You Think You're A Good Manager?
His supervisor told him that unless he could turn around his team's attitude, he was likely to lose his supervisory role, and that did not bode well for his career aspirations.
Try a New Tactic: Stories to Improve Management Skills
Joe thought he was a pretty good manager. His team was productive and they were hitting deadlines. But then his supervisor pulled him aside to let him know his team had complained about him. He knew there was some tension there, but he didn't know it was serious enough to warrant this discussion. His supervisor told him that unless he could turn around his team's attitude, he was likely to lose his supervisory role, and that did not bode well for his career aspirations.
Instead of being defensive and angry, before he stepped into his meeting with the team, he decided to try something completely different, though it seemed silly when he read this technique in a book about applying Akido lessons to other parts of life.
Not only did his new technique work, he turned that situation completely around.
In this episode of Your Stories Don't Define You, you'll hear his story, and the lessons he learned from the experience. You'll learn the techniques he used not only to diffuse the confrontation, but to change his mindset about the others in the room.
Your employees don't always have to like you, but they do have to know you respect them and trust them to do their work. If you don't, that's an entirely different management issue.
Joe Kwon is the future author of My Cheesy Self-Help Book, which will reveal how finding the flow between our energy and the energy of those around us will help to cut through life's challenges.
He's also an attorney, Aikidoka and shameless consumer of self-help books. He's passionate about coaching and mentoring on career advancement, public speaking, and leadership principles.
You can learn more about his sparkling personality and entertaining communication style of coaching on his website, and be sure to connect with him on LinkedIn.
You Don't Have to Like Them. You Have to Work with Them.
"You don't have to like the people you work with, but you have trust that they want to do a good job and that they want the same thing you do: Success at work."
Stories that Shape Your Work Experience
You probably know that the good and the bad of work relationships shape our professional experiences and our future interactions, but do you think about those bad experiences as opportunities to be a better employee and manager?
In this podcast, Christine Stevens shares three stories of work relationships that colored how she builds and maintains successful relationships at work, even with people she doesn't necessarily like. It was her father who said: "You don't have to like the people you work with, but you have trust that they want to do a good job and that they want the same thing you do: Success at work."
Listen to her stories, and consider your stories that feel similar. Are you learning from those experiences? Are you creating an environment of trust and value by modeling the behavior you want to see in the people around you?
Christine is a troubleshooter, relationship builder, and cat herder. She brings disparate and often adversarial groups to the table and gets them to work together – or finds a way for them to work toward the same goal, even if it isn’t together. Never one to underestimate the power of a smile and humor, she believes a fun workplace is a more productive workplace. Read more about Christine by visiting her on LinkedIn.
Hungry and Scared: A Story to Build Courage
I weighed under 100 pounds when I graduated from college. My mother came for graduation and stared at me. "Are you anorexic?!" No, mom, just broke.
Leaving home to go to college can be pretty traumatic, but if you're on a traditional path and move right into a dormitory, that trauma can be mellowed a lot. You don't necessarily have to cook every meal for yourself, and you're unlikely to have to start buying your own toilet paper. There are still rules in a dormitory, so you're still expected to behave as if others are watching you.
But leaving college, moving away from friends and family, and starting something completely out of your comfort zone can be a much bigger adjustment.
When I graduated and planned to move from Fort Collins, Colorado, to Washington D.C. for a paid internship, I couldn't have been more confident and excited for my next adventure. But subconsciously, I must have had my doubts. When I drove my mother to the airport after spending graduation weekend together, I melted down. The reality that my childhood was coming to an end, and that I didn't have a plan for the next time I would see anyone in my family hit me like a ton of bricks.
It wasn't until years later that I realized the value of this story in my past, the lessons I learned, and the opportunity I had to share my vulnerability with someone who could not only handle it, but who would also learn from the experience.
I weighed under 100 pounds when I graduated from college. My mother came for graduation and stared at me. "Are you anorexic?!"
Nope. I'm just broke.
She was heartbroken that I hadn't told her I was struggling. She couldn't believe I would rather go without food than ask her for help. Really, though, that wasn't it at all.
I simply didn't consider asking for help. As I've written before, I've always been independent. And after traveling through Australia and New Zealand, I was fiercely independent. It just never occurred to me to ask for help.
