I took a couple weeks off from writing—one to go on vacation with my family, and then another to recuperate from the Covid everyone got as we traveled home from abroad. Lots has happened in the world since last I wrote, but I wanted to share a bit about communication and openness this week.
I started writing a column with my 15-year-old daughter at the start of the year. She had planned to write with her paternal grandmother, but she sadly passed before they had a chance to start. She asked me if I would be willing to do it, and I reluctantly agreed.
The journey of our Tiger Mom and Her Cub column has been an illuminating one. We write about things that affect our lives, like dating, money, and filial piety. Each month, we come up with a topic, and then we discuss it on one of our late-night dog walks. Bethany writes the opening, and I add my observations. She rebuts, and I counter. We start far apart on what we write, but in the end, we come to a meeting of the minds—even if that means agreeing to disagree.
Getting on the same page has been a journey for us. During the discussion process, we inevitably learn a lot about each other. I am often tempted to assert my point of view (that’s the mom in me!), but because we are writing an article about our different points of view, I have had to restrain myself and get her to open up.
Over the years, I’ve created a list of prompts that help me elicit more information and stay my opinion when I would otherwise want to jump in. These are great tools to penetrate the impenetrable wall of a teen, but they’re also useful at work. If you’re looking for ways to open up a dialog with anyone in your life, use these prompts as a way to get started.
“Tell me more.”
I am a problem solver. If someone on my team tells me there’s an issue, I’m ready to jump in and help. But I got a wake-up call when one of my reports once told me, “I am telling you this as a heads-up, but please don’t take action.” My modus operandi is to make suggestions, find solutions, and push toward getting resolution—but sometimes this isn’t the best first step. Now, I try to hang back and use those three words: Tell me more.
This response is short and innocuous. Neutral and simple. Open and inviting. It encourages someone to move to the next level of disclosure without fear of judgment. In order for this to work, you have to listen and not seek to volley back. Remember, you are not playing tennis, but rather a game of catch. When you have the ball, hold it and sit with it. Be curious, not critical.
When someone brings you a problem, fight against every instinct to correct the person’s statements or “fix” the problem right away. Instead, listen to them, and really hear where they are coming from. Then ask for more information.
“Could you share an example?”
“People are concerned about resources.”
“So-and-so is hard to work with.”
“No one thinks this project should be a priority.”
One of the things I find really difficult is when people make these kinds of sweeping generalizations about a situation. These broad assertions can sound definitive, but they may or may not be accurate. It’s like a prosecutor saying, “The defendant is guilty,” but then not offering any proof. Often, these statements represent specific points of view that are informed by something, but they don’t always give the full picture. Your job is to understand what led the person to this conclusion.
This is where it helps to ask for detailed examples. We once had a situation where a functional leader said, “No one values our contribution on this team.” I was confused, since they were important parts of the execution and had a seat at the table. When I asked for an example, she shared how they were left off the SWAT team we were putting together. She also pointed out how they had also been excluded from one of the recognition posts for the launch.
This was easily remedied. Rather than going through a whole plan to make sure the group felt included, we quickly addressed the specific issues that had led to the generalization, and everyone walked away friends.
Sometimes things are much simpler than we make them out to be, but we broadly generalize when getting specifics is actually more useful. When you’re in a conversation where somebody is speaking in generalizations, ask them to share examples. Many times, the core issue is not what you think it is—and it may not be what they think it is, either.
I was once leading a debrief for a candidate, and somebody said that we shouldn’t hire her because she was “bossy.” I stopped the debrief and asked him to clarify. The others pointed out that he would never use that word for a male candidate, so I wanted to understand what exactly led him to this conclusion, rather than going off a sweeping generalization. His examples were detailed. Another interviewer had even seen the same issues, but didn’t know how to put a name to them. Using the shorthand of “bossy” wasn’t what helped us get on the same page—the examples did.
Getting to alignment requires specificity. It requires opening up about what exactly is wrong and sharing examples so that it can be addressed. Culture is extremely local, and so is conflict. Without understanding the hotspots, it is impossible to solve the problem at a high level.
“What led you to this decision?”
When someone shares their opinion and we disagree, our instinct is to push back on the opinion itself. We want to argue and discuss, rather than understand. This leads to pushback and conversations that are ultimately counterproductive. Asking, “What led you to this decision?” helps unpack the reasons behind a person’s thinking.
I once had a colleague whom I respected a great deal but had major differences of opinion with. We would debate and argue, but we were never able to change each other’s minds. Then, one day, we started talking about the why, not the what. Suddenly, I had a much clearer picture of the reasons we saw the world differently. Our life and work experiences had led us to totally different places, and that resulted in a substantial gap in how we thought about our products.
In a similar vein, I remember talking to a friend from my same hometown about what it was like growing up being so different. She had no idea what I was talking about. We were in all the same classes and had been friends for years, but she never noticed all the insults and racial name-calling. It wasn’t that she was unsympathetic or callous; she just didn’t notice. I don’t think she ever viewed our hometown as a place where there was a lot of bigotry, so she never quite understood my intense desire to leave. I don’t fault her for that. We lived side by side in different realities.
Life experience has a way of filtering the world we see, and thus the way we approach problems. What seems like an obvious conclusion to you might seem completely foreign to someone else. Seeking to understand what led them to that conclusion will get you much farther than debating the conclusion itself.
“What does support look like to you?”
My husband, David, was frustrated at work. He would come home and complain about it nonstop. At first, I was sympathetic to his situation. Then I was frustrated on his behalf. Then I grew annoyed—at him. I didn’t know how to help him, and every night felt like him coming home and dumping all of his irritation on me.
I realized that I had to do two things.
One: timebox our discussions. They were taking over our lives, so I asked that he limit the conversations about work to our nightly walks.
Two: I asked him, “What does support look like to you?” I was at my wits’ end, and I was not being a very good partner. I needed him to tell me how to support him in a way that was helpful. I had tried lending a listening ear. I tried giving some advice. I had scenario-planned with him. We were talking in circles, until I finally asked him to tell me what he needed. I should have started with that.
It turned out that all David really wanted was for me to listen. I agreed to do so, but with a condition: “If you complain about something for more than a month but won’t actively do anything about it, we have to stop talking about it.” This helped us to reach a better place in our relationship. I was able to show him support, but he was also able to see when his inaction was prolonging the situation.
Sometimes what you think a person needs is completely different from what they actually need. Operating based on that assumption leads to frustration. Getting clarity is often the first step toward moving forward.
I learned the hard way that so much of relationships is about connection, not discussion. As a chronic problem-solver, I have a tendency to jump to the solution before understanding the person. See what I said there? Not understanding the problem, but the person. We tend to think that all problems are the same, but in reality, they are intertwined with the person we see across the table from us.
Conversations become so much more productive when you seek to understand, not to solve. It can be easy to think you have all the information you need, but a few simple questions will reveal that you rarely ever have the full picture. Taking steps to open up a dialog can help you get on the same page—and that’s when progress really happens.
Simple questions that can open up a relationshipRead MorePerspectives
