PRACTICE 11
HAVE YOU EVER HAD ONE OF YOUR GO-TO STRENGTHS STOP WORKING FOR YOU?
If so, you may want to consider
PRACTICE 11: GET YOUR VOLUME RIGHT.
When you don’t get your volume right, your room may feel like Sartre’s hell because:
• You’re not sure why people respond negatively to your strengths, and it shakes your confidence.
• People misinterpret your intentions because they can’t see past the noise, then they start to avoid you.
• “Strengths overkill” may limit your career and credibility.
Facing the prospect of a Saturday-morning to-do list on a day far too nice to be stuck inside, I welcomed an unexpected call from an old acquaintance, Thomas. He announced he was looking for a last-minute golf partner and wondered if I could fill in. Thomas knew I wasn’t much of a golfer, and I typically had as much fun driving the cart as I did actually golfing. But I assumed he was more interested in my company than my golfing prowess, which was just fine with me. I traded the to-do list for my clubs and headed out the door.
I found Thomas in the parking lot a few minutes later. He was on his phone looking flustered. “Of course, I understand the ramifications,” Thomas said as he paced back and forth, “but I don’t think we should release it until we’re all satisfied.”
Tom caught sight of me and motioned me over. “I’m not as worried about how long it takes,” he continued, rubbing his temple with his free hand, “it’s about it being right. And I don’t mean mostly right—I mean every line of code needs to be flawless. So I think we just need to delay the launch until we’re all satisfied.” Thomas slipped the phone into his pocket and headed my way.
“Sorry about that,” he said as we met and shook hands. “Just a little head-butting with the partners. But anyway, thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“My pleasure,” I replied. “Thanks for the invite. Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Thomas said. “I just think it’s important we pay the price to get things right, and it’s frustrating.” I knew Thomas worked at a software company that did something with Web analytics, but as a guy who thought flip phones were still pretty neat, I figured whatever he was talking about was likely way over my head.
“This way,” Thomas announced, motioning toward the clubhouse. We walked from the parking lot to a paved path as I looked at my watch.
“Looks like I barely made it in time.”
“Oh, we’re good,” Thomas said, suddenly veering over to a small bench. He set his clubs down and took a seat. “Just give me a second.”
“Uh, sure,” I replied, watching as he produced a small towel, several small brushes, a can of foaming cleanser, and a pick tool from his bag. He removed a club, sprayed it with the foam, and then began to wipe it.
“Forget to clean that one, huh?” I asked, watching as a pair of golfers walked past.
“Keeping the face clean is essential to good performance,” Thomas replied.
“You don’t say . . .”
“Same reason professional caddies wipe their players’ clubs after every shot.” Thomas finished with the towel, but instead of retrieving the next club, he grabbed a small brush and began working on the individual grooves. “If you have any dirt or grass in there, it will change the ball’s spin. And, of course, getting a consistent spin produces better accuracy.” (The amount of time I’ve thought about getting a consistent spin on my golf ball is roughly the same amount of time I’ve thought about becoming a professional cage fighter. Which is to say, not a lot.)
“Well, we all want better accuracy,” I agreed.
“It’s just like coding—you have to take the time you need to get it right,” Thomas said, giving the club a final look before sliding it back into his bag and reaching for another. My heart sank as I thought about the thirteen others waiting to be similarly attended to. I glanced at my watch.
“Looks like we’re up now,” I offered. “If we hurry, we can probably make it.”
“Great,” Thomas replied. But if he was worried about being late, he didn’t show it. Instead, he repeated the foam, towel, and brush routine. “Do you know what the average golf score was in 1960?” he asked as he continued his work.
“Uh . . . nope.”
“One hundred,” Thomas replied, exchanging his now-clean club for the next one. “Just think of everything that’s happened in the last fifty years—innovations in clubs, how we teach and practice, and all the new technology. All these big changes and guess what the average score is today?”
“No idea.”
“One hundred. So that tells you something.”
“It does?” I asked, glancing nervously at the clubhouse as another pair of golfers walked past.
