ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Joseph Grenny is the author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.

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Dear Crucial Skills,

I volunteer for a community council at my children’s school. I’ve been shocked at how uninterested the teachers are at improving test scores and lifting the overall level of education. We invite them to participate in our council but few even show up! What can I do to influence them?

Signed,
Back to School

You’ve framed the problem clearly—although I’d like to challenge your characterization of the situation a bit. But first, let me point out what you’ve absolutely nailed: your first task is to build motivation.

People change their behavior when they’re both motivated and able to do so. At some point, your council will focus primarily on increasing the collective ability of your school to drive improvement. But for now, the crucial challenge is to add to their desire. I’m with you on that.

When we study the work of successful influencers, we find that all of them struggle to deal with a lack of personal motivation on behalf of those they’re trying to help change. People lack personal motivation when the new behavior seems boring, uncomfortable, frightening, or even painful. For example, showing up to more meetings, standardizing curriculum, reading reports or any of the other tasks involved in school improvement isn’t fun. Here’s where I’d encourage you to reconsider your view. When others aren’t personally motivated, it can be for one of two reasons:

1. Moral defect. In other words, they aren’t motivated because they just don’t care about those who are affected.

2. Moral slumber. Instead of assuming moral defect, we can assume others are capable of caring, but aren’t morally conscious of the pain and suffering of those who are affected. When the problem is moral slumber, there is a hope of influencing change. You can try to awaken people to the moral consequences of the current state. If the problem is moral defect, all you can do is work around the motivation problem by applying pressure, threats, shame or incentives.

Tim Stay—a dear friend and a brilliant influencer—helped as a parent to lead a very successful school turnaround effort at Lakeridge Junior High in Orem, Utah. Over a period of a few years, “testing-at-grade” scores went from roughly 40 percent to more than 80 percent. It was remarkable to watch. And it all began with a careful but wise approach to increasing motivation.

Here’s what I learned from Tim:

1. Start with a few opinion leaders. Tim knew he couldn’t get support from all of the teachers, so he used personal influence to engage a few very respected teachers in the effort. He realized he couldn’t move faster than the teachers, so he let go of resentment about “lazy staff” and bellied up to the challenge of overcoming years of cynicism. His first job was not to improve the school, but to influence teachers. Accepting the situation helped him exercise more patience.

2. Build motivation by direct and vicarious experience. Tim and the council began exposing the group to reports and case studies of schools that had succeeded at creating dramatic improvement without a large infusion of resources. They even made phone calls and visits to other schools. Over time, those involved developed a sense of moral duty. They saw that more was possible and felt duty-bound to influence change.

3. Influence with data. Before talking about what they wanted, Tim made sure they were all crystal clear on what they had. There were many debates about test scores and the unusual demographics of the school that allowed teachers to remain in denial about problems. Tim didn’t argue with any of this. Instead, he emphasized the virtues of measurement. The teachers and community council created a system for measuring—real time—how many kids were doing better or worse than C work. As the numbers came together, a sense of moral disgust developed in the team. The data were also shared with the larger teacher community and similar feelings of embarrassment evolved. Notice that this was not some group of people pointing a finger of shame—the data was doing the job. And these good teachers who truly wanted to make a difference were motivated to take more aggressive action.

This is how it began. Tim and other enlightened influencers at Lakeridge worked slowly to influence the motivation of those who would have to lead and implement the changes. And their patience paid off. The fact that Tim avoided the convenient labeling of “moral defect” that often mobilizes resistance allowed him to reawaken a sense of moral passion in a population that started their careers to bless lives. Going slow at the outset led to rapid improvement later.

In just five years, Lakeridge moved from the bottom of the school district to at or near the top in most academic categories. More than 80 percent of students showed mastery in math and 90 percent showed mastery in language arts. And for the past two years, Lakeridge Junior High has been named a Best of State winner in the Public/Private School K-12 category. And I can attest firsthand to the incredible positive effect it has had on the students. (Read Tim’s full six-source strategy.)

Best wishes in your wonderful efforts to influence change in our schools.

Joseph

Joseph Grenny Influencer

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kerry Patterson is the author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.
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The following article first appeared on August 23, 2006.