My mother and I have always been close; we've also always been like oil & water. I've never doubted her love for me. There has never been a doubt that she would be there for me no matter what, and that she would always have my back. That's why, when I graduated from college, I had such a hard time saying goodbye to her. We didn't have a plan for the next time we'd see each other.
She flew in from Sacramento to Fort Collins for graduation, had a great weekend full of fun celebrations, and then the weekend was over and I was driving her to the airport. We were chatting away on the ride to the tiny airport. I was about to head off to my next adventure; a coveted position as a paid intern in Washington DC at the US International Trade Commission. As I drove her in my little blue Chevette, I wasn't thinking at all about her leaving. I was yammering about packing up my apartment, working my shift at a restaurant on New Year's Eve, and then packing up my little car to head to Colorado Springs to see my dad and sister before moving across the country. It was a full plate and my mind was spinning.
I pulled up at the entrance to the airport and helped my mom get her luggage out of the car. We hugged, her eyes teared up and I gave her the warning expression "don't start, mom." I walked her just inside the automatic doors and we hugged again. Then I walked away, got into my car, and started to drive down the bumpy road back toward I25.
It was December and the road was a little slippery, which is why, when I had a moment of sheer panic and slammed on my brakes to make a u-turn, my 180 became a 360. Somehow I managed to turn the car back toward the airport without seeing clearly through my streaming tears.
I parked right in front, in the no parking zone, and ran inside the airport. My mother had gone through what was, back then, the metal detector and security, and was sitting in the tiny waiting area at the gate. I ran right through that metal detector, right past the security guard. My mother saw me coming, tears streaming down my face, and stood up to grab me.
We hugged fiercely, both of us crying in relief, love, and grief. Yes, grief. It was the end of an era for our relationship. Even though we had been living over 1,000 miles apart for 5 years, we always knew when we'd see each other again; we always had a plan. But now, I was on my way to "adulting", moving to the big city and a big job (that's how I saw it, anyway).
Looking back, I can see that we were grieving that loss, though we were both excited for the future. At the time, all I knew was that I was leaving the comfort of young adulthood and taking on a mighty adventure... alone.
I cry every time I think about that goodbye, partly because that memory remains so strong, that feeling of loss and fear. The other reason my eyes fill when I think of that event is because I can now imagine my mother's conflicting feelings of sadness and joy at that moment. Joy for my achievement of graduation and upcoming adventure, joy at the feeling that I still needed her and loved her, and sadness at the end of this era in our relationship. This was the goodbye for her that signaled real time between visits and hugs.
Thankfully, these days we make plans to see each other regularly, and our relationship has only grown and improved over the years. When I need her, she's there. She arrived on my due date with our first son, and stayed until a couple of days after he was born. She gave him his first bath and took his tiny footprints. Six months later, she came back to DC to help me pack for our move across the country to Montana. Her dedication to writing on each box every. single. thing. she packed in it made it possible for us to settle into our rented house fairly quickly. And when we bought our first house a year later, she sent us a gift certificate for the light fixture we desperately wanted to replace a really ugly one in our living room. (We were going to have to wait, being house-poor was a reality for a few years.)
I still have trouble asking for help, but I've definitely improved over the years.
Every time I'm about to jump into a new adventure, that memory pops into my head. Sometimes I call her to share what I'm excited and nervous about, so I can feel that same relief I felt when we hugged inside the airport. I'm grateful for that memory for a couple of reasons:
Even though my heart was broken and I was really scared, I continued down that path for my adventure and it all turned out just fine, and that gives me the courage to continue on whatever path is currently opening up before me.
When I look at my own children and their independence and adventures, I remember my mother's words that day: "You'll be fine. You are smart and resourceful. You have all the tools to succeed in whatever you choose. And I'm here, no matter what, when you need me."
I'm about to step into another adventure this week. I'm excited. I'm nervous. My P/E ratio is through the roof. And I have my mother's words in my head.
What do you need to hear, what do you need to think and to know, before you step off into your next adventure? That voice can be your own. You don't need someone else to tell you what you need to hear. Just do it. Take the step. Don't regret.
