I Need Your Help, Part IIHello Subscriber First Name, In last month’s newsletter, I shared the origin story of these four words: I need your help. I reflected on why that experience changed how I saw myself in the world, and how it taught me to repair relationships. That decades-old incident with my colleague Sam, was the most important 10 minutes in my career! Although the events that inspired these four words happened long before I became a coach, the lessons are very much alive in my coaching practice. I’ve told the Sam story more times than I can imagine: in my individual sessions; in workshops about approaching challenging conversations; or giving and receiving feedback. I’m reminded of Sam every time a client complains about a difficult relationship. After I tell the Sam story, I invite my client to conduct an experiment with their difficult colleague—to ask them for help. Dawn (not her real name) launched into her first coaching session blazingly mad and frustrated with her difficult colleague Bob. Dawn was a Senior Director leading a high-profile matrixed project, that was running behind. She was overseeing and coordinating the activities of different teams, none of which reported to her. She was especially concerned about the delays caused by Bob’s team. His team was a vital piece of the puzzle, and he was uncommunicative in her weekly meetings. Nothing Dawn tried was able to prompt Bob to speed up his team’s performance or to get him talking. I suggested she set up an offline Zoom with Bob and to open the meeting by asking for his help. The results were exactly the same as mine were with Sam! In that one meeting, by asking for his help in solving the problem of his team falling behind, Dawn was able to build trust and understanding. That one conversation, and their weekly follow-ups, completely reversed the performance of Bob’s team and got her project back on track within weeks. More importantly, it repaired the relationship. So what happened? When Dawn opened the meeting with I need your help Bob, his defensiveness evaporated and he quickly opened up. He told her the story of an earlier project of his that hit some bumps. (This project pre-dated Dawn’s tenure.) Bob said he had been unfairly blamed for the problems. That prior bad experience caused him to shut down. He felt his work wasn’t respected, and he didn’t feel heard. This left him demoralized and unmotivated. It also caused him to not offer any insights or updates in Dawn’s meetings. Suddenly, just as my eyes were opened when Sam shared her perspective with me, Dawn felt compassion for Bob’s situation and she understood his behavior. It completely shifted her impression of Bob and his uncommunicativeness. In that moment, by asking for his help, she opened the door to his sharing his story which allowed him to feel heard for the first time in over a year. After that, Bob and Dawn met weekly. They developed a friendly, open relationship that enabled them to solve problems together, and to get the project moving. What’s more, Bob’s team benefited as well—they became a more productive team. A Note of Gratitude. When I was struggling with my relationship with Sam all those year ago, I went to one of my colleagues, Gina Joren Tesser Phelan. Gina was a designer on another team, and I intuited that she could help me find a way to work better with Sam. Gina, now a fellow executive coach and ordained lay Buddhist chaplain, taught me a lesson that opened the door to reframing my relationship with Sam. Gina’s Lesson: She explained that the difficult people in our lives are our greatest teachers. I am forever grateful to Gina, who shifted my perspective and helped me see myself as the student, and not the victim in a bad relationship. The moment I shifted out of victimhood, I was liberated. I wasn’t helpless. I had agency to change the dynamics in the relationship. I’m also grateful to Sam, who shared her experience of me as the difficult person in her life. Those few minutes of candor invited me to ask her for help, over and over. And now, I can teach these lessons to my clients, who I trust will pass it on . . .
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