We make little promises to our colleagues every day too.

• I’ll be in that meeting at 11.
• I’ll have that deliverable to you by Tuesday.
• I’ll call my friend at that vendor this week.

All of these promises matter.  Their sum total equals a big chunk of our credibility with those around us. They’re the unwritten fabric that holds the whole thing together.

But they aren’t the most important promises.

The most important promise you make is the promise to yourself.

• I’ll have that tough conversation (the one I’ve had 50 times in my head) before this week is out.
• I’ll speak up instead of wall-flowering at the next senior staff meeting.
• I’ll take a risk with that client rather than playing it safe.
• I’ll set aside 30 minutes a day to actually think vs. just react to what’s flowing through my email in-box.

The sum total of these promises equals a big chunk of my credibility with myself.  And that really matters because if I don’t trust myself, why should anyone else?

Let me explain.

When we work with clients who are trying to bring their vision to life, they inevitably come to a place in the process where they need to communicate with their organization and perhaps business partners.  But they want to do more than just inform.  They want to engage, energize, dare I say excite people.  They want their people’s eyes to shine and their feet to move.

Leaders rightly think carefully about the message. But even with all of that planning, sometimes the message just slips on by their organization barely noticed. And here’s my theory: maybe the message was fine, but the organization is just teflon. Nothing sticks. It’s a nice feature on a frying pan. It’s exasperating as a leader.

Why does this happen?

I submit a few reasons and invite your input too:

• Teflon Coat 1: The track record of the organization: How many messages, initiatives, and “new days” have these people been subjected to over the years? If the organization has started things but never finished them, tried and failed without acknowledging the failure, or announced great intentions without consistent follow-through, you can add a nice layer of slick teflon.
• Teflon Coat 2: The track record of the messenger: If the person delivering the message has an unknown or spotty record of following through on promises, add another coat of teflon.
• Teflon Coat 3: The context for the message: Leaders most often choose emails as the way to deliver a message.  (Spray on more teflon – you lose all of the energy and personality of a more in-person message.) If they deliver the message in person, they often hide behind a scripted powerpoint presentation. (Slightly better than email, but still suspect and rarely engaging.)

How do you make your organization more velcro and less teflon?

1. Keep your promises.
2. Follow through.
3. Acknowledge partial successes and outright failures (resist the urge for straight happy talk!).
4. Choose messengers with street cred.
5. Put personality, passion, and interactivity into the delivery. (That’s right, communicate in person or on video.  Grab a marker and draw it. Ditch the deck.)

Then that sticky message may just stick after all.

But I was in a hotel last week and thus without my friendly DVR so I noticed an ad that quickly had me wondering if it was real or an ornate spoof.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present you the 30-second toothbrush.  Apparently, in their Great Recession-inspired frenzy, Americans no longer have the recommended 2 minutes to brush their teeth so the fine folks at 30-Second Smile got to work on our behalf.  (This reminds me of my other favorite personal hygiene trend – the multi-blade razor.  I’m waiting for the day that Gillette brings a 12-blade razor the size of a waffle iron to market.)

I’m no math genius, but if you brush your teeth the dentist-ordained twice a day, this could yield 3 minutes of time savings every day.  Over the course of a diligently-brushed year, this would save you – hold onto your teeth! - 18 hours and 15 minutes of brush time.  (In leap years, you’d chalk up 18 hours, 18 minutes. One more reason to celebrate Leap Year!) Don’t even get me started thinking about how much time you’d save by the time you need dentures.

Kidding aside, what does it say about us that someone thinks this would appeal to a significant segment of the market?  Are we in such a rush that we can’t spend four minutes a day doing this simple ritual?  What are we going to do with those fragmented 90 second bursts – update our facebook status to say that we just saved 90 seconds brushing our teeth?

Here’s a different idea.  Take the full two minutes.  Call it what it is – a stewardship ritual, taking care of the teeth you were given at birth by no merit of your own.

Even better, use the morning brush time to think about one person (a customer, colleague, employee, supplier) you can serve outrageously today.  Use the evening brush time to be thankful that a) you have teeth to brush, b) you came through the day and have another chance to serve and be served tomorrow.  For extra credit, you could try to identify someone who did something you appreciate.  They’d probably love a text (and yes, u cn omit vwls 2 save time if u must).

Oh, and maybe we should all resolve to double-check our pitches to see if they pass the giggle test. Sometimes enough is enough.

