mother is more likely to see your flaws than your strengths because they fit the storyline in her head. In addition, instead of giving you the benefit of the doubt, she’s likely to assume and expect the worst—again because that fits her narrative. Next, cope with her negative narrative about you. Take responsibility. Be accountable for the parts of the story that are actually true. For example, if your mother is accusing you of being thoughtless and mean, and she has evidence, then admit it. Apologize. Do your best to repair the damage you’ve done, and then move on. If you don’t own your past, you won’t be able to clean the slate, and earn a fresh start. But don’t expect to ever really earn a fresh start. Your mother’s narrative is based on a long history, and her opinions are bolstered by multiple sources of influence. Center on areas of Mutual Purpose and Mutual Respect. Focus on the parts of the relationship where you have Mutual Purpose and feel Mutual Respect, and then build from there. Focus on commonalities instead of differences. I’m not telling you to avoid touchy disagreements. You won’t hear that from the folks who brought you Crucial Conversations. But don’t turn disagreements into wedges that drive you further apart. Instead, be direct, honest, and frank about your differences, while—at the same time—reiterating Mutual Purpose and Mutual Respect. Remember, you don’t love your mother because of her opinions; you love her regardless of her opinions. Stop using her as a reference for your own self-respect. This is more difficult than it sounds. Quit looking to her for approval in areas where the two of you disagree. Find better ways to determine your self-worth. Decide that her disapproval doesn’t matter to you—at least not as much as it does now. Your mother will continue to make opinionated statements, but you can determine whether her opinions hurt you or not. Make yourself invulnerable to them. Now, influence her opinions. Explain natural consequences. You suggested her opinions are unlikely to change, and you know best. Verbal persuasion is not a very powerful way to change hearts and minds. But here are a couple of suggestions for when she says, "That’s just the way I feel. That’s my opinion." Personal Consequences—natural consequences to herself. Point out the inconsistency between her opinion and the person you love. "I know it’s your opinion, and I respect that. But I don’t think it’s who you really are. I know you as a loving person. When I hear you say something hurtful, I don’t see it as the real you." Social Consequences—hidden victims. Explain the impact she is having on others—that she may not be aware of. "I don’t think you knew that Mary—the eight-year-old at the table—her grandfather died of cancer earlier this month. When you said smokers deserve to get sick, she left the table. I found her sobbing in the bathroom." Model your values. Direct and vicarious experiences are the most powerful ways to change attitudes and opinions. You provide these experiences, so make sure they are positive. For example, imagine that your mother is hearing hateful opinions on TV about a certain aspect of your life, but is seeing that contradicted in the way you actually live your life. Your living example is more powerful than any media. But don’t expect her to change her words—at least not at first. She may be too prideful for that. Instead, look for her to soften her actions. Allow her actions to speak louder than words. I hope these ideas will help, David

By Charles "Chip" Huth Captain, Kansas City Police Department Police officers are frequently faced with challenging decisions that have the potential to dramatically impact the safety of the public and their fellow officers. They are trained to deal with some of the most stress-inducing circumstances imaginable, and a great deal is typically riding on how well they perform under pressure. Among the most critical skills an officer must possess is the ability to artfully engage in high stakes conversations, both with members of the public and their colleagues. Police officers are confronted with the opportunity to courageously address serious issues that impact safety and effectiveness on a daily—and oftentimes—hourly basis. Lacking the Skills Years ago, as a newly promoted supervisor, I was assigned to lead a high-risk tactical operation. While briefing the team, I noticed a veteran officer about to embark on a dangerous auxiliary assignment who was not wearing his body armor. I immediately recognized his decision was in violation of department policy, was ill advised, and could have a disastrous impact on his safety and the safety of his teammates. I felt I should pull him aside and address the issue on the spot, but I was at a loss for how to approach him. Worried that I would bumble the conversation, I chose instead to ignore the situation and hope for the best. While I recognized how potentially damaging my inaction could be, I simply lacked the necessary skills to guide me through what I knew would be a touchy discussion. When faced with the option of taking on this very important issue and risk appearing foolish or overbearing, or staying silent at great cost to the safety of all concerned, I lacked the confidence to make the right choice. Unfortunately, in our business it’s not unusual for a police officer to witness a colleague doing something that is potentially career-ending—whether it be taking miscalculated risks or behaving disdainfully toward a citizen—and fail to address it directly. Moment of Decision Even in a profession ripe with examples of valor and bravery, there is often a moment of decision between recognizing that something important needs to be said, and having the ability to engage with others in constructive dialogue in the face of competing interests. The thoughtful team at VitalSmarts has developed a comprehensive program that bridges that gap. Importance of Training Training in Crucial Conversations provides a helpful set of tools to police officers and supervisors who are faced with issues that challenge their commitment to acting for what is right. Effective communication is a life blood issue for any police agency; failure to engage in critical dialogue can erode trust, and systematically damage accountability. The Crucial Conversations curriculum does an excellent job of exposing the reasons behind our failure to hold ourselves accountable for directly challenging issues on principle. Participants in the course learn the physiological and psychological mechanisms that help drive us to "silence" or "violence" when faced with perplexing issues. These intricate concepts are broken down and explained in simplistic and easy to digest language. Applicable to Law Enforcement Last month I had the opportunity to attend Crucial Conversations training. Immediately I recognized its validity for law enforcement. During the training, we were taught how to look for Mutual Purpose when engaged in vital discussions. This act is imperative in law enforcement—a police department must gain both employee and stakeholder engagement to instill safety and security in the community. In order for a police department to promote engagement, everyone must believe their opinions and ideas are respected and valued as relevant. I found the methodology presented in the training particularly helpful when one is seeking to disentangle the person from the problem—and remain objective and open to influence from alternative perspectives. Taking Responsibility One very important aspect of the training was personal accountability. The facilitator promoted this idea by encouraging us to take responsibility for holding these conversations—rather than expecting our superiors to handle the issue. This practice is essential for law enforcement professionals, especially considering the autonomy of the average officer. Conversations around critical topics need to be handled at the lowest level possible due to the span of control in typical police organizations. Employees must feel empowered to take responsibility for seeking resolutions at the first opportunity. To Better Serve the Community Police officers are all about serving others. They are expected to model respectful and honorable behavior. This responsibility requires that they not only act honorably toward others, but also recognize opportunities to engage in critical dialogue to help others solve their problems. Beyond learning to recognize the need to act (motivation), police officers must be equipped with a skill set to guide them along the path to action (ability). The way in which police officers interact with and communicate with members of the public significantly affects the community’s prevailing opinion about the police. And certain critical interactions with the police—in life and death circumstances—occur in which poorly communicated intentions can lead to tragic results. Training in Crucial Conversations skills provides a template to help drive accountability and communicate intentions and expectations in a way that invites cooperation, increases officer and community safety, and improves neighborhoods and communities. Further comments from Crucial Conversations course facilitator Paul Luster: A significant amount of peace officer training is anchored in principles of officer safety and street survival. Unfortunately, you do not have to watch any news broadcast for a significant amount of time to determine this training is not without great merit. Research has revealed that the daily pressure associated with high stress professions, such as law enforcement, can quickly lead to hypervigilance—a heightened startle response and abnormal awareness of environmental stimuli. Observing the world in this paradigm can often lead to a host of emotional and physical problems. When this occurs, a downward communications spiral is often observed. This not only affects peace officers professionally, but in their personal lives as well. I have recognized this "downward spiral" in numerous co-workers as I have progressed through my own career. I realized department members were damaging relationships with citizens, peers, and loved ones simply because they lacked the skills to hold high stakes conversations in an effective and respectful manner. To put it simply, silence or violence was present in numerous conversations. I searched for a solution and found Crucial Conversations to be a perfect fit. The response to Crucial Conversations has been overwhelming. Participants are excited to leave the training with a skill set specifically designed to allow high stakes conversations to occur in a manner that produces genuine results. Numerous participants have contacted me after attending the course indicating how well the skills work. They no longer resort to silence or violence, but rather utilize the skills to effectively share thoughts and opinions while encouraging others to do the same. Paul Luster is operations supervisor at the Kansas City Police Crime Laboratory and also facilitates Crucial Conversations courses at the Kansas City Regional Police Academy.

https://static.vitalsmartscdn.com/kerryingon/Pablo%20Where%20Are%20You.mp3 Two weeks into my sophomore year of high school, I overheard a student speaking Spanish in the hallway. I was taking a Spanish class at the time and was aware of no student who actually spoke the language, so the sound of a trilled r caught my attention. "I am here on exchange," the stranger explained as I introduced myself. "I am called Pablo and I come from Mexico." And thus began a rather odd alliance. After making small talk for a few minutes, Pablo and I decided he would help me with Spanish and I would help him with English. We completed this feat by tutoring each other as we walked through the halls en route to several classes we shared. One morning, as the school year drew to an end, Pablo said he had been talking to his father on the phone and they had a surprise for me. I was shocked—not because Pablo had a surprise for me, but because he had talked to his father. On the phone. All the way to Mexico. At the Patterson household we used long-distance services solely to report a birth or death. Even then, Dad would pace back and forth as the phone conversation unfolded and shout out numbers as if counting down a rocket launch. "Did someone die?" I asked. "No," Pablo explained "it was just one of our weekly chats." "Holly gazillionaire!" I thought to myself. "Who has international long-distance chats?" It was at this moment I first suspected that Pablo’s parents back in Mexico weren’t driving a dented 55 Chevy like the one parked in our driveway. "As soon as this school year is over," Pablo explained, "Papá said it would be okay for you to spend the month of July with us at our family’s hacienda in the mountains. We could continue our language education, plus it would be fun." "What the heck is a hacienda?" I wondered. "I think you’ll like it there," Pablo continued. "It has stables, tennis courts, swimming pools, boats, a private lake, a landing strip, and more. So what do you think?" "I’ll have to ask my parents," I explained as I tried not to look too eager while jumping up and down and squealing like a six-year-old girl. "Good," Pablo replied, "and while you’re talking to your parents, mention that Papá thinks it’s best if you pay for your own flight." Really? Would a pig be soaring alongside that flight? Because that’s what it would take to get my dad to buy me an airline ticket. And thus ended any hopes I had of spending a glorious month cavorting at a Mexican hacienda. In an effort to save embarrassment (and not hurt Pablo’s feelings), I fabricated a conflict. "That’s the month of our big family reunion," I lied. "Maybe you should invite somebody else from school." "But you’re my best friend," Pablo said. "It would be more fun at the hacienda with my best friend." I was his best friend? I had never even invited Pablo over to our house. We didn’t play poker on Friday nights. We didn’t hang out. We had only talked in the hall—and then mostly about grammar. We were acquaintances, at best. I don’t remember what I said to Pablo that day as I tried to gracefully decline his generous invitation. I do remember wondering if Pablo had been lonely and I hadn’t even noticed. More importantly, what kind of a friend is someone who doesn’t even know he is a friend? Decades passed until one day our ten-year-old granddaughter Rachel once again brought to my attention the fact that making friends can be tricky. After returning with her family from a stint overseas, Rachel had entered school mid-semester and was having trouble finding a playmate. At lunch she would approach each clutch of girls her age and politely ask if she could play with them. Each said no. Rachel continued with this tactic for two weeks until she finally gave up. When my daughter told me about this, I felt sick. The image of a sweet little girl being rejected over and over tore at my heart. "Teachers need to watch for that," I thought, "or a kid could be scarred for life." "Schools aren’t staffed for that kind of monitoring," explained my neighbor who was teaching school at the time. "Besides, you can’t force kids into friendships. They have to form naturally." My thoughts turned to these two events after hearing several news stories—all reporting that feelings of loneliness, isolation, and social discomfort are on the rise (and not merely with exchange students and late arrivers). Apparently electronic devices are making it difficult for some individuals to make human connections and to enjoy them once they do. Young people are particularly vulnerable. Since many of today’s youth spend a good portion of their time silently playing side-by-side at game consoles and then when they do talk, doing so via text, many are entering the workforce with an aversion to face-to-face (and group) interactions. According to one report, many Millennials appear as if they’d rather be texting their responses during a job interview than talking in person. Others are having trouble empathizing. Still others are feeling lonely. Having watched what happened to Rachel a few years back, my own offspring are doing their best to combat the effects of both machine and human-based isolation. To begin with, they ensure that their kids belong to sports, music, academic, and/or special-interest groups where participants are required to (1) meet face-to-face, (2) talk, and (3) cooperate. Nothing else will do. "Think about participating in band," my daughter explained. "Band members know who they’ll sit with at lunch before they even show up at high school. That’s a big deal." I mentioned this to my fifteen-year-old neighbor and he eagerly responded, "I went to band practice the summer before high school and when I nervously walked through the high school doors the first day of school, I realized that I knew dozens of my classmates and had lots of friends! All in the band." His brother explained that he had experienced something similarly comforting, only with the robot club. Clubs and teams can be a great help in providing social experiences, but not without work. Make sure that as youngsters gather to build robots or shoot baskets, they also learn how to interact effectively. Blend music, sports, and science skills with tutoring in social skills. Blend physical fitness with training in social fitness. Watch to see if participants know how to carry their part of a conversation, work through differences of opinion, graciously include a new or shy member, talk comfortably in a group, and encourage teammates who are struggling. When you observe problems, teach solutions. For years we’ve helped young people study math, biology, and literature. What a blessing it would be if we started teaching them how to bond with peers, strengthen groups, and make life-long friends. And Pablo (wherever you may be), do you still own that hacienda? I was just wondering.

