Change Anything QA

Helping an Unmotivated Teenager

Dear Steve,

I have a thirteen-year-old son who thinks everything in life sucks. He tends to think everything will be better somewhere else. He asks for things and when we get them for him, he decides he doesn’t want it anymore and wants something else. For example, we bought him a guitar so he could learn how to play. He gave up saying, “It’s too hard, I suck at it.” If he can’t do it naturally the first time, he gives up. I’m not sure where he gets that mentality from; he’s seen many people in our family struggle at things, keep going, and finally succeed. Any insight on how to help him?

Signed,
Frustrated Father

Dear Frustrated,

I, too, have a thirteen-year-old and he also finds “suckiness” in an increasing number of things. I suspect it has something to do with junior high and the general feeling of awkwardness that young people experience during that period of their life. And while it would be really convenient to attribute this attitude to his age, I don’t think that is entirely accurate.

My thirteen-year-old is also my third thirteen-year-old and so my experience tells me that you can’t take the “life sucks” attitude out of the boy or girl completely. However, there are some things you can do as a parent. Let me offer three ideas to help you avoid pulling out your hair as you think about and approach your son.

Unfix the fixed mind set. Find a copy of Mindset by Carol Dweck and study it. She’s a professor at Standford University who has studied the difference between fixed and growth mindsets. In essence, a fixed mindset is one that believes that people (themselves in particular) are either naturally good or bad at an activity. For example, one of my colleagues is the son of two math professors. So naturally everyone, including him, thought he’d be good at math. He succeeded early in his school career and both parents are involved in the field. His mindset became fixed in the belief that he no longer needed to put in time and effort to practice or do homework because he was inherently gifted in math. That is exactly the point where his grades began to slip. A growth mindset, on the other hand, is one that assumes that if you take the time to practice, study, or otherwise apply yourself, you can learn to become better. He stopped putting in the effort to learn because he assumed it would come naturally.

Along with the many wonderful ideas you’ll get directly from Dweck, you might want to sprinkle in some vicarious experiences. It may be useful to expose your child to the background stories of those who’ve succeeded in their areas of potential interest so they can get a better sense of the amount of effort required to achieve different levels of competence.

When I was a boy, I loved Tony Hawk. He rolled his way into my life when I was about fourteen. As a skater, I thought it was awesome that he turned pro two years earlier (he is two years older than I am). I was even more impressed when I learned how much time he spent on his board to become that good. I had assumed he was just naturally gifted. When I learned how hard he had worked at skating, it changed my perspective on my drive and determination.

See if you can find short articles or YouTube videos that feature successful people in whom your child might be interested. Share them with him and ask questions like, “How good is he/she?” and more importantly, “How long did it take him/her to get that good?” and, “What’s their daily routine?” Get your child to experience the process required to succeed.

Change the frame. This second idea is related to the first. Sounds like your son views many of his efforts that fall short of complete competence as failure: “I suck at guitar! I wasn’t able play this song, so I’m no good!” In addition to being untrue, this attitude also feeds into the fixed mindset described in the first idea.

We’ve found it useful to start framing their beginning experiences in this way: turn bad days, jam sessions, performances, etc. into good data. People often give up because they take a setback of any kind to mean they are no good. Instead, we encourage people to examine the setback for information they can use to improve. And let me be clear, this is not about discounting frustrations. It’s okay to acknowledge these as legitimate feelings. Just make sure you help your child see how the root of these emotions are based in their experience—which can be changed and improved.

It can also be useful to help your child reframe challenges as opportunities. For example, when you notice he is struggling with learning a song on the guitar, try something like, “How many stanzas do you think you could learn in twenty minutes?” When it comes time to hear the progress, praise the work and effort, and ask him about what helped and/or hindered (back to the idea of turning bad days into good data).

Try it out. Now for all this to work, you ought to find ways for your child to “try it out” before having to fully commit to something of interest. And, it’s got to be something in which your child shows interest. Once it seems that you found a good fit, it will be useful for you to help him identify some quick wins that will keep this interest and allow you to practice some of the ideas above.

Hope this helps you steer clear of the “suck,” or at least helps to reduce the amount of “suck-i-tude” you have to endure.

P.S. Don’t say suck.

