You Can Change Other People. Howie JacobsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
people what to do, or what we did in a similar situation, or what we would do if we were in that situation, so often backfires.
We give advice; they hear criticism.
I know I do. When I reach for the pint of Ben and Jerry's to fill up my third bowl of ice cream and anyone—my wife, my children, a concerned friend—asks, “Do you really want that third bowl of ice cream?” no matter how stuffed I am, I can assure you that I will answer with a loud “YES” and then add some extra fudge on top in defiance.
Here's what's crazy: I really do want to stop eating sugar. And I also know that they want to be helpful. They don't mean to criticize me. (Technically, they're just asking me a question.) I know they love and care for me. But I am also ashamed to admit, at that moment, that I'm out of control. It feels weak to say, “You're right. I can't control myself.”
So I don't. I double-down on my mistake in order to say, “I'm in control!”
I know you don't mean to be a critic when you give advice. But if the people you're trying to help feel that you're coming at them with an air of “I know better than you” or “The answer is simple; just do X,” they'll dig in their heels and resist change.
But that doesn't mean there isn't a way to help them change. We just have to let go of unsolicited advice and explanations.
As I write this, Daniel is gaming on the new computer that he changed his life to build. People can overcome great odds to follow through on what they want. But we won't help them get there by criticizing what they're doing, telling them what to do, or trying to motivate them to do something different.
Fortunately, there are ways we can help.
We can develop a person's ownership, independent capability, emotional courage, and future-proofing, so they change themselves. In the next four chapters, we'll explore each of those powers, starting with ownership.
CHAPTER 3 POWER 1: OWNERSHIP: WHOSE SPREADSHEET IS IT ANYWAY?
Spencer,1 the CEO of a technology company, was worried. The company's customer growth rate was too low.
So Spencer did some digging and realized that Marketing wasn't producing enough leads. History showed that a certain number of leads would predictably convert into customers. That conversion rate was steady, but the leads had dropped off.
The solution was straightforward: more leads, more customers.
So Spencer started nudging, cajoling, and probing to get better data from Marketing about leads. Weeks later, he still hadn't gotten a straight answer. In exasperation, he asked his Chief Marketing Officer, Octavia, to create a weekly marketing report and have it in his inbox by 10 a.m. each Monday.
When Spencer looked at the first report, his eyes glazed over. He was staring at a complex spreadsheet, complete with pivot tables, a dozen different background colors, and so much data that the key numbers were obscured by hundreds of unimportant ones.
In frustration, Spencer took 30 minutes and simplified the report to show just two columns: goal and performance against the goal. He then emailed it to Octavia, telling her that her report didn't distinguish signal from noise and that she should use his new one from now on.
He figured she'd be happy because the new report took far less time to complete and offered a much clearer picture of how things stand.
Is that how Octavia felt when she received his email?
Sadly and predictably, no. Octavia felt unappreciated, misunderstood, and angry. First, she'd spent the entire weekend working on the spreadsheet, collating numbers from multiple sources and getting more and more annoyed at the company's fragmented approach to customer relationship management (CRM).
Second, Spencer totally misunderstood what Octavia wanted him to see. To her, the topline numbers were meaningless without context. What was the value in simply knowing that their lead flow last week missed the target by 45 percent? The important data were in the details: registration and conversion rates of the marketing webinars, the number of participants who watched long enough to hear the call to action, and important things like that. In her view, the details were critical.
And third, how was Octavia supposed to guess exactly what Spencer wanted when he hadn't even articulated what he needed the spreadsheet for in the first place?
What Spencer did, in his effort to get the result he wanted and to be helpful, was take ownership of the report away from Octavia. Now every time she filled it out, she was mindlessly complying with his demands. Even if Spencer's way was better, and took a tenth of the time to complete, she was still resentful. She wasn't proud of the report. It had no imprint of her thinking or caring on it. She didn't own it.
Consider two scenarios:
1 You come up with an idea you want to try.
2 Someone else comes up with an idea that they want you to try.
Which scenario do you think would be more motivating to you? Which scenario do you think would drive you to work harder to make it successful?
Almost everyone says Scenario A. Why? Pride of ownership is motivating.
Behavioral economist Dan Ariely found that test subjects who created their own origami cranes valued them five times higher than did outside observers. And when the instructions were made purposely unclear, leading to greater effort and uglier cranes, the creators valued them even more dearly.
When we own something, we care about it, so we'll take initiative on it and persist through thick and thin to see it through. We don't have to be supervised, held accountable, or rewarded or punished. Doing a good job, being proactive, being accountable for outcomes, and dealing with problems are just part of our identity.
Scenario B, on the other hand, sabotages that ownership.
Because it's not our idea, it's theirs. And when someone tries to impose their solution or advice on us, we tend to resist or, at best, execute it half-heartedly. If the action fails, we're more likely to blame their bad idea, versus our own inability to execute.
After all, an outsider's idea will often neglect the nuance of the situation, miss critical elements that we understand more intimately, and ignore personality issues that should inform a solution.
So what could Spencer have done differently?
He could have guided Octavia to think about how she could redo the report herself in a way that focused on the most important customer growth rate metrics. He could have modeled accountability by acknowledging that he hadn't clearly communicated the purpose of the report. And he could have brainstormed with Octavia on how it would be used, and by whom, and to make what decisions.
She would have gained some independent capability and felt pride of ownership over the simplified report, knowing it was having a company-wide impact. Getting her to complete it on time every week wouldn't have been a struggle or source of simmering resentment. Rather, Octavia would likely have wanted to broadcast the report throughout the organization, both to share helpful and timely information, and to build her career capital and influence. As the architect and owner of the report, Octavia would have become a more energetic and proactive force for good in the company.
Remember my son Daniel who bought and built his own gaming computer? He owned the entire process. He wanted the computer; I didn't want it for him. He enlisted help—from his grandfather, aunt, cousin, and even me at times—to take the necessary steps in the process. He didn't take shortcuts. He put up with frustration, confusion, and fear without giving up.
That's what ownership looks like.
When you solve problems for others, you take away their ownership of those solutions. Even if your advice is perfect—which, by the way, is almost never the