Dear Joseph, You have previously written that, "Bosses will listen to anyone if they feel safe with them." You’ve also said that one of the conditions for safety is that the boss feels respected. Here’s my problem: I DON’T respect my boss. Should I try to fake it? Signed, Working for an Oaf Dear Working for an Oaf, You are asking a profound question and I will treat it with all the reverence it deserves. You are absolutely right that THE barrier to you creating safety with your boss is your own disrespect for him or her. What you may not realize is that your disrespect might be much more about you than it is about your boss. Respect is a heck of a lot more fluid than we think. You made the statement, "I don’t respect my boss." That makes it sounds as though your disrespect is a fixed fact—that it is the natural result of his or her attributes (he or she is dishonest) or behaviors (he or she picks his or her nose during meetings)—and is, therefore, out of your control. This is wrong. Here is the principle: It is impossible to disrespect a whole person. The only way you can maintain disgust for another is to hold only his or her flaws in your mind—assiduously avoiding acknowledgement of his or her redeeming qualities. It is easy to despise the caricature of a person we concoct. But please notice it is you that concocts it. You do so by excising another’s back story, their good days, and their virtues, while fixating on their vices, bad choices, and weaknesses. I saw profound evidence of this six months ago. I witnessed a remarkable shift in two people’s view of each other. One I will call Cathy—a prosecutor in a county attorney’s office. One day, a new case appeared on Cathy’s desk that made her smile. It was for a thirty-five-year-old repeat felon named Jason. During her years as a prosecutor, Cathy had had the "pleasure" of locking him up a number of times. She particularly enjoyed doing it because the first time she met Jason—seventeen years earlier—he had assaulted her. She was a policewoman at the time. When she encountered Jason, he was high on meth and became violent toward her. She told me, "I was horrified that day when I put my hand on my service revolver to withdraw it from the holster. The thought occurred to me, ‘I may have to kill him.’" She never forgot Jason. After becoming a prosecutor, she took every chance she got to lock him up for as long as she could. And she did a good job. Between ages eighteen and thirty-five, he spent thirteen years in prisons and jails. Cathy had decided Jason was a "dirt bag"—a hopeless career criminal. For his part, Jason developed a clear impression of Cathy. If you’ll allow me to sanitize this a bit—he referred to her as "that witch." When he would look across the courtroom and see her, he felt pure loathing. In his mind, she was a power-hungry jerk who took advantage of those with poor representation. All of this changed in July 2014, when Jason and Cathy had an unexpected conversation. Different from previous occasions—when their conversation was constrained by legal posturing—it was just the two of them telling their stories. This time, Cathy listened. This time, Jason listened. Jason described life with a prostitute mother. Being molested by her customers. Joining a gang for refuge. Using drugs to anesthetize his aching mind. Learning violence as a survival skill. He confessed to his self-loathing and the deep shame he felt for the person he had become. Cathy was moved. For her part she described the trauma of his attack seventeen years earlier. She detailed the testimonies of his victims from over the years—and the feeling of obligation she had to defend their rights. When Jason left that jail interview room, Cathy looked different. As Cathy drove from the jail, she had a sobering new view of Jason—a more complete view. While neither will join a bridge club together anytime soon, both had a new found respect for one another that came from demolishing the simplistic view that had sustained their mutual resentment. Can you respect someone you don’t respect? Oh yes! But that cannot happen until you own the fact that your disrespect is just that—yours. You are sustaining it by maintaining a distorted story of the other person. Let me be clear. I am not suggesting that you should put up with your boss’s dishonesty, incompetence, rudeness—or whatever the presenting problems are in your case. My only point is that you are in no position to take healthy action until you own your side of the problem. Once you can see your boss as a human being, worthy of civility and respect, you will be able to choose rather than react. Then you can decide how to take responsibility for your own needs. You have two options: Set boundaries. You can have a crucial conversation with your boss in order to find a way to navigate his or her obvious flaws. Decide how to set boundaries that will allow you to work positively—and perhaps even influence your boss to become better. Fire your boss. You may decide that setting boundaries to make things workable would require more energy than you are willing to invest. That could be a perfectly healthy decision. But if you have "mastered your story," you will not blame your boss for your decision to leave. You will not waste energy after you leave trashing your boss to others. You will leave taking responsibility for your choice and seeing the boss as someone kind of like you—a human being with both beauty and flaws. You will know you have graduated from telling a Villain Story to telling a healthy one when, like Jason and Cathy, your moral certainty is replaced with curiosity, and your disgust gives way to compassion. I find I am most understanding of others’ weaknesses when I am most aware of my own. I am most triggered by weaknesses in others that, at some fundamental level, reflect shame I feel toward myself. Disrespect is not inevitable. It is a fragile fiction we sustain with a story we tell. Sincerely, Joseph P.S. For simplicity, I did not qualify my response to include figures of pure evil. I believe they exist. I do not respect them. But I think they are very few in number.

Dear David, I’ve been looking for a job for over two months now, and I think one of my main problems is answering the question, "Why did you leave your last position?" I resigned, but felt forced to because of a toxic environment following my reporting of sexual harassment by my boss. For the first time in my thirty-four-year career, I was suddenly being written up repeatedly. Still, despite letters of support by other supervisors, the bad behavior by my boss continued. Human resources was no help, so I left. It is difficult to answer these questions in a positive way to potential employers and I certainly don’t want to get into any of the sordid details. Help! Sincerely, At a Loss Dear At a Loss, I’m sorry you’ve had your career derailed in this way, but you are not alone. We get questions from many readers who find themselves in similar situations. I hope your experience and your willingness to share it will help others. My suggestions will stem from two basic principles: 1. Don’t speak ill of your past employer. 2. Focus on the contributions you will make to your prospective employer. Homework. Assume that, if your interview goes well, your future employer will want references. And they will expect at least one reference from your latest employer. You mention letters of support from other supervisors. My recommendation is to ask one of these supporters to write a reference letter you can keep on file. Give this person an outline of your strengths and the job experiences that demonstrate those strengths. This letter can substitute for a recommendation from your supervisor. Make Lemonade Out of Leaving. Even though you didn’t want to leave your last job, it’s likely there are personal and professional advantages for having left. For example, you’ve gained exceptional experience in one industry/organization, and now you have the opportunity to bring your skills to a different industry/organization with new opportunities and challenges. Use this change of scene to reignite your passion for your career, and share this passion in your interview. Explain how your experience in a different industry/organization will bring a new perspective to a new organization. Don’t Badmouth Your Past Employer. By the time you get to an interview, the people you’re meeting with have already read your resume, and have decided you’re qualified—at least on paper. What they are looking for in the interview is a good fit and any disqualifiers. Your goal should be to show them that you are a strong team player—someone they will enjoy working with. Describing a toxic work environment at your past employer creates a big question mark. It makes them wonder whether you played a role in creating the toxic environment, and whether you would bring that toxicity into their organization. Don’t go there. Catalog Your Competencies. Consider the skills you bring. It might be helpful to categorize them, so you don’t miss any. Then, once you’ve determined your skills, identify an experience or project that can serve as a proof point for each skill. Remember, employers are buying performance, not potential, so you need to be able to demonstrate how you’ve applied each skill. Below are a few skill buckets to consider: Task Specific—skills that apply to the daily tasks you do: programming, customer service, financial, legal, etc. Context Specific—knowledge you have about the industry, business trends, current risks, and opportunities, etc. Transferable Skills—your talent for writing, analysis, project management, performance improvement, presentation skills, etc. Personal Skills—your experience with leadership, teamwork, conflict management, motivation, initiative, accountability, etc. Develop Your Brand. Imagine you are a product that you are marketing to others. What is your brand? Your brand includes who you are, what you do, and how you do it. It should be your unique promise of value—what you are known for. Consider your personal values, your personal strengths, and what makes you an outstanding contributor. PricewaterhouseCoopers has created a detailed workbook that can help you create your personal brand. I recommend it—even to readers who aren’t looking for a job. Urgency and Patience. You’ve been job-hunting for two months now. I’m sure that seems like forever, but it’s really not. And you’ve already gotten some job interviews. That’s a great sign, because it means you have what employers are looking for. Keep your job search going at an urgent pace. Keep networking, get those applications in, and keep honing your interviewing skills. At the same time, practice patience with yourself, your family, and your prospective employers. The hiring process is slow and deliberate. Find ways to build self and family time into this forced vacation. Best Wishes, David