Best of Luck,
Steve

Crucial Conversations QA

Help! I’m Stuck on an Airplane and Need Some Skills

Dear Joseph,

Recently, I was on an overnight flight, trying to sleep. The person in the next seat was using headphones and laughing loudly every two minutes or so. I told her, politely: “Excuse me, you probably do not realize it, but you are laughing quite loudly, and it is preventing me from going to sleep.” In response, she muttered an offensive epithet and turned away from me. I decided not to engage further and closed my eyes. I didn’t get any sleep as she continued to make noise. Once the lights were back on and we started having breakfast, she started talking to me angrily saying that I should find a different seat or use earplugs if I am disturbed by noise. I had no desire to be engaged in an argument but did not know how to respond to get her to stop. What could I have done differently?

Signed,
Anger Management

Dear Anger Management,

A sign of your emotional maturity is your capacity to sit with others’ drama without absorbing it.

Your experience bears a striking resemblance to one I had three months ago. A perky woman next to me began peppering me with questions the instant she sat down. “What’s your name? What do you do? Why are you going to LA?” and on, and on. I introduced myself, answered a couple of perfunctory questions, then said, “I’ve got some work I want to get done. May I talk with you more when I finish in a couple of hours?” She huffed and turned away.

That was a crucial moment. In moments like that, I have three emotional choices: ignore, absorb, or acknowledge.

Ignore. I can reject the clear evidence of the other person’s upset—often in a defensive way. I can actively neglect him or her in an attempt to punish. Or, I can do so to ensure my own safety. In either case, this willful ignorance is false. I actively resist the other person’s emotions while pretending I am not.

Absorb. I can take responsibility for how the other person is feeling by apologizing, or rescuing him or her. I could turn to this lady next to me and say, “I am sorry, what’s on your mind?” or, “Please don’t be mad, I’m just very busy—I have to get these things done or I’ll be in big trouble.”

Acknowledge. Acknowledgement means I care that she is upset but also recognize that it is her choice to be upset. After acknowledging that she is angry, I first examine my own role to discern whether I have fallen short of my own moral duty. If I have, I own it. I don’t own her emotions, but I own the actions that invited her to feel that way. For example, if I had been curt with her I might say, “I don’t think I said that in a very respectful way. I am sorry. I would enjoy talking with you once I have handled some things on my mind. I hope you understand.” Next, I acknowledge that she is feeling that way by validating her. “It appears you’re upset that I won’t talk with you now. I’m sorry you feel that way.” Do NOT apologize for your choice, simply express your empathy with her upset.

In my own case, the woman began to order drink after drink. The more she took in, the angrier she became. Every few minutes, she would turn to me and say, “Are you ready to talk now, Mr. Big Shot?” With a couple of more drinks in her she began to swear at me and call me names.

It is hard to stay in acknowledge rather than absorb when a relentless string of profanities is coming at you. But it is possible. You slip from one to the other when you begin to feel either that: a) the other person’s behavior means something about you—i.e. when people are unhappy with you or don’t like you that your own worth is threatened; or b) you are responsible for the other person’s feelings—i.e. your safety or worth require you to keep others happy.

Moments like the one you had on the plane—disruptive though they may be—are a great chance to develop the internal muscle to stay in acknowledge and avoid slipping into absorb. When you are able to sleep in spite of someone else’s drama, you’ll know you’ve reached momentary competence. My ability to sleep is usually affected more by the emotional noise inside me than the physical noise outside me. If I can quiet the first, I have at least a hope of rest. Continued practice can propel you to sustained competence. Truthfully, I’m working hard to get there myself.

Once I finished my work, I turned to the woman next to me and said, “I would like to talk now if you are still interested.” It turned out, she was on her way to the Betty Ford Clinic for her alcoholism. I doubt my conversation with her changed her trajectory much, but I was happy that I was able to connect with her for a few minutes.

Next time you’ve got a party going on in the next seat, take advantage of the opportunity to do some emotional calisthenics.

Warmly,
Joseph

Kerrying On

You’re Gonna Be Popular

After a fifty-year absence in my life, a word that once filled me with fear and loathing found its way back into my world. It arrived one day, quite by accident, when my granddaughter Kylee was talking to her sister Kelsee about a classmate. I overheard her say that a certain teenager was really “popular.” Ugh. How I hated the whole idea of being popular, or worse still, trying to be popular. I never actually made the cut despite the fact I did my best to adhere to a set of unwritten rules that governed everything from clothing, to food, to the spoken word—especially the spoken word.

For instance, in 1958 (in my neighborhood, at least), if you were hip—(and by natural extension, popular) everything was “rare.” My school annual is full of notes attesting to everyone’s rareness. “To a rare guy, from an even rarer one,” can be found on nearly every page. And then one day, for reasons I still don’t understand, the word “rare” was rendered uncool because, well, “cool” was the new rare. Being cool became the goal of every person wielding a tube of Clearasil. It was all very confusing.

