Someday, when those guys finally retire...

I am very attuned to the cynicism around me. I wrote my doctoral dissertation on the subject. Unfortunately, it didn't reduce my cynical attitude, but I really, really, really understand it now. Big deal! I still contribute as much negative crap as everybody else; and more than many.

Many times we comment on how great things could be if only someone would retire, quit, die or something, such that things could change for the "better." It doesn't seem to matter which social layer is involved; people are perceived to be exercising their power in narrowly self-interested ways. Consequently, they stand to get what they want at expense of someone else. Their motives are suspect, making their actions less than honorable.

It is not uncommon to hear people refer to a "healthy dose of cynicism." What is that? What is healthy about suspicion with regard to the motivations of others? Anytime we get into the business of judging the motives of others, we tread on uncertain ground. It is true that there are people in the world who will take advantage of others given the chance. In fact, there are those who plan on doing just that. For the most part, however, people are not calculating ways to cheat others. Knowing their actions still does not tell us of their motives.

Just because you are not out to cheat me does not mean that our intentions and motives will blend harmoniously. We can still find ourselves butting heads over important issues. We can move ahead through some real communication, but that takes practice to do it well. Traditionally, we have been taught to engage in a debate-type of format - each presenting our arguments. The one with the most convincing argument wins. We argue over ideas - either mine or yours. If we could move to deeper levels, like purposes, we might be able to see that we are each interested in similar things, and that we just have different ideas about how to proceed.

There is a Mayan saying that goes something like this:

We didn't put our ideas together;
We put our purposes together.
We agreed.
Then we decided.

Understanding each others' purposes requires time and effort but promises a lot. Perhaps we should do less advocating for our ideas and do more listening to others.

One time, as I was preparing a workshop on some of this material, I was thinking about Max Planck's statement that has been paraphrased as "science proceeds one funeral at a time." That seemed to support the title of this blog entry - when someone dies, we will finally be able to move ahead. As I pondered that I was struck by what I later realized was the obvious question:

Who is waiting for me to die? 

I began to wonder about the positive changes that might occur in the world around me if I were not there to resist them. In all of my well-intended behavior, I am impeding some positive change in the world. Someone, either knowingly or not, is waiting for me to get out of the way so that something better can happen for them, or for the world.

Think about it...

Are we clear?

I was standing in line at In-and-Out Burger yesterday. The man in front of me was ordering for his wife and himself. He ordered a #3, which is a burger, fries and medium drink. Then he ordered a second batch of french fries and another drink.

The burger meister behind the counter began to read back the order to verify that he had gotten everything. He said, "That's a burger with (blah, blah, blah), two fries and," when the man interrupted to say, "no, I want one order of french fries. Doesn't the #3 come with fries?"

The burger meister said, "Yes, it does."

The man said, "That's what I thought, okay."

The burger meister then begins to repeat the order again, "Okay, that's a burger with (blah, blah, blah), two fries and," when the man interrupted to say, "no, I want one order of french fries. Didn't you just say that the the #3 comes with fries?"

This goes on for one more round as the burger meister is wondering if he is in the Twilight Zone; each time he patiently says, "Yes, it does." Watching this was like watching the famous Abbot and Costello comedy sketch, "Who's on first."

In the end both the burger meister and the man ordering reach a point where they just accept that the order will be whatever it would be. The man ordering did not understand that even though he ordered a #3, the burger meister was going to itemize the order without any reference to a "#3." Consequently, the man thought that he was getting a #3 AND two orders of fries.

I then placed my order and stood around waiting for the food to be prepared. The man who had the fries dilemma was waiting as well. I noticed that he was now studying his receipt. I assumed that he was pouring over it hoping to find that extra order of fries. I don't believe that he was finally clear until his receipt matched the food that he received.

Although this episode was mildly entertaining, while at the same time a little irritating, I wondered how many times this same thing happens every day. All it would have taken to help this situation was for one of the parties to ask for clarification. The burger meister could have explained that there were two fries total. The man could have asked if the "two fries" included those in the #3.

How many times do we fail to recognize that we need to stop the process and ask for clarification? Many times we forge ahead allowing our frustration and anger to build to the point where our emotions block productive action. The angrier we get the "righter" we believe we are in our position. We suffer under the delusion that the other person sees and understands the situation just as we do. Instead, there is often a significant difference in what we each bring to the situation.

Consequently, each party can end up thinking, "If this person would just wise up a little, we could solve this!" ODGeek believes that it just might be true. If each party had the capacity to step back for a moment, they could gain more insight and wise up - things could change.

Confess!!

Most people have some anxiety about doing something in front of others. For many this adds an "edge" to the situation, which improves the outcome. For others, that edge is virtually a cliff from which they fall time and again.

Most performers have stories about times on stage where they didn't feel that tingle of anxiety, and that night's performance was flat and lifeless. The edginess signifies that one is at the boundary of creativity - that something new is going to happen. Even though the performance has been executed countless times in the past, something new can happen each time. Without the edge, the performer and the audience experience a lifeless recreation of the past. With that creative edge, however, comes the possibility of failure, which is also part of the excitement.

A percussionist friend, we'll call him Stu for the purposes of this story, once told me about how much he admired another drummer's expertise and control. Stu talked about how the other drummer never seemed made a mistake in addition to doing things so well. Stu said that he, personally, always felt a little out of control when he played, and worried that at any moment he would lose it during performances. That would be very embarrassing for him.

Some weeks after that conversation, I happened to run into the drummer about whom my friend Stu had spoken so highly. I related Stu's compliments to him, which brought a funny smile to his face.

He said, "You know, I do know what I can play, AND what I can't play. I practice my chops so that I can exhibit that high level of control on stage. I don't like to mess up." I had seen him play and could attest to his abilities; he was tight and I had no doubt that he would play without mistake.