Have Dear Crucial Skills, I have a team of three individuals. They are all hard workers and have been with the company for a long time. I have been their manager for almost five years now. Over the last year, we have gone through some organizational changes that have made them feel, as they have stated, "undervalued" and "overworked." In an effort to boost morale, I have tried to provide them with random perks to show how valued they are and how much I appreciate them. However, it seems like they are now starting to take advantage of my kindness. For example, I gave each of them alternating Fridays throughout the summer to leave at 3:00 p.m. as long as there wasn’t anything major pending. Now I am getting emails like "I am leaving on Thursday at three because I have a something I need to do." Or, "I am going to work from home today since it is my Friday to leave early anyway." How can I pull back from some of these "perks" without them spiraling down into their previous feelings? Regards, Perk ‘Em Up Dear Perk ‘Em Up, Managing employees who feel "undervalued" and "overworked" is common. In 2011, the American Psychological Association reported that 48 percent of U.S. employees feel "undervalued" at work. Much has been written about what organizations can do to foster a healthy work environment. Yet the question remains—what can a single manager of three people do? Individual managers don’t have all the levers that organizations do. They can’t change the compensation system, the building layout, or whether there is free food in the cafeteria and an onsite masseur. However, most of us intuitively know what research has shown: people quit their managers not their jobs. A manager has a huge impact on employee engagement and retention—even more than a Ping-Pong table in the break room. So, what is a manager to do? First, get really, really clear on what you want and why you want it. As a manager myself, I have been highly influenced by the work of Clayton Christensen. I will always remember reading an article by Dr. Christensen in which he described what the core of management is—giving people the opportunity to learn, grow in responsibilities, contribute to others, and be recognized for achievements. What is absent from this list? Free sodas in the break room. I believe that one of the most important things I do as a manager is making sure my people go home feeling good at the end of each day. I want them to feel as if they have accomplished something, been recognized for it, and contributed positively to others. I want to send them home that way because the most important work we do is not in our organizations—it is in our homes, our families, and our communities. Sending someone home to her six-year-old daughter feeling overworked and undervalued creates an unproductive home dynamic. So, that is what I really, really want—for work to get done in a productive manner under conditions in which employees thrive. Our friend and colleague Rich Sheridan, CEO of Menlo Innovations, would sum this up more succinctly: "I want to create joy in the workplace." The benefit of getting clear on this is that it allows you to put into perspective all the things that don’t matter. If work is getting done productively and people are taking joy home to their families, why does it matter if someone leaves early? Why would I feel taken advantage of if someone assumes they can work from home? It only matters if I think my role as a manager is to make sure people are in their offices from 9 to 5 each day. That is not the role I choose as a manager. Second, understand what really creates joy, satisfaction, and value in the workplace. In all honesty, it is probably not what you think it is. It is a very human tendency to look first to perks, rewards, and incentives to motivate, recognize, and engage people. I do this in my own life. When I have a hard task that I am tempted to put off, I promise myself a reward: finish this newsletter article on time and I can treat myself to that chocolate-dipped Oreo I have been craving. When it comes to dealing with others, we do this as well. Need to motivate your teenager to clean his room? Withhold his allowance until it is cleaned to your satisfaction. Want your employees to feel valued? Let them have "early-out" on summer Fridays. Don’t mistake me—rewards, incentives, and perks are important influence tools in our manager toolbox. But they can backfire, especially when used in isolation. If all you do is offer a reward, you miss out on other more powerful sources of motivation and engagement. As you think about ways to engage "overworked and undervalued" employees, consider these other sources of motivation. 1. Get things done. Again, I learned this from Rich Sheridan. People love to get things done. There is incredible satisfaction that comes from checking off an item on the list of things to do—the ability to look at a finished result and say, "Yep, I did that today." As Sheridan says, "Done releases endorphins, the body’s natural opiate, and it’s addictive." People want to come to work and finish something. But too often, process and people get in the way of getting things done. So how can you as a manager make sure you are taking down barriers and allowing your people to actually accomplish work? 2. Connect to what they value. This is especially important in times of organizational change. It is imperative that managers find ways to connect the work that is being done to the things that people value most. Not only do people want to get work done, they want to get meaningful work done. Make sure you find ways to regularly and powerfully connect the work people are doing to the value that work provides. 3. Recognize achievement. When you do give a reward of some kind, make sure to link it to a specific behavior or achievement. This is different than just giving someone a perk—it is frequent, specific, and timely. It requires a manager to have a great deal of insight into what is important to an employee and how best to recognize someone. And it is not recognition for recognition’s sake. It is not saying, "Good job for showing up to work today." Managers should link recognition to specific behaviors, e.g., "I really appreciated how much time to you took to address that client’s need. You demonstrated a lot of empathy." Third, have a conversation. If you believe that employees are behaving in ways that are dragging down the organization or your relationship, talk to them about it. Be transparent and treat your employees as your equals. It is absolutely fine to approach them as a group and say, "You three have done wonderful work this past year as we have navigated through these organizational changes. I know there were times when you felt overworked and undervalued. I attempted to mitigate some of those feelings by introducing the policy of leaving at 3:00 p.m. on alternate Fridays during the summer. Now, I notice, there are times where you are taking off early on Thursdays or working from home on Fridays. I don’t want to curtail a perk that is meaningful to you and helps you know how much you are valued. At the same time, I am starting to feel like you are taking advantage of the initial perk by stretching it past the original boundaries. Can we talk about things I can do to help you feel valued and recognized for the great work we do, while also not feeling like things are being taken too far?" When you involve them candidly in the discussion, you can surface the issues and come to a joint resolution that everyone will be committed to. Best of luck! Emily

To help more of our readers with their crucial conversations, accountability discussions, and behavior change challenges, we introduced the Community Q&A column! Please share your answers to this reader’s question in the comments below. Dear Crucial Skills, How do you tell someone that they are no longer a fit for the demands of their current position? I need to tell an employee that they should step down into a lesser role or else they may end up losing their job due to poor performance. Sincerely, Stuck Manager

Dear Joseph, I was raised in an abusive home—both physically and emotionally—and after many years of estrangement, my abuser would like to have a relationship with me. Now that I am expanding my own family, she is very interested in doing what it takes to be part of my and my children’s lives. I don’t know if she has truly changed, but if she has, I would love for my children to have a grandparent in their life. I am well versed in Crucial Conversations, but I honestly have no idea where to start. How do you rebuild Safety and Mutual Respect that has degenerated to the point of non-existence? Signed, To Forgive or Protect? Dear Forgive or Protect, I am so sorry about the pain of your early life. No one should have to endure that kind of torment. Which is why I am confident you will step up to the advice I have to offer for the sake of your children. When you were younger, you were completely vulnerable. You needed someone to protect you—and no one was there. Our primary duty to our children is to ensure their physical and emotional safety. Next comes love and nurturing. But basic safety is foundational. Grandparents are great—but safety comes first. You know what it’s like to look to people in your life and be unable to trust them for this most basic of needs. You now have the chance to get that right for your children. Every decision you make needs to put their safety first. If gaining a grandparent introduces even a small chance of preventable harm, the grandparent goes. With that in mind, here are some thoughts about how you might approach this situation. 1. If you can’t talk about it, it’s not over. My first question is, have you been able to thoroughly discuss the abuse you experienced with this person? If not, then you can have no confidence that the behavior you saw in the past will not repeat itself. Do not offer your trust until there is acknowledgment. This conversation may open your eyes to emotional trauma this individual struggled with as well. You may feel deep empathy for them as a result. But don’t equate empathy with tolerance. A healthy and open conversation is a good start. In fact, it is a prerequisite for building trust—but it is not the end. 2. Use yourself, not your children, as the guinea pig. Even if you are able to honestly discuss the past, you must still test the present. Don’t allow this person to connect with your children until you have sufficient time to rebuild your own trust with them. This could take a year or more. This investment in time might give you a chance to heal from your trauma as well. If she pressures you for access to the grandchildren sooner, but is unwilling to invest in rebuilding trust with you first, I would be concerned she is still in denial about the scale of her challenge and the reality of your abuse. 3. Set boundaries to test for reform. If the time comes that you feel very confident that she can honor you and your boundaries in your relationship with her, I would slowly introduce her to the grandchildren—and do so under controlled circumstances at first. In summary, I would begin the process of building a new relationship by: a) Letting her know you are open to it—in fact, are grateful for her interest in kindling it. b) Giving her a picture of the kind of time and investment you will need from her in order to create it. This will likely be a tricky conversation. She may well feel hurt or defensive by your requests. And I’ll emphasize again, you should judge the likelihood of a healthy relationship in the future by her capacity to engage well with you in this first conversation! I wish you the best as you care for yourself and your precious children. Warmly, Joseph

https://static.vitalsmartscdn.com/kerryingon/French-Fried+Memories.mp3 When I entered the eighth grade in 1959, I was given the option to study either Latin or French. I chose French because from what I understood, the French weren’t dead yet. Miss Limply, the school’s French teacher, launched the first day of class by showing a cartoon of the Three Little Pigs. From the confusing muddle of sounds blaring from the projector, I learned only one word—loup—or wolf. It made me laugh because it was pronounced loo, and in England that’s a toilet. Perhaps French was going to be fun. Sadly, the second day of class brought no new amusing words. Instead, it involved a lot of verb and gender hoo-hah that seemed far too complicated to learn. Especially when my preferred mode of learning was passing notes to the girl who sat next to me. Perhaps I should drop the class before it was too late? The only other elective offered during that time slot was metal shop—which a friend told me consisted largely of burning things in a forge. Let’s see, which would I prefer? Conjugating French verbs or melting American lunch boxes? After two weeks of falling hopelessly behind in French, I said goodbye to Miss Limply, crossed the great cultural divide that separated the language learning center from the metal shop, and began the task of making a cup out of a soup can. To this day, the only thing I recall from my brief brush with French is that "loup" means wolf, and I’ve not once had an occasion to use that tidbit. That’s not entirely true. I did try to sneak "loup" into the conversation one afternoon when I was having lunch with a group of European executives in Munich. We were chatting about American authors and I was keeping up nicely until the conversation turned to European authors of whom I knew nothing. It was embarrassing to see how much these Europeans knew about American culture and how little I knew about anything European. To joke my way out of my egregiously parochial view, I decided to say that I didn’t know much about European authors because I had been raised by wolves. Ha, ha! Get it? Raised by wolves! This entire conversation was taking place in English but, for reasons I’ll never know, I decided that this was the perfect time to impress my European colleagues by using my one French word, loup. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure what the plural was for loup so I said: "I was raised by loupies." My European colleagues thought I said lupus and stared at me with an odd mix of confusion and pity. It was really quite awkward. I had forgotten about these language misfires until the day of my fifty-year high-school reunion when I ran into an old friend, Bernadine Westin. She introduced me to her husband as "her French connection." At first, I had no idea what she was talking about. Bernadine reminded me that during those two weeks I had studied French back in 1959, Miss Limply had passed out the names and addresses of eighth-grade students in France who were eager to be our pen pals. Every month we were supposed to write our pal a chatty letter in French and he or she would write us back in English. This sounded like a lot of work to me so I gladly gave the name and address of my proposed pen pal to Bernadine. She desperately wanted to correspond with someone in Europe, but hadn’t signed up for a language class. Now, some fifty-five years later, Bernadine was thanking me for graciously giving up my chance to make a European connection. Bernadine went on to explain that since 1959, she had faithfully written her French pen pal every month. To this day, the two continue to write each other, occasionally travel together, and (in her own words) embody the meaning of "BFFs." According to Bernadine, all this had transpired, thanks to me! Me, a selfless classmate who had abandoned any hope of a rewarding international experience by giving her my pen pal, without asking for anything in return. I took the praise like a man. That is, I took full credit for something I didn’t actually do. The effort Bernadine put in to being a successful pen pal was truly remarkable. She had to learn French, travel to the post office, buy stamps, mail the letters, and did I mention learn French? But then again, her dedication had earned her something the rest of us never gained—a precious friend from a whole new culture—and an enriching world view. And then it hit me. Everyone should have their own life-long pen-pal! Only without so much work. With the aid of today’s technology, you could just push a button and voilà! There on the screen would appear a live person from France, or China, or Uzbekistan! I’m imagining software that could immediately translate whatever you say, with no confusion or awkward waiting. It would also match your lips to the words your smart device conjures so it would look and feel like an actual conversation. It would be an actual conversation. As an aside, my colleagues tell me that Google Translate and other language recognition software may not be far off in creating something like this. Having meaningful contact with pals from afar would go a long way toward engendering cross-cultural awareness. At a time when many of today’s youth (and adults) are capturing every little thing they do in "selfies," and when narcissism scores are (you guessed it) on the rise, what would it be like if today’s youngsters were in frequent contact and deep conversation with e-pals around the world? Fortunately, lots of young people are doing just that. They have international e-friends, and many are entering language-immersion schools starting as early as the first grade. But what if we turned the best-and-brightest of Silicon Valley to designing the technology required to produce the software I’ve proposed? Once created, we could give a device to every grade-school child in the world—along with an e-pal address of a person they’d be assigned to chat with (e-face to e-face) a couple of times a week. Imagine a world where we’ve all been transformed into a Bernadine. With constant contact from friends abroad, we would gain a deep appreciation for cultural differences along with a true empathy for others’ challenges. Plus we’d know enough about world events and people that we would never again have to say that we had been raised by loupies. Best of all, if negotiations were to break down at, say, a world peace conference and leaders started to consider using forceful methods, they’d fondly remember their e-pal. And so would millions of other people who would have been chatting with their foreign buddies about sports, music, fake vomit, and annoying relatives twice a week since the first grade. Having enjoyed thousands of casual yet curiously bonding conversations with friends from afar, nobody would think of using force (and certainly not violence) as a tool for dealing with "foreigners." So what do you think of my proposal Miss Limply? Mucho clever, right? Mucho clever.