When I’ve finished conducting a training session, it’s common for people to approach me with a series of questions about the training’s underlying philosophy. At the top of the list is: “What philosopher influenced you the most?” Sometimes people will insert a guru of their choice. “Was it Kant?” “Did you draw heavily from Rousseau?” “Were you thinking of Socrates when you . . .”

While I have a working knowledge of the icons people mention, I’d have to say that none played a very big role in my work. First, I can’t remember what most of them said, and second, none will ever displace an incident that set me on a philosophical course I continue to follow to this day. Like a lot of useful philosophy lessons, it all started with a Roy Rogers double feature.

In 1954, if you happened to be eight years old, and I did, Roy Rogers sat smack dab in the center of your universe. He was this marvelous cowboy/actor who was always chasing down the bad guys and saving the schoolmarm in the most remarkable and innovative ways. So when the newspaper announced there would be a Roy Rogers double feature showing on Saturday, I anxiously waited for the big event.

At that stage in my life, each day as I’d come home from school, I’d stop off at my Granddad’s place where I’d talk with him about Trigger, Bullet, Nelly Bell, and all of the other members of Roy Rogers’ entourage. Granddad had never seen the singing cowboy in action, but he always showed great interest in whatever caught my attention. He would patiently listen to me as I retold each tale of derring-do.

In truth, while it was Roy who had captured my eight-year-old interest, it was really Granddad who had captured my heart. At five foot four with a fireplug shape, a cigar stub in the corner of his mouth, and an amazing wit, he cut a large swath in my world. He owned and operated the local grocery store and, as far as my friends and I were concerned, that made him a celebrity. In fact, since he was the guy who stood behind the candy counter, it made him a childhood god.

Like all septuagenarians at the time, whenever Granddad visited downtown he wore a wool suit and a gray fedora. Since it was now the 1950s, the felt hat put him in a distinct minority. Most men had dropped any form of head gear at the same time women had stopped wearing gloves (in the late 40s), but Grandfather wouldn’t think of going outside without being covered. To him, you weren’t fit for public appearance if you weren’t in a suit and the suit had to have a matching hat. In Granddad’s case, it was the gray fedora.

The day of the double feature finally arrived and I stopped by Granddad’s store to let him know I’d be catching the bus that stopped in front of his establishment in order to go downtown and see Roy in action. He smiled broadly and explained that he too would be heading into the city to stock up on supplies. Maybe we’d run into each other. With the prospect of bumping into my Grandfather in mind, I headed downtown.

Later that day I merrily walked from the movie theater to the bus stop a few blocks away. While sucking on a Tootsie Pop and still musing about Roy’s latest conquest, I was confronted by an image that stopped me in my tracks. The Tootsie Pop actually fell from my mouth as I stood agape. There, at the end of the block no more that twenty yards away, lay Grandfather on the sidewalk. He appeared to be dead. His body lay askew while a withered hand clutched something bottle-shaped in a brown paper bag. What had happened? Did Granddad have a heart attack on the way to the wholesale house?

As I drew closer my fear turned to confusion and then despair. Why was nobody helping him? It was a busy Saturday afternoon and lots of people were walking right past him without even glancing. One person even stepped over him and sneered. Had the world gone mad? Were there no real heroes in Bellingham? Roy Rogers routinely shot it out with bad guys in order to right a wrong; couldn’t somebody stop and check Granddad? How hard could that be?

When I finally fell to my knees next to Granddad and moved the gray fedora that was covering his face, I discovered that it wasn’t him after all. It was a stranger—an old man who hadn’t shaved in days, smelled of wine, and who wasn’t dead, but instead was dead drunk.

Quickly I leaped to my feet. And then a warm wave of relief swept over me. It wasn’t Granddad and he wasn’t dead! It wasn’t Granddad! I stood there and cried tears of sheer joy until a kindly lady stopped and asked if I was lost. I mumbled that I was okay as I scuffled off to catch the bus.

