Or maybe that should be “waiting to learn”. Bear with me. Let’s take a quick look.
I was a Research Chemist once with a firm called ICI.
A new graduate, I was given a problem to investigate that was causing some problems for a particular business.
Sounds a bit like a 60’s folk song, don’t you think?
Anyway, watching the wildlife on our local pond today made me think about communication styles.
I know. I need to get out more.
“I could never work with him” she said. “Not in a million years”.
Coaches are tuned-in to spotting assumptions. I spotted this one.
I’ve had a great year growing things in the garden. I mean just look at the photo.
We’ve been eating tomatoes, mangetout peas, onions, garlic, runner beans, courgettes, peppers, potatoes, cucumbers. I could go on. And on.
As we all learn to work differently, at least for a time, learning to play nicely so that everybody wins is going to take some effort.
I was late for a meeting last week. Nothing I could do about it. Obviously. I had to scrape ice off the car to start with. Didn’t have time to listen to the weather forecast the night before. Too busy.
Driving the car today, I got stuck on the inside lane behind a slow-moving truck. Totally my fault. I should have read the road better. So I indicated my desire to pull out. Translated, that meant “Help. I’ve messed up here. Can you let me out please?”
We were gathered, four of us, for a meal before an evening at the theatre. Very nice. And probably quite expensive. This was London after all.
“Face the door” said Bert Lang. Bert was my Dutch boss when, many years ago, I took on a management role on a chemical plant in Holland. I’d never had my own office before. Somewhat intimidated by the whole experience, I had my desk facing the wall. “Face the door, own the room, take control” said Bert, and he was right.
Over the years my wife Liz and I have been privileged to join several groups “helping” (really?!) to build small houses in Ethiopia. It works like this. We turn up, along with twelve or so other international volunteers who have never met before, we have a leader, and we work alongside the local tradesmen and villagers in helping to build houses.
I got a speeding ticket recently. Since you ask, 57 mph on a 50 mph stretch of a “smart motorway”. I took my punishment like a man (see below) and went on one of those Driving Awareness Courses that are an alternative to three points on your driving licence. Mine was a Motorway Awareness Course.
Excuse me? Run that past me again. I’d just taken on this new job. And here’s one of my team telling me that “we all hate” another manager in the team.
I’m guessing most of us have heard of the “elevator pitch”. Done well, it’s a “compelling narrative”. But here’s the thing. Lots of us don’t have them.
I walked in the park with a client today. I do most of my coaching this way. We put on some boots and weather-appropriate clothing, and we get outside.
So I’m sitting in my favourite café/bookshop and I observe this. There’s a lady on her phone, very earnest, sitting down and making her point. Really making her point. And then she finishes. Must be the other person’s turn then. You’d think.
Picture this. The Doctor is about to open the door to the terminally ill patient. She has had a frantic day. Her daughter has been taken ill at school. Her husband is away. Finances are stretched at home so she is working long hours. And this is not the first such patient she has visited today. So she puts her hand on the door handle and prepares to go in.
Long ago and far away I worked with this French guy. We’ll call him Pierre. And it wasn’t working. I found Pierre aggressive, unhelpful and devious. Is it possible that he found me difficult as well? What, me?! Well, yes, probably. What to do?
Leonard Cohen, the singer songwriter who died last year, has a great line in his song “Anthem”: “There’s a crack in everything; that’s where the light gets in”. In the fourteen years that I’ve been doing executive coaching, one thing I have learned is to look for the crack.