PRACTICE 8
ARE YOU AT RISK OF BEING OVERDRAWN OR EVEN BANKRUPT IN ANY OF YOUR RELATIONSHIPS?
If so, you may want to consider
PRACTICE 8: TAKE STOCK OF YOUR EMOTIONAL BANK ACCOUNTS.
When you don’t take stock of your Emotional Bank Accounts, your room may feel like Sartre’s hell because:
• You’re confused as to why someone doesn’t appreciate your attempts to be helpful.
• Recovering from a mistake takes far longer than it should.
• You inadvertently lose the trust of important relationships around you.
I looked down at my buzzing phone and saw the name Jerome pop up, an old friend I hadn’t talked to in years. We’d worked closely together at a previous company but had managed to lose touch. I was delighted to hear his voice when I answered.
“Todd, it’s been too long,” Jerome announced, his voice as big and cheerful as ever.
“I know. It’s great to hear from you.”
“I’ve been thinking about you and your family and just wanted to say hi.”
We reminisced about our old organization and where our lives had taken us. After a few minutes, Jerome expressed his regret we hadn’t connected sooner. “It was great to get caught up,” he added. “You know, we should go to lunch sometime.” I agreed and told him I’d get back in touch. I was just about to thank him again for the call when he interjected, “Oh, you know what I just remembered? Does your uncle still get those discount tickets for the Friends and Family Day at the Sports Hut?”
I was a little taken aback. Suddenly, all the good feelings I’d had about reconnecting with my old colleague were replaced with the suspicion that his unexpected call had more to do with my uncle and his discount tickets than with me.
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to check,” I answered in a somewhat monotone voice.
I then excused myself and hung up. “Wow,” I thought. “What an opportunist.” Usually, I would have been happy to ask my uncle for a favor, but not now.
• • •
Most of us pay a good deal of attention to our financial bank accounts—the deposits and withdrawals, the interest and penalties, the opening and closing balances on our statements. The idea is fairly straightforward: We deposit funds in order to build up a reservoir from which our various future expenses are withdrawn. Today’s technology allows us to monitor these transactions in nearly real time. When it comes to our relationships, we engage in similar kinds of transactions, either making deposits or withdrawals in what we at FranklinCovey call the Emotional Bank Account (EBA). When the balance is high, so is the resulting level of trust. When the balance is low, relationships suffer. While there are many similarities between the way a traditional bank account and an Emotional Bank Account operates, there are a few key differences worth noting:
• The goal of the EBA is to only make deposits and build trust with others. We never accumulate a balance in order to make purposeful, planned withdrawals at a later time.
• Emotional Bank Accounts don’t allow for automated deposits. Unlike your regular bank account, you can’t sign up for recurring direct deposits (like payroll) with your EBA. Deposits in the Emotional Bank Account require us to walk up to the teller, as it were, and make the transaction in person. This attention is important, because it’s been my experience that it’s usually the relationships we take for granted—the ones on autopilot—that are most in need of consistent and deliberate attention.
• High trust, good will, and full engagement are the ultimate outcome of the EBA, not high monetary yields or robust interest accruals. When you have a high EBA balance with someone, you feel safe and energized. If you’re wondering what your account balance with a particular person might be, consider how you react when they call: do you answer their call once you see their name on the caller ID, or even if you have the time available, do you let it go to voicemail? When they show up unexpectedly at your door, is your first instinct to welcome them in, or to duck behind the sofa when you see them coming? When they ask for a favor, are you eager to help and say yes before even knowing what the favor is, or are you dreading the request? Every relationship we have has an associated balance in our respective Emotional Bank Accounts. Consider some of the ways we make deposits and withdrawals:
WITHDRAWAL |
|
Seek first to understand. |
Assume you understand. |
Show kindness, courtesy, and respect. |
Show cruelty, impoliteness, and contempt. |
Keep promises. |
Break promises or make no promises at all. |
Be loyal to the absent. |
Be untrustworthy and disloyal when people aren’t around; bad-mouth or gossip. |
Set clear expectations. |
Create ambiguous expectations or none at all. |
Apologize. |
Be remorseless, proud, and arrogant. |
Give feedback. |
Stay silent or give feedback with bad intent. |
Forgive. |
Hold grudges. |
You’ve likely heard of the tried-and-true best practices for building wealth, such as making a budget, deciding on priorities, recording expenses, etc. Similarly, here are six best practices for building a strong, high EBA balance:
