Nearly 30 years ago, I was walking with my father. I was absolutely fuming. My wife and I had had an argument, and I was ranting – full of righteous indignation. After letting me go on for longer than most would have tolerated my carping, my father stopped and turned to me to ask two questions. First: “Are you through?” When I responded in the affirmative, he asked, “Why does this matter to you?” I remember thinking, “Haven’t you been paying attention?” Instead, I simply said, “I’m right,” and so, by extension, I believed she was wrong. Again, my father demonstrated the patience that I loved in him. He replied that, even if I was right, why did the issue we were fighting about matter. He encouraged me not to answer the question. “Just think about it while we walk.” For the next few blocks, I stewed on the question. I will admit that, for the first block or so, my righteous indignation won, but then something shifted. I started to think about the issue at the root of the initial argument. I have no recollection of what it was, but I do recall thinking that my father was on to something. The issue wasn’t nearly as important as I had made it. I had allowed my ego to produce an emotion-driven response to a relatively minor disagreement. No – this is not an article about marital harmony. My father’s question works in any relationship where conflict or contention plays a role. For most people, our work is fraught with conflicts and disagreements, and many times these situations turn unproductive because we allow ourselves to get sucked into arguments that don’t matter. Don’t get me wrong, there are many things that are worth fighting for and about. My point is that we typically waste our energy on the wrong things. We fail to recognize what matters. There are so many layers to the question, “Why does this matter?” Some are obvious: Some are less obvious, but potentially more relevant in terms of our emotional response: These are just a few of the angles to consider when we begin digging into the original question. I do not believe anyone can or should run through a long list of questions to determine whether they should or should not take a stand when an issue emerges. Rather, I am advocating for a deliberate response versus an instinctive response. When we force ourselves to stop (or even slow down) to examine why something is bothering us and to discern why it matters, we take a critical step in derailing unhealthy and unproductive emotional responses. This slight pause gives us the opportunity to respond deliberately and powerfully. One situation may compel us to take an immediate and firm stance while another may lead us to ignore the issue, and others may elicit something in between these extremes. Imagine a colleague with whom you have a healthy and slightly competitive relationship takes an action that benefits him but puts one of your projects in jeopardy. You learn about this in a large meeting with some important stakeholders, including your boss and the sponsor of the impacted project. Early in my career, my instinctive response would have been to get angry and go on the attack, creating a contentious situation and forcing a rash decision to resolve the issue. Instead, when we ask, “Why does this matter?” we may recognize that the best course of action is to take the issue offline and resolve it privately, or we may decide that immediate and decisive action is required. This moment of discernment is where the deeper questions listed above may come into play. We assess the urgency and the importance of a situation and act accordingly. Depending on how we answer these questions, we may accept the short-term disappointment or frustration of our stakeholders to preserve an important relationship. Conversely, we may decide that the risk is too great to wait, so we may confront the issues immediately and directly. Regardless of the choice, the act of slowing down and responding deliberately increases the probability of achieving our desired outcome. Those who know me well are likely to see in my example that the practice of asking why something matters is more of an aspiration than a habit. I am still too quick to go on the offensive when I feel threatened or slighted. However, I have come to learn that often the only thing being threatened is my ego. Developing this awareness has allowed me to take a response that is rooted in my core values rather than defensive reflex.
Last Tuesday, I was working at the polls, and I met a young father who had his son in tow. I remember doing the same thing when my children were little. This father believed that voting was important, and he wanted his son to understand that and to see him taking part in the electoral process. We talked for several minutes, and he said he had to get back to work. He was a restaurant manager, and he wanted to see if anyone who wanted to vote had done so prior to the polls closing. I commented on how great it is for organizations to recognize the importance of voting and give their employees time to exercise this precious right. He laughed and said, “It’s not a corporate policy. It’s mine.” He said he really didn’t have the authority to do things like that, but he felt it was important enough to bend the rules. His rationale made sense to me. All of his employees live within a few miles of the restaurant, and he asked them to vote before or after the lunch /dinner rushes. This act of civic engagement cost him almost nothing, but it meant a lot to his employees.
Several months ago, one of my executive leadership coaching clients started our session by venting his frustration about the state of politics in America. It is easy to share his frustration. As a resident of one of the “battleground” states in the upcoming election, I am overwhelmed by the volume of commercials and deeply disturbed by their universal lack of civility. Although I shared his feelings in general, I found myself surprised by the overarching conclusion he had drawn about the problem’s root cause. He stated emphatically, “The problem is principles!” When I asked him to elaborate, he said that he felt that in the name of principled leadership, politicians have become rigid and inflexible. “They are unwilling to cooperate, collaborate, or compromise.”
“It’s not supposed to be fun. That’s why they call it work.” That was my father’s attempt at humor whenever I complained about chores around the house. I know he was only kidding, but for many people, this is how they truly feel. It’s work, so it is supposed to be hard and unpleasant. The idea that work could be fun is almost counter-cultural. Several years ago, in spite of what my father said, I came to the realization that work not only can be fun, it should be. That doesn’t mean that we will always love every aspect of our work, but I believe we are doing ourselves a real disservice if we don’t strive to find employment that is fulfilling and enjoyable. This new way of looking at work was a primary driver behind my decision to leave the relative security of my corporate life for the uncertainty of entrepreneurship.
Some rules are made to be broken. It’s true, but the real challenge is figuring out which ones they are and what it means to break them. Some are easy. Last week, an extraordinary rule breaker celebrated his 94 birthday. Nelson Mandela’s willingness to defy his government to oppose Apartheid changed a nation and made him an international symbol for transformation and reconciliation. Mandela’s life has taught us that breaking rules and paying the price for doing so can raise awareness to issues that must be addressed. Whether you are trying to change the world or just change your family, deciding to break rules takes selflessness, courage, and wisdom. Most of all it takes a willingness to lead.