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When External Expectations Improve Your Internal Story
Derek is a successful businessman, and he attributes his massive transformation from troubled kid to successful adult to one person. His childhood friend believed in him, stuck by him when he was known as a horrible person to be around, and made it clear that he wasn't going anywhere.
It was this person that inspired Derek to grow and change and transform his life - because he wanted his friend to be right in believing in him.
Derek is the CEO of At Hand Spray Systems, but prefers to be defined by his unique approach to problem solving. Most people try to solve problems in a linear way, which frequently results in symptom solving. Derek approaches problems spherically, using all 360 degrees to find solutions to the root cause, not the symptoms.
Getting Out Alive: A Story of Professional Survival
We were barreling down the road, at least double the speed limit in a 35 zone. And when we hit the highway, he was driving at least 110. For the first time since those warning signs I ignored during the interview, I realized I wasn't just risking my career, I was risking my life
"We were barreling down the road, at least double the speed limit in a 35 zone. And when we hit the highway, he was driving at least 110. For the first time since those warning signs I ignored during the interview, I realized I wasn't just risking my career, I was risking my life."
John White made the decision to invest in his future income that day - by jumping into an MBA program he'd been considering for a few years.
We had a great conversation about that moment in his life when he made the decision; have you had a moment like this one? Maybe not quite so dramatic, but still a large, negative push to follow a different path?
How Storytelling Shapes Your Internal Messages
I had the opportunity to ask Leili McKinley, founder and CEO of Identitype LLC a few questions about her pivotal moments in life, and how she was able to identify those moments, and years later was able to apply them to difficult situations.
She surprised me with her analogy of her skill in creating a corset as the foundation for a wedding gown designed during her time at Parson's School of Design in NYC. As she builds experiences, she sees those experiences as the corset-building, or foundation-building of her behavior, persistence, and success.
Visit Leili's website and LinkedIn profile for more information about the IdentitypeTM system she created (in her words):
... to help you be the leader you were born to be, build a brand, and grow your business (ME, Inc.) because you’re passionate about what you do, and because you want to create more income for yourself and the people you love.
Podcast: Is Imposter Syndrome Defining Your Internal Stories?
In other words, when you're outwardly successful, but often feel like a fraud, like at some point everyone will know about the "real" you.
Sarah Elkins | Your Stories Don't Define You | episode 2
Imposter syndrome, according to Cambridge dictionary online, is "the feeling that your achievements are not real, or that you do not deserve praise or success."
Sharing a story at Tell Us Something, Helena, Montana, April 2017
In other words, when you're outwardly successful, but often feel like a fraud, like at some point everyone will know about the "real" you.
There have been major studies about this phenomena, and great articles have been written to describe outwardly, wildly successful people who suffer from it. The article says that a person with imposter syndrome attaches almost exclusively external factors to their success, e.g. I was in the right place at the right time, I was fortunate to..., the opportunity landed in my lap, etc. While they attribute their failures internally, e.g. I'm not smart enough, I wasn't paying enough attention, etc.
Then there are those who turn it completely around, the non-imposter syndrome professionals who attribute their success almost entirely to their own intelligence, beauty, savvy, etc., and their failures are all externally driven, e.g. he didn't want me to succeed, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, if only ---- had happened, etc. There's a Harvard Business Review article about overcoming imposter syndrome, placing the internal messages right up front in dealing with those minimizing thoughts.
I think there's a lot more to this. People who don't acknowledge the external contributing factors to their success, who describe themselves as "self made", are missing a major component of humility and humanity. No one is self-made, literally. But way beyond that, we have to consider genetics, family economic status, public utilities (if you're a manufacturer, guaranteed you use public roads to distribute your goods), education (even in the poorest communities, there are some fantastic, motivated educators), and access to mentors. Some people are driven by spite, so even a negative influence contributed to your success.
There are also those factors that contribute to failure: Do you acknowledge the internal factors? If you cannot take responsibility for those things you didn't succeed with, you're missing great opportunities for growth and connection with others. Blaming outside, external forces for failure means you do not acknowledge those moments when you were truly human. Where does that leave you?
Your internal messages come from all of your experiences, from your very early interactions, through your young adulthood. It's no wonder those messages are hard to fight; we're hard-wired to keep those messages, once they're placed in our heads. They've created pathways in our brain. It can be impossible to change them if you aren't aware of them, or where they came from.