1. Never deposit to withdraw.
2. Know the other person’s currency.
3. Communicate your own currency.
4. Avoid counterfeit deposits.
5. Make small, consistent deposits over time.
6. Right wrongs.
In Sartre’s fictional hell, it’s only through a sincere and honest focus on others that we can turn the afterlife’s prison into paradise. To that end, we should never build up deposits just so we can withdraw from them when it’s useful. I know a colleague who kept a box of thank-you notes in his office because he’d developed an unhealthy habit of using them to build a reservoir of goodwill before dumping a big project on someone. This approach is exactly how not to utilize the Emotional Bank Account.
Manipulations, or using the EBA as a means to an end, may damage relationships beyond repair. If the withdrawal is egregious and the Emotional Bank Account is low, you may have to make numerous deposits to rebuild the relationship and reestablish trust, or worst case, the withdrawal may bankrupt the account forever. In contrast, if the withdrawal is minor and the account is high, a few sincere deposits can bring it back into balance. Keep in mind that every relationship is different. If you’re keeping score, you’re missing the point. Striving for a high balance in an Emotional Bank Account is a principle to live by, not a scorecard.
All bank accounts require their approved form of currency. It might be tempting, after a particularly successful game of Monopoly, to take your newly acquired stack of money and deposit it into your actual bank account. (Warning: You might go directly to jail.) Despite the validity of the colorful currency used in the Monopoly game, your bank is going to have different thoughts on the matter. So, too, with people—we all have individual forms of currency we’re willing to accept. In life, what amounts to a deposit for one person can be meaningless or even a withdrawal for another. This unanticipated withdrawal is what happened with a friend of mine named Leslie.
Leslie decided to take the day off to go snow-skiing with her younger sister, Kristen. While not an expert skier, Leslie had more experience than her sibling, who wanted to graduate from the beginner’s snowplow to more advanced techniques. As the two sisters hit the slopes, Kristen immediately struggled. Each time the younger sibling tried to transition out of the snowplow, she picked up speed, lost her balance, and fell. After completing several runs on the more advanced hills, Leslie decided to ski over and help her sister out. Having gone through the same sort of learning herself, Leslie began offering her younger sister pointers: Lean back a little more, bend your knees, put your weight on your downhill ski, and so on.
With each failed attempt, Leslie offered more advice to her sister, who was growing more and more frustrated as time went on. Finally, Kristen threw her poles down and exclaimed, “If I want your advice, I’ll ask for it!”
Leslie was taken aback. She remembered her own struggles as a novice and appreciated the helpful tips offered by the more experienced skiers. But then again, Kristen wasn’t Leslie—Kristen was more competitive than her older sister and always had a hard time when she wasn’t good at something right off the bat. In effect, what had been currency for Leslie wasn’t the same for Kristen. What was meant to be a deposit had ended up being a withdrawal.
I had a similar experience with emotional currency many years ago. I was in a management meeting when the finance team presented a new spreadsheet. I didn’t have a clue as to how to read it. From my perspective, it was completely unintelligible—kind of like opera. The problem was, everyone but me seemed to understand it just fine. So I sat there mute, feeling stupid. I did my best to put on a sage look, staring intently at the report, and nodding my head when I noticed others doing the same. After a long discussion, one of the members of the team turned to me and asked for my opinion.
“Well,” I said after a long pause. “I think the numbers speak for themselves.” I smiled, and people around the table laughed. I hoped my subtle humor would hide the fact that if the numbers were speaking, it was a foreign language to me. I managed to deflect the question, and the meeting continued. Afterward, one of the team members pulled me aside.