The drummer then went on to say, "Stu amazes me. He is such an edgy player. He takes chances on stage that I could never take. He is out there on the edge where he could lose it at any moment. I can't go there; I could never take the risk. Time and again I think 'this is the moment where he won't make it work,' and then he does it. I really admire him for that and wish that I could do it. But, my need for control is so great that I can't let myself get that close to potential failure."

Years later, a student once came to me for advice. He said that when he had to perform the skills that he had learned, that he would get all hot and sweaty. That would embarrass him and just make things worse. He was afraid to perform at all. He said that he thought others could tell that he was nervous and, consequently, would lose confidence in him, which only made matters worse. I told him to confess his anxiety to them. I told him how he could frame his story to them such that he didn't look like a cluck, but merely someone who wants to do a good job. He tried it, and the anxiety was instantly reduced to a very manageable level. He did a good job. Confession set him free.

At the Woodstock Rock Festival back in the late 1960s, Crosby, Stills and Nash were on stage to perform their new hit song "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes." It was already a massive hit in the U.S.. But there they were on stage before half a million people to play it live. At the end of his introductory remarks, Stephen Stills said to the audience something to the effect, "We've never played before a group this large; and we're scared shitless." Confession sets you free.

A year or so later, I was on stage before a group of 3000 people. I had never played or sung in front of so many people. As I stood there making my introductory remarks the words of Stephen Stills came to me. So, I said, "I haven't really done anything like this before, and I am pretty scared." I left out the "shitless" part. Everyone laughed; I was free.

After reflecting on this experience over the the years, I finally realized something: I stepped onto the stage to perform "in front of" those people. I was there for me. I wanted to make myself feel good by performing at a certain level. Confessing that I was scared changed that. I was telling them that what they thought was important to me. I was now performing "for them." I was bringing a gift with humility. The outcome was entertainment for them and a great level of satisfaction for me. Since I was not trying to hide my nervousness, I was free to direct that mental energy to performing.

I am amazed at how much hiding we do in our daily lives. I'm not saying that we need to walk around telling everyone we meet that we are scared about life. I'm suggesting that we tell those people who need to know that they are important to us. We can tell them that we are a little anxious about failing them. That simple process changes the focus from "me going through my life for me" to "me going through life in service of others."

* Results are not typical

It occurred to me recently that many of the ads that I see on television these days talk about something great that can happen to you if only you will buy their product or service. The ads show people who have lost huge amounts of weight, made thousands of dollars, or accomplished other amazing feats*. Everyone is smiling and talking about how great life is now that they are thin, rich, or otherwise so much better off since they used the product or service*.

Images are flashing across the screen with subtle, and not so subtle, almost promises that if only you're fat, poor, or otherwise impoverished self would invest your money, that you, too, could have all of this!* It always amazes me that some movie star, with whom we have nothing in common when it comes to life style, can somehow entice us to spend our hard-earned money on a chance. This is especially funny when we see a star, who has been overweight more times than we can count, telling us how great this diet program is. Doesn't anyone stop to wonder about the fact that he or she is being paid huge amounts of money and is receiving huge amounts of support in order to recover his or her sveltness?

Someone else (a regular guy) is sitting in his Mercedes convertible telling you how is just started his business four months ago and he is already collecting $10,000 each month working only 9 hours per week.* Other testimonials reel across the screen including Mr. and Mrs. Ordinaire smiling as they stand in front of their new mansion that they bought with their first year's profits.*

Case after case in commercial after commercial entices us to follow these success stories with our investment. All the while the little asterisk at the bottom of the screen is telling us the truth - results are not typical. Does anyone stop to wonder about what typical means? The American Heritage dictionary defines typical as "exhibiting the qualities, traits, or characteristics that identify a kind, class, group, or category: a typical suburban community."

Consider the Pareto Principle (the 80/20 rule): 80% of the work will be done by 20% of the people; 80% of the alcohol in any given bar will be drunk by 20% of those present. Or, 80% of the wonderfulness of product being advertised will be experienced by only 20% of the people who buy it; and that is probably stretching things a lot.

Another way to look at this is that the little asterisk is screaming, "THIS WILL NOT BE YOU!!!"

If there is anything that is typical, it is the fact that the results are not typical. In the face of being virtually promised that we will not experience these results, we continue to take the chance. Perhaps the lottery has reinforced this for us. In America, we have an entreprenuerial spirit. We take chances. We love to have our dream machines polished and running. Someone eventually wins the $160,000,000 jackpot; and someone's life might be changed by reading this blog, but...*

*Results are not typical

Help! Tech Support

A friend told me this story just the other day. It is something that I had heard in a joke at one time with only minor changes in the details. As a joke it is funny. As a real story, it is a sad commentary on how people treat one another.

Tech Support for a high-tech company gets a call from one of the muckity-mucks who has somehow dropped his cell phone in the toilet of the men's room at work. (I know what you are thinking, "how is that a tech support problem?" My question exactly!) When the Tech Support guy arrives, the muckity-muck tells the tech guy to get the phone out of the toilet. Somehow, reaching into a toilet is easier for the techy? I don't think so.

Well, the Tech Support guy was no dummy. He got a plastic bag, pulled it over his arm, reached into the toilet and grabbed the phone. No muss - no fuss. Now, a question: who should be making the bigger bucks, the guy who doesn't have the balls, or the brains, to do the job for himself, or the Tech Support guy who got the job done? Perhaps an even bigger question: what does this say about the muckity-muck's attitude toward others?

Each day we are each faced with the same choice: accept responsibility for our actions or not. Many times those choices are known only to us. Selfish choices often go unnoticed by others. If we are really well-practiced, those choices might even go unnoticed by us. Then, putting "me first" becomes our autopilot. Rationalizations abound; we hear them all the time, "Well, it's his job. It is certainly not mine!" In the end, however, we each know the truth. It only takes some reflection, and the willingness to accept what we see.