Being “cool” also demanded a great deal from your wardrobe. If you wanted to look hip, you bought standard pants and then took them straight to the tailor to have them narrowed at the ankles. Then, of course, you chose your cuffs. Amongst the popular crowd, a half-inch cuff was too small and a one-inch cuff too large. Your cuffs simply had to be three quarters of an inch. Wear that length of cuff and you would be on the road to cool—which eventually flowed into the narrow path of popularity, that sat a half-block to the left of nirvana, and two doors down from Valhalla.

Sadly, nothing about attaining popularity was, nor will it ever be, the least bit convenient. Popular kids routinely jumped through hoops to hold their station. Consider the humble tennis shoe. One day, the in-crowd decided that you had to wear Converse All-Stars or you’d be permanently assigned to geekdom, which is to say, to be forced to hang out with the nerds who ran the school’s movie projectors. Naturally, (and here’s where the guidelines to popularity make life difficult), your brand-new sneakers weren’t supposed to look new. New sneakers revealed that you were a latecomer to the fashion race and that was never good. So, I rubbed my fresh-out-of-the-box All-Stars with mud and grime–and then threw them in the washing machine (three times) until they came out clean, but older looking. The effect was perfect. My shoes looked as if they had never been new, but had magically appeared one day at the end of my legs—just below my three-quarter inch cuffs.

Given the effort required to be part of the “in” group, it’s little wonder that I shuddered when I heard my granddaughter mention the word popular. But the good news is, the need to be popular didn’t last. One day, after clinging to the norms that govern popularity as if they were sacred script, the very notion of being popular vanished. It happened the day I stepped onto a college campus. Matriculating students came from all around the region and there was no way to determine who had once been popular and who hadn’t. In fact, wearing a high school letter sweater was frowned upon, and mentioning your time as a cheerleader (the gold-standard of popularity) met with sneers. Suddenly, the norms governing cool were out the window, or at least very different. Kids you knew in high school, who wouldn’t have stooped to talk to you three days earlier, now chummed up to you like a life-long friend—all wearing cuffs and shoes of varying sizes, looks, and colors. It was both refreshing and unnerving.

Social scientists love to study such crowd behaviors. The power of social pressure can be both fascinating and unbelievable. For instance, as revered scholar Stanly Milgram learned decades ago, if an authority figure encourages one human to harm (even kill) another human, the researcher can get nearly three-fourths of everyday subjects to shock others to death (or at least think they did) by simply exerting a dose of authority. In the junior version of the game, you can have research confederates give blatantly wrong answers to simple questions and then watch subjects chime in with the same clearly wrong response—just to fit in. Solomon Asch made a living demonstrating this.

The idea of caving into social pressure isn’t merely curious; it also has never been very popular. As you read scientific journals (and don’t we all?), it’s hard to miss the tone taken by researchers who not only report the phenomenon, but also suggest that, at their core, humans are far too concerned about what others think of them. In fact, when the venerable Dr. Asch came out of retirement to make an appearance on the campus where I was attending school in the late 70s, I quickly made my way to his lecture. What did he have in mind? Asch, it turns out, had returned to the academy to set the record straight. He explained that he hadn’t been interested in conformity, as the topic of his research had become to be known. He had been interested in the one-fourth of all research subjects who demonstrated their courage and strength of character by standing up to the wrong opinions of others. In short, he was interested in independence.

To this day, if you ask your average adult if he or she would have been one of the compliant sixty-seven percent who Dr. Milgram manipulated into shocking others into silence, or one of the research dupes who Dr. Asch manipulated into telling a barefaced lie, almost all say, “not me.” Nobody wants to believe that they can be conned into taking questionable actions through the mere force of social pressure. Although many “not me” people probably spent most of their teenage years following trends, they now claim to desire no such thing. “Heck!” they exclaim. “Who cares what others care about? Who cares about being popular?”

The problem here is one of oversimplification. Wanting to be accepted shouldn’t be characterized solely as abandoning one’s opinion merely because one doesn’t have the courage to disagree with others. There’s a lot more going on than that. For example, wanting to get along with and be accepted by others makes up the glue that holds groups together. Helpful behaviors such as finding common ground, looking for a “third way,” carefully listening to (and truly hearing) others—are all rooted in the soil of wanting to be accepted and respected.