“I really enjoy your sense of humor, Todd,” he said. “May I ask you something?
“Sure,” I said.
“You seemed a little uncomfortable with the new financial report. Can I help?”
“Actually, yes,” I answered. “How about a time machine so I can retake all the accounting classes I failed in college?”
He smiled warmly. “Can’t help you there, but I could walk you through the report. I don’t think it’s as complicated as it may look.” Such an offer could have made me feel insecure, but it didn’t. My colleague recognized that I used humor as a way of deflecting my anxiety, and let me know he both appreciated it and understood why I felt the need to go there. He sensed that I was a little uncomfortable, and rather than speak about it in front of the others, offered to do so in private. He understood a currency important to me (and to most people I know) of not being put on the spot in public. He built trust and made it safe to tackle what could have been a potentially embarrassing topic, making a deposit instead of a withdrawal. It didn’t require a grand gesture or planning on his part; he simply recognized and used a currency important to me in building an Emotional Bank Account.
Admittedly, it can be hard sometimes to uncover which currency matters most to people—especially when we don’t know them very well. We can help by simply communicating the currency we prefer. I learned this lesson the hard way over a sixteen-year struggle with a pineapple-based dessert. It all started when my wife and I were first married, and her aunt made a pineapple cake with whipped-cream frosting for a family party. It was one of many cakes served at the event, and I made a big deal about it when it was unveiled.
“This looks great, Aunt Gladys,” I announced. “How did you know it was my favorite?” My wife, Trish, overhearing me, took note. When my birthday came, she ended up making the exact same pineapple cake, whipped-cream frosting and all. I thanked her, a little surprised to see it again, but went on to celebrate the day as planned. The following year the cake made another appearance, just like the previous year. And the tradition continued: the year after that, and the year after that. My wife ended up making the pineapple and whipped-cream frosting cake on my birthday for fifteen years. It took me that long to finally come clean.
“You know what, Trish?” I asked as my next birthday approached. “Can I admit something to you?” Perhaps this opener isn’t the best open-ended question to leave lingering with a spouse, so I decided to press on. “I don’t really love pineapple cake.”
“You don’t? Since when?”
“Well, since forever.”
“But I’ve been making it for you all these years. I remember you telling Aunt Gladys it was your favorite.”
“You’re right. But it was the party where everyone brought desserts, and I noticed that nobody was eating hers. We were newly married, and I wanted to make a good impression. I didn’t want her to feel bad, so I took a big slice and said it was my favorite. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“But it wasn’t your favorite?” my wife asked.
“Uh, no.”
“So all this time . . .”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
It took my wife some time to get over her understandably confused and hurt feelings. For fifteen years, she believed she’d been making me my favorite cake. Was it her responsibility to read my mind? Of course not. I could have (and should have) avoided hurting and confusing her many years earlier by graciously sharing that pineapple cake wasn’t at the top of my list. In this situation, it was my responsibility to share with her my currency, and having to pretend I liked pineapple cake was making unnecessary EBA withdrawals. Again, that responsibility rested primarily with me—I should have simply let her know.
Too often we assume others should have special insight into what amounts to deposits and withdrawals. In fact, if we aren’t careful, we can even start accusing people of making a withdrawal when their intent has been just the opposite. With just a little proactivity on our part, we can be responsible for letting people know in advance what our particular currency happens to be.
It’s not only a good idea to communicate currency in our personal lives, but it’s effective in our professional lives as well. We recently hired a new sales manager, Rebecca, to replace a manager who was retiring. The previous manager was very involved at the beginning of new client relationships, accompanying salespeople on their calls so that he could mentor them in how to grow existing accounts. His salespeople learned his currency: that when he was in town, they should line up as many meetings with existing accounts as they could. In contrast, Rebecca had a skill of finding and growing new business. Knowing that her salespeople had learned the old manager’s currency, Rebecca met with her new team members early on to express her unique preferences. While she also wanted them to grow existing business, she preferred spending her time accompanying them on appointments with new clients. Her currency was to have them research new business and set up as many appointments with new clients as possible. Because she shared her currency early on, her salespeople didn’t waste time guessing what mattered to her or trying to learn her style; they were immediately set up to succeed.