Much like the adage that "to have love, one must first let it go," real power in our lives emerges only after we let go of the power to coerce or reward that often comes with position. It is the person known for integrity, and the willingness to step into the fire, who is surrounded by others more than willing to stand in the person's place in the face of challenge.

Outerspace man

One day I was sitting in a class on the peripheral nervous system. It was one of the driest courses I ever took. It wasn't the material that was dry. The instructor was notorious for his monotone lectures and curt answers to questions from class members. Your took your life in your hands if you asked a question. The old adage that there are no dumb questions did not apply in that class. The assumption that exuded from the podium was that any question indicated a lack of preparation prior to taking the course, a failure to study during the course, that you're an idiot, or that it's a dumb question.

This was another humdrum day in class. Everyone was assembled when Dr. X appeared. There were over 150 people in the class. Most people had a set of printed notes that had been transcribed from a recorded lecture four years earlier. It was uncanny how the lectures, now four years later, corresponded to the notes. For example, the notes from four years ago might say, "Last time we met, we discussed the otic ganglion." When Dr. X began his lecture this day, he would say, "Last time we met, we discussed the otic ganglion." And that was the way each day of the course proceeded.

One day we're all sitting there as Dr. X droned on and on. A student raises his hand to ask a question. Dr. X eventually recognizes the student who then asks, "Dr. X, are you aware of literature that suggests that deep sulci in the cortex are related to increased intelligence?" (Sulci, the plural of 'sulcus', are the little valleys, or grooves, in the gray matter that makes up the outer part of the brain.)

Dr. X looks up over the top of his glasses and surveys the room. There is what seems to be a long pause. Then, Dr. X begins his response, "well, smooth brain,..." That was all anyone heard as the classroom erupted in laughter. It would not, however, be the last time this particular student asked a question out of nowhere.

On another occasion in the following term during renal-pulmonary physiology class, this same student again raised his hand. The instructor was from India and was difficult to understand as a result of her accent. Students had to concentrate to get anything out of the lecture. In the middle of class a hand goes up; it's him (Outerspace man again). The lecturer recognizes the student, who proceeds to ask, "Dr. Y, where do you buy your Indian condiments." She was talking about partial oxygen levels in the blood; and he wants to know about her cooking!

All heads turn in the direction of the questioner as Dr. Y is looking at him with that "What the @%$#?" look on her face. The class is waiting for her answer. We have a standard that was set a quarter ago by Dr. X; Dr. Y must say something good. She must do something like getting angry or something! Instead, she deflects the question as one would a four-year-old whose attention has wandered at a preschool...what a let down.

It is interesting to think about the variety of ways people think and live out their lives. To us, some of the things they say sounds nuts, but their lives seem to be working for them.

Outerspace man lived to see another day. This, however, was not his last performance. There was this question about mitochondria from outer space...

Short Circuit

Not that long ago I was administering an examination in one of my classes. I like to use short answer questions because it requires that the student demonstrate more understanding than the typical multiple-guess format. This type of format also reduces the possibilities of cheating since it is much more difficult to read handwriting from a few feet way than it is to see which bubbles have been marked.

This one day the examination was in full-swing; everyone was worrying or writing. Some were probably doing both. I was at the front of the classroom and decided to sit. I was seated a few feet from the front row of desks. There was one student in the front row; he was right in front of me. It was a rare thing to have anyone in the front row, especially during exams; but he was there. I was looking through a book. He was "thinking," and then writing.

I don't remember just how much time passed before I noticed that this front row guy was sitting with a peculiar posture. His arms were on the desk and his head was hanging. It was a familiar posture for regular class as students fell asleep listening to my provocative lectures. It was not, however, a normal posture during exams. I was curious.

Within a few moments of watching this student I noticed a glow coming from under his desk. The desks were like table tops. They didn't have any front or sides on them. So, I am seeing this glow and thinking that this is not normal. Was he watching television? Was he an alien with special reproductive organs that glowed to attract mates? It was only a few seconds before I recognized that it was a Palm Pilot.

I leaned forward and asked the student, "What is that?"
Without any hesitation, he said, "It's my Palm Pilot."
I then asked him, "What are you doing with it?"
Again, without hesitation, he said, "Sometimes I use it to play games."
I thought, "What a non sequitur," and then in that question/demand tone of voice I said, "Why don't you turn it off?"
He said, "Okay," and the light went out.

Now, the dilemma: I can confiscate the Palm Pilot immediately and take the exam from the student, or wait. If I interrupt the exam, and he is somehow innocent of cheating, I have injured him. If I confiscate his Palm Pilot, which probably has other personal data on it, I run the risk of invading his privacy, which is beyond the scope and privilege of my investigation. If I take his Palm Pilot and it gets damaged while in my possession, I have more liability. I decided to allow the student to finish the exam and keep the device in his possession.

I required that he stay in the room until the last student had left the exam. I then told this student with the previously glowing crotch to follow me to my office. As we were walking down the hall I noticed that he was doing something with the device in question. I suspected that he was trying to delete any incriminating information. I told him to turn the device off and leave it alone until we reached my office. He complied.

Once we got to my office I asked him to explain what was going on. He didn't hesitate to confess to cheating. According to school policy, merely having the device in class, even turned on, did not constitute cheating. It would have been deemed irregular testing taking behavior until proven otherwise. Without his confession or the discovery of information that would have helped him in the exam, I would have had a difficult time escalating the charge to cheating. His confession made all of that moot. I didn't need to prove anything.

It took a real short circuit for that student to attempt using his device with me sitting only three feet away, especially sitting at a level where I could hardly help but see the glowing screen. Perhaps it was mere stupidity, or desperation. Perhaps he didn't think that the screen created a glow. It was funny because it was so blatant, and risky, with me so close at hand.

