Company Limits Bathroom Breaks To Six Minutes a Day

Yes, you heard right. Here’s the reference: Company Limits Bathroom Breaks To Six Minutes a Day

No doubt there was some employee shenanigans (think: excessive Facebooking and texting on mobile devices in the bathroom) that brought this on. And perhaps management did some things that contributed to this outcome as well.

But would the ‘Six Minute Rule’ have been invoked if management genuinely viewed their staff as professionals? Not likely!

Invariably, self-management practices go way up when management treats the staff as professionals. The staff’s ‘best-self’ gets proudly displayed. They’re motivated to do the right thing, and they’ll do it more often. Of course there’s always going to be a few knuckle-heads, but still…..

Who doesn’t want to work in an environment in which ‘professional’ is the organization’s aspiration. And who doesn’t want to work with colleagues who are professionals? Of course, the questions are rhetorical. An organization that centers its organization on professional ideals wouldn’t stoop to this.

Unflattering Trait ≠ Unprofessional

People are sometimes described as unprofessional by their colleagues or associates when they have a trait or characteristic that stands out—-typically in an unflattering way.  Consider:

***the woman with the shrill laugh who seemingly thinks everything is funny (her colleagues initially found this trait to be cute, but over time became repelled by it)   

***the man who is naturally inquisitive and incessantly asks questions. (his peers quickly found this to be aggravating)  

***the supervisor (someone who happened to have a hearing disability) that speaks especially loudly—even when having one-on-one conversations in close quarters. ( even understanding his condition, the staff never quite got used to this and too often felt like they were being yelled at—inappropriately so)

If asked, how would you describe these individuals?  Or what if you were an executive recruiter and one of these people becomes a serious candidate for a position you’re attempting to fill.  As a professional, how do describe (objectively so) the individual to your hiring manager client?  After all, what you say holds sway with the hiring manager.  Say something inappropriate (or misleading) and you could torpedo the candidate. 

Sometimes we’re inclined to describe these types of individuals as unprofessional.  And that inclination is often fueled from our own emotional reaction to them (the importance of mind-set six, once again, raises its head).  From my point of view, when someone has a trait or characteristic that stands out in an unflattering way, it doesn’t make them unprofessional.  ‘Un’ means without or the opposite of.  In effect, in describing someone as unprofessional it suggests that the person has virtually no professionalism.  It would be a rare circumstance in which that would be true.   

Plus, when you suggest someone is unprofessional it suggests that you can’t trust them—whether it be their competence, their judgment, or their character (for more on this see Chapter Four in The Power of Professionalism).  Having a defining personal trait (however annoying) typically doesn’t have much to do with their professionalism and, by default, their trustworthiness.  Simply said, transposing someone’s personality with their character does that person a disservice—and does not reflect well on us as a professional.         

When describing someone who has a trait or characteristic that is unflattering, consider describing  them as a bit unpolished, needing greater refinement, or something analogous which is appropriate to the situation.

Take first impressions.  It’s true that when someone ‘shows up’ disheveled (think: unkept appearance) it invariably creates the wrong impression.  Many will be put off by it. Certainly people don’t initially associate ‘professional’ with that person.  Yet, it’s important to resist the urge to refer to them as unprofessional—for many of the reasons previously stated.    

The point here is not to generalize.  As professionals, it’s important for all of us to be objective. Recall  the woman with the shrill laugh.  Annoying? Sure. Unprofessional? No.

Football’s Skill Players—Lessons For Today’s Professionals

A colleague friend of mine was updating me on her prize-recruit son who is destined to be playing football next year at a Pac 12 school.  He plays on the offensive line.  He goes something like 6’ 5”, 280 pounds and bench presses half-a-gazillion pounds.