Sometimes we make counterfeit deposits. We all know what counterfeit money is, and it’s the last thing any of us wants in our bank account. Such bogus deposits can attempt to make their way into the Emotional Bank Account if we’re not careful. They often take the form of contrived compliments, fake apologies, or even overly extravagant gifts. (Some might see my compliment to Aunt Gladys about her cake as contrived, but when the recipient is a ninety-year-old woman, you get cut a little slack.) Perhaps you’ve experienced the manager who goes from office to office telling each co-worker in vague, hyperbolic ways how fantastically wonderful they are, and how deeply and unabashedly he or she admires them. But the compliments soon feel like attempts at flattery, designed to get people to do what the manager wants them to do. Such verbal tributes become so routine and anticipated, team members begin to joke about them behind the manager’s back: “Are they running for political office, or what?” All the while, EBA balances slowly diminish.
We pay a price for making counterfeit deposits into Emotional Bank Accounts. Not that you should withhold compliments when they’re due—there are numerous people who do incredible work every day—but overdone flattery will never yield EBA deposits. One safeguard is to always be conscious of your intent: Are you looking for a payoff—for a return on your investment—or are you acting from a genuine concern for the person? (For more information on this question, see “Practice 9: Examine Your Real Motives.”) There’s a difference between a quid pro quo strategy and making an authentic deposit.
I’m again reminded of my leader and mentor, Pam, with whom I worked early on in my HR career. In “Practice 5: See the Tree, Not Just the Seedling,” I told the story of how I had only been on the job thirty-five days when Pam introduced me to one of the executives and recounted what I had accomplished in my short time there. Pam could have easily said, “He’s doing a really good job.” But instead, she listed very specific comments about what I’d accomplished. I knew this approach wasn’t artificial flattery, but that she understood and meant every word.
Along the same lines, a colleague of mine was asked to deliver a full-day workshop for a group of salespeople she didn’t know very well. It was extremely challenging, to say the least. Afterward, she got a personal handwritten note that arrived at her home from our CEO, thanking her for her time. He specifically referred to a story she told that was customized to the needs of the group. He mentioned how much he appreciated her handling of two specific questions that, if not addressed appropriately, would have led the discussion in a negative direction. He also thanked her for graciously handling some of the stronger personalities in the classroom. She was completely surprised at his attention to detail and that he’d taken time to even write the note. This personal gesture was a sincere and meaningful deposit into her EBA.
When we make deposits into an EBA, it requires that we’re deliberate and consistent. Relationships grow in security and trust when they are built with intentional, meaningful, ongoing contributions rather than the occasional grand gesture. Many people get so good at consistently making small deposits that doing so becomes a part of who they are. This stockpile of good can be invaluable when we go through the inevitable trials life presents.
If anyone understands this principle, it’s Maisie Devore. While the following story illustrates deposits of actual money, think about it in terms of how small deposits over time can result in a rich and rewarding outcome. As a young mother living in the small, rural town of Eskridge, Kansas, she wanted her children to have a community swimming pool to help fill the long summer days. However, the town didn’t have the funds to build or maintain something like that; it seemed as if her desire would end up unfulfilled. But Maisie was determined to make it happen. So she began collecting cans, crushing them in her garage, and saving the money she collected.
She started walking the roads around her home, collecting cans each evening and driving them down to the recycling center. All the while, the city told her she’d never raise enough money to build and support a pool. Maisie was undeterred, and continued collecting cans, scrap metal, old car batteries, and junk from area residents. For a while, she carried the nickname of Crazy Maisie, but she persisted, one can at a time, toward her goal.