The decision regarding the penalty for his actions will be left for another time. There was no humor in it that I can see at this time. There was only the difficult question about how we should view this cheating behavior with regard to someone training to become a health care professional.

Cultural differences

I worked in health care education in the 1980s. From time to time we would have a visiting scholar on campus. That generally attracted attention and the students really liked the sense of freshness. Somehow hearing the same thing from a stranger was more powerful that hearing it from resident faculty members. There were, however, times when the visitor was really the expert.

One particular visitor to our campus taught and practiced at a university in eastern Europe. He was a very interesting man with interesting theories about the muscular function of the body in response to minimal brain injury. I tell you this because it is at the heart of the story. His visit included a series of lectures and demonstrations. The lectures were very similar to how they would have been presented by one of our resident faculty members - perhaps with the exception that nearly all of the students listened. The demonstrations were, however, quite different than the way we usually did things.

During one of the demonstrations, the visiting professor asked for three volunteers to serve as his models so that he could point out just what he was trying to explain. Three young men raised their hands and were invited to the front of the room. With no fanfare or hesitation, the professor very matter-of-factly told them to strip to their underwear. He said it like one would ask someone to pass the potatoes at dinner. He did say "please," but it was the kind of "please" that a high school principle would use when asking, "would you please tell me what you are doing in the restroom with those cigarettes?" The "please" was superfluous; and, in that case, the answer was obvious.

The three young men looked at each other with surprise as they blushed. But, they took off their clothes. Now, there were three guys standing nearly naked in front of sixty or seventy people (young men and women) who were all secretly thanking their lucky stars that they hadn't volunteered. The professor proceeded to poke and prod each of his models as he attempted to explain how the body responds to his theorized brain function. The young models were getting used to being meat puppets and were beginning to relax. But then...

The professor asked the models to turn around so that their backs were to the audience. They all smiled and made faces at their friends as they began turning to face the wall. The professor continued with his presentation pointing to this muscle or that low shoulder on his live dummies. Then, without notice and without missing a beat, he pulled the underwear of one of the models nearly down to the guy's knees. You can imagine the response of the audience - shock, gasps, laughter, and real relief that it wasn't them. The model was freaked. His counterparts looked over at him with that "holy shit!" expression as they stood there waiting to see what would happen to them. It was as if they were in front of a firing squad seeing their friend go down, and then waiting for their bullets.

Meanwhile, the professor continued to poke and prod his meat puppet's buttocks as he had him bend from side to side etc. All the while, the model was praying that there was not a frontal demonstration coming next. Fortunately for the models the demonstration ended with only that rear view. It was funny enough. We just didn't do that here in America, at least with the same casual, we-do-this-all-the-time attitude.

I admit that I, too, was glad that I hadn't volunteered that day.

Punctuation: {"! .} - ], ? ;"[

20 years ago I was sitting in a meeting. Our organization was in the midst of a significant change effort; and we were making real headway. It required weekly meetings with all levels of the organization. This meeting was full of discussion about the past week's successes and challenges. Everything was a work in progress. Nothing was deemed a failure; only a work in progress.

I was notorious for making comments that were considered out of context or somehow goofy. I worked with a great group of people who understood me and tolerated my "outbursts." I enjoyed their tauntings for weeks after something that I said.

This particular meeting was not unsual. Eight to ten of us were sitting around the table. Someone made a proposal and it was passed around the group in discussion. At some point, and I don't know just when that was, I decided that I thought the idea was good enough to implement. Our custom allowed participants to state their opinions in such a way that they were like "trial closes" in the sales world or attempts to "call the question" in Robert's Rules of Order linngo.

I decided to attempt the trial close and made a statement. Based upon how we phrase things in english, I said, "If it works great, it could be good." I intended to say, "If it works, great! It could be good." Everyone looked at me in that special way such that I could read their expressions - "what!!!!! Of course, you idiot, if it works great, it will be much more than good!"

Simply moving the comma to follow the word "works" would have changed everything. People still tell that story on me. Somehow it makes me feel good when they do because it causes me to reflect on that time - all because of a small little mark placed between this two words rather than that two words.

BONG!!!

Recalling my hospital days reminded me of another story. It is funny to me because it revealed my naiveté at age 25. After a year and a half I decided that medicine was not what I wanted to pursue. There was a job opening in a middle management position at the hospital so I thought I would try that. I knew nothing about administration and nothing about managing people, which I would have to do to some degree. 'Following my bliss' was something that Joseph Campbell would suggest to me years later. The only 'bliss' I had heard mentioned had to do with marriage, and I didn't see much of that around.

Consider the following as if you were watching an episode of The Office.

One day a nurse from my unit called to tell me that some lab tests were performed on a patient, but had not been ordered by the doctor. She said that it was a mistake and that I should call the lab and have the charges taken off the bill. That sort of stuff was part of my new job. So, not knowing that things don't ever come off the bill in a hospital, I said, "sure, I'll just call the lab." I should have heard the flutter of little Clue Fairy wings about my head; but I didn't.

I called the lab and explained the situation to the guy who answered. He said, "you'll need to talk with Sister Honorata about this. I don't have the authority to do it." That should have been my first clue to what was coming. I had a serious Clue Fairy deficit in those days. This hospital was run by an order of Catholic nuns from Germany. I never asked just why they were all from Germany; but they were.

Sister Honorata came to the phone and I explained what had happened. I expected her to say, "I wonder how that happened. Of course we will take those charges off the bill immediately." Instead, the conversation went like this (Imagine her with a strong German accent and me with a massively incredulous Clue Fairy deficit voice):

Sister H: "We can't take those charges off the bill."
Me: "But Sister, the tests were not ordered by her doctor. It was a mistake."
Sister H: "Well, somebody has to pay for them."
Me: "But, Sister it was a mistake. The patient shouldn't be the one who pays for our mistakes."
Sister H: "We did the tests, who should pay for them?"
Me: "Sister, it seems to me that since we made the mistake, that we should absorb the loss." I should have been getting the clue by then, but nooooooooo.
Sister H: "Well, we don't do that."
Me: "But, Sister, business ethics requires that we be responsible for our mistakes, not to mention that this is a Catholic hospital."

