Jumping From A Bridge

Yesterday was the first day of the second half of 2012.  Yes, the year is now half completed.  I’m taking some time to assess how I’ve used the year so far and to decide how I want to use the rest of the year.

I’ve done things this year that I’ve never done before––I’ve published my first book and I’ve signed up to be a weekly columnist for a local newspaper.  I’ve allowed myself to pursue what I’ve wanted my entire adult life––writing.

This year I’ve allowed myself the courage to embrace the possibility of failing in new ways and I’ve experienced a satisfaction I’ve never had before.

The following is an excerpt from a posting on the website http://pickthebrain.com by Scott MacIntyre.  He made it into American Idol’s Top Ten a few seasons ago.  I read this early on in the year and his words tucked themselves in the back of my head.

I’m going to allow myself to be challenged with new risks for failing and am looking forward to experiencing even newer satisfactions in the second half of 2012.

What about you?  What “bridge” are you going to dare yourself to jump from?  Like Scott, I can only believe that the water will be both cold and invigorating!

The Leap of Faith: Why Taking Risks Can Be Worth It

Written by ScottMacIntyre –

Perhaps the biggest fear for many of us is a fear of failure. But if we never try, how will we know the outcome?  So many people worry about what will happen if they fail, that they lose sight of what could happen if they succeed.

When I was a little kid, my family would take a yearly road trip to a rustic getaway called Trinity Alps Resort in northern California.  We stayed in old wooden cabins, grilled freshly-caught fish, and swam in a swimming hole along the river.  There was a walking bridge that extended across the swimming hole, and older kids would jump off of it into the water below. One summer, I was determined to try the jump. 

I asked my dad if he would do the jump with me, and he agreed.  There was no way for me to see how high up we were – I was born blind.  All I could do was step off the bridge, trusting that I would land in the water and not on a rock.

My dad counted to three, and we jumped together.  The feeling of free-falling through the air was incredible.  As soon as I surfaced and caught my breath, I asked my dad if we could do it again.

In the same way that I was uncertain about jumping into a river I couldn’t see, I was uncertain about how to be successful as a blind person in the very visual entertainment industry.  Every step off of the metaphorical bridge stretching across my career was a chance to fail – but also a chance to succeed.  And although at times I did fail, with every success came more confidence to face the next challenge, and the next after that.

As the first-ever blind contestant on American Idol, one of the hardest things for me to do was to give a convincing performance in the group songs on elimination nights.  I could have decided to make it easier on myself and sit those numbers out, but I wanted to participate just like every other contestant. 

Because I took that risk, Idol producers and millions of viewers around the world were inspired to re-think what a blind person is capable of doing.

I have to wonder though – would I have chosen to audition for Idol in the first place if I hadn’t decided to jump off the bridge in Trinity Alps?  Fear is fear, and the way in which I dealt with my ordinary fears was the same way I tackled extraordinary challenges.  In the end, we all have a choice: to let fear of what might happen keep us from reaching our goals and dreams, or to take a leap of faith into the unknown and learn as we go. 

People who achieve their dreams are people who are not afraid to take risks.  And we will never know what we could have accomplished if we never put ourselves to the test.

http://macintyrebook.com/

The Therapeutic Value Of A Latte

I’m a Starbucks kind of guy.  Although I don’t drink coffee, I do enjoy a latte and my favorite is made by Starbucks.  Now, I know that many of you might disagree and argue for Peets or Coffee Bean or some local haunt.  My taste loyalties, though, are with Starbucks.

Not that my preferences mean much for the purposes of this post; however, I was intrigued when I recently learned that Starbucks instructs its associates to treat customer complaints with the “latte” rule:

Listen to the customer
Acknowledge the problem
Take action to resolve the problem
Thank the customer for bringing it to your attention
Encourage them to return

This guiding rule is so basic.  So simple.  So humane.  So smart.  Yet, far too many places of business don’t have a policy for dealing with customer complaints and don’t have the right instincts for handling those complaints.

Years ago, the Sociology and Anthropology Departments of Harvard University did a joint study researching graffiti.  The project’s goal was to determine if there is a common theme among worldwide graffiti artists.  And what they found is that there is!