As I rode the bus home I realized that I had equated a gray fedora with Grandfather, so when I saw a man wearing Granddad’s hat of choice, I made a logical leap that had caused me a great deal of grief. I wouldn’t make that mistake again. And then my emotions darted in another direction as my wide-eyed innocence took over. The better me couldn’t be so readily consoled. Yes, this stranger wasn’t my Grandfather, but surely he was somebody’s Grandfather. Where were his grandkids? And the strangers who passed by—why hadn’t they done anything? I sobbed for the stranger all the way home.

When I finally arrived home, I burst through the front door and told my mom how I thought Granddad was dead and how it had turned out to be somebody else. She smiled knowingly and explained that the poor fellow I had stumbled upon was known as a “wino” who was probably sleeping it off.

“But where were his grandkids?” I asked. Where was the little boy who would fall to his knees and help him home? Mom didn’t have an answer.

I was forever changed that day. First, I opened the door into the harsh part of life that my parents had protected me from. Some people become indigents who die on the street. Worse still, we don’t always know what to do about it. But the second lesson I learned was far more important and returns me to the question of the philosophy underlying our training. It’s the philosophy of the fedora. I learned that if I put Granddad’s fedora on a stranger—instantly transforming him or her into a person I loved dearly—the stranger became someone worthy of my care and attention. Putting a face on the faceless masses, assigning a name to a crime or war victim, thinking of the people who cause you grief—thinking of them as real people with children of their own—well, this humanizing act has a dramatic impact on how you first think about and then treat them.

For example, if I put the fedora on the elderly man driving the car in front of me at fifteen miles an hour in a thirty-five-mile-an-hour zone, my impatience and disgust transform into sympathy.

If a person at work lets me down and I can’t believe how uncaring he or she is, I place him or her under the fedora and I won’t be so quick to pass judgment and become angry. “Maybe,” I think, “he or she had a good reason for missing the deadline. Go find out.” Instantly I transform into a far better problem-solver than when I don’t assume the best of others but instead angrily wade into the discussion with hostile, and often groundless, accusations.

So, if you want to know what philosophy most influenced my training theories, remember the power of the fedora. Take it in your hands, turn it over and peer into its crown. There, somewhere between the manufacturer’s label and the hat size, you’ll find one of the most useful philosophies ever discovered by an eight-year-old.

Kerry Patterson Crucial Conversations, Kerrying On

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ron McMillan is the author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.
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Dear Crucial Skills,

I have one brother, whom everyone loves dearly. He is the guy with the golden tongue—a natural charmer who gets out of many conversations that, to me, are crucial. He is not one to put family first—his priority is looking good and charming whoever may be around him. As a result, I become the younger sister who is left to pick up the pieces and bear the brunt of his unreliable ways. When I confront him, he makes me feel like I have overreacted and I end up feeling bad about bringing it up. How do you have crucial conversations with those who are so good at words? Please help me face this golden tongue.

Fed Up Little Sister

You describe your brother as a “natural charmer” who does not put family first and leaves you to “bear the brunt of his unreliable ways.” It’s hard to confront someone who is fun and flaky. Everyone wants to have fun; everyone loves a charmer who makes things fun. Relationships are easy when we avoid uncomfortable problems. But a relationship characterized by charm over character and style over substance is like a beautiful shade tree with shallow roots. Everything is fine in good weather, but it only takes a mild storm to topple the tree.

Shallow and superficial relationships might suffice in social settings, but family relationships—relationships that should be loving, nurturing, supportive, and enduring—require work. In order to make a family work, you have to be responsible and hold each other accountable. If you choose to do less, you undermine your family relationships.

So, how do you begin this crucial conversation with your brother? To minimize his defensiveness, factually describe the gap between what occurred and what you expected, then ask why. For example, you might say, “Phil, when we were together at Thanksgiving, you told us you would call and arrange for a snow removal service for Mom. After talking with Mom, I realized you didn’t make the arrangements.” Next ask a diagnostic question: “Why?”

Let’s suppose he responds by trying to make you feel bad for bringing it up. He says, “You know I do a lot for this family and I don’t appreciate you nagging me and making such a big deal of such a little thing.” Clearly, this is a manipulation. Your brother assumes that if he can get you on the defensive, you’ll feel you’re the bad guy for bringing it up and you’ll back off.