BONG!!!!! What was I thinking??? I had had years of Catholic school. I knew that reason was not something that you used with a nun if you were in a one-down position. I am sure that the Clue Fairy was screaming into my ear, but I couldn't hear it. I was too consumed with my idealism and frustration with what seemed so obvious. This is not a nun-bashing story - she just happened to be a nun. It is interesting to look back at a person whose vocation espouses dedication to higher spiritual issues acting out values indistinguishable from any businessperson concerned with the bottom line rather than ethics or legalities.

Needless to say, I didn't get the charges taken off the bill and Sister Honorata was not happy with me. But I thought that I would surely prevail. After all, I was right. I didn't realize that I was skipping off to Happy Land with the Grim Reaper at my back.

The next day, I got called into my supervisor's office. He was a nice guy about seven years older than me. A family man working on his future. He tried to reason with me about my perspective. Then he said, "you don't bite the hand that feeds you." Having sufficiently admonished me, he finally let me out of his office. My head was spinning as I thought to myself, "was this the way of the world, merely the façade of integrity?" Anyone watching from the outside would have been laughing at my idealism and lack of experience with the "real" world.

Over the next week or so, I had accumulated quite a list of the same problems with other patients. I wasn't looking for them, the nurses just kept calling me with them. One day I was called into the Assistant Administrator's office. He told me that he had received a memo with my name at the top in bold type. He was not as concerned about the story as he was about me taking this story outside the hospital. I assured him that I had no intention of going to the media, but that I was very frustrated by the situation. He suggested that I make that day my last; I did.

This story is humorous to me for its polarities - what people say they stand for and what they actually do in their lives. You can imagine me running around all serious about it and about making things "right," while the rest of the machine was moving along, business as usual, with this little gnat (all self-important) buzzing around being a nuisance. I didn't know that there was a label for Sister Honorata's behavior. I do now - the Knowing-Doing gap or Espoused theories versus Theories in Use.

If you are interested in this kind of thing Chris Argyris from Harvard University has written about espoused theories v. theories in use for decades. You can Google either topic and find numerous references.

Naïveté

Setting the stage

I was sitting around thinking about funny things that have happened at work over my life time and this story popped up. I was working in a regional trauma center in the Midwest in the early 1970s. I had recently graduated from college with a degree in psychology when the grand idea of entering medicine came to me.

So, I decided to get a job as an orderly in a hospital. I thought it would give me a chance to see the machine from the inside. The Personnel Director told me that there was on opening in the Trauma Center (an Emergency Room Plus), AND that it paid more per hour - $2.05 instead of $1.95. For that kind of money I jumped at the opportunity! It turned out to be an experience of a life time.

This was a 900-bed teaching hospital. We had doctors, residents, and medical students all over the place. The Trauma Center served about a fifty-mile radius. I worked the 3-11 pm shift and we were swamped nearly all day every day during that time. As a Trauma Center we saw the worst stuff. Since I was a college graduate I was soon doing all of the stuff that the nurses were doing except dispensing medications. Consequently, the head nurse would schedule one less nurse on the shift when I worked.

Most of the time, from 3-11 pm, I was the only orderly in the hospital. Occasionally during the summer there would be the son of one of the doctors working with me. This person would be going to college somewhere and needed a summer job. He would end up mostly running errands while I got to do all of the cool stuff.

Oh yeah, the story

One day a young girl who had been injured in an auto accident was brought into the Trauma Center. She was unconscious. As was usual with this type of case, she was taken to one of the outpatient surgery rooms just across the hall from the rooms where the usual ER patients were seen. There were nurses, staff doctors, orthopedic residents, neurology residents, internal medicine residents etc moving around the room with this girl at the center of their attention.

The typical scenario for this type of thing is that the patient is lying on a surgery table in the center of the room. Since the patient is unconscious and unable to assist with information, all clothing is taken off so that the doctors can perform the necessary examinations and the nurses can hook up the various IVs and other equipment. After these traumas you never know what has been injured or what will need to be done, STAT! I always found it interesting that having a naked unconscious body there on the table did not have the same effect as seeing that same person asleep naked on the beach. This patient was just another object in the room; and she was the main object.

Here is the setting for all of this: we are in a surgery room with an unconscious patient (stable at this point) and all of the really immediately serious decisions have been made. Outside this room is the hurried world of all the other emergency room situations. There are adults and children wailing in the waiting room, people holding makeshift bandages over cuts on their faces while giving a staff person their insurance information, people lying on gurneys in the hallway coming from or going to the X-ray department, and much, much more including a demented old woman lying on her gurney constantly, mindlessly, and rapidly saying, "Help, help, help, help, help, help, help..."

In one of my forays back and forth, I stopped to see if I could assist this lady. I bent forward a little and asked, "Can I help you, m'am?" She stared up at me for a few moments, and as she looked right into my eyes she said, "Help, help, help, help, help, help, help..." I had never encountered dementia before. A little confused, I took off to finish my task.

So, the hustle and bustle had now cleared the surgical room where the girl from the auto accident was lying. The only people left were a surgical resident, a nurse, a new orderly (about 20-years old and very inexperienced with the world), and me. The resident had just arrived and was examining this young girl. Although still unconscious, she was considered to be outside any immediate danger. It was now very quiet in the room, with all of the calamity that I mentioned above just outside the door.

The resident asked, "How old is this girl." (By her physical development, she looked to be at least sixteen or seventeen years old.)