The common theme of all graffiti can be summed up in the phrase, “I am here.”  Graffiti artists are seeking not simply attention; they’re seeking acknowledgment of their existence.  And this is what we all hunger for––recognition.

A disgruntled customer can be angry for many reasons, but they all can be reduced to the fact that the person feels no one is paying attention to their needs.  They think (rightly or wrongly) that they’re being disrespected and ignored.

Offering a “latte” is the most reassuring thing we can give to an upset customer because it reassures them that someone does “see” them.

In fact, a “latte” can be offered to anyone who feels ignored by you––a co-worker, friend, relative, partner.  To listen, acknowledge, act, show appreciation, and make normal the relationship are the five keys to dealing with someone in a difficult conversation. 

More times than not, a “latte” goes a long way to healing a potentially ugly situation because the other person feels valued and they feel valued because the person offering the latte is taking responsibility and being dynamically pro-active.

I’m tempted to end with some cute latte joke, but I won’t embarrass myself!  Suffice to say, next time you’re dealing with a complaining customer, no matter what your business, just remember to offer them a “latte!”

The Power Of A Drug Store Clerk

In a recent workshop on leadership, I asked the participants to identify someone who they think is a powerful person.  I then asked them to consider if that person’s power is unique to them or is it of a nature that any of us can acquire.

Of course, names of the usual suspects popped up, i.e. Gates, Jobs, Clinton (both), parents, teachers, et.al.  But then Elizabeth, a woman who can claim a measure of power in her own right as she’s a partner in five influential restaurants here in SoCal, offered that she recently encountered a powerful woman in a CVS drug store––a matronly clerk at the cash register!  It was the only open register and there was a line of five people ahead of Elizabeth.  Throughout, the clerk remained not only calm and efficient, but also cheerful, answering questions (the usual inane kind that people ask when there’s a line) and being friendly even as customers fumbled for cash or credit cards.

Marveling at her composure, Elizabeth complimented the woman and asked her how she did it.  The woman seemed surprised but laughed and said, “what else can I do?  Yell?  What good would that do?”

As Elizabeth said to the class, “Now that was power!”

That clerk will never rise to the ranks of CEO of CVS, but indeed she is a woman of power.  Why?  Well, there are various attributes to being a powerful person and one of them is this: a powerful person is not a victim.

Playing the role of victim doesn’t give you genuine power.  It might give you attention, but not respect––from yourself and others.  The simple truth is that each one of us is responsible for what we are doing, having, being, and feeling.

This clerk easily could have played the victim and vented her frustration with management on hapless customers.  Instead, she took charge of the situation and decided how she wanted to handle things.  She was neither insulted nor intimidated by impatient customers.  She chose to be gracious, personable, and as efficient as her resources allowed her to be.

Elizabeth told us that she plans on remembering this woman and will pass on her power to her own staffs and customers.

Powerful people are influential.  Even a drugstore clerk. What about you?  Where do you have power?  How are you and how can you be influential?

How Hungry Are You?

There are three hungers that people are trying to feed throughout their lives. The first is to connect deeply with the creative spirit of life. The second is to know and express your gifts and talents. The third is to know that our lives matter. Fulfillment comes from feeding these three hungers.

Richard Leider, executive

I came across this quote a couple of weeks ago; I printed it out taped it to the wall behind my desk.  It sits there as a quiet reminder and challenge.

When I first read it, my knee jerk reaction was to ask myself how deeply am I connected to my creative spirit; how satisfied am I with how I express my gifts; and do I believe that my life matters?

Each morning I’d ask myself: “How hungry am I?  How satisfied is my hunger?”

Slowly, though, I found myself asking harder questions: “Am I aware of feeling hungry or have my senses been numbed?  Do I value my gifts or do I so disparage them so that I don’t even value them as “gift.”  Do I trust people enough to allow myself to feel the weight of their care for me or do I easily brush off love proffered?”

I’m now venturing into TMI territory, but. . .for much of my adult life, I’ve lived with, wrestled with, major clinical depression.  I’ve been fortunate in that I’ve had a support system, professional and personal, that has bolstered me so that not only can I function, but I can succeed in so many facets of life.