We work in a three-generational workplace. Each generation is different and we often struggle to dialogue well across generations. What tips do you have to bridge this gap in our crucial conversations? First let me compliment you in attempting to proactively seek ways to bridge this "generational gap." Many people have just assumed that the gap is too great or too much trouble. So thanks for taking the time to make this inquiry! You might be interested to learn that VitalSmarts conducted a study early last year called: The Great Generational Divide. This study showed that unaddressed resentment between Baby Boomers, Gen Xers, and Millennials saps productivity by as much as 12 percent. You can see the results of the study here: 
http://www.vitalsmarts.com/press/2014/02/the-great-generational-divide/ Let me make a couple of observations and suggestions to add to these very helpful insights on attempting to engage in dialogue across this generational divide. It has been said that conflict is inevitable, but resentment is optional. We often encounter conflict because our background, our education and experiences differ so greatly. But how we choose to handle these conflicts can either lead to talking it out or acting it out. Start With Heart The greatest skills and strategies designed to bridge these generational gaps will fail if our heart, or motive is not continually focused on the larger picture of finding a way to connect with the other person. This is an exercise in emotional maturity. In the midst of high stakes, opposing opinions, and strong emotions, can we find a way to change the motives of avoiding or attacking to those of listening and learning? Can we come to these generational encounters with a heart of genuine curiosity to learn about others, to lean into their reality and seek first to understand their world? Once you’ve paid attention to your heart and adjusted your motive, the following skills from this research study will serve you well: 1. Make it safe. Begin by clarifying your respect as well as your intent to achieve a mutual goal. 2. Start with the facts. Describe your concerns facts first. Don’t lead with your judgments about others’ age or conclusions as to why they behaved the way they did. Start by describing in non-judgmental and objective terms the actual behaviors that create problems. 3. Don’t pile on. If your colleague becomes defensive, pause for a moment and check in. Reassure him or her of your positive intentions and allow him or her to express concerns. 4. Invite dialogue. After sharing your concerns, encourage your colleague to share his or her perspective. Inviting dialogue will result in greater openness.

Years ago I joined an organization and discovered a character who worked there. He was an interesting blend of wisdom, mischief, creativity, and crazy. You know that type. I’d find him engaged in some strange activity, or distilling some semi-absurd piece of advice, and think, "What in the world??!!?!" I’d walk away and invariably the idea or activity would start to unfold in my mind; and what seemed like utter nonsense started to bloom into genius. So here’s one of his "crazy" ideas. One day I walked into his office for some reason, and he immediately started in with an idea he was toying with. "People who train in short bursts are vastly more effective at creating behavior change." I thought to myself, "Did he just say training in short bursts? What in the world?" I listened politely as he went on to describe that breaking training into small chunks and delivering it over a spaced period of time allows participants to assimilate the learning points and have them incorporate the new ideas into their everyday routine. All the while I was generating reasons why the idea was more crazy than practical. And can you blame me? Even the term "short bursts" was a little on the "far out there" side (ok, maybe a lot on the "far out there" side). Some of my other colleagues confirmed my original thoughts when they came up with the slightly mocking slogan, "Look Mom! I’m training in short bursts!" Fast forward some years. I was working on particularly difficult training rollout design. We were trying to transform training’s image from learning event to learning experience. We need to make sure that leaders, especially the mid-level group, were having more regular learning experiences. I was wrestling with how to do this when it hit me, "We need to take this program and spread it out over a longer period of time. We need to ‘train in short bursts!’" The idea had come full circle. We did it, and it worked. Since that time, a lot of research has emerged confirming the results we experienced in that organizational initiative. Anders Ericsson, for one, in his research, demonstrates the benefit of breaking ideas and concepts into small pieces (I wonder if he researched in short bursts?). It’s a funny thing to consider how what once was a crazy, outlandish, radical idea is now one of the best-proven ways to go about training. So now I say to you, "Go forth and train in short bursts!"

You and I are shockingly easy to manipulate. Decades of social science experiments show that we can be induced to donate or steal, stand for justice or proliferate racism, vote or stay home, torture or pity. It’s time we stopped reading social science for fascinating facts about humans in general, and started using it to navigate our own lives. It’s time we acknowledge how little control we have over our own behavior—and start taking control of the things that control us. Only then will we be the real agents of our own behavior. Only then will we be able to live up to the morals, goals, and aspirations we most cherish. A great place to start taking control of the things that control you is to become an Influence Spotter. As you move about in public, engage with media and interact with others, pick one influence tactic at a time and spend a week learning to spot examples of it. Our research shows that you are least subject to manipulation when you are most conscious of its attempt. For example, if you know someone is raising her voice in order to intimidate you, you may feel a bit less intimidated. Here are four great "spotting" exercises to begin with. They come to us from Stanford Psychologist Albert Bandura. In Bandura’s forthcoming book, Moral Disengagement: How People Do Harm and Live With Themselves, he describes four common ways people like you and me are manipulated into supporting and doing despicable things. To help bring them to life—see if you can spot them in our most recent Behavioral Science Guys experiment. 1. Minimizing the behavior. This is often accomplished by using sanitizing euphemisms to describe what we’re doing that sanitize it. There’s a reason CIA officials insist on referring to waterboarding as "enhanced interrogation" rather than "torture." In our experiment we test whether having a confederate urge teens to "sweeten their score" causes more to compromise their morals than if we call it "lying." 2. Minimizing consequences. In our experiment, the confederate helps subjects minimize the consequences of their choices with advantageous comparisons—for example, "It’s not like we’re killing someone here!" For years tobacco companies attempted to salve consciences by refuting connections between smoking and cancer. The murkier they made the connection, the less repugnant their product appeared. We sometimes minimize consequences in our own minds when we make choices inconsistent with our values—for example, "One ice cream cone won’t cause a heart attack!" 3. Dehumanize victims. Recently, the world was in an uproar about the apparent North-Korean-backed cyber-attack on Sony Studios. The alleged goal was to stop the release of "The Interview"—a comedy depicting an assassination of Kim Jong Un. Absent from all of this moral outrage is appropriate disgust at a comedic representation of the assassination of a sitting head-of-state. Why no outcry? Because we see Kim Jong Un as a ruthless buffoon. He is a caricature not a human—so we give ourselves permission to act toward him in ways we would not toward say, President Obama. Imagine our reaction if another country produced a television sitcom celebrating the kidnap and torture of our sitting head of state. Manipulating the representation of victims is one of the most common tactics practiced on you. Sometimes it’s used in reverse. For example, a study showed that voters are 90 percent more likely to favor protecting a species called the furry-nosed otter than the same creature if called the sharp-clawed otter. Change Sheep-eating Eagle to American Eagle and we are 75 percent more likely to take it under our wing. In our experiment, some teen subjects were told they were competing against a team called "The Rats" while others were told it was simply "Team B." On hearing their name, one boy wryly commented, "That’s an unfortunate name." Notice also that as we debate the use of various coercive methods in the US, we refer to those whom we practice them on as "enemy combatants." An unfortunate name if you want people to consider your humanity. 4. Finally, the granddaddy of all manipulations: moral justification. We are in peril of disconnecting from our conscience when we begin to justify our means with noble-sounding ends. In our experiment, some subjects were offered the chance to donate their winnings to a children’s charity (we did, in fact, make the donation). They were told that the fictitious other team was keeping their winnings for themselves. As subject kids cheated it was common to hear, "It’s for the children!" Dr. Bandura pointed out a painful hypocrisy in our own experiment: "You are justifying lying to kids in order to pursue knowledge—how do you feel about that?" When we loaded our subjects (if you just noted that "subject" is a dehumanizing word you’re already influence spotting!) with all four manipulation tactics they made more than three times as many dishonest choices. Think about it! These aren’t bad kids—these are normal kids being subjected to powerful influence tactics. Their choices were far less about them than about the things controlling them. Which is why you and I need to learn to take control of the things that control us. Now, let me hasten to add that I am not taking a position here on decisions like the manufacture of cigarettes, the use of water boarding, or deception in social science experiments. I have my own feelings on those topics and I suspect you do as well. What I am suggesting is that as you and I sort out our opinions, there are things we and others do that cloud and confuse the moral calculation. If you want to stay connected to your conscience, the best course is to learn to spot these manipulations—both self-imposed and external—and reframe the choice in an honest way. "I am breaking my commitment to myself by ordering a Mucho Grande Mocha Latte. Do I want to do that?" At times, the answer may be yes. But at least it will then be a thoughtful yes. Join me in creating a better and more conscious world by becoming an Influence Spotter. Good Luck, Joseph