I answered, "The chart says that she's fourteen."

Without looking up from the patient, as an aside, he replied, "She is a very healthy looking fourteen-year-old." (Clearly his comment came from surprise at her physical development at such a young age)

The young orderly, without hesitation, said, "That's probably why she is doing as well as she is."

The resident looked at me with that inquisitive look like, "Am I in the Twilight Zone? Did he really think I was referring to her physical health?" Then he exchanged glances with the nurse, who just shrugged her shoulders as she shook her head and rolled her eyes.

Her expression said, "Yep, you're right. That's what he said."

It was such a interesting juxtaposition of potential life and death with the humor of daily life. In the quiet of that room, after the real emergency decisions had been made, this brief exchange, and this young orderly's naïveté, was recorded in my memory; and remains after 35 years.

Pay Attention!

I was thinking of ridiculous experiences from the past, and remembered one Sunday afternoon when I went to my office to work on some projects. I was single at the time, and had no life, so I would often go to the office on the weekends. It was a bright, sunny day and I decided to do stop by the office to get a couple of things. I entered the building at about noon. I doodled around for about 30 minutes and turned to leave. I opened the door to the main hallway to hear shouting, "STOP, PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!!! DO IT!!! NOW!!! PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!!!

Imagine hearing all of that simultaneously from two policemen as you stare down the barrels of their .38-caliber pistols. I was standing there, disoriented and confused. Both officers have me in their sites, with both hands on their guns as if they were at the shooting range and I was that black target with the white silhouette. It was like being on Law and Order, and I was the "perp."

Needless to say, I was overwhelmed. I said something really intelligent like, "holy shit!" as my hands went into the air. Once the officers determined that they were in control, they asked me who I was and what I was doing there. I told them that it was my office etc. They were eventually satisfied that I was the person I claimed to be and told me that I had tripped the alarm. They told me that no one was supposed to be in the building without first calling the security service to alert them. I told them that I was unaware of that. They seemed convinced that I was clueless and escorted me out of the building.

It turned out that my organization had made some changes in its security procedures. One of them was to connect the door sensors to some security company that called the police department if the alarms were triggered. Everyone was notified; I just didn't pay attention. I paid the price with my cardio-vascular and sympathetic nervous systems. Now, anytime I get a notice from security about the building being closed, I flash on my experience. I pay attention - at least to that.

Social Names

One day an employee was paged to the front desk of the clinic in which he worked. The person who did the paging, Sue (not her real name), said, "Tim Smith (not his real name either, of course!), please report to the front desk." A few minutes later Tim appeared. He told Sue that although Tim was his legal name, his social name was Wilson; and that he would like to be called by Wilson if at all possible.

Sue told everyone that she almost lost it when Tim/Wilson said this to her. She was, however, cordial to Tim/Wilson, and told him that she would try to remember that. What followed was a common scenario when something happens in an organization that falls outside the ordinary. Sue began assigning social names to anyone who requested one. In fact, the only way that one could get a social name was to go to Sue and asked her for one. You could not make up your own social name.

It was uncanny how appropriate this assignment of social names seemed to be. One of the most startling instances was when one of the staff doctors asked Sue for his social name. She immediately said, "Milford" (not the real name, of course!). The name was unusual for this day and age, although it was quite common in 50 years earlier. The amazing thing about this social name was that it was actually the middle name of the staff doctor's father. The father had specifically decided to not use this middle name for his son, the staff doctor, because he didn't want him to go through life being called "Junior." Now, some 40 years later, and in this absurd circumstance, that middle name of "Milford" was assigned to him anyway.

Needless to say, "Milford" was the highlight of the social name era. It provided a lot of laughs as well as curious speculations as to how such a coincidence could occur. No one ever knew whether Tim/Wilson ever became aware of the storm that he initiated. Although it is a great example of how a seemingly innocuous event can provide so much entertainment, it had a profound long-term effect on the organization.

It has been nearly 20 years, and stories of the social names still reverberate within the organization. They have become part of the culture. For those who were part of the organization back then, those stories represent a time when people were connected to one another in much deeper ways than simply doing their jobs. Those days represented a melding of personal and professional lives such that going to work was more than a paycheck or a meaningful job; it was life.

Clue Fairy Deficit

There was an election recently for a faculty senate president at a small college. There was only one candidate nominated for the position, who we'll call Sid, but when people saw who it was, they encouraged another faculty member, Rollo, to enter the running. The Rollo refused at first, but reluctantly consented after considering what might happen if Sid won.

Rollo had considerable support from one faction of the facutly, but there were a number of part-time faculty who were unknowns and other old-timers who didn't like Rollo's past association with administration. Rollo had baggage. Having been part of the administration for some years, there were some faculty members who "felt" that he would leak faculty senate secrets to his friends in the administration. He was baffled by that thinking since the faculty senate really had no secret business to conduct. The faculty union handled all of the "secret" stuff. The old guard was still maintianing the the administration has an agenda that opposes the faculty senate, and, therefore, we needed our secrets held closely.

Rollo did not subscribe to this way of thinking and tried to explain his position in a campaign email to the faculty. Sid had sent nothing and had not really done any campaigning other that asking people to vote for him. At a faculty senate meeting when Sid accepted his nomination, someone asked him about what he planned to do as the leader of the senate. His reply was, "whatever you want me to do, I guess." No one, not even Sid, seemed to have a clue as to what he might contribute to the faculty senate by way of leadership.

Well, the election was a landslide victory for Sid. Sixty-six percent of the votes were cast for him. Rollo and his supporters were somewhat surprised, and dismayed, by the outcome; but that was the vote. Everyone waited for first meeting with Sid as leader coming in six weeks.

