Remembering The Good We Do

Our purpose is to realize our potential.  Each of us has been created for a purpose, a reason, but if we don't know what it is or what we want, or untapped potential stands idle.

 Peter McWilliams

THE PORTABLE LIFE

I’ve been going to a local video store for twenty years.  While Netflix is a great provider and my friends think I’m nuts not to subscribe, I’m loyal.  I like going to the store, checking out the DVD covers, talking with the clerks about new releases and occasionally getting into discussions with fellow customers.  I like the “high touch” interpersonal feel to it all.

Recently, I was browsing the new release section when there was only one other customer in the store.  He was a twenty-something guy who had an athletic build––he carried himself off with the the air of a competitor.

He was in animated conversation with the lone clerk, and as a typical nosey ex-New Yorker, I couldn’t help but overhear.  Seems he was taking acting classes (so L.A.!) and he sounded enthused and proud when he said, “I’ve always been good at everything I did” which made me wonder what he’s done in the past.

The guy left and shortly afterwards I went over to the counter to check out.  I mentioned to the clerk that I wish I had the unbounded confidence of the previous guy.  He laughed and said that guys like him were always too “cocky” for their own good. 

I was puzzled and the clerk just laughed harder.  Turns out, the guy is an adult film performer!  He’s trying to segue into legit acting.

Chalk it up to my twisted sense of humor, but I like the idea of a porn actor taking pride in his work.  I know, I know… but there is something refreshing about being able to assess what you’ve done and declare that it’s good work!

Realistically, his chances of having a legit acting career are against him.  However, I don’t think he’ll give up easily because I suspect he’s determined to continue to expand and explore his potential. 

Any growth in your life, like it or not, is going to build on who you are right now. We don't get to start over.  So you might as well accept yourself as you are and go from there.

Peter McWilliams

Was this guy a smug, delusional porn “star”?  Maybe.  But I’d like to think that he’s a guy who realizes he doesn’t get to erase the past and he’s hell-bent on making the effort to remember and build upon his successes. 

Increasing your self-esteem is easy. You simply do good things, and remember that you

did them.

Peter McWilliams

In his own way, that guy is trying to do just this––do good work and then remember he did it.  You might not approve of the work, but doesn’t diminish the lesson.

And Netflix could never have given me that lesson!

What A 4 Year Old Girl Taught Me About Communicating

Clare’s the owner of a sportswear design firm.  In her late twenties, she’s bright, driven, has accomplished much, and yet she doubts herself.  That’s why she hired Madge as her assistant.  Madge has been in the biz for almost thirty years and knows all the players. 

As it turns out, Madge sees Clare as inexperienced and privileged (she told her so to her face).  Madge jabs at Clare’s insecurities with surgical precision.

Clare believes she can’t run the business without this woman’s know-how and is afraid to upset Madge––what if she quits?

Whenever Clare has tried to speak with Madge so as to make needed adjustments in their relationship, Madge inevitably breaks down and cries.  Clare panics and caves in.

Knowingly and unknowingly, we give people permission to treat us in certain ways.  Over time those ways become a routine.  If we don’t like the way a person is treating us, then it’s our responsibility to “re-train” them. 

Although Madge is in her fifties, she reminds me of my niece Gracie when she was four years old.  I adore Gracie––she’s bright, beautiful and what I call a “phony-baloney.” 

At four, Gracie knew how to flash that cute smile of hers so as to get what she wanted.  On one visit, her mother had an emergency and asked if I could watch Gracie. 

As soon as her mom left, Gracie asked me for ice cream.  Usually I was a sucker for this kind of request, but her mother had given me strict orders—no sweets!  And so I said “no.”

Gracie pleaded until she finally burst into tears that looked a tad “rehearsed!”  The girl wouldn’t stop, blackmailing me with, “if you loved me…” 

Her crying was killing me.  And so, I lifted her up, carried her out to the deck and gently put her down.  With a big smile and gentle tone, I said, “Gracie, I love you, but your crying is driving me bonkers.  So, I’m going to let you cry out here and when you’re done, just come back inside.  Okay?”

She looked at me like I was nuts!  I went back into the house and within moments, Gracie ran inside.  She was laughing and wanted to watch a video.  Not a peep about ice cream.