Dear Joseph, I find that I struggle with successful interpersonal relationships at work. I continually run into conflict with my teammates as well as my boss, and they don’t end well. I’m starting to feel like a total communications failure. Can you help me understand better ways to rebuild trust and connection with my team? Sincerely, Deflated Team Member Dear Deflated, Thank you for asking such an insightful question. I’ve invited my good friend Dr. Travis Bradberry, author of Emotional Intelligence 2.0, to help me respond to this question. Between the two of us, we’ve spent fifty years studying what makes people successful at work. A persistent finding in both of our research is that your ability to handle moments of conflict has a massive impact on your success. How you handle conflict determines the amount of trust, respect, and connection you have with your colleagues. Conflict typically boils down to crucial conversations—moments when the stakes are high, emotions run strong, and opinions differ. And you cannot master crucial conversations without a high degree of emotional intelligence (EQ). With a mastery of conflict being so critical to your success, it’s no wonder that, among the million-plus people that Travis and his team at TalentSmart have tested, more than 90 percent of top performers have high EQs. So how can you use emotional intelligence to master crucial conversations? There are five common mistakes you must avoid, and five alternative strategies you can follow that will take you down the right path. Mistake #1: Being Brutally Honest You’ve suffered in silence long enough. Your colleague continues to park so close to your car that you have to enter through the passenger door. You’ve asked her before to stop. After a dozen more violations of your request, you decide you’ve suffered long enough. Clearly, she needs to know what you think of her intentional disrespect. So you let her have it. You get right in her face and tell her what an inconsiderate jerk she is. How to beat this? Honesty without brutality. From a young age, we’re taught to believe that we have to choose between telling the truth and keeping a friend—that the only options are brutality or harmony. With emotional intelligence, you can speak the truth without burning a bridge. Have you ever noticed how some conversations—even ones about very risky subjects—go very well? And others, even ones about trivial things, can degenerate into combat? The antidote to conflict is not diluting your message. It’s creating safety. Many people think the content of the conversation is what makes people defensive, so they assume it’s best to just go for it and be brutally honest. It isn’t. People don’t get defensive because of the content—they get defensive because of the intent they perceive behind it. It isn’t the truth that hurts, it’s the malice used to deliver the truth. Mistake #2: Robotically Sharing Your Feelings Some well-intentioned "communication" professionals suggest that when it’s time to speak up, the diplomatic way to do so is to start by sharing your feelings. For example, you tell your parking-impaired colleague, "I feel rage and disgust." Somehow that’s supposed to help. It doesn’t. People don’t work this way. Robotically sharing your feelings only alienates, annoys, and confuses them. How to beat this? Start with the facts. Our brains often serve us poorly during crucial conversations. In order to maximize cognitive efficiency, our minds store feelings and conclusions, but not the facts that created them. That’s why, when you give your colleague negative feedback and he asks for an example, you often hem and haw. You truly can’t remember. So you repeat your feelings or conclusions, but offer few helpful facts. Gathering the facts beforehand is the homework required to master crucial conversations. Before opening your mouth, think through the basic information that helped you think or feel the way you do—and prepare to share it first. Mistake #3: Defending Your Position When someone takes an opposing view on a topic you care deeply about, the natural human response is "defense." Our brains are hard-wired to assess for threats, but when we let feelings of being threatened hijack our behavior, things never end well. In a crucial conversation, getting defensive is a surefire path to failure. How to beat this? Get curious. A great way to inoculate yourself against defensiveness is to develop a healthy doubt about your own certainty. Then, enter the conversation with intense curiosity about the other person’s world. Give yourself a detective’s task of discovering why a reasonable, rational, and decent person would think the way he or she does. As former Secretary of State Dean Rusk said, "The best way to persuade others is with your ears, by listening." When others feel deeply understood, they become far more open to hearing you. Mistake #4: Blaming Others for Your Situation Your boss tells you she’ll go to bat for you for a promotion. You hear later that she advocated for your colleague instead. You feel betrayed and angry. Certainly, your boss is the one responsible for your pain—right? Truth is, she’s not the only one. How to beat this? Challenge your perspective. When we feel threatened, we amplify our negative emotions by blaming other people for our problems. You cannot master conflict until you recognize the role you’ve played in creating your circumstances. Your boss may have passed you over, but she did so for a reason. Half your pain is the result of her betrayal; the other half is due to your disappointment over not performing well enough to win the promotion. Mistake #5: Worrying About the Risks of Speaking Up It’s easy for crucial conversations to fill you with dread. Under the influence of such stress, your negative self-talk takes over and you obsess over all the bad things that might happen if you speak up. You conjure images of conflict, retribution, isolation, and pain until you retreat into silence. How to beat this? Determine the risks of not speaking up. The fastest way to motivate yourself to step up to difficult conversations is to simply articulate the costs of not speaking up. VitalSmarts research shows that those who consistently speak up aren’t necessarily more courageous; they’re simply more accurate. First, they scrupulously review what is likely to happen if they fail to speak up. Second, they ponder what might happen if they speak up and things go well. And finally (the order is important), they consider what may happen if the conversation goes poorly. Once they have an accurate understanding of the possibilities, saying something is their typical choice. Bringing It All Together The only way to win an argument is to never have one in the first place. Successful people know this—they don’t avoid conflict. They know that they can do something productive with it before things get out of hand. Apply these strategies the next time you’re facing a challenging situation and you’ll be amazed by the results. Good Luck, Joseph and Travis

Dear David, I am a young executive who has managed to climb the corporate ladder at a rapid pace. My current boss of seven years has been part of my success as he closely mentored me and exposed me to the right individuals—allowing them to see my work and leadership. With my recent promotion, he is expecting me to be more assertive with colleagues and even customers. My dilemma is that I tend to have a diplomatic rather than assertive approach, and believe this leadership style has contributed to my success. My boss is more aggressive, outspoken, and even intimidating. In previous conversations, he has made it very clear that I need to speak up and assert myself. How do I balance assertiveness with diplomacy? Kindly, Mr. Nice Guy Dear Mr. Nice Guy, I like your question, because I’ve had to answer it myself. I want to be successful, but not if it means being a bully. I want to be nice, but not if it means being taken advantage of. Fortunately, these are Fool’s Choices—false dichotomies that only appear to be trade-offs. In reality, you can be successful without being a bully, and you can be nice without opening yourself up to exploitation. It’s a question of skills. The What: Your manager thinks you are compromising the organization’s interests in order to maintain positive relationships. This is a common trap you can avoid. The key is to know what you want out of an agreement. Below are a few tips: 1. Focus on interests, rather than positions. Hold firm to your core interests, while being flexible about how these Interests are achieved. Remember, it’s about achieving your interests, not about winning an argument. 2. Involve your manager in determining core interests. The two of you need to agree on what you want to achieve. 3. When determining interests, encourage your manager to take a broad and long-term perspective. Don’t get caught up in silo warfare. Instead, ask what’s best for the enterprise. 4. Know your BATNA—your Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement. Have a clear Plan-B that you will follow if you can’t achieve your interests. The more confidence you have in your BATNA, the more comfortable you will be walking away from an unacceptable agreement. 5. Challenge others to look beyond their position. Help them identify their interests and broader purpose. In addition, inquire about their fears or their worst-case scenarios. Focus on creative ways to achieve their interests as well as yours, while insuring against their fears. The How: Find ways to be both tenacious and sensitive. Be clear and specific without becoming disrespectful or abusive. Below are a few tips: 1. Be assertive and outspoken when describing your interests. Not mean, but passionate, specific, and resolute. Make sure people know you are committed to your interests. This doesn’t make you a bully, unless you shut down their ability to respond. 2. Encourage others to be equally assertive and outspoken in describing their interests. Don’t allow your strong opinions to prevent them from sharing their perspectives. Their silence might produce short-term compliance, but create long-term problems. We suggest the following guideline: "The only limit to how strongly you can express your opinion is your willingness to be equally vigorous in encouraging others to challenge it." 3. Be clear about your BATNA. Show that you are ready to walk away from unacceptable agreements. This puts pressure on others, without making it personal. 4. Be Factual. Don’t exaggerate, spin the facts, or speak beyond the facts. Explain the source and relevance of the facts you employ. The facts establish common ground and are the foundation of your credibility. 5. Recognize when others are moving to silence or violence. When others are withdrawing or becoming overly aggressive, stop what you are doing, and step out of the content. Take the time to determine why they are feeling under attack. Have they lost sight of your common purpose? Do they feel disrespected? 6. Restore safety, but don’t compromise your interests. The mistake would be to restore peace by giving in. The better solution is to restore safety by reaffirming your common goals and your respect for them. Once they realize you are a friend, not a foe, they will be ready to return to dialogue. Then, when you return to the content, you do so without having compromised your interests. I hope these ideas help you be both sensitive and tenacious. I’d love to hear how others manage this dance between passionate, outspoken commitment and reasoned, diplomatic dialogue. Best of Luck, David

http://static.vitalsmartscdn.com/kerryingon/The%20Importance%20Of%20Being%20Frank.mp3 On September 8, 1958 (the first day I attended junior high school) I met Frank Mustappa. I didn’t know it at the time, but Frank would change my life. Despite the fact that he was a twelve-year-old boy, Frank was surprisingly mature. While the rest of us boys competed to see who could make the most explosive armpit noise, Frank practiced a more sophisticated and subtle brand of humor. For instance, when the weather turned unseasonably warm one day, Frank played hooky and went swimming. The next morning, he brashly forged his own excuse letter, strutted into the principal’s office, and handed the bogus note to "The Man" himself. It read: "Dear Mr. Howard, please excuse Frank from school yesterday. It was a beautiful day, the bay was calling, and Frank went swimming." The letter was signed, "My Mom." The principal (as Frank had calculated) laughed at Frank’s moxie and sent him to class without so much as a minute’s detention—winning Frank the admiration of the entire student body. Frank could afford to cut classes because he was smart as a whip. And while it’s true that he excelled in all subjects, English was his specialty. Frank’s weekly essays put the papers the rest of us nitwits wrote to shame. The truth is our writing was so pathetic that Mr. Lampley (our English teacher) would read aloud segments from our essays, hang his head in disgust, moan forlornly, catatonically rock back and forth, and then spout rude witticisms such as, "I’d say your work is moronic, but that would be an insult to morons everywhere." He wasn’t particularly original, but you could tell he was sincere. Eventually, Mr. Lampley would take a break from intellectually browbeating twelve-year-olds and turn his attention to his one ray of hope—Frank. "Listen up," Lampley would gush as he clung to Frank’s latest essay—caressing it as if it were a priceless manuscript. "Mr. Mustappa uses the word ‘nuance’ in this piece. Pay close attention." Then he’d read aloud an exquisite passage from Frank’s paper and I’d think to myself, "Frank didn’t write that. Some famous old coot wrote that. Surely no kid from the seedy side of Bellingham composed such an essay." In addition to writing beyond his years, Frank read and memorized a colossal amount of poetry. He exploited this hobby by working an occasional stanza or phrase into the class discussion or onto the football field (where Frank ruled as a first-rate linebacker). Unfortunately, it wasn’t long until Mr. Lampley tired of Frank’s poetic preening. Teaching a precocious twelve-year-old who enjoys strutting his intellectual prowess can stick in your craw—and Lampley’s craw grew precariously full. Tension built between the two until one fateful day. "Today," Lampley bellowed, "we’re going to read and discuss Edgar Allan Poe’s poem, ‘The Raven’." "I know that one," Frank blandly stated. Lampley took the bait. "Oh really? You KNOW that one—meaning you could recite it from memory?" "I suppose so," Frank responded with feigned indifference. "Well class," Lampley continued, "Please open your anthology to Mr. Poe’s masterpiece beginning on page 278. That is, everyone except for you, Mr. Mustappa. You can leave your book closed. I’ll start the poem, and then, from memory and memory alone, you’ll finish it." "Whatever," Frank responded. "Once upon a midnight dreary," Lampley attacked. "While I pondered, weak and weary," Frank countered. "Over many quaint . . . " Lampley inserted. " . . . and curious volume of forgotten lore," Frank regained control. From that point on, Frank recited every word of the remaining 106 lines—pausing at every comma, and punching every key phrase. By the end of his exhilarating recitation, the other students were chanting, "Frank! Frank! Frank!" It had been a stunning victory for junior-high school students everywhere. So crushing was Lampley’s defeat, he would challenge Frank . . . nevermore. Several months passed without a further public display of genius from Frank until one evening when he joined Jim, Tom, and me as we walked home from a night of shooting pool. Jim quickly tired of the uphill walk and asked Frank to recite something. Frank smiled broadly, took a deep breath, and launched into a Robert Service poem: "A bunch of the boys were whooping it up In the Malamute saloon; The kid that handles the music-box Was hitting a jag-time tune . . . " I’ll never forget the feeling of the gentle breeze nudging us up Garden Street that evening. We listened to Frank recite all 116 lines of "The Shooting of Dan McGrew"—a work so filled with blaring music, beautiful women, and blazing guns, and so fitting to the taste of a teenage boy, I was in awe. Listening to a friend recite poetry, as if doing so were a normal human activity, changed my world view. I had long decided that doing well in school was "uncool." Reciting poetry wasn’t just uncool, it was for sissies and nerds. Definitely not something for the likes of the crowd I hung with. And yet, there was Frank, who did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. That included writing essays and reciting poetry with such utter confidence and eye-popping panache that he unwittingly performed a miracle. Frank made writing essays and reciting poems—and by extension, all things intellectual—absolutely wonderful. Frank made learning cool. The actions of positive peer-models probably do as much or more to encourage youngsters to break from their immature ways than any adult preaching from a podium or educator pontificating in a classroom. Young people who unceremoniously forge a path that leads to a love of learning—while standing up to the corrosive ridicule of their peers—deserve special praise. Frank deserves special praise. That’s not to say that at some point in our lives we haven’t recognized the impact gifted teachers and other adult role models have had on us—and rightfully so. We’ve probably even thanked these mentors for their inspiration—and rightfully so. But today I’m honoring a rarely identified source of inspiration—a peer. A hard-working, confident teenager whose example changed my life. Thank you, Frank. You may recall the events I’ve just recounted. I suspect you do. But there’s no way you could know how much you helped me break from the forces that clawed at my heels and kept me from performing to my potential. You introduced me to the joy of learning and for that I shall be grateful . . . evermore. If you enjoyed this story, you’ll love Kerry’s new book, The Gray Fedora—a collection of stories from Kerrying On. The book is now available for pre-order on Amazon.com.