That first meeting of the faculty senate demonstrated Sid's massive clue fairy deficit. Even before the meeting began, he engaged in a heated finger-pointing exchange with his VP. The VP had taken it upon himself to send out a propsed agenda. Sid had not responded to the email, since he does not read his campus email. The VP was angry that Sid had not responded and that there was no agenda for the meeting. Sid has no idea about decorum and just became defensive and angry. Now it is meeting time, and Sid has no agenda with the exception of the few things that "I just scribbled down before the meeting."

Faculty members were looking at each other incredulously as they realized that Sid had not done anything to prepare for his tenure as President - well, almost nothing. His first order of business was to "make a motion," rather than "moving," (something a president does not do) that we install a plaque with all of the past faculty senate presidents' names on it. After too much discussion about creating a subcommittee to look into this, Sid didn't even know how to call for the vote. He said that he didn't know how to do it and finally fumbled out something like "If you want this plaque raise your hands."

Needless to say, the meeting was a disaster. When faculty members complained to Rollo about how the meeting had gone, he encouraged them to talk with Sid. They were too angry and said that Rollo should do it. Rollo was reluctant because he believed that he would appear to be a "know it all" who was rubbing things in the face of his unworthy opponent.

Sid needed a visit from the Clue Fairy. Had that occurred, Sid would have known to review Robert's Rules of Order and to create an agenda that could be circulated in advance of the meeting; and, perhaps, have some meaningful business to engage. Sometimes we only need a Clue Fairy fly-by to provide us with the slightest hint for what we might do next. This was definitely not the case with Sid. His was a serious Clue Fairy deficit, not amenable to a fly-by therapy. The End.

The Narcissist

I was at a conference last week. Out of the blue appeared this face from the past. At first I confused the face with one of an old friend. In a moment of confusion, I was glad to see this person. Then reality set in - It was a face from hell!

After the confusion dissipated, the person, whom we will call Bud, introduced himself as someone from my organization many years ago. All those years ago, he was at an entry level and everything he did was supervised closely. Bud didn't like that at all. He believed that his training prior joining our organization should have garnered him more privileges and respect. The reality was that most people thought that Bud was whacked.

During the time that Bud was with us, we audited the work of those at Bud's level very closely. No one was safe from file audits. Our intention was to insure that our clients' records met a high standard of completeness. File audits were a part of weekly business. There was no secret about it. We didn't single people out; we did random audits.

Back to the conference -

Bud is now in my face telling me about his experiences in my organizaton back when. His recollection was that our file audits were focused on him because we were monitoring his actions with his clients. He had become a legend in his own mind. To him, we were checking his files in order to monitor his "creative" activities with clients. I didn't have the heart to tell him that we didn't think he was special - just whacked.

Bud continued to tell me about the incompetence that surrounded him while he was with us. His self-imposed legendary status had reframed nearly everything such that he was the star at the heart of the story. Those of us in supervisory positions were antagonists, while his peers were intellectual wimps and idiots. He proposed that one of his supervisors had committed malpractice, implying that he had held the power of exposing this person. The reality was that the client was safe as long as Bud didn't do anything stupid.

The funniest story that Bud told me was that one of the most respected of his supervisors, Ernie, had secretly told Bud that he was too smart for the system and that he should just dumb-down a little bit while he passed through this level of the organization. Bud went on to say that Ernie had complimented him on being just just as smart as Ernie was, but that Bud needed to play the role of someone below Ernie in order to make the system work. Bud's eyes lit up as he told the story of being on top.

I was standing there in hell - with Bud. He ranted on and on. He later corralled another person at the conference and began the same set of stories. A friend, Emily, who was standing with them was incredulous at the conversation, but was more astounded at the woman who was with Bud. As Bud spoke, this woman began touching Emily's arm, occasionally clutching it, saying, "Listen to him! Listen to him." Emily said that it was like the woman was a cult member watching her guru; hanging on every word. Emily couldn't get over this woman's dedication to Bud's cause. It was all about Bud. All those years ago, it was all about Bud. Nothing had changed.

When I returned from the conference to related the story to Ernie. He almost died laughing as he told me his version of the story. It was all about Bud - and that he was whacked in his narcissistic world.

It can be frustrating to work with narcissistic people. They need to maintain a sense of superiority with those around them. They can be very friendly and complimentary as long as they perceive themselves at the top. If they start to slip out of the top position, they begin the process of denigrating those around them until they can reestablish themselves at the top again.

Hangman - One Move

I was thinking about how we frame situations in our lives. This situation occurred in a meeting I attended some years ago now. I'm sitting with a guy (we'll call him Bud) in a meeting with other leaders in the organization. It is a multisite business with locations around the country, so meetings frequently involve video- and teleconferences. The main man leading the organization frequently tells people to speak their minds; that he is open to criticism.

At the meeting, the main man lays out a plan citing who would be involved and how things would proceed. Bud was struck by how certain people in the process were placed above others, even though the others were equally as important. He spoke his mind about it; and the other people in the room with him looked at him incredulously. Immediately after Bud finished speaking, he knew that he had gone over the line. A few minutes later he drew a hangman game on his notepad as they looked on. In this special version of the game, one had only one move before his guy was hung. When he showed the others at the table, they shook their heads in agreement and laughed.

Bud's comment would have been okay had he framed it properly. But, he allowed his emotion to influence his framing of the situation. Needless to say, the "main man" was not happy with Bud. The "main man" initially wanted Bud fired. They ironed things out, but it was touchy for a few days.

Bud became the poster child for a new game - "Hangman - one move."

Most organizations have hierarchical structures (represented on org charts) with a boss at the top, the workers on the bottom and some layers of administrators in the middle. Generally, the lower one is on the chart, the less money and power one has. Where one falls on the chart influences how one sees situations. The boss might present some plan for the future and be thinking about how that plan fits the structure of the organization or be looking at the plan relative to its political potential. Those at the bottom of the org chart, however, might be listening to the plan from the perspective of "what does this mean about the work I do?" They might also ask themselves, "how much will this cost me in time and effort?" For the guys at the bottom, the plan symbolizes something about who they are; not just what they make or how much they make. They also usually have little to say about the infringement on their personal lives for little extra benefit.