This means that the longing to be accepted often supplements a person’s urge to speak openly with the desire to do so respectfully. So, the next time your granddaughter mentions the word “popular,” don’t retch at the thought of following the crowd down who knows what silly path. We already did our stint in teenage hell, no need for more practice. Instead, make Dr. Asch happy by acting independently and by honestly sharing your view—even if it runs counter to the popular opinion. And then act collaboratively by tactfully sharing your views and carefully listening to others. Take pleasure in knowing that belonging to groups provides a sense of comfort and safety while personal expertise (freely spoken) coupled with the wisdom of crowds keeps the whole thing from collapsing. Oh, yes. Don’t forget to wear three-fourths inch cuffs while doing so. No use going crazy.

Influencer QA

Working with a Know-it-All

Dear Steve,

As a nurse, I am responsible for precepting our new hires. In most cases, experienced nurses come to my unit and my job is to help them learn the policies and procedures unique to our unit and the hospital. The most difficult challenge is the “know-it-all” who is impossible to teach. We avoid these people in our personal life and regard them as arrogant, but how do I deal with someone with an unteachable attitude at work?

Signed,
Preceptor
Dear Preceptor,

Braggart, smarty pants, windbag, egoist—however you refer to this category of people, it still doesn’t change the fact that “No ones likes a know-it-all!” (one of my mom’s favorite sayings—just second to the all-time favorite, “Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about!”).

Most people figure they’ll just have to grin and bear the time they’re required to spend working with a know-it all. Or, when patience finally wears thin, they try to “help” the person see the impacts of their know-it-all ways. And while either the “grin and bear it” or “put them in their place” approaches might work in a social setting, at work, you can’t simply choose to avoid these folks. It’s your job to work with them—especially in your case.

My best advice to you is to change the way you go about trying to change these new nurse’s minds.

Typically, when we have information we want to impart, our preferred method is tell, followed by tell, and then we end up with, well . . . more telling. You get the point. Instead of starting and ending with tell, try to create an experience that will help them change their own minds. Here’s what I mean.

I asked my good friend, Jamie, who’s responsible for precepting new hires at Med/Surg Psych Forensics Unit if he’d ever been assigned to train a know-it-all, and if so, what he did. “Of course,” he responded, “I had one a little while ago. She was the toughest I’ve dealt with yet.”

She came to her new unit pre-stocked with all the knowledge, expertise, and information she needed for this new unit—at least that’s what she believed. He explained she had ten years of experience as a NICU nurse and was about fifteen years older than him. She spent a significant amount of time making sure he knew she was at least twenty years beyond him in practical experience, common sense, and all around skill.

Two very long days into a two-week precepting process and she was already discounting and ignoring almost everything Jamie had to offer. And that’s when he got smart. Instead of trying to verbally convince her he had something of value to offer, he decided to let her “solo” on a tricky, but non-life-threatening task.

She floundered. He made some suggestions and, finally, she listened. This direct experience was the catalyst to her asking questions and paying more attention rather than trying to prove she already knew it all. Jamie had no more need to convince or compel. His trainee understood there were things she’d need to know and learn to do well in her new position. In a very short period of time, she ended up changing her own mind.

Now, what made this work? When Jamie switched from telling to getting this new nurse to participate in a task that required knowledge she didn’t currently have, he created a direct experience for the new hire. People usually dismiss attempts at verbal persuasion but can’t so readily dismiss things they’ve experienced firsthand. These direct experiences are both more memorable and more meaningful.

So, what does this mean for you? Try precepting up front. Shift from a theoretical description of their role to a practical one. Instead of waiting for some type of direct experience to present itself, design a process so that one of the very first, if not the first, activities you engage in are direct experiences. I’m talking about simulations or actual tasks that represent the typical types of situations a nurse will encounter in your unit. It will allow you to see what skills they are bringing to your area so you will have a better sense of how to customize their overall precepting experience. It will also provide a great direct experience for the new hire to get a sense of how different your area is and where they’ll need to focus.

I think you’ll find that as you try to incorporate this idea, you’ll come to appreciate the Chinese Proverb which counsels: Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn.

Best of Luck,
Steve

Other

Discrimination at Work

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Influencer QA

How to Connect with an Aging Parent

Dear David,

My husband struggles with how to engage in conversation with his mother. Mom doesn’t get out much and spends a lot of time with what we consider negative news. When we are together, she shares her opinions as facts. Often sweeping generalizations, “Kids today don’t learn anything in school,” or, “No one . . . ” or, “All those people . . . “. He has tried to gently engage, “Interesting that you think that. What I’ve seen for my kids is they are working very hard and learning a lot in school.” She’ll say something like, “Well of course I don’t mean YOUR kids. But all the other ones who don’t have parents who care . . . ” If he disagrees with her, she acts personally attacked, and as if he doesn’t love her.