We invited Adrian Gostick and Chester Elton, New York Times bestselling authors of The Carrot Principle and All In, to join our six-part Leadership Learning Series webcast. If you missed their session, you can watch the recording here. Additionally, Adrian and Chester recently published their latest research in their new book, What Motivates Me. I was struck by how their findings uncovered novel ways to improve employee engagement at work. Their ideas map nicely to personal motivation and are best practices for those looking to target Source 1 in The Six Sources of Influence™ model. They were kind enough to answer a few questions for unlocking the secret to what motivates each of us and how to capitalize on that knowledge. Joseph: The subtitle of your new book, What Motivates Me, is "Put your passions to work." Is it possible to reignite passion for a job you are already doing and perhaps already feel disengaged from? Adrian and Chester: There is a prevalent notion out there that if you’re unhappy with your work it will take a Herculean effort to change things—that you have to quit and find your "dream job." For the vast majority of people, that’s just nonsense. Most don’t need to take a risky leap; they just need to make small changes in their work lives. Many of the happiest people we interviewed didn’t find their bliss down a new path; they made course corrections on the path they were already on. What Motivates Me is primarily intended to offer that kind of guidance—what kinds of changes in responsibilities might help people take charge of their careers and put their finger on the specific things that are disengaging them in their work. We call this type of modification "job sculpting." Joseph: But what if they find that their current career doesn’t align with what they are most passionate about? What would your advice be to such an employee? Adrian and Chester: A few managers are concerned that if their employees read our book and take the assessment, some will find that they are miscast in their current roles. Our response is this: trust us, you want to find that out! It’s true that in a few cases the process we unfold in the book will help some readers identify when a larger change is needed and the kind of change it might be. Perhaps it’s time to transfer to another department, or it could be a full-blown transition to a new profession. But here’s the point for everyone—if an employee is completely miscast or miserable, it’s not good for them, their customers, or their managers. Now with that said, these transitions are not for the faint of heart, so we always recommend the job sculpting process first. Joseph: You conducted 850,000 interviews about employee engagement. In all of those interviews, was there a particular theme or result that was surprising to you? Adrian and Chester: What all that work revealed is a key difference in those who are most energized on the job. Those people have aligned more of their work with their core motivations. As for those who are most unhappy, as you might expect, their jobs are out of whack with what they are passionate about. That probably seems logical. So here’s the million-dollar question: why don’t we all do something about it? The problem is, most people feel either helpless or overwhelmed. Many wait for an outside force like a manager to fix things—and most managers have no idea how to put people’s passions to work. Even those enlightened employees who do have a grasp on what motivates them often don’t know how to put those ideas to use in their daily work. That’s why we decided to write this book. Joseph: One of your tips is to "do more" of what you love and "do less" of what you shouldn’t. How can you convince your manager to let you do more of what you love if it’s currently outside the bounds of your job description? Adrian and Chester: For employees, the benefit of job sculpting probably seems obvious. In fact, we found in our research if you are happier at work you are 150 percent more likely to have a happy life overall. For leaders, the payback can be powerful as well. Sculpting can help diagnose how each team member’s specific tasks are (or are not) aligned with his or her motivations. It also uncovers subtle changes that can lead to increases in team morale, engagement, and results. What smart manager wouldn’t want more of that? The most fun for us has been hearing from managers who’ve sat down with their teams and sculpted together—transferring a few roles here and there—and then reporting back weeks later about the rise in morale and engagement. Joseph: What are some "life hacks" for increasing your day-to-day motivation? Adrian and Chester: As you think about potential sculpting moves, ask yourself three questions: • What Can I Transfer? Are there things that you might be able to do less of or even transfer entirely that aren’t motivating? Are there members of your team who might be interested in swapping responsibilities to open up opportunities to try new tasks? • What Can I Alter? Do you have responsibilities that might be altered somewhat to become more fulfilling to one of your motivators? • What Can I Add? Are there one or two specific tasks you could add that would help fulfill your motivators? Are there unclaimed or emerging opportunities you could take on? I enjoyed speaking with Adrian and Chester about this topic and more during our Leadership Learning Series. If you would be interested in participating, you can still register for the series here. Sincerely, Joseph Take the What Motivates Me assessment! Discover what your key motivators are and what you are passionate about. As a gift to Crucial Skills Newsletter readers, Adrian and Chester have been kind enough to grant access to the scientifically proven, 100-question What Motivates Me assessment (a $40 value) for just $10. Take the motivators assessment now using promo code VSMOTIVATE.

To help more of our readers with their crucial conversations, accountability discussions, and behavior change challenges, we introduced the Community Q&A column! Please share your answers to this reader’s question in the comments below. Dear Crucial Skills, My colleague and I were in competition for a promotion thirteen months ago. I was awarded the position and since then our relationship has changed dramatically. At one point in our careers we shared an office and had a very positive relationship. Now every encounter seems to be difficult. She often reacts to my suggestions with anger and has even been seen to point her finger at me and order me to do things. I do not report to her nor does she report to me. We continue to be colleagues and I do not wish to pull rank—that isn’t how I work. This person is valued and has skills which we need in our organization, but I am not accustomed to this lack of respect and constant anger. How can I approach her to stop the behavior without inflaming an already difficult relationship? Sincerely, Delicacy Required

Dear David, How do you define the difference between behavior and culture? Does behavior drive culture, or does culture drive behavior? Sincerely, Natural Order of Things Dear Natural, The short answer is that behavior determines culture, and culture determines behavior. But it’s more complicated than that, and the complications make it a fascinating topic. First, let’s turn back the clock. I did my doctoral work in psychology back in the 1970s, studying with Albert Bandura at Stanford University. Al looks at culture and behavior through a model he has labeled reciprocal determinism. He developed this model to respond to the overly simplistic approaches that were popular in the 70s. The first of these approaches imagined that behavior was determined entirely by genes and personality. The second imagined that behavior was determined entirely by the environment. Bandura recognized that behavior is influenced by both personal and environmental factors, but added that people, through their behavior, also influence themselves and their environment. As an aside, when Bandura used the term environment, he placed special emphasis on our social environment as well as the physical world. This emphasis brings us back to your question about culture. I see culture as a part of our social environment. I’ll come back to this in a few paragraphs to make some finer distinctions. But for now, I’ll continue with Bandura’s model of reciprocal determinism. Most importantly, it is a model that posits human agency. For example, suppose we want to exercise more. We can take two steps to exert our agency. First, we need to recognize the influences that are working against us. Bandura suggests we look at personal, social, and environmental influences. In Influencer and Change Anything, my co-authors and I classify these as Personal, Social (the social environment), and Structural (the physical world) influences. Once we’ve identified the influences that are working against us, Bandura suggests we take action to change ourselves, our social environment, and our physical world so that all three exert positive rather than negative influences on our behavior. This ability to recognize and change the influences around us gives us agency over our behavior. When we apply this model to culture, we see that we are influenced by our culture, but that we are also able to influence and change that culture. Instead of being a prisoner of our culture, we are both the product and parent of our culture. Now, back to my earlier aside. I said that culture is an aspect of our social environment. What I really mean is that culture is the implicit part of our social environment. Our social environment includes both explicit and implicit elements. For example, if my boss asks me to work late, that’s a part of my explicit social environment. But, if my organization has an unspoken norm that everyone works late, that’s a part of my implicit social environment—my organization’s culture. We often characterize this distinction as above the waterline and below the waterline. (As in the part of the iceberg that’s visible and that part that lurks beneath the surface.) Above the waterline are the explicit, acknowledged, and intentional influences of our social environment. Below the waterline are the implicit, unrecognized, and unseen influences. These include the norms, practices, habits, and unwritten rules that form our culture. The implicit nature of culture makes it difficult to change. Sometimes we don’t even see the cultural influences around us. Other times the cultural rules are undiscussable—taboo to even talk about. Still other times cultural norms come with long histories, and are reinforced by multiple sources of influence. In these cases, it can feel as if culture determines behavior, and not the other way around. However, we have been involved in many incredibly successful culture change initiatives. The key is to recognize the hidden influences that are supporting the status quo, and to enlist a critical mass of new influences in support of the change. It’s also important to recognize that your culture is a treasure, a source of pride and power. We describe our Influencer process as a precision tool we use to fine-tune a culture without undermining it. I hope this helps. How do you see the relationship between culture and behavior? Best Regards, David

View the results of our study in the infographic below or download a copy for yourself.