Looking back at Bud's case, we can see how the main man might have been looking from a structural and political perspective while Bud was looking through the symbolic frame.

Now we have a convergence of three perspectives, or frames: structural, political and symbolic. There are other frames as well, but these will be enough for now. Generally, we are aware that perspectives exist other than our own, but it is interesting how often we fail to use that awareness in the moment. Many times, even when we are aware of other perspectives, we have a tendency to elevate the importance of ours above the others. As we become increasingly invested in our ideas, we begin to lose our objectivity. (The origin of the word "object" means to be thrown from.) The closer we hold our ideas, the more difficult it is to throw them from us. We can't physically get another perspective on something that we hold too closely.

If my job as the boss in the organization is to make sure that the bottom line is protected, and I believe that I can accomplish that by focusing on who does what, when, and where, I distance myself from the capacity to see the "real" and immediate importance of whether Bob down on the line is experiencing "fulfillment" in his job. I become susceptible to framing the situation such that Bob's job is to do his job. If he needs "fulfillment," perhaps he should volunteer at an animal shelter or something. This attitude can, of course, make the boss seem like a thoughtless person. This particular response is very one sided; but it is often a reaction to one sidedness from others.

From the bottom of the org chart, the other side of the situation, the perspective can a little different. One can hear people say, "If the company would consider making my work meaningful, I would put in 110% and the bottom line would be very secure. We would be so far into the black that the concept of being in the red would not be a fading memory." This position can be very alienating to a boss like the one just above. Failure to come together in some type of real dialogue leaves both sides polarized, alienated and increasingly cynical. This happens in relationships, families, neighborhoods etc.

A powerful solution to the framing problem is to sit together in dialogue. Simply, this means to come together to consider the topic without trying to solve anything or convince anyone that your idea is the best, or even good. The first thing to do is try to understand the position of the others. In a dialogue, you are under no obligation to change your position. If, however, you truly participate in the process, you will come away with an expanded perspective on the topic. You can develop the habit of using all of the frames in your daily life.

(By the way, twenty years ago the top guy made about 40 times more than the bottom guy. Now the top guy makes 400 times those at the bottom. This is not directly related to my topic today. I just thought it was interesting. Food for cynicism - a topic coming up.)

Send in the clowns

You won't believe this one. Well, those of you as cynical as I can be might actually expect it. Those of us who live or work in high tech regions are aware of the hours that employees work. This is especially true before big events like new product launches or website launches after significant revisions. Some companies, and not always the big ones, have big celebrations or offer dinner vouchers for employees to take their significant others out for a nice dinner to make up for the personal and family time lost. Regardless of the remedy selected, the signal to the employee is that she or he is valued; and that merely paying for the hours, even with overtime differentials, is not quite enough. Although the reward chosen does not usually come close to rewarding the employee on an equity basis for his or her contribution, it is important for maintaining morale and dispelling cynicism. Consequently, this reward needs to meet at least two criteria: it must be of value to the employee and must be seen as a significant symbol of the employer's gratitude. The balance between value to the employee and the symbolism can fluctuate based on conditions. If a company is in dire straits, the symbolism of even the smallest gift might be enough to offset a low value to the employee - "it's the thought that counts." If, on the other hand, the company is doing well, the symbolic value of the gift seems to be more related to its value to the employee. Sometimes a small token can create cynicism and a sense of not being valued. If the symbolic value of the gift fails to resonate with the employee as commensurate with the amount of sacrifice that was made, the company would probably have been better off giving no gift at all. Many years ago, I had a small custom clothing business. Very early on I decided that I would give my customers their choice of a new neck tie with each new suit they bought from me. I purchased an array of ties and had them on hand. I thought I was doing great with that idea! One day, one of my customers, a CEO of a local company, commented that the quality of my ties did not reflect that quality of my suits. He said that it signaled to him that I didn't know the value of my product or that I didn't really value him as a client. He told me that neither of them was good for business. I may have violated that from time to time since then, but I have never forgotten it. So, back to the unbelievable stimulus for today's thoughts. A friend was telling me about how her company did these thoughtful things on a reqular basis. While at such an event, another employee related that in her last job, everyone had worked 7 days a week for months and the company did nothing. Not only that, one of the company leaders said that they were feeling badly that they hadn't done anything. He said that they were thinking of bringing in a clown. A clown! After months of 80-hour weeks - a clown. What would that symbolize to you? Unless some aspect of clowning was part of your company culture, where is the value? We can use this same process in our personal lives everyday. We have numerous opportunities to give others things of high value or symbolism as part of our relationship with them. The concept of "quality time," is a perfect example. What might you do today? Have a nice day.

Thinking outside the Box

Act 1, scene 1: The boss enters the OD Geek's office.


Boss: "OD, I would like you to start doing a little thinking, 'outside-the-box' as they say."

OD: (With a blank, decerebrate look on his face and slightly nodding his head) "Uh-huh."

Boss: "I'd like your weekly reports to include some of those thoughts."

OD: "Well-l-l, I m-m-might have a couple of questions about this."

Boss: "Okay, OD, write 'em down and get back to me tomorrow."

OD: Ponders pen-in-hand; then begins writing his questions:

- What's wrong with thinking right here; this is a really comfy chair?

- What exactly is 'out there' to think about anyway?

- If I think outside the box, will I need to move my desk and stuff out there?

- Is anybody else doing this besides me?

- Does this involve special clothing or equipment?

- Can I phone a friend?

- If I think of something outside the box, how do I get it back in here?

- Isn't everybody already doing this? Can't we be a little more creative?