My husband has tried being silent and not engaging, but fears he is seen as agreeing and therefore contributing to stereotyping and prejudice in our society. He has tried to bring it up, “When you state your opinions so strongly, I don’t know how to share a different opinion without you feeling hurt that I disagree,” but without luck. Please help!

Signed,
Sidelined by Mom

Dear Sidelined,

What a sad question! Hurt feelings in families are especially painful. And yet, when you hear a loved one make an offensive comment, you don’t want your silence to endorse it. In Crucial Conversations we teach how to disagree in the moment without hurting feelings, but I want to draw on our book, Influencer, to take a longer-term view.

I think the fundamental problem to solve is that mom doesn’t get out much, but wants to contribute to your conversations. I don’t know her so I’m going to imagine she is a bit like my mother or my wife’s mother when they were in their 70’s and 80’s.

Your Data Stream Determines Your Mental Agenda.
As my mom entered her 70’s and 80’s, she retired from being a math professor, health problems kept her mostly indoors, she stopped driving, and she moved away from friends to be close to family. This meant that her world shrank into a fairly small bubble. Is this the same for your mom?

Imagine her small world. Where does she get her information? She probably watches a fair amount of television, mostly cable news with a sprinkling of a few favorite shows. Her friends are probably a lot like her, similar in age and TV viewing habits. As a result, her data stream is limited and repetitive. And it’s likely to be skewed towards the negative, because that’s what’s considered newsworthy.

Mom is Still Mom. A mom’s role in the family is a sacred one, and your mom should never give it up. A part of that role is to give advice, share opinions, and protect you from the world out there. I believe that is what she is doing when she makes her “sweeping generalizations.”

Conversations Stall Out. Does the following happen? You and your husband are with mom making conversation. You hit on a topic where she thinks she can contribute, because she heard about it on TV. But, when she speaks up, her comment strikes you as a negative opinion, not a fact. You either go silent or speak up to disagree. The conversation dies and mom feels hurt.

If this is what’s happening, then the question shouldn’t be, “What can I say in the moment?” but, “What can I do to broaden mom’s data stream and deepen our relationship?” Here are a few strategies that worked for my wife and me.

Include Her in Your Data Stream. My wife and I got some excellent advice from a friend. She told us, “When your mom gets into her 70’s, you need to call her every day.” We took that advice and it made a world of difference. It gave us personal topics to talk about, topics that were more important to us than whatever the latest news might be. Weekly calls don’t give mom enough context to contribute, but daily calls make her a part of your life.

We also began taking more photos. We’d send our mom two or three photos a day, just to let her know what we were up to. Then, when we talked at the end of the day, mom could comment on the photos and feel as if she were with us.

Think of ways to connect on a daily basis and to give her more details about your goings on. This will give you more positive and personal topics to discuss.

Create Common Experiences. My mom was a reader, so we started a book club with her—just me, my wife, and my mom. We quickly learned what she liked: John McPhee was an early favorite. As she grew older, we moved to shorter essays and stories. Tove Jansson’s, The Summer Book, and Bern Heinrich’s, One Wild Bird at a Time, became our new favorites. Once again, our goal was to create common experiences and shared experiences that gave us more to discuss than the weather, current events, and politics.

My wife’s mom loved music, so we started watching TV music shows together. This was a bit awkward since we lived three states apart. But the three of us became fans of American Idol, The Voice, and Dancing With The Stars. My wife would call her mom just before the show began to awaken her and make sure her TV was tuned to the right channel. Then, we’d call during commercial breaks to get her opinions on the performances, judges, and competitors. Again, our goal was to have shared experiences that were more relevant and personal than the weather, current events, or politics.

A last piece of advice is to ask mom about herself. Moms have so much history and wisdom to share. Below are a few questions I’ve pulled off the Internet. My wife and I tried some of these with our moms. They can stimulate some rich conversations, but not all of them work with every mom and you may need some patience to get the conversation going.

• How did you meet Dad and how did you know he was “The One”?
• What’s one thing you wish you did differently before you got married or had kids?
• What question do you wish you could ask your mom?
• What’s the hardest thing about being a mom? What’s the best thing?
• What was your dream job when you were younger?
• How many jobs have you had in your life? What did you learn from them?
• Who was your favorite person to spend time with when you were a teenager? Why?
• What kind of car did you learn to drive in? Who taught you?