She was explaining to me how the recruiting process worked and how her son (ultimately) would be spending more time with his O-Line coach than that same coach would spend with his own family.  It was fascinating.  Each group (linebackers, running backs, lineman, etc), she explained, had the own specialty coaches.   “You know, the skill players have their coaches and each of the other groups have theirs.”   In football parlance skill players are running backs, quarterbacks, wide receivers, etc.

I smiled mischievously.  “What?” she asked.  “What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t help myself, so I asked her “does that mean that your son and his fellow linemen are unskilled?”

She hesitated, then smiled knowingly.  We both agreed that each and every player on the team was exceptionally skilled—each in their own way.  And we further agreed that today’s distinctions between so-called skill players and the rest of the football team was unfortunate.

The same thing happens in the workplace.  There’s the professionals and then everybody else.  For those of you who have read The Power of Professionalism, you know we’re trying hard to change these unfortunate distinctions.

Always remember, you’re the one that determines whether you’re a professional or not –no one can ever take that away from you.

Next year I’m looking forward to seeing this young man play at the next level.  Any football fan who appreciates athletes with amazing skill-sets will too.

I Really Can’t Put My Finger On It

I recently received an email from a colleague friend who owns and operates a very successful  executive search firm. She’s quite familiar with The Power of Professionalism.  At the very end of her note she added the following PS:  

“I was comparing two people yesterday. I said to myself, ‘Person A is highly professional. It’s not that Person B is unprofessional, but Person A is notably highly professional.’ I really couldn’t put my finger on some detail or example that brought me to this conclusion. Odd.”

Isn’t that the truth?  Often times it’s our intuition that whispers to us how professional someone is. And more-often-than-not the assessment this woman was making is an unconscious process for most of us. 

There’s just something about how the person conducts themselves—which often translates to a lot of little, yet terribly important, things.  Taken in aggregate, it reveals a tapestry that could only have been created by a professional.           

In organizational settings (particularly) we’re prone to compare—it’s the nature of the beast. We compare because we must.  Who do we hire—candidate A or B? Which service provider—A or B–gets the new maintenance contract?       

Differentiating oneself is tough. Yet, I’ve learned that professionalism can be a big differentiator. For trusted professionals the key is to get others to notice—even if the person really can’t put their finger on the ‘why’.       

The (Sometimes Maddening) Need For Precision

A manager is presenting in an important meeting.  He is in the process of making a critical point, yet goes blank as he has forgotten the date he last met with the Chief Marketing Officer (CMO).  The CMO is someone who had played an integral role in the breakthrough the manager is reporting on.  “Let’s see I think I met with the CMO last Wednesday”.  Backpedaling, he painstakingly recants, “no it was Thursday”.   After confusion ensues amongst the group, he changes course once again.  “Wait, it was probably Tuesday”.

The manager has taken nearly a minute attempting to sort this out. That’s an eternity for someone who has been allocated only 15 minutes on the agenda—with five of those minutes committed to Q&A.  The manager seems oblivious to the side-show he has created.  Yet he’s especially pleased with himself when he finally figures out that it was indeed Wednesday when he met with the CMO.  He’s a man who has a high need for precision–someone who (among other things) prides themselves in getting the facts 100% right every time.  To him it’s a badge of honor.

Here’s the problem with people’s need for precision: too often in group settings (think: meetings, teachers instructing, etc) it detracts more than it helps.  This gentleman, for example, ultimately got his fact right but in the process lost his audience.  Plus, the group ultimately lost its momentum after the manager had trouble regaining his mojo.

The irony is that the meeting date with the CMO was inconsequential to the point the manager was attempting to make.  It simply didn’t matter.  Yet the manager seemingly had more invested energy in identifying that arcane fact than his all-important proposition.  The manager got lost in the weeds.  The culprit?  His own need for precision.

Precision, as important as it is, is essential only when it has direct bearing on a desired outcome you’re trying to achieve.  Otherwise, it’s noise.  There are exceptions, but not many.

The opposite also occurs.  How frequently do you see this happen?