Thirty years later, she had saved over one hundred thousand dollars. The story inspired her local senator, who found grant money to cover the remaining costs, and the school board donated the land. In 2001, the pool was built across from Maisie’s house, where she was able to watch her great-grandchildren swim. In time, the highway where Maisie began collecting cans was renamed in her honor. Her story provides an important reminder about the power of making small deposits over time. Is Maisie unique? I think there are people who jump at the chance to help others because they’ve made it a habit. If you feel the satisfaction that comes from making deposits in the Emotional Bank Accounts of others, you’ll make more and more, until it becomes a pattern of living for you—much like Maisie, who ended up making a significant difference in her community, one deposit at a time.
Dr. Covey shared a bit of Eastern wisdom in his teaching: If you’re going to bow, bow low. He taught that sincere apologies make deposits into the EBA of others.
I remember Francis, a colleague of mine who was known for having a somewhat short fuse. One day he was under a serious deadline and needed to keep his production line running. The manager of another division asked him to stop the line temporarily so she could examine one of the products. He refused to stop, but she insisted.
He lost it and blew up at her. He told her where to go and how to get there, and in a voice so loud that everyone around could hear it. In our company (and hopefully yours), that kind of behavior is unacceptable. Francis knew it, and later confessed to me that he’d felt bad about what he’d done and wasn’t sure what to do about it. He also admitted that, at the same time, he felt somewhat justified in his behavior. Even though he crossed an etiquette line or two, he was still serving the needs of the larger project. It was his job to make his goals, after all, and how was he supposed to do that if other people were slowing him down? Sure, he’d hurt the other manager’s feelings, but didn’t his own feelings and responsibilities matter too?
Over the following weekend, he was so restless he couldn’t sleep. After a lot of internal debate, he decided he needed to apologize to his co-worker. On Monday morning he went straight to her office, knocked on the door, and was invited in. He apologized for raising his voice and using the kind of language that would have made anyone blush, but he hoped she would understand that he was still right, even though he’d handled it poorly. It wasn’t his fault, after all, that the organization put so much pressure on the production line. Nor was it his fault that he was ultimately accountable for meeting his goals, regardless of people’s hurt feelings. He continued making excuses masquerading as an apology. As you can imagine, the apology fell flat. Instead of starting down the path of righting the wrong, he doubled down and made an additional withdrawal from an already nearly bankrupt account.
The particulars of that day have faded from memory for most, and numerous reviews and quarterly goals have come and gone. But the damage done that day remains. Francis has never fully recovered from the initial withdrawal. Unfortunately, by missing the opportunity to right the wrong when it first happened, the relationship still suffers from a lack of trust.
Sincere apologies, by contrast, make deposits in the Emotional Bank Accounts of others. It is the first step in righting wrongs, but if mishandled or delayed, can cause even greater withdrawals.
By applying the six best practices for building Emotional Bank Accounts, we not only begin to develop habits out of the meaningful deposits we make to others, but we build the kind of security and trust that can weather the mistakes of unintentional withdrawals. Sartre’s vision of a miserable afterlife only happens when the people in the room are actively destroying others rather than building each other up. When our energy and focus turn to consistently making EBA deposits, eternity feels a lot more like heaven than Sartre’s hell.
When it came to the surprise call from my former colleague, Jerome, his request felt a little bit like the latter . . .
• • •
“Oh, you know what I just remembered? Does your uncle still get those discount tickets for the Friends and Family Day at the Sports Hut?”
I was a little taken aback. Suddenly, all the good feelings I’d had about reconnecting with my old colleague were replaced with the suspicion that his unexpected call had more to do with my uncle and his discount tickets than with me.
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to check,” I answered in a somewhat monotone voice.
I then excused myself and hung up. “Wow,” I thought. “What an opportunist.” Usually, I would have been happy to ask my uncle for a favor, but not now.
Over the next few weeks, I forgot about Jerome’s request. I’ll admit that this favor wasn’t a priority for me, probably given the unexpected EBA withdrawal I’d experienced. It fell off my radar, and I suspected Jerome felt too awkward to call me again. The experience made me take stock of the other relationships in my life and to question whether I was making conscientious and consistent deposits—especially when our most trusted and long-standing relationships can be the easiest to take for granted.