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.
Exhausted and Frustrated: A Perfect Recipe for Professional Disaster
Marietta Gentles Crawford was exhausted and frustrated. She saw her colleagues sitting around in their shared office, one of them reading a newspaper, when she lost her composure.
Stories Shared to Practice Intentional Behavior
Marietta Gentles Crawford was exhausted and frustrated. She saw her colleagues sitting around in their shared office, one of them reading a newspaper, when she lost her composure.
In louder than necessary tones, she told her colleagues exactly how she felt about how much harder she was working; she lost her cool.
Lucky for her, she had a compassionate boss, and colleagues who were close to her, almost like family, which is why she didn't receive formal discipline. That's also why she was able to recover her relationships with them. But it took time, and she had to learn some hard lessons about pushing herself too hard, and using her words BEFORE hitting her emotional limit.
Marietta is not alone. Many of us have had some sort of breakdown at work, emotions flowing freely, usually against our better judgment. Sometimes I think it's okay to lose your cool; it helps people see you as human, with vulnerabilities they may share. And in some cases, it takes losing emotional control for certain people to realize how serious the issue is. We all know people who miss subtle, indirect cues.
But most of the time, losing that control makes you feel less than professional, and can do irreparable damage to your personal brand.
When you're feeling most frustrated, it's time to take a step back and identify the real issues impacting your days. It's also time to consider what you want out of your next conversation with the person or people you're frustrated with. What is your ultimate goal after confronting the situation?
Listen to this conversation with Marietta Gentles Crawford for some strategies she used after learning the hard lesson of needing to be intentional in your communication.
Marietta Gentles Crawford is the author of From Nine to Thrive, a Guide to Building Your Personal Brand and Elevating Your Career. She's also a personal brand strategist who inspires professionals to brand with purpose, and thrive with passion.
She’s been writing since being a quirky 12-year-old who read women’s magazines and played with words. She still loves words. Her writing appears in The Huffington Post, Thrive Global, and Lifehack, among other publications.
Marietta is a converted city girl who lives in New York City with her husband. If you want more inspiration and resources from Marietta, sign up for her mailing list at www.maribrandsforyou.com, connect with her on LinkedIn, or follow her on Twitter: @Maribrands4you.
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.
Find Your Brave, Use Stories as Evidence
You were likely pretty brave as a child, I know most children start out ready to jump into an adventure, sing on a stage, and climb anything - with our without shoes. But what happens to us as we move into the higher grades? Why do we lose our sense of adventure, our sense of self, our self confidence?
Kimberly Davis is a brave leader not because she's unafraid, but because she steps forward despite the fear that could hold her back, and she's teaching others to lead with Brave in mind.
You were likely pretty brave as a child, I know most children start out ready to jump into an adventure, sing on a stage, and climb anything - with our without shoes. But what happens to us as we move into the higher grades? Why do we lose our sense of adventure, our sense of self, our self confidence?
Whatever the reasons, we must find our Brave again if we want to be happy, successful (however we choose to define it), and role models for the people around us. We have to be real for ourselves, we must bring our whole selves to every environment in order to lead authentically.
Speaking with Kimberly Davis grew up on a ranch near Kalispell, Montana, and she and her brother had a job on that ranch: To feed the cattle, even if it was -15 degrees outside. Montana raises some pretty badass, resilient souls, and Kimberly was one of those... until she started college. Somehow she lost her courage, her Brave. But she found it again, and we talked about what it takes to step into the unknown, and some strategies to find YOUR Brave.
Kimberly Davis is the author of the insightful and relevant book, Brave Leadership. She's also the CEO of On Stage Leadership, an organization devoted to helping executives lead authentically, and present themselves fully to the people they lead, in order to create teams at work, not groups.
You can learn more about her and the value she brings to her workshops, coaching, and keynotes on her website, and connect with her on LinkedIn.
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?