A manager is attempting to share an inspiring story about Judy —the company’s promising new COO.  Early on in the manager’s comments to the assembled group of front-line supervisors the manager says,  “Judy was a supervising engineer for only two years before she was promoted to Director.”   Dan, a seasoned front-line supervisor, interrupts, “…actually, it was three years.”

Turns out, Dan was right—but his point added no value to the manager’s insightful perspective about Judy.

A human resources director is reporting on the results from the annual employee satisfaction survey to the company’s top officers.  She is pointing out the implications from the unmistakable downward trend in employee confidence across the entire enterprise.  Arthur, the company’s newest officer, unexpectedly chimes in.  “Yes, but look at the high level of confidence amongst the officer corps.”

Turns out, Arthur was right—but the high level of confidence amongst the officers was clearly an anomaly when contrasted against each and every other group in the company.  Arthur’s comment unfortunately distracted his fellow officer’s focus away from the all-important need for them to understand the dramatic decline in employee confidence.

Brett, a twenty nine year old chemist, makes a recommendation to his GM about how to remove the unwelcome deposits on the company’s boiler tubes. Betty, a twenty four year veteran of the steam generation department, asks Brett during an important group meeting: “what makes you think, after a short six months with this company, that you are in a position to recommend on such an important  issue?”

Turns out Betty was right—Brett was a short-timer, someone who was seemingly ill-equipped to make  such a recommendation.  But Brett had experience.  Turns out, he had helped solve a very similar problem with his last employer.

Each of these latter three examples are variations on people’s need for precision: the first is always representing the facts correctly, the second is never letting an exception go unnoticed, and the third is being unforgiving to those attempting to lead (i.e. expecting perfection).

All three of these are admirable and (usually) well-intended. Yet, it’s not helpful for the group when someone shares an arcane fact that adds no value.  It’s not helpful for the group when someone’s clever observation (think: exception) sidetracks the group from weightier matters.  And it’s especially not helpful for the group when those that attempt lead it come under constant cross-examination as a means of passing someone’s self-appointed credibility test.

Precision is a good thing—it enabled Man to send astronauts to the Moon and return them safely.  Yet, precision isn’t always our friend…no more so than when it becomes maddening to our colleagues!

 

A Well-Intended, Yet Misguided, Question Professionals Should Stop Asking

You’ve heard it on Oprah, you expect it from psychologists, emphatic managers are sometimes encouraged to ask it.

“How does that make you feel?” It’s an oh-so-common question.  On the surface, the question seems innocuous–even well intended.  Someone has a ‘bad’ experience; empathy gets marched out as an anti-dote.   On the surface, it all makes sense.

But it’s a question that makes my head explode.

Why? Because the implication is that the person has no control over how they feel.  That’s just wrong.  Taken to its logical conclusion, it enables people to abdicate responsibility.  It breeds victimhood.

Events trigger emotions. This is an automatic reaction—or that’s what most people believe. But that’s not really the way it works. Rather, emotions are determined by what we think about the event, not by the event itself. In other words, our interpretation of an event ultimately becomes the precursor to the emotion we experience.

For instance, the mandatory overtime Saturday work-day unexpectedly gets canceled by management. Tom is thrilled (he gets to play golf); while Mary is bummed (she needs the extra money).   Same event— two completely different emotions.  The event/circumstance didn’t make either one of them feel anything.   It was Tom and Mary’s interpretation of the event that ultimately produced the emotion they assigned to it.

Don’t misunderstand, empathy is a very good thing. By all means ask folks how they feel….that will help them.  Just don’t ask them how an event or circumstance made them feel.  Good intent, bad question.

NOTE: this topic is covered in greater detail in chapter eleven of The Power of Professionalism and in chapter six in The Big AHA.  Both reference the terrific work of Professor Seymour Epstein at the University of Massachusetts.