“It tells you that it’s not the big things that make a difference. It’s the little things—stuff people don’t think about. Like keeping your club faces clean.”
“I could give you a hand if you’d like . . .” I offered.
“Thanks, but I’m kind of particular about how I do it. No offense.”
“None taken,” I said, putting my own clubs down and taking a seat on the bench. I had the feeling it was going to be a while.
It took nearly twenty minutes before we made it to the tee box. The teenager at the pro shop did his best to shuffle the schedule and squeeze us in. Thomas thanked him, missing the annoyed glances from the others who had showed up on time. Back outside, I pulled my driver from the bag and couldn’t help but notice a pair of golfers who were waiting for us, arms crossed and glaring.
“It’s worth the time it takes to do things right,” Thomas announced as he prepared for his swing. “You’ll see.”
• • •
We all have natural strengths (in Thomas’s case, an acute attention to detail). In defining strengths generally, the Oxford English Dictionary uses descriptors such as influence, power, intensity, and potency. Utilizing and nurturing our unique bundle of strengths is a fundamental part of who we are. Whether as talents we were born with or skills we developed over time, our strengths are often our go-to way for getting things done. They’ve become so ingrained in our behavior, we often don’t think about how we’re using them or the impact they’re having on others.
I’d like you to imagine that using your strengths is like a musician performing on stage. For the music to have the intended effect, it requires the right volume as well as the right venue.
Think of your strengths like the knob on an amplifier. As you turn it to a higher setting, you’re rewarded with more volume. Have you ever worn headphones on a run or at the gym? Often the volume we first choose feels inadequate after a few minutes, so we inch the level up. If you’re like me, this notching up of the volume can happen several times over the course of one workout. The tendency to continually raise the volume happens so regularly that many audio devices come with warnings to let you know you might be putting your hearing at risk. It seems odd, doesn’t it, that we could be raising the volume to such a degree that we don’t realize it’s doing us harm?
It reminds me of the time I needed to borrow my son’s car. When I turned the key, the stereo roared to life. It was so loud, it practically committed assault on my eardrums. I scrambled to find the button to turn it down, but since I didn’t drive the car very often, it took some random and somewhat frantic button mashing before I found it. As I sat there, my ears still ringing, I wondered how in the world my son could safely and effectively drive with the volume so high.
Our strengths often function in the same way. We grow accustomed to using them at a certain level. Then, without even realizing it, we often rely on those strengths even more. We turn the knob bit by bit and, unknowingly, make it less likely to achieve the results we really want. And worst of all, we run the risk of damaging relationships along the way. Consider the table below as an example of how strengths can start working against us if we have the volume turned too high:
STRENGTH |
WHEN THE VOLUME IS TURNED TOO HIGH |
Being methodical. You accomplish your work in a systematic, efficient, and disciplined way. |
Being inactive. You get trapped in analysis paralysis, slowing momentum until it becomes inoperable. Those around you get frustrated by the lack of progress. |
Being practical. You focus on empirical solutions that are effective and efficient. |
Being pessimistic. You can always find a reason for not doing something. You’re viewed as a naysayer and not seen as one who can lead, inspire, or motivate others. |
When the Volume Is Turned Too High |
|
Being efficient. You are organized, competent, and minimize waste. |
Being inflexible. You shut yourself off from the input of those around you in your desire to get things done. Your colleagues feel like you don’t trust them or value their perspective. As a result, you lose their creative energy and miss out on unanticipated discoveries and solutions. |
Being open-minded. You’re willing to consider new ideas in an unprejudiced and a nonjudgmental fashion. |
Being weak-willed. It becomes easier to surrender your principles and agree with the last person you heard, even though you see it differently. You’re less likely to stick to the solutions, plans, and decisions you believe in. People won’t respect you, knowing you’ll always give in. |
Being loyal. You’re consistent in your support and allegiance to others. |
Being gullible. You may choose to overlook flagrant problems or flaws that negatively impact the relationship or situation. You ignore red flags in others and exacerbate your own blind spots. |
Being accommodating. You’re adaptable and considerate of the thoughts and opinions of others. |