Don’t give up or give in. Doing so only rewards him for being irresponsible and manipulative and undermines your relationship with him. That’s not serving you, your mother, or your brother.

This is a good time to use a contrasting statement to share your good intentions. “Phil, I am very appreciative of the good things you do for the family and I don’t mean to nag you. I also don’t want to make a mountain out of a molehill. I do want to solve the problem of how we get things done in our family and I want us to be able to count on each other. I don’t want to quarrel, nor ignore important issues. Do you see it differently?” By sharing your intention, you clarify your motives, treat your brother respectfully, and suggest a mutual purpose.

If your brother responds that the snow eventually got cleared and missing the call was no big deal, you could share the consequences of him not following through. “Phil, when you didn’t make arrangements to have the snow cleared, Mom was snowbound. When she couldn’t reach you, she called me, and I had to cancel an important meeting and spend an afternoon on the phone.” Confronting him with the consequences of failing to keep his commitments can create the motivation on his part to do better in the future.

At this point the conversation is not over; you may have to share other consequences, check out your own story, or have a conversation about the relationship between the two of you. However, with this simple beginning of describing the gap, sharing your good intentions, and explaining consequences, you have established new expectations.

Over time, don’t let his failure to fulfill his commitments pass without confronting him. Use these skills to address bad behavior and stay focused on the problem, rather than allow him to talk around the problem or charm his way out of being accountable.

If you persistently and consistently confront his bad behavior, he’ll quickly realize his old ways don’t work. He will come to understand that when he is flaky, you’ll call him on it. This could be the key to helping him change. It will improve your feelings and quality of life, and perhaps strengthen your entire family.

All the best,
Ron

Ron McMillan Crucial Confrontations

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kerry Patterson is author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.
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  Dear Crucial Skills,

I am a relatively new supervisor, and several of my former peers are now my direct reports. One has been with the company for twenty-five years and her attitude has become increasingly combative. She questions almost everything I tell or ask of her, she is very negative about company policies, and she makes comments in front of other employees that undermine my authority and the company. My managers think she is detrimental to our entire department, but I am trying to save her job because I think she would be hard to replace.

It has become increasingly difficult for me to have conversations with her and I end up avoiding these conversations as much as possible. How do I turn this situation around?

Undermined

This conversation could eventually lead to the other person being disciplined in one way or another. While I know you’ll do your best to not go down that path too quickly, you have to be prepared for the worst. How you’re supposed to handle performance problems within your company—including the disciplinary steps you need to follow—is often formalized. That means the formalized steps need to be carefully followed if you expect to be supported by HR, your boss, the legal department, and the company.

Why worry? For years I have watched as well-intended supervisors have stepped up to a performance challenge, done their best to hold a crucial conversation, and ended by disciplining an employee. Then the supervisors learn that they should have first given a verbal warning before putting a letter in the employee’s file or provided a written warning before putting the person on probation, etc. Now the supervisor is in trouble with HR and needs to go back and reverse the proposed disciplinary step.

I’ve even seen a supervisor fire someone only to be forced by the legal department to bring the employee back to work (complete with back pay) because the supervisor didn’t follow the formal disciplinary process. This is not only discouraging to the supervisor, who has done his or her best to fulfill the responsibility of holding others accountable, but completely undermines his or her authority and puts the relationship at risk.

So the first step in starting a conversation that might lead to discipline is to know the formal disciplinary process your company follows. A simple conversation with an HR specialist (as well as a heads-up to your own boss) should be enough to teach you all you need to know. If your company does not have a formal process in place, consider the following guidelines. Catch problems early, before they get out of control. Always remain calm and respectful. Otherwise, the attention will soon be on you and how you became abusive during the discussion. Be crystal clear about the infraction itself and both the short- and long-term implications if the person doesn’t change. Far too many people leave a performance discussion (1) unclear about what they need to do differently and (2) unaware that if they don’t change there will be repercussions.

Here are a few tips for holding that conversation.

First, set aside time to talk in private about an issue that has you concerned. Start the conversation with a statement of your good intentions, but one that also conveys the severity of the situation. “Today I’d like to discuss a problem I’ve noticed over the past few weeks. I want to solve it before it becomes more serious. I hope to come to a resolution that works for both of us.”