Having A Point of View

In The Power of Professionalism I wrote extensively about the importance of professionals having a point-of-view.  (see chapter eight, mind-set three)

Nilofer Merchant’s recent article—Having A Point of View–nicely compliments the spirit chapter eight.  As she notes, having a point of view ” attracts talent…creates allies…focuses the work.”  All true, plus some.

Check out the article, it’s a good reminder.

What Each Of Us Can Learn From Lance’s Disclosure

Full disclosure: I didn’t watch Oprah’s interview with Lance Armstrong, nor did I seek out articles regarding such.  My exposure to the subject was limited to one article I accidentally happened on through my ISP.

This article points out that Armstrong finally comes clean with his oldest son Luke about his indiscretions after he witnessed his son defending him in front of others.  In other words, Armstrong made an arguably tough decision after seeing the adverse impact on Luke.

As we’ve learned through Stanford Professor James March’s research on decision making, these types of tough choices are most strongly influenced by either one of two factors: 1) the consequences one is subject to—what I get versus what it costs OR  2) the choice is influenced by an especially important aspect of one’s identity.   The former is quite calculated, the latter is quite intuitive.

In Armstrong’s case it appears he finally fessed up to Luke because of the  identity he held of himself as Dad.   As the article points out, Armstrong became the most emotional when the subject of his son came up….this contrasted against the subject of all the sponsorships (and money) he had lost.

In his role as Dad, Armstrong no doubt had certain expectations of himself—to do right by his kids, to protect them, to teach them properly, etc. For those of us who are parents, our identity of ourselves (as either mom or dad) is one our most powerful.  Thus, we shouldn’t find it too surprising that Armstrong told Luke after he saw the damage the situation was having on him.

That’s the power that identity had on Armstrong—as it does for each of us. Our best decisions–especially the tough ones–are by-products of situations when we’ve been willing to be influenced by our identity.

Is it any wonder then that within The Power of Professionalism  we put such emphasis on being a professional—the ultimate workplace identity?

 

 

 

 

 

Mr. Shanahan–What’s Behind Your Question?

Ask any major league starting pitcher with a high pitch count how he feels in the late innings of a game, and 99 percent of the time he’ll tell you that he feels great. In fact, he probably doesn’t feel great. He’s probably trashed. The pitcher responds the way he thinks he’s supposed to.  After all, he’s a warrior!

This was essentially what Mike Shanahan (football coach of the Washington Redskins) did with quarterback RG3 (rookie phenom Robert Griffin III) on Jan 6th in a playoff game against the Seattle Seahawks. RG3 was clearly hobbled—barely able to defend himself. He was gimping around on the same leg (knee really) that he had severely injured earlier in the year.

‘You OK?'” Shanahan asked.  “And he [RG3] said, `I’m fine.'”   This exchange was late in the game.  At that point, even a grade school kid could tell RG3 wasn’t right. RG3’s response was no surprise—he was responding the way he was expected to. After all, even as a rookie, he was the face of the franchise and its unquestioned leader.

RG3 stayed in the game.  Minutes later he mangled his knee trying to recover a botched snap from center. RG3 was not only out of the game but possibly next season as well due to, among other things, a torn ACL.

Shanahan tempted fate.  He lost.

Shanahan’s assertions that he left RG3 in the game because RG3 said he was fine are ridiculous.  Shanahan has been coaching for—what—a gazillion years? He knew better. He knew that RG3 would say just about anything that would keep him in the game. In other words, RG3 responds the way he thinks he’s supposed to.

Even if the question came to mind, it should have never left Shanahan’s lips. In the end, however, RG3’s answer to Shanahan’s question proved to be the justification Shanahan used to keep RG3 in the game.

Let’s call this what it is, a lapse in judgment—a very costly one.  RG3 shouldn’t have been on the field—even if he’s our best player in the year’s most important game.

The lesson:  We’ll learn far more about ourselves as a result of asking this type of self-validating question than anything the person ever tells us in return.