Everyone has an awkward conversation they are avoiding. Perhaps you have a co-worker who smells bad, a boss who’s impossible, or a regular, well-paying customer with outrageous demands. Sometimes the situation is temporary, or we don’t deal with it very often, so we don’t address it. Sometimes we bottle up our feelings in situations we deal with regularly—and do so for extended periods of time. Instead of finding a way to deal with an awkward situation in a healthy way, we endure years of pain and torment. In the hit 90’s sitcom Seinfeld, Elaine, along with Jerry, George, and Kramer, lock away their darkest secrets in the vault ("I’m putting it in the vault! I’m locking the vault!"), a place where their confidences—too awkward or damaging to tell—were supposed to go to die. Sometimes we do the exact same thing. So, why do we do this? Because we focus on the immediate risks involved in speaking up, but completely ignore the certain and ongoing costs of not speaking up. We recently conducted a study of 1,409 participants asking about their "vault" (this study is the latest subject of our new BS Guys video). Fifty-six percent of respondents stated they have been safeguarding toxic secrets or workplace grievances for more than a year! Keeping these secrets "in the vault" creates problems that are decidedly non-comedic and can be costly to an organization. We asked people to imagine that we just handed them a "magical free pass" that would allow them to say anything they wanted to one person at work—with immunity from any consequences. Then we asked them what they thought would happen if they could actually follow through and hold that conversation. These were the surprising results: • 66% believed their organization would be helped • 57% believed everyone who interacts with this person would be helped • 43% believed the person themself would be helped • 39% believed a huge emotional burden would be lifted We were amazed at the things employees have bottled-up for years, and were dying to tell a colleague, and yet were too scared or worried to discuss. For example, one school principal longed to tell her aging school media specialist: "You need to retire. You’re overpaid, unhealthy, and out of touch—you can’t move well enough to even answer your phone. Oh, and you have a serious problem with hoarding." In spite of the enduring and substantial cost to the school, the principal, the students—and likely even to this employee—the principal’s concerns have stayed locked in "the vault" for more than a year. People’s suppressed concerns ran the gamut, from terrifying to disgusting to heartbreaking. Common examples included: • Speaking truth to those in power (50%): "You are the worst boss I’ve ever had. I used to fantasize you’d get into a car wreck on the way to work. My heart goes out to anyone who has to report to you." • Criticizing a peer’s performance (31%): "Your fake, sugar-sweet ‘kindness’ tinged with sarcasm and bullying to everyone, as well as your lying and backbiting, has made me not trust you or believe a word you say." • Talking about the elephant in the room (2%): "Your hygiene and habits are repulsive and offensive. No one wants to hear or smell your bodily functions. Stop leaving food garbage at your desk and using the bathroom sink to wash up like a squirrel at a birdbath." The most surprising finding of this study is how much pain we are willing to endure and for how long—for years and years in many cases—rather than open the vault. We are so intimidated by the initial conflict that could arise, we risk losing the incredible payoff of resolving the awkward issue. This study uncovered another problem—these secrets are not truly locked away. When it comes to frustrations, if you don’t talk it out with the person and resolve it, you’ll act it out in unhealthy ways. Consider all the people who hate their managers. More than half of the respondents stated that they had either shared their resentments with others or have hinted about it to their boss. So how do we open up the vault? Here are some tips to help you have "serenity now and avoid insanity later" as you follow through with that awkward conversation you’re avoiding: Assume people can change. More than half of respondents haven’t spoken up because they don’t believe the person could or would change. But people do change all the time. Ask yourself, "If I were in the other person’s shoes, and I had a true friend who knew what I know, would I want them to tell me?" Most of us say "Yes!" because we care and have confidence we can change. Do the person the favor of letting them try to change. Determine what you really want. Many of people’s grievances sound like, "You are a jerk!" These are accusations, rather than aspirations. Before speaking up, ask yourself what you want to accomplish—not just for yourself, but for the other person and for your working relationship. Use this long-term, inclusive goal to make the conversation constructive rather than destructive. Approach as a friend, not a foe. We live in a low-accountability culture, where speaking up is often seen as an attack. Avoid this misconception by explaining your positive motives up front. For example, "I’d like to discuss a concern. My goal is to support you and to help us achieve the metrics you’ve set for our team . . . " Stick to the facts. Concerns that have been in the vault for months or years grow big and hairy. Specific incidents and facts are hidden beneath layers of conclusions. Avoid broad conclusions such as, "you don’t care" or "you’re incompetent." Instead, focus on specific incidents, events, and actions such as, "The last three staffing decisions were made without input from the managers in the affected areas." I hope these tips help you have the courage to step up to the awkward conversation locked away in your vault. Sincerely, Joseph

http://static.vitalsmartscdn.com/kerryingon/The%20Bombs%20Bursting%20in%20Error.mp3 If you’ve ever watched Pawn Stars, then you’ll appreciate where this story is going. With each new episode, Rick Harrison (co-owner of the Gold and Silver Pawn Shop) along with a few family members and colleagues, haggle with customers over how much a Civil War wooden leg is worth—or it might be a Picasso print. Either way, the show doesn’t really hit its stride until Rick and crew barter for a blunderbuss, pistol, rifle, cannon, or some other ancient explosive device. Then the real fun begins. After they’ve purchased an antique firearm, the pawn team gleefully piles into an SUV and hotfoots it to a nearby shooting range where they test the worthiness of their recent purchase by firing it at cans and boxes filled with gunpowder. With each new explosion, the pawn stars leap with joy. The day they touched off a mortar that shot a bowling ball several hundred yards, the entire team fell to the ground in a paroxysm of laughter. Their joy was so contagious, it took all I could muster to keep from running out and buying a bowling-ball mortar of my own. I mention this because here in America, we’re about to enter a period of patriotic devotion manifested by the time-honored tradition of blowing things up—the Fourth of July. Similar to Rick’s crew, which is drawn to cannons like moths to a flame, many of us will be drawn to roadside firework stands. There we’ll purchase large bags filled with colorful pyrotechnics sporting names such as "The Punisher," "Nuclear Sunrise," and "Red, White, and Boom." We’ll buy these celebratory explosives because the skill of blowing things up provides humans a genetic advantage that has been passed on by their prehistoric predecessors and it simply won’t be denied. Plus, admit it, we’re comforted by the knowledge that a panel of experts examined the fireworks and deemed them to be legal (and presumably safe) for use in our neighborhood. But what is it about the ability to blow something to smithereens that inclines us to abandon basic common sense? Don’t get me wrong, I love fireworks shows. I attend them regularly. I love fireworks. I buy them regularly. As a kid I made rockets and bombs. If I could get permission to do so today, I’d shoot flaming bowling balls at abandoned greenhouses filled with gunpowder. And like Rick, I’d fall over in a fit of joy with each shattering explosion. But now I have children and grandchildren, so let’s get serious. There isn’t a twelve-year-old kid in the country who can’t transform legal fireworks into weapons of destruction. Twist this, bend that, (and now for the real secret) wrap seven layers of duct tape around this part and voilà—what was once an innocent, sparkling pinwheel now has the potential to earn you the nickname of "Lefty." I’ve heard friends’ stories of bottle-rocket races (humans run, rockets follow) and activities so bizarre and dangerous I don’t dare mention them. Even when you don’t grossly abuse fireworks, they present a serious risk. I, of all people, know this. On July the fourth, 1960, my friend Ed Biery’s parents dropped the two of us off at the Lummi Indian Reservation where all manner of fireworks were legally sold and detonated. I started the day by casually lighting and throwing firecrackers at rocks and pieces of beach wood until I grew bored (roughly four minutes). Next, Ed brought out the sacred Revell plastic model planes and boats he had built, treasured, and protected since he was old enough to hold a pair of tweezers—the same plastic models he had meticulously glued together and fastidiously painted for several hundred hours. Now, at age fourteen, the two of us callously blew up his masterpieces—like mad bombers on a rampage. At one point during the destructive frenzy, I lit a firecracker and forgot to throw it. Silly me. Eventually the firework reminded me that I hadn’t released it by exploding in my hand. My right index finger and thumb throbbed for two days. They still throb when I think about that painful explosion. But this setback didn’t stop the insanity. The escalation continued until Ed and I placed a three-shot aerial bomb on a log. The first shot flew an explosive fifty feet in the air where it detonated with a frightening roar. It also knocked the remaining firework to the ground. The second "aerial" shot (now aimed at my head) zipped past my right ear and landed under a passing police car, which took the full force of the explosion. Two officers leaped out of the vehicle and headed our way until the third and final shot ricocheted off a log and landed next to me and Ed. It lay a few feet away from us on a patch of seaweed for what felt like a week—the fuse spitting and hissing like a snake. Suddenly it detonated with a force so concussive it knocked the two of us off our feet. The police officers quickly scanned the beach, concluded that we weren’t attacking them (after all, we had nearly blown ourselves up), and chastised us for using sloppy ordinance-handling techniques. What else could they say? The fireworks were legal. The damage was temporary. And we’d been extremely lucky. This year, as Independence Day approaches, I wish you the best of holidays. Go ahead and be independent. Refuse to give in to British domination. Don’t listen to One Direction, Adele, or Mumford and Sons. Refuse to pay excessive taxes on tea. Go nuts. Just don’t become independent from all vestiges of reason and logic. Try establishing ground rules before the first fuse is lit. Start with Mutual Purpose. "I know we all want to have a safe experience, so why don’t we set up some rules to ensure our safety?" Ask others what they want to avoid and then jointly create guidelines. Better to set expectations before people act unsafely than to deal with infractions after they occur and others become defensive. As I tell my children, when you or your neighbor comes up with a crazy firework idea, ask yourself: "What would Dad do?" Then don’t do it anyway. And finally, to all you blunderbuss and cannon lovers out there—stop referring to your left eye, hand, and foot as "spares." That’s just asking for trouble. If you enjoyed this story, you’ll love Kerry’s new book, The Gray Fedora—a collection of stories from Kerrying On. The book is now available on Amazon.com.