I was walking through the open space of a friend's dorm with her, and two VERY tall basketball players stopped to say hello. One of them asked me out, and I said no thanks.
He put his huge hands on my hips and easily lifted me to set me down on top of a vending machine. I was in a sundress, the vending machine was very tall, and there was no way I could jump down.
I blushed deep pink and asked him to help me down. He laughed:
I'll help you down if you say you'll go out with me.
I shook my head no, and stared directly at his friend, the one I knew to be a nice guy.
Dude. That's not cool. Get her down from there.
He didn't, so his friend helped me down and apologized. When he put me down, I looked up (WAY up) at the culprit and said:
I. AM. NOT. A. TOY. Don't EVER do that again - to anyone.
They walked away, and I could hear the nice guy giving the other one a hard time. I was furious.
That wasn't the first time someone picked me up without my permission. As a matter of fact, it had happened many times. In elementary school, everyone wanted to give me piggy-back rides. In high school, I was asked to play one of the very young daughters in Fiddler on the Roof, though I had auditioned for a speaking, singing role.
Why? Because I'm small. I was lucky to pass 5' my freshman year of college; highly unusual for a girl to grow that late in life, but I did, and thank goodness. All I wanted was to outgrow my mother! But it's not just my height. When I graduated from college, I still weighed under 100 pounds. I couldn't find women's shoes in size 4.5 or 5, making professional outfits very difficult to complete.
I know this can sound really awesome, and it is in most ways; I am generally the most comfortable person on an airplane. Being small also means looking young, at least it does for me. The last time I was ID'd at a bar I was 41 years old. But when I was a professional in my late 20s and early 30s, looking young did not help me at all in getting others to take me seriously. In one meeting I was facilitating, a women in her 50s was dismissive toward me until I found an opportunity to share my age with the group. She looked at me, startled, and suddenly began to pay attention to me.
When a good friend recently heard about a trip I was taking, we were visiting about my expectations, and my concerns about it. I said: "It feels weird, Callie, like I'm just little Sarah from Montana, what do I have to contribute to this group?" I wasn't entirely serious; I know my value and I know I can make a difference in any situation. But that little voice spoke up, and it had to come from somewhere, right? She looked at me, a little shocked, and said: "Sarah. NO ONE thinks of you as little Sarah. NO ONE."
It took me a while to process that conversation; I had to dig into why I had that self-limiting voice still speaking to me. That's when I realized it has a lot to do with my size, and the way I was perceived because of it. When I meet someone and I'm sitting down, they are always visibly surprised to see how petite I am when I stand up. Clearly the way I'm presenting myself is much taller than my actual height.
Before my 20th high school reunion, I had dreams that I was in my old school, wandering through the halls saying hello to people. The weird thing was that I was much taller in my dream. I woke up a little disappointed, until I realized that's how I saw myself now, not as a physically taller person, but taller in stature.
A friend recently described himself as big and goofy, and I asked him where that came from, because that's not at all how I see him. He told me a story about having moved in 5th grade, and having to establish himself somehow in the new school. He found great success in being goofy; the other students responded to that silly, self-deprecating behavior, and he was able to make friends. Or, at least he could make his classmates laugh with him, rather than at him.
It got me thinking about how these childhood and young adulthood perceptions and words we used to describe ourselves - and others used to describe us - impact our current potential and success. It also got me thinking - again - about imposter syndrome and how to deal with it.
Up until recently, I thought I suffered from imposter syndrome. Now I'm thinking those internal messages are more an identity issue, a confidence issue. I attribute my success equally to hard work, experience, and introspection, and to the support network I have, the fortune of being born where and who I am, and to the relatively low-drama household in which I was raised. What I realized is that I'm not alone in feeling like a kid, like I'm just pretending to be a grown-up, and doing grown-up things. The other thing I realized is that I like that about myself, and those who relate to that sensation. It keeps us youthful, curious, adventurous, and optimistic.
What stories are you still telling yourself that are simply no longer true? Are those stories yours, or do they belong to someone else? Are you holding onto certain perceptions because they worked for you at some point? Is it time to let them go?