I hope these ideas help you find more common ground with your aging mother and create common shared experiences that can generate positive conversation. I believe you are seeking for that kind of rich relationship that will benefit you both and I hope you can find it.

Best of Luck,
David

Crucial Conversations QA

The Return of the Rational—Separating Facts vs. Stories

Dear Joseph,

Since the election, I’ve been noodling on one of the core competencies of Crucial Conversations: Separating facts from stories. We live in strange times where many people can no longer distinguish what is true vs. what is something they believe is true—seeing them as equivalents. How do you have a reasonable conversation with others when you can’t even agree on the definition of a fact?

Signed,
Alternative Facts

Dear Alternative Facts,

I agree with your premise even more than you do. You say, “ . . . many people can no longer distinguish what is true vs. what they believe . . . ” Substitute “all of us” for “many people” and I’m with you.

You’re struggling to have “reasonable conversations” and I’d suggest part of the reason might be that you have an illusion of your own invulnerability to the same massive distortion.

We smugly tell ourselves that the reason we have conflict with others is that they are subject to silly self-serving biases. We, by contrast, see the world as it is. Or, at least, far better than “they” do. We are more cosmopolitan, educated, and sophisticated. They are a bunch of mindless pawns to whatever pabulum is served up to them.

The problem isn’t that we are wrong about them. The problem is that we are wrong about us. When your feelings of rightness turn into feelings of righteousness you’ve almost always crossed the line into self-deception.

What makes this all worse, today, most of us inhabit internet filter bubbles. What we like to think is a random sample of correct-thinking humanity reinforces our deluded sense of our own objectivity dozens of times a day with invisibly, but carefully, curated content.

If you want to have reasonable conversations with those who have come to widely divergent views from yours, here are some tools:

1. Drop the adjectives. When describing others’ views—even when they are out of earshot—stop using inflated and inflammatory language. For example, making the statement, “A trade war would be a mutual suicide pact! Hasn’t he taken a basic econ class?” has a predictable influence not just on the other person, but on you. The reason for reducing your use of adjectives is not to understate your views, it is to cease escalating your own feelings of separation. You can’t communicate with someone you don’t respect. The word “communication” comes from the same root as “community” and “comity.” The word literally means “to make common.” The more you amplify your adjectives, the more you erode even the possibility of coming to common views with others. I am not suggesting you wallpaper over substantive differences you may have with other people. I am only suggesting that you be circumspect about maintaining integrity with your own facts by lacing them less often with inflammatory “stories.” For example, “My understanding of economic history is that it generally leads to mutually harmful trade wars.”

2. STATE your facts. If you want others to be more fact-based, be sure—even when among “friendlies”—to hold yourself to the same standard. It feels exhilarating sometimes to sing the chorus of our own conclusions with those who harmonize with us—but this makes for mental laziness that atrophies our patience with those who sing a different tune. Develop the discipline, when sharing your opinion in any context, of starting with the facts from which you claim to derive your conclusions. For example, if you believe tariffs are bad, why do you believe that? If you’re like me, you’ll be humbled to realize you’ve simply been repeating what those you hang out with or read from have been saying, and you may struggle to really remember the factual basis for your conclusions any more than those you’re tempted to deride.

3. Patiently walk others back down their “paths.” In Crucial Conversations we describe the “Path to Action”

The model suggests that how people act is the result of a path that begins with an experience. Our senses gather data through hearing, seeing, etc. Then we tell a story about what we experience. The story creates our feelings. And our feelings influence our actions. The problem is, our brains are designed for efficiency. So we tend not to store all the source data that shapes our stories and feelings. We tend to remember what we think or feel about things. But we don’t remember all the facts and observations that generated those stories or feelings. Thus, we are terrible at revising our views but great at arguing for their rightness. Knowing this, we can be more patient both with ourselves and others. We’re all deluded. But we can help each other out.

When someone tells you what they “think” or “feel,” gently and respectfully help him or her recover the connections to the “why.” Ask about what he or she has seen, done, read, or learned that informed these stories and feelings. Don’t provoke defensiveness by pointing out how lame and inadequate his or her evidence is. All you’ll do is rupture the safety within which he or she can rationally reconsider with a larger pool of meaning.

I hope these ideas are useful to you. I like the saying, “Oh Lord, please help me forgive those who sin differently than I.” Yet, I think in the end, we all sin in pretty similar ways.

Best wishes,
Joseph