When people ask me about depression it’s frustrating to explain what it’s like because almost any explanation can easily sound like irresponsible self-pitying.  At times I wonder if I’m just offering piss-ant excuses for being lame-ass lazy!  That’s usually when I think I’m taking leave of my mental faculties.

Perhaps, though, the best way to describe depression (my experience of it) is that it blurs my vision.  I’m not able to recognize what is in front of me—love, opportunity, gifts, reasons for hope and excitement.  It brings about distortions so that when I say I struggle with depression what I mean is that I struggle with righting a distorted view of life.  Yes, there’s often been a physical struggle to muster energy, but more than that it’s about being able to draw a sense of urgency and commitment from the bounty surrounding me.

Although I’ve been wanting to blog about this quote since I came across it, I hadn’t intended for it to be a reflection on clinical depression.  Yet, every time I turn to this quote, I know in my gut that the author is so right—life is about making sense out of these three hungers.  I occasionally meet a person who lives his or her life in a way that daily feeds these hungers.  But then I meet so many others who, while not diagnosed with depression, live a hungry life.  Some are unable to name their hunger and why it makes them restless and distracted.  Others know where the hunger comes from and yet feel hopeless, lacking the “recipe” that will satiate their hunger.  And for others, they simply feed on junk food to satisfy the hunger and so become dull and vegetate.

What about you?  Sit with this quote for a bit and let it speak to you.  How hungry are you?  How do you satisfy that hunger?  How do you help feed the hungry in your life?

Someone once said that “the world’s a banquet and most poor slobs are starving to death.”  What’s holding you back from joining the banquet?

The Value Of Voicemail

Last Sunday I hung out with my eleven-year old godson, Finn.  The plan was to visit a wildlife animal refuge center that we go to every year at the start of summer vacation and then on to Target to find an early birthday gift and then cap it off with some ice-cream at our favorite shop.

About five minutes into the visit, Finn whipped out his I-phone, that was in a penguin faced protective case.  Before I could say anything, his nimble fingers had switched on a game.  I told him to put it away—this was a phone-free visit (I don’t take calls when I’m with him, except from his mother).  He smiled sheepishly and said that he wanted to play a game while we drove to the animal center.

I said ‘no.’ He’s a sweet boy and so he didn’t put up much of an argument, but in a deliberately whiney voice he asked, “what am I supposed to do?”  “How about we talk?”  “Talk about what?”  Ugh!

We played a guessing game for part of the drive and then he switched over to that annoying game children love to play where I say something and he repeats every word in the exact same tone, so that it produces a nonsensical conversation that he found wildly amusing.

We had a grand time with the animals and on the drive to Target we discussed which were our favs.  As picking out a birthday gift is serious business, there wasn’t much talk in the store.

When we got to the ice cream stand at The Grove (a popular outdoor mall here in LA) he reached for the penguin, but put it away when he saw me arch my eyebrows.

It was a sweet, silly visit and the day flew by because we were in the moment—each moment. 

I’d gotten several phone calls during the day but I let each go to voicemail.  Why didn’t I take the calls?  Because I wanted to be with Finn.  I didn’t want our time interrupted by people whose needs could wait a few hours.  Because I wanted to be in the moment without anyone or anything pulling Finn or me out of the fun and silliness of the moment.

When’s the last time you were with someone and neither you nor that person answered the phone during your conversation?  When’s the last time you were “in the moment” without any distractions?

I encourage you to try it—let your phone go to voicemail.  Not every call has to be answered in the moment it’s received.  Give your full attention to another person and you will create a quality experience.

The Benefit Of A Sore Throat

Peter Bregman writes regularly online for Harvard Business Review.  I always look forward to his postings as he consistently offers insight into the mundane yet critically important aspects of our daily communication interactions.

This is a condensed version of his May 31^st posting and it’s one I’ve reread several times.  I’ve seldom been as challenged by an article as I am with this:

How to Speak More Strategically by: Peter Bregman HBR  May 31, 2012

It had been three weeks since my throat started to feel sore, and it wasn't getting better. So I decided to spend a few days speaking as little as possible. This made me acutely aware of when and how I use my voice. Which led me to a surprising discovery: I spend considerable energy working against my own best interests.

In my observations, we speak for three main reasons: 1.To help ourselves
 2.To help others 3.To connect with each other.