Being overly involved in everyone else’s problems. You easily get stretched too thin and risk burnout, while more important things fall by the wayside. The quality of everything suffers—instead of doing a few important things well, you marginally impact a host of mediocre things. |
Being passionate. You’re energized by ardent feelings and strong beliefs. |
Being exhausting. Your zeal and energy turns into impatience. You start stepping on toes and crossing boundaries, believing that others don’t care as much as you do. Being always frenzied, you dilute everything. |
When the Volume Is Turned Too High |
|
Being confident. You’re assertive and self-reliant, with a poise that positively motivates others. |
Being arrogant. Instead of inspiring trust and loyalty, you come across as exaggerated and focused on your own sense of self-importance and superiority. People feel distrusted and, therefore, become disengaged and uninspired. |
Being decisive. You make decisions quickly and effectively. |
Being reckless. You proceed before you have the necessary information, acting rashly and putting people and projects at risk. As a result, your colleagues feel that their input isn’t heard and may stop participating or being engaged. You make commitments prematurely, some of which you can’t or shouldn’t keep. |
Being a visionary. You plan the future with imagination and wisdom. |
Being a dreamer. While a visionary acts, a dreamer is content with the dreaming itself—and action falls by the wayside. |
Being assertive. You’re forthright and confident, making bold and decisive decisions when called for. |
Being domineering. You assert your will over others in an arrogant and often demeaning way. |
Prior to FranklinCovey, I worked with Matt. He was an extraordinarily talented individual with two degrees in his field. Matt had many strengths, but he was especially known for his drive to get high-quality results. Efficient and organized, Matt should have been on the fast track for senior management. Instead, his career stalled. Each time a high-profile project surfaced, it was invariably awarded to somebody else on Matt’s team—often to those who were less skilled and educated than he was. And while he was the kind of person who kept his emotions in check, I wondered if the constant string of disappointments was wearing him down.
To my surprise, one day Matt asked if I would be willing to give him some honest feedback. I was happy to help. He expressed his growing frustration that he wasn’t being asked to work on the larger, more visible projects. It was a small company at the time, so I knew that Matt had a reputation for being somewhat difficult to work with—that his strengths of focus and drive were sometimes perceived as being rigid, demanding, and overly negative. The most successful team members I’ve worked with not only have superb skills and experience, but also have a spirit of engagement, enthusiasm, and general positivity. These skills didn’t come to mind when working with Matt. I struggled with a way to share this feedback without being hurtful. It’s one thing to say, “You might need more experience,” or “Maybe you could work on a particular skill.” It’s another to say, “People just don’t like working with you.” But since Matt had approached me and I really wanted to help, I shared my perspective. I was deliberate about offering specific examples so that he could see the unintended outcome of what I believed was a strength dialed up too high.
I reminded him of the time we were brainstorming solutions to a client problem in a team meeting. Instead of acknowledging each of the ideas, when Matt didn’t agree with some of the suggestions, he would say, “That will never work,” shutting down the enthusiasm for the idea-generating process. I reiterated as to how smart and savvy he was, but that the volume of his efficiency strength left the impression that he wanted to be the lone genius and leave everyone behind. I also shared a couple of emails he’d sent in which his language was abrupt—bordering on harsh. “I am just trying to be respectful of people’s time and make sure we get the results as fast as we can,” Matt said. After a few minutes together, I realized Matt was completely unaware that his style and approach (turned up too high) had created a negative reputation.
We then talked about what people do when they feel shut down or left behind. They stop engaging. And while his idea, in many cases, turned out to be the right one, shutting down the input of others was jeopardizing his effectiveness. We also talked about how a few tweaks in his word choices could shift the tone of his emails from abrupt and harsh to friendly and collaborative.
Matt then really impressed me. Instead of taking offense or feeling hurt, he began looking for opportunities to implement the ideas we had discussed. And while efficiency was an important strength for him to not lose