The following article was first published on March 12, 2008. Dear Al, A relatively new male hire in my wife’s company invited the other men out to a "male bonding lunch." He asked a female coworker at equal level for advice on where to go and to call in their reservation. While the men were gone the women discussed this occurrence and felt it was rude and sexist. Some of the men were embarrassed as well when they realized none of the women were invited. Now, there is a sexual discrimination feeling that did not exist before. What crucial conversations need to happen and who needs to be involved? How can these conversations be handled sensitively? Signed, What To Do? Dear What To Do, Knowing when to speak up and how? And who needs to be involved? Ah, those are the tough, life-changing questions. Let me address a couple of points. First, who owns a crucial conversation? And, how do you know when you should own it? Over the years, I have found two principles that help answer these questions: 1. That little voice in your head either screams or won’t go away. When the "new male hire" asked the question, the "female coworker" probably had a little voice that said, "Male bonding lunch? Is this a good thing?" or "Me call in the reservation? This is not a good thing!" She could have brought up one or both issues right then. She could have also caught herself getting ticked and asked the humanizing question ("Why would a reasonable, rational, decent human ask this?"), concluded he was new, and then simply asked if they could talk about both issues. Or, the male hire could have noted his female coworker’s subtle non-verbal signals (rolled eyes and white knuckles wrenching a budget document) and noted that she seemed upset and asked why. Either person could have owned the conversation in real time, which is the ideal situation. 2. We start acting it out, instead of talking it out. This is another indicator that we are failing to own up to a crucial conversation. When this happens, we talk about people instead of to people. The two biggest ways we act it out instead of talk it out are 1) gossip and 2) non-verbal signals like avoidance, frowning, sarcasm, etc. Bystanders can defuse the situation by helping others realize that their gossip or non-verbals are a sign that they are avoiding a crucial conversation. In this case, instead of keeping her conclusions to herself and talking to her male cowoker, she talked to others about the issue. She opened that proverbial can of worms and now everyone is dealing with numerous trust and respect issues. Any colleague could have stopped her by saying, "Whoa. He’s new. Let’s help him understand when he comes back," but that also didn’t happen. Second, how do you start such a conversation? Since both of the coworkers failed to catch the mistake before lunch, it needs to be addressed as soon as it is safe. To create safety, she must first master her story by reminding herself that she doesn’t really know why he did what he did. This will help her control her emotions and conclusions. The first crucial conversation needs to be a private conversation between the female coworker and her male coworker. She must lead with observations and questions, rather than emotions and conclusions. This one step alone can make a huge difference. The second crucial conversation should be with the entire company. To help defuse the tension that has been introduced into the culture, gather the entire company together and set clear expectations around what behaviors are and are not acceptable. Make sure you reach complete agreement between everyone before concluding the meeting. This conversation is the first step to avoiding future instances, creating guidelines to hold others accountable to, and ensuring that everyone operates under common expectations. Make sure to communicate these expectations to new employees upon hire. I have only scratched the surface. But what I have covered is powerful. Anyone can own a crucial conversation—whether it’s real time (the best) or next time (which is still good). Best wishes, Al

Dear Joseph, One of my direct reports has a very thick accent. His job is to define business needs for our customers and hand them off to our database techs. When he does this orally, none of us understand much of what he is saying. I sense he is exasperated as well because he is trying his best and cares about his work. He has good writing skills, but he is not confident and resists writing anything unless pressed. The rest of the team tries to be patient, but gives up after a point. He is also very sensitive and feels hurt when we ask him to repeat himself. How can I tell him he needs to improve his communication skills? Signed, Lost in Translation Dear Lost, This will be much, much, much easier than you think. And as soon as you believe that—it will be much, much, much easier! You are making two mistakes here that are easy to fix: 1. You are having content conversations when you need to have a relationship one. 2. You are feeding his defensiveness with your own. First, it sounds like you are talking about database requirements when you need to talk about your working relationship. One of the most common mistakes in crucial conversations is talking about the wrong thing. If your real concern is, "we need a more efficient way of communicating," but what you’re discussing is, "what kind of user interface does the client need?"—the real issue will drive everything. You’ll be discussing screen designs but underlying it will be nervousness, defensiveness, and hyper-sensitivity, because you’re not talking about what’s truly going on. Everyone senses it. Everyone knows it. But no one is saying it. So set aside a special time to have this very specific relationship conversation. Don’t wait until there is another frustrating interaction about customer requirements. If you do, then the conversation will be clouded and confused with the content issue on the table. Second, stop focusing on your fears and start focusing on your goals. One of the reasons he is defensive about this issue is because he senses your fear of it. Research shows that when you feel fear, your body language telegraphs it to others—causing them to become protective. For example, if as you approach him, your voice is tight, you blink a bit too fast, and your arms are crossed over your stomach—he picks up these little behavioral signals and senses there is looming danger. It’s kind of like when you watch someone walk face first into a closed glass door and you reflexively put your hand to your own nose. Specialized neurons in our brains enable us to empathize by triggering shadows of the sensations we would feel if our bodies were in the same circumstances as someone we are watching. The same is true of emotions. You know what embarrassment feels like. It’s when you deliver the opening joke to your speech and no one laughs. Crickets. In fact, most break off eye contact with you and begin looking at their mobile phones. It’s painful. We feel something similar when we watch it happen to someone else (I call it ex-barrassed). Your stomach turns in knots even though it’s not you at the front of the room. This principle works in reverse during crucial conversations. When you show up all in knots, others sense it and begin to feel protective about the topic you are now stammering your way into. So how can you avoid making the conversation harder than it needs to be? Focus on your goals. This is a mental exercise first, and a conversational one second. Ask yourself, "What awesome, wonderful, out-of-this-world gift can this conversation give to the other person if it goes well?" Get that goal clear in your mind. For years, I marveled at Kerry Patterson’s ability to give me incredibly direct feedback without making me feel defensive. I remember the first joint writing project I did with him twenty-five years ago. I handed him my first draft. He read it and basically said, "This is awful." But it didn’t hurt. I wondered why. Over time, I came to realize it was because he had a clear vision in his mind of how good a writer I could be. And he wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of helping me get there. When he approached me, he wasn’t fidgety, worried, or clenched up. He was open, excited, and optimistic. He’d start peppering me with instructions about how to improve it, and since he didn’t seem to think the current dismal state of the piece was a big deal—I didn’t either. You have an incredible gift to offer your colleague. Come into the conversation enthusiastically. Focus on the thought, "I want to have a fabulous and productive working relationship with you for many years. And I want you to be able to succeed with every other English-based team you work with in the future. This conversation can help you do that—isn’t that awesome!" Then get to the point. Don’t beat around the bush or you’ll telegraph fear. Say, "Our unfamiliarity with your accent makes it really inefficient to communicate sometimes. I want to find a way to make it much, much easier for you and all of us to get things done. Let’s talk!" I can promise you that if this is your attitude coming in, you’ll generate safety rather than sensitivity. Best Wishes, Joseph

http://static.vitalsmartscdn.com/kerryingon/KerryingOn_201508.mp3 In the fall of 1952, I faced the prospect of attending school for the first time. The whole idea of going to school made me weak in the knees. My older brother had filled my head with bullying stories that gave me second thoughts about ever leaving home, let alone sharing the playground with a bunch of three-and-a-half-foot thugs. "They better not beat me up," I muttered under my breath as I started the long, lonely walk toward Larrabee Elementary School. Stupid second graders. They were the ones to watch out for, or so my brother said. Second graders, proud of their recent grade advancement and reeling from the abuse they experienced in the first grade, would be the hard-core bullies. It would be second graders who would steal my Twinkies, tear up my artwork, and give me a wedgie. "Let’s see, I’ve got my marbles in my pocket," I reflected. They were for recess, of course, but if I could make it safely to the playground, I could display my maturity by being good at shooting aggies. Then the bullies would leave me alone. I was wrong. The second graders didn’t take my marbles by force, but they did cheat me out of them. I’d get ready to shoot my second-grade opponent’s aggie, and he would shout, "‘cover-zies’ for me and ‘non-cover-zies’ for you." What? Then, he’d cover up his aggie with gravel from the playground and force me to shoot my prize ball bearing at the pile. Next, because I had "non-cover-zies," I couldn’t cover my ball bearing and he would uncover his shooter, shoot my steel marble, and put it in his pocket. By the end of the afternoon recess I had nothing left. As much as I worried about the first days of grade school, when I finally graduated from the sixth grade, I worried ten times more about the first days of junior high school. I’d heard eighth graders wantonly stripped you naked during PE and threw you into the girl’s side of the gym. Or they locked you in your locker. Or they burned up your metal-shop project. Plus, there was always their favorite trick—"pantsing" you. In 1958, wearing pants slung low and loose on your hips was all the rage. For a seventh-grader, it was also dangerous. Particularly if you were riding the city bus home while standing with one hand holding your French and history textbooks and the other hand clinging to an overhead strap. Just when you thought you were safe—wham! An eighth grader would yank your pants down to your ankles. The girls would scream, the boys would laugh, and you would be mortified. Heaven forbid your shorts had a hole in them—you’d have to move to Canada. Given these hideous possibilities, the prospect of entering junior high school worried me a great deal. I was sure to be bullied the day I stepped onto the grounds of Fairhaven. I could feel it in my bones. But first came summer. To keep me from fretting myself to a frazzle, my mom signed me up to pick strawberries. The job consisted of riding a berry bus filled with thirty or so twelve- to sixteen-year-olds far out into the country. Then, for eight hours you’d bend over a row of strawberries and pick the ripe ones in the blazing, life-sucking sun. And for all of this effort, if you were lucky, you’d earn five dollars a day. I didn’t get lucky. I made just under two dollars my first day. At one point during that day, one of the berry bosses said I was suffering from heat exhaustion and forced me sit in the shade for an hour. I made no money during that time. We were being paid by the flat, not by the hour. Today, if you treated a twelve-year-old this way, you’d be charged with callous indifference or the illegal use of fruit. Maybe something worse. But all wasn’t lost. At the end of the day, and to my total surprise, Hades quickly turned into heaven. The berry boss blew his whistle and we stacked our flats, boarded the bus, and headed home. Within seconds, someone started singing "John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt" and we all joined in. Throughout the entire ride home we joyfully belted out every camp song imaginable. Like warriors returning after an exhausting and perilous battle, we celebrated our victory by singing songs about beer bottles on a wall and a girl walking into the water. It was splendid. I’m not sure I’ll ever eclipse the happiness I experienced those glorious days singing in the berry bus as we rode home after an exhausting day of harvesting strawberries. As the season continued, and we pickers jointly faced chilling rain, the scorching sun, and shrinking berries, we bonded into a team of genuine field hands. Unlike sissy kids who did heaven-knows-what all day long, we pickers earned our way. And we helped each other. Boys helped carry girls’ heavy flats filled with berries. Girls taught boys how to pick faster. We were one in unity and purpose. Eventually, the season ended and I had to face the dreaded seventh grade. As I read through the class rosters posted on the wall near the school entrance, I finally found my homeroom. Listed were the kids with whom I’d be sharing three classes a day. I knew only one other person on the list. One. It was going to be a lonely, scary year. And then came the eighth-graders. A pack of four of them started walking menacingly toward me. "Hey #&% face!" one of them taunted. I grabbed the waist of my low-slung pants as the hoods inched forward. And then, just when I was about to be pantsed or worse, I heard someone shout, "Kerry! Aren’t you all cute and dressed up for school." It was a ninth grader—not just any ninth grader—it was a berry-picking ninth grader. And she was a cheerleader to boot. Soon a bunch of us pickers from the seventh, eighth, and ninth grades were gathered in the hall and reminiscing as the older students helped the younger ones find their way to their first classroom. It had never occurred to me that the older kids I had met and bonded with in the fields would show up at junior high school and be the star quarterback, or the head of the chess club, or a member of the cheer squad. Nor did I think they would be my advocates. But that’s exactly who they were and that’s exactly what they did. I wasn’t bullied that year. I was welcomed. The next year as the eighth grade unfolded for me, I too became an advocate and protector. Like our predecessors, my classmates and I wouldn’t dream of bullying kids who had worked alongside us. We shared their dreams and fears; we had fought the berry wars together. And so it should be everywhere. Building a sense of community helps us humanize others. We recognize ourselves in them, and treat them with the respect and kindness we all deserve. And that makes the world a better place. Oh yeah, and one more thing. Thank your lucky stars that you never had to pick strawberries in the searing sun. For eight hours a day. Up hill. Both ways.