Next, pick one or two of the problems from the variety you’ve suggested. You described the problem with short-hand terms such as “negative,” “detrimental,” and “combative.” These words, of course, are both inflammatory and vague. The listener isn’t likely to know what she has actually done, but is likely to be insulted by your unflattering characterization. Think about the specific behaviors you want her to change. Pick the actions you care the most about, not the ones that may be easiest to address. Don’t sell out by choosing the wrong behavior or back down by candy coating your description.

Now practice. Describe the actions you most care about to a friend or confidant. See if your friend understands the meaning of your words. Describe actions not conclusions. For instance, “Last week you suggested that our new cost-cutting plan was stupid and when I tried to explain why I thought it might work you rolled your eyes and called me naïve.” This clear description helps the person know exactly what you want to see change. Contrast this clear explanation with “You’re disruptive in meetings,” or “You’re constantly negative.” Inflammatory conclusions offend instead of inform.

Next, stop and ask the other person if she understands the issue. Don’t keep piling on new problems. Deal with one issue at a time. Since the problem you described is now big enough that your own boss wants to let the person go, you must also explain the disciplinary steps you’ll take if the person doesn’t change. Even if the person has already agreed to comply, explain that you’re glad she is willing to change, because if not, you’ll take the following disciplinary action. Since this isn’t the first infraction, and discipline may follow, you can’t leave out this information. Don’t phrase it as a threat, simply describe the reality.

This should be enough to get you started. I commend your willingness to actually work on the problem rather than simply let it slide or let the person go.

Kerry

Kerry Patterson Crucial Conversations

ABOUT THE EXPERT
Neil Staker is founder of PeopleSmart Solutions and a Master Certified Trainer in Crucial Conversations, Crucial Confrontations, and Influencer Training.
ABOUT NEIL
BOOK NEIL

I love the Olympics—hard work, stress, anxiety, competition, disappointment, and triumph—all packed into one crucial moment. I was particularly drawn to bronze medalist, and Canadian figure skater, Joannie Rochelle. Her mother unexpectedly died from a heart attack just two days before Joannie skated her short program.

Under extraordinary stress and emotional turmoil, Joannie still managed to do her best when it mattered the most. The Olympians who did their best experienced joy even if they didn’t get a medal. Those who didn’t live up to their potential were disappointed—sometimes even when they received a medal.

We all face crucial moments when we want to do our best to be both candid and caring. Unfortunately we often feel the disappointment and frustration of falling short when we clam up or blow up. What makes the difference between success and failure in these crucial moments? Let’s go back to Joannie for a deeper look at two variables: emotional control and practice.

Emotional Control
We often go into a crucial conversation with the best of intentions, then something goes wrong and we end up angry, frustrated, scared, or hurt. If we don’t have the tools to control our emotions, they’ll end up controlling us. Listen to how Cynthia Phaneuf, a teammate, described Joannie after the short program. “She skated kind of like a computer. She didn’t let her emotions get to her. That’s how she needed to skate—she can’t be distracted by emotions.” When facing a high stakes, emotionally divisive conversation, we need to do the same. Negative emotions can cause poor performance.

Practice
In Joannie’s own words, “I went to Vancouver expecting to go into a battle, and that battle was obviously tougher than expected.” In an interview she talked about how the hours of practice took over as she skated. Unfortunately, while many of us frequently find ourselves in tough situations, we spend very little time practicing the mental, emotional and verbal skills of dialogue. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if your honed skills kicked in the next time you found yourself in a difficult conversation?

* Cynthia Phaneuf quote from the NY Daily News, February 25, 2010.

editor Influencer

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Joseph Grenny is the author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.

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Dear Crucial Skills,

I’m a manager in a tech company that seems to be clueless. While I know unemployment is high, management seems to be oblivious to the fact that we are losing some of our key people to poaching by competitors. We haven’t increased salaries in the past two years and I’ve personally lost three of my best people because our salaries are so far below market. My peers have seen similar losses.

I know HR is sympathetic—but senior management just doesn’t seem to care. We’re losing great people and it’s impeding our ability to get the work done. Should I just give up and cope?