Frequently, I had the urge to gossip about someone else. I realized that I did this to help myself (I will feel better if I think I'm better than that person) and to connect with the other gossipers. But clearly that would distance me from the people about whom I was gossiping. In fact, it would probably even distance me from my fellow gossipers too; who could trust someone who talked behind other people's back?

I also had the urge to share information when I thought it would be helpful to someone. That's a productive reason to speak. But several times I had the urge to say something simply to show that I knew the answer. Or to get attention. Or to increase my power in the group. It became clear to me that my urge to speak in those moments came from my desire to feel special.

Sometimes I wanted to help myself by getting the answer to a question, or making sure I was counted in a decision. That's useful. But other times, I just wanted to make sure my voice was heard over the din of the other voices. I caught myself wanting to speak over someone in a meeting. Or arguing a point to get others to agree with me so I'd feel more confident in my own opinion.

If I were to reduce our counter-productive speaking to a single motivation, it would be this: We often speak to make ourselves feel better in the short-term.

But life and relationships are long-term. And when we gossip, raise our voices, speak behind other people's backs, offer unsolicited opinions, or make jokes at other people's expense we're isolating ourselves over time.

There was some good news in my experience of talking less: I listened more. And listening, it turned out, was a much more productive way to achieve my speaking objectives than speaking.

When I listened, I helped myself, helped others and built relationships at least as effectively as I did speaking and with much less collateral damage.

Bregman touches on several themes that are at the heart of my own work.  I believe we live in a time when talk is cheap.  Turn to the cable news channels, listen to politicians, and hear the truth of language being massacred (and I don’t use that word lightly).

Bregman’s article offers insight into why talk is so cheap—many, most, of us are trying to feel good in the short term.  And I, too, am guilty of wanting instant gratification.  While I don’t enjoy arguing and don’t feel compelled to get others to agree with me, I do gossip and I can show off in meetings and conversations. 

My need to be liked and approved in the here and now consciously and unconsciously influences how I speak.

Since reading this article, I’ve made an effort to be more mindful of how and why I speak, to invite others to talk, and to listen with more interest.

What about you—how does the way in which you communicate satisfy your short term goals and needs?  Interested in taking a look at the long term?

Stand Up To Fear By Sitting Down!

Earlier this week I went to a networking event.  Ugh!  I dread networking events.  Why?  Well, I’m not sure I can give you a logical explanation.  While I have no problem speaking before hundreds of people, put me in a room where I’m supposed to strike up conversations with people I don’t know and I become tense and uncomfortable. 

Why do I become nervous?  I don’t like to be the one to initiate a conversation; I prefer that they come to me.  I tense up because I believe the crazy talk in my head.  I tell myself that they’re not going to want to chat with me; that they’ll think I’m trying to sell them something or get something from them.  I tell myself that the conversation will go nowhere and I’ll embarrass myself.  In short, I self hypnotize myself with this nonsense. 

I’m feeling embarrassed just writing this and yet I know I’m not alone in thinking this way.

I’ve come up with a way to trick myself into staying at a networking event.  I resolve not to leave until I get five business cards.  It’s just a simple commitment I make to myself.  So far, it’s helped.  I have a task at hand and once I start talking with someone, I do relax, as I love chatting with folks.  Usually, the person I’m speaking with introduces me to another person and so it goes until it’s the end of the evening and I’m walking away with more than five cards!

This week, though, my trick didn’t work.  After wandering around the ballroom for twenty minutes, I gave up.  I decided to leave.  Hey, I have that right!  But, I didn’t feel happy about giving up so quickly and I decided to get a drink and just sit in the lounge area outside the ballroom.  That’s it.  My plan was not to leave—just sit and see what happened.

Within five minutes, Kristin, a woman I’ve done business with and who has become a friend, walked by on her way to the ladies room.  We hugged and she told me not to move as she’d be right back. 

When she returned, we played catch-up as we made our way back into the ballroom where she introduced me to some friends, who introduced me to friends and so the night went on.  I ended up enjoying myself and would have missed out on some great conversations had I given in to my early discomfort and fled.

The night reminded me of what can happen when I stand (or sit!) my ground against baseless fear.

What fear are you tired of giving-in to?  Take a deep breath, have a seat and let yourself be surprised!