Tom Little

Many of you probably heard about the killing of 10 NGO aid workers in Afghanistan late last week.  For most of us, this event was one more in a line of senseless deaths to which we are exposed on a regular basis. To our family, it was personal.

Tom Little, the optometrist who led the aid team, has been a family friend as long as I can remember.  While his family spent most of the last 35 years living in Afghanistan where Tom used his skills to bring eye care to rural Afghans, their US base was usually in the upstate NY town where I grew up.  In fact, their current home is less than a mile from the one where I spent my childhood.

As often happens when you’re a kid, I didn’t really know Tom and Libby very well myself.  They were grown-ups, after all. But they influenced my family in many ways nonetheless.  And in death, he got me thinking.

Most of us (me included), spend too much of our lives and work trying to achieve objectives that in the long run don’t mean a hill of beans.  Most of us spend too much energy envying others, plotting our political rise, and being ticked off with those around us.  Most of us get sucked into ourselves and our own stories.

I’m sure Tom had some of those tendencies too.  He was human.  But he had something else.  He was crystal clear on his purpose – to bring eyesight (and eventually other basic care like dentistry) to people who would never otherwise have access to it.  In life he had no glamor. In death he has great honor.  Through it all, he had vision of a different kind – and that vision fueled his efforts when nothing else would.

It makes me think – what purpose is driving me? What purpose is driving you? What purpose is driving your organization? Is it worth it? What could we do to make it more worthwhile?

Correction: they’re not talking to each other, they’re talking at each other. In nearly an hour, I have heard almost zero high-gain questions. Instead, they’re like two pilots talking to each other over the radio – with the transmit key held down constantly. You hear words every now and then, but it’s mostly static.

As frustrated as I feel listening to these guys hammering away at each other, I can promise they’re having a worse time. You can hear it in their voices as a cordial beginning has turned into increasingly exasperated attempts to control, cajole, and push each other. Even their checking questions sound like statements: “So you want me to do… Is that right?”

Put yourself in their shoes for a second. What could either of these two guys do that would actually break the deadlock and get them closer to the same page?

Here’s one simple idea: Ask some open-ended questions and then shut up. Listen carefully, and after a while summarize to check for understanding. Then walk away. That’s right, make sure the other person knows that you understand him, promise to think about it, and walk away. Let time and space sink in – proving to the other person that you really did care about what he said.

Once the other person believes that you’ve heard him, you have a much better chance of influencing him.

What would you do?

Then it happens.  They have a list of promising growth projects staring them in the face and they all get a certain look…

You can almost hear the audible pop of circuit breakers blowing and see little puffs of smoke from people’s ears as gaskets blow.  ”We already have so much – too much – on our plates.  How will we do this too?”

Perhaps in their anguished cry lies the answer.  Years ago, Peter Drucker suggested several policies for organizations who are trying to grow aggressively.  Here’s policy #1:

Abandon what is no longer productive or is a mistake.

While not novel (think of Jim Collins’ “stop doing list”), it’s one of the simplest yet most difficult policies to enact.  How often do we take the time to dig into our existing portfolio of work and say, “That project (or process or whatever) had its day. But its day is over.”

So before shelving your growth projects (which is certainly a better option than just loading everyone up and hoping it comes out it the wash), here are a few questions to ask:

1. Is there any way I can streamline what I/we do today? Where is the wasted effort and energy? How often do we just keep doing things the way we do them (or allow our team members to do so) even though we know they’re leaking effort all over the floor? My BPI/Lean/Six Sigma friend, Mike Posdal (aka The Process Doctor), once saved a hospital significant money in how they ran their kitchen for goodness sake! Do you think maybe we’re leaking effort too?
2. Can I use this challenge as a way to have an under-utilized person reach more of their potential? One way to free up our high potential leaders is to challenge them to train one of their staff member to take over 20% of that up-and-coming leader’s responsibilities.  Yes that takes time (and yes, they may resist because they love being that go-to person on whom everyone counts).  But it will either provide additional challenge and opportunity for yet another person in the company – or reveal that these team members have reached the limits of the capability and/or interest.  Which leads to…
3. Is it time to supplement or upgrade our talent? I leave this to last because it tends to be expensive, time-consuming, and (most paralyzing for many leaders) emotional.  But in this age that seems to be a permanent do-more-with-less era, we can’t afford to have the “less” people still onboard be less than stellar, eager, and with huge upside potential.  And let’s face it, there are many capable, hungry people out there to choose from right now.