Signed,
Exodus

Dear Exodus,

I’m going to assume that you’ve held crucial conversations about this issue with your immediate supervisor and HR. In our thirty years of studying influence, we’ve found the most direct and effective way to bring about change begins with these conversations. However, sometimes influence involves more than talk. Interpersonal influence is efficient and often incredibly effective, but if talk isn’t cutting it, you’ll have to do more to penetrate the status quo.

Let me suggest a couple of options.

1. The influence of data. People who successfully lose weight tend to weigh themselves daily. People who read international newspapers tend to talk more about foreign affairs. The “Gas Wars” of the 1970s began when fueling stations were required to post prices visible to passing motorists.

We each live in a certain “data stream.” The stream we live in brings us certain information. We read certain newspapers, attend certain meetings, receive certain reports, and interact with certain people. These sources of information profoundly affect our behavior. They set our mental agenda—decide what we care about, what we worry about, and what we believe is true.

The problem you’re up against is that your data stream involves a firsthand view of the reality and consequences of staff losses. Senior management’s data stream may not. If, for example, HR is reporting that staff turnover is 5 percent—which is low for your industry—senior management may see this number and assume all is well. According to you, this number obscures more than it reveals. You’re suggesting the quality of the turnover has changed substantially and you need to find a way to reveal that data to senior management. If what you’re saying is correct, then the kind of people who are leaving in that 5 percent are more critical to corporate success than a similar number two years ago. My challenge to you is to:

a. Confirm your assumption. There’s a possibility you are wrong. The turnover you’ve experienced may be atypical across the organization despite what your peers say. Or your perception of salary gaps may be wrong. Find out. Consult with HR—learn more about the data sources they draw from in setting their policy.

b. Change the data stream. There’s a principle in newspaper journalism that the lead point should be the opening sentence of an article. If you’re right about the turnover, influence HR to ensure their reports don’t “bury the lead” and that this data is presented to senior management.

2. The influence of stories. As influential as data is, it will not impel action with the same force as will a compelling anecdote. So in addition to influencing the data stream, arm those who will present the data with a story that illustrates the problem. The presentation may sound a bit like the following:

“The good news is that turnover is at an all-time low. The bad news is that almost all of our turnover is in key positions. Poaching has become an urgent concern. In prior years, ‘critical turnover’ averaged one technical lead per month, recently it has risen to three—a 300 percent increase.”

“Six months ago, for example, we lost Anja. As far as we can tell, she was offered 15 percent more by a competitor, plus a signing bonus. We have interviewed more than 150 candidates since then but haven’t found one qualified to fill Anja’s shoes at our current salary levels. The six-month hiring gap has left us paying overtime at a higher rate to cover her work. Anja is just one example—but is typical of what we’re dealing with across many departments.”

If you want your executives to feel and think as you do, you’ll need them to see what you see. Your challenge is to influence their data stream so they appreciate the reality you’re dealing with. As you do so, do your best to understand their data stream as well. But be warned, spending some time in their data stream may also change how you think and feel!

Best wishes,
Joseph

Joseph Grenny Influencer

ABOUT THE EXPERT
Steve Willis is a master trainer and vice president of professional services at VitalSmarts.
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I’m often asked how frequently I train our courses. Depending on the course, my answer is somewhere between “a lot” and “a whole heck of a lot.” My response is almost always followed by the same question: “Don’t you ever get tired of teaching the same program over and over again?” (I know that, in the back of these people’s minds, they’re thinking that even the Love Boat wasn’t as “exciting and new” as the theme song claimed during the 4th and 5th seasons).

So I reflected on my experience. Was I getting tired of teaching the same course, and if so, to what degree? To the surprise of many, including myself, I found that, while the content doesn’t change, I genuinely find the training experience fresh and new—even after so many “repeats.”

This realization got me curious. I started to wonder if others have had a similar or different experience, and what people consciously do to keep their experience fresh. One thing that I have found makes a difference is finding different ways to apply the training. For example, ask yourself the following questions: What group will I work with and what opportunities will be similar or different? How does this program relate to safety or how does it play out in project management? What are the applications to healthcare?

Share your experiences and ideas for keeping it fresh.

Steve Willis From the Road