What happened?  I did something she wasn’t expecting and hadn’t prepared for.  I changed the dance step.  I retrained her.

Clare needed to treat Madge like a four-year old.  I urged Clare to say something along these lines when Madge next cried: “Madge, clearly you’re upset.  I know you want what’s best for the company and me as I do for you.  This conversation is important to both of us, so why don’t you take some time to compose yourself and we can talk later.”

When Clare tried out this new script, Madge resisted as the tears kept pouring.  Clare repeated the script three times before Madge stopped crying.  She became Gracie!  Later that same day they had a conversation without the special effects of tears.  

Is everything “fine” with Clare and Madge?  No.  However, they’re now having conversations that they didn’t have before.  Madge is learning that her old ploys no longer work.

We train people how to treat us.  Is there someone in your life who needs retraining?

Why Be Miserable?

Be miserable. Or motivate yourself. Whatever has to be done, it’s always your choice.

Wayne Dyer

I bought a condo three years ago this month and I still feel like I’m moving in.  It feels so new, even though the building is thirty years old.

Although there are fewer than forty units in the building, I’ve not yet met all my neighbors.  Just last week I got into a conversation at the mailbox with Moira, an elderly resident, who’s been here since the building opened.  She raised her family here.

Moira told me that she and her husband grew up in the mid-West and came to Los Angeles soon after they got married.  She wanted a house; he didn’t.  He insisted they live in a condo and so they were one of the first to buy in this building.

She told me this story with disgust in her voice but when she was done, Moira asked almost boastfully: I’ve been miserable all these thirty years––can you believe that?

I laughed and assured her that I do believe her––she never met my grandmother who was miserable for most of her ninety-eight years!  It’s so easy to be miserable and in its own way is such a delicious feeling. 

I recently posted the story of a CVS pharmacy clerk who role-modeled a powerful person.  Well, power always comes when you avoid casting blame on some one or some thing for feeling bad about your life. 

The truth is that people and events only have as much power as we give to them.  You control your thinking as well as your actions stemming from that thinking.  And that’s power!

As I left my neighbor I found myself feeling sorry for her––not because she had led a miserable life, but rather because she had surrendered her power to a condo.

What about you?  Are you miserable?!  Why?  Is it really because of someone else?  In what ways can you choose power?

What Makes A Person Boring

Boredom occurs when you fail to make the other person interesting

Warren Bennis

For over twenty years I’ve had the privilege of helping people find their voice––helping people learn to communicate in smart, healthy ways.  I’ve coached hundreds of men and women from their teens through to their seventies.  I’ve worked with people involved in multitudinous works, across the globe.  I haven’t seen it all, but I have seen a lot.

While I know that I’ve had an impact on many people’s personal and professional lives, I also know that I’ve not been able to help everyone who has sought me out.  In fact, there are probably just as many people I haven’t been able to help, as there are whom I have been able to help.

Part of the reason is that I simply can’t be all things to all people.  Not every teacher or doctor or lawyer is the right fit for every potential client.  And so I’ve had to learn my limitations and over time, I’ve learned to be more intuitive, more honest, and more strategic in accepting clients.

Acknowledging all this, though, during the past eighteen months I’ve especially grappled with the question: why are some people able to acquire a large repertoire of communication and interpersonal skills and others seem not able to expand their skill set?

I wrestle with this question in part out of curiosity, in part out of pride (why can’t I “fix” everyone) and in part, large part, because I’m genuinely baffled.  What is the difference between people who are successful in relationships and people who are at best stilted and at worst alienating in their relationships?

Well, I think I’ve come to an answer and what I now believe is that the difference rests with whether a person is interested in and likes people or is disinterested and insulated emotionally and intellectually from people.

I’m amazed at how many people I encounter who just seem to be not curious about people.  They’re not interested in other people’s stories, in what makes them tick, or in how they share similar fates.  Recently, I had a client who is a psychologist and who came to me because she doesn’t like talking with people!  She’ll give them her attention and skill for the fifty minutes she’s being paid and then she wants them gone.

I now realize that if you don’t like people you’re not going to know how to learn to communicate in ways that are smart, strategic, and healthy.  Skill is only rooted in interest.

Of course, the next question is: is it possible to teach someone how to be interested in people?  Hmm. I’ll have to get back to you on that. . .