So maybe over-loading vs. shelving those growth projects is a false choice.  Perhaps there’s more capability hiding in your organization if you just take a few moments to look.  It’s certainly worth a try…

I’ve been listening to NPR for the last 20 years. (At the same time, I subscribe to the Wall Street Journal.) And in those two sentences, I’ve probably convinced both conservatives and liberals that I’m an idiot in record time.

But I digress.

Any NPR listener (or public television watcher) knows the regular ritual called a pledge drive.  Listeners loathe it and it always sounds to me like the poor staff members they corral into pleading for funds would rather be anywhere else than on air, repeating that phone number in increasingly desperate and cringe-inducing ways. (I’m looking at you, WBEZ Chicago.)

Like many people, I’ve mastered the art of turning off the station and clock-watching until I know regular service has resumed. (Before any NPR narcs report me, we’ve been consistent donors for all of the 20 years I’ve listened.)  I just can’t bear to listen to it.

But then, one of their reporters did something different the other day.  Instead of begging for money during his pledge drive shift, he explained his job. He told how, because we support the station, he can go to city hall to report on Chicago government (always something happening there!). He talked about how he attends trials so that he can bring us the story without all 3 million of us trying to cram into the court room.  He was witty, matter of fact, and – interesting!

And curiously, I did something new. I listened. I was intrigued. I wanted to pledge more than I ever have in the past – not out of guilt or pressure, but because it made sense to me and his story engaged me.

How often do we pitch instead of engage? And how often do people around us – clients, colleagues, employees, suppliers, bosses – turn the channel and wait for us to shut up? Sure, we can’t see them physically hit the switch, but that light goes from their eyes as they wait for us to… shut up.

What would happen if, instead of pitching and closing, we informed and shared and engaged?

Most of the time, you can differentiate your company/product/service/brand by just figuring out what irritates customers about companies in your industry and eliminating those irritants…

Little did I know that I would have an object lesson the next day…

Some of you may be fans of big box electronics stores.  If what I say from here on offends you, I apologize up front.  Against my better judgement, I went with my wife to a VERY well-known big box store to shop for a camera yesterday.  True, based on past experience with this particular retailer, I was primed for dissatisfaction. They lived down to my expectations.

In 15 short minutes, all of these things happened (and I’m not making any of them up):

• The person at the front door greeted us cheerily, but offered no guidance on how to find what we were looking for. When we told him that we had a camera on hold and asked where it might be, he pointed blankly and said, “Customer Service.” (Only later did I realize why he appeared chained to his post at the door.)
• Once we found the camera section, a different salesperson approached us every 60 seconds or so (again, I’m not exaggerating) offering help.  My wife had a printed copy of research in her hand, but we would only just begin to refer to it before we were interrupted by another salesperson.  The irony – they probably thought they were being helpful.  In reality, they were getting in the way of us buying something!
• At one point, we did have a question about their return policy.  We waited another 19 seconds for the next salesperson to show up (as if on cue) and asked our question. “It used to be 14 days, but now it’s 30 days,” Stoffer said. We confirmed that we could return it within 30 days for a full refund.  ”Yes,” Stoffer said, “full refund. If you’re not happy, just bring it back.”
• With the camera chosen, we moved on to memory cards and batteries.  Another (yes, different) salesperson approached us (one aisle away from the cameras) and offered to help.  My wife asked a few simple battery questions.  He looked at her blankly for a few seconds and she wondered if he had not understood the question, couldn’t read English, or had had a slight stroke right then and there.  Instead, he finally pulled the staff radio earpiece out of his ear that had been distracting him from listening to the customer right in front of him and then successfully answered the question.
• Finally, we went to check out.  At the register, yet a different sales associate rang up the order and confirmed the return policy: 14 days with a 15% restocking fee! Stoffer had clearly been making stuff up!
• We mentioned that our buddy Stoffer had said 30 days and 100% refund.  The service manager looked appalled and immediately paged Stoffer’s boss over the earpiece radio system.  (I could just imagine some customer in the Battery Departments getting a blank stare from their sales associate as the mayday call went out.)  Regardless, the service desk confirmed that we were going to get the  less generous policy.
• Before telling us to come back, the greeter at the door asked to see the purchases, our receipt, a picture ID, and a note from my mother. (OK, I made that last part up.)

In 15 short minutes, this big box store (that spends millions getting consumers like me to come into their store) got $400 from us and we had their true brand confirmed for us: lots of product selection, poorly trained salespeople, and a lousy shopping experience.  I’ll go back to avoiding them – until I can’t.

PS Here’s the irony.  The service manager could have (almost) turned this around by simply saying, “You know what, Stoffer was mistaken but we stand behind our word.  I’ll personally write your terms on the back of your sales slip and if you have any trouble with a return, I want you to contact me by name.”  It’s highly unlikely we will return the product anyway.  But it would have made a real impression on us.

Rant over.  Now, the troubling question: in what ways does my company irritate our customers? And in what way does yours?  The answer leads to job 1 for next week.

But maybe both men deserve a place in a different kind of history for demonstrating three Dirty Words (as I call uncommonly good words that we’re embarrassed to use in the marketplace) in one 36-hour period…

Most people in Galarraga’s position would have been outraged at this mistake and gone on a rampage, during, after and LONG after the game was over.  Most umpires would stone-wall or make excuses about the mistake.  And most relationships would be irreparably damaged as a result.  Joyce and Galarraga aren’t most people.  Here are the three Dirty Words in action:

• Ownership – Jim Joyce, upon seeing the replay, immediately went to Galarraga (and the Tigers team) in private to own his mistake and apologize.  He went further yet.  He went in public and said, “I blew it. I cost that kid a perfect game.”  No shirking.  No excuses. No “that’s the way it is.” Just pure ownership.
• Forgiveness – Not to be outdone, Galarraga responded by forgiving Joyce.  He went as far as to shake his hand the next day, not just some sort of cold forgiveness that mouths the words but holds back the real deal.
• Grace – Even in the moment, Galarraga didn’t blow a gasket.  He was surprised, even visibly disappointed.  But he went right back to the mound and got the last out of the night.  Later he said, “I understand, nobody’s perfect.” He gave Joyce dignity and respect even though the unwritten rules of the baseball diamond would not have demanded it.  Finally, we have a positive role model to talk about from sports…

Here are the application questions for us: In which relationships do we need to take Jim Joyce’s example and own a mistake? And where can we follow Armando Galarraga’s example by practicing forgiveness and giving grace? Not only will we probably feel better, but the “game” wherever we play – our firm, school, non-profit, office – will be more productive as a result.

1 in 4 “high potential” leaders intend to leave their companies within a year.

When I saw that finding, I both raised my eyebrows and nodded my head.  In some ways, it’s surprising that up-and-coming leaders would jump ship just as the economy is beginning to pull out of the Great Recession. You might think that all of the uncertainty surrounding the recovery (speed?, double dip?) would lead people to hold their hands.

But a side comment from a senior leader at a recent strategy session – and my own experience – made me realize that some people will play their hands aggressively now.  We were discussing the long-term trends and current business condition of this high-growth organization.  Out of the back of the room – and barely heard during the discussion – a leader looked at me and said:

The trouble is that the good people are the ones you lose at moments like these…

So true.  The law most of us have learned over the years is that highly talented people are among the first to jump because they have options and they have strong belief that they can contribute in other organizations.  Oh yes, and they have very high expectations.

So what can we do?  The authors of the HBR article have several suggestions (click here to access the article).  A while back, my colleague Leslie Miller and I published an article in The Journal of Leadership Studies (click here to get our article) aimed at helping talent-dependent organizations discover their strengths and weaknesses at attracting and retaining talent.  Besides being a whopping example of poor timing (the article came out when wave after wave of talented workers were losing their jobs!), the article suggests seven indicators of an organization’s ability to keep cranking out great talent.

Among the seven indicators we suggested were:

1. Recruitment success (or yields) – do people accept our offers?
2. Recruitment quality – do our new hires meet or exceed expectations of customers and managers?
3. Promotion success – do newly promoted associates predictably excel in new roles?
4. Promotion velocity – do rising leaders see a rapid and feasible path for advancement?

Regardless of what indicators you use, capable talent is almost always a significant limiting factor for high-growth organizations.  Leaders who own the issue (vs. hoping HR will figure it out) have a much better chance of achieving their ambitious growth goals.  With the economy opening up some, that may be more true now than ever.

What reactions do you have to the indicators Leslie and I outlined? What did we miss? I’d be interested in hearing from you!