Speak to my fear — I'll hear you
"Sam" was a vibrant, eager young woman. As a key manager on my team, she had taken on an important project working with schools throughout a large state, as well as press and funder relationship. She was smart and capable — and proud.
That was the problem.
As smart and capable as she was, she didn't yet have the experience to see around all the corners and anticipate problems. On a few occasions, she got herself into hot water with administrators and didn't tell me until it was too late. On even more occasions, she simply got overwhelmed and fell behind. She was also struggling with depression, and that sometimes got in the way.
She felt terrible and hated that she had, as she said, "let me down."
Each time, the problem could have easily been avoided had she asked for help earlier in the process. The fixes were easy. The cleanup? Not so much.
We had a good relationship and I tried explaining that I wanted her to come to me when she felt overwhelmed or made mistakes. But the pattern continued. I knew she was capable, but I simply didn’t have time to “babysit” her and couldn’t seem to find a way to reach her. As much as I didn't want to do it, letting her go began to feel like the only option.
Until I took my own advice to “first, see differently.”
What mattered most to Sam? I asked. What was her highest value and deepest desire at this moment?
As hard as it was to acknowledge, I knew what it was: Not letting me down.
I had to speak directly to that part of her — that deep desire, and even deeper fear.
We sat down together and I explained to her that I had a wide range of heavy responsibilities and demands on my time and attention. I oversaw several programs and was driving a major growth initiative.
Then, I said to her, "If I have to be looking over my shoulder every moment, checking to see if you’re drowning or not, I can't do my job. And if I can't do my job, your coworkers, who I know you care about, get the short end of the stick. Revenue is impacted. New development is impacted.”
“Plus, I get overwhelmed and cranky — and everybody pays the price.”
She laughed, but was starting to get the picture. In the avoidance of her fear, she had already made her deepest fear come true. And I was offering her a way out.
"It's your job,” I went on, “in fact, it's your absolute responsibility — to ask for help! I can't do my job unless I can count on you to do this part of your job. Your job is not to be the hero and never need help (and, by the way, how's that working for ya?). “Your job is to ask for all the help and support you need to succeed. And to always tell me right away when things go wrong. That’s so much easier on me!”
“When I'm absolutely confident that you'll do that, without fail, then I can turn my attention back to my job — which includes joyfully helping you! Everybody wins. If you can't do that, then everybody loses — and I can't let that happen.”
For the first time, Sam "got it." She got it that, in her attempt not to let me down, she was letting me — and her co-workers — down. In her attempt to not fail, she was failing at this critically important aspect of her job.
By asking for help, she actually required less of my time — and got way more done herself.
I really thought I might have to let Sam go. Instead, she became a growth-minded and valued member of our team, and went on to become a leader in her own right.
First, see differently. Once we can see what matters most to the person we’re trying to reach, we can speak to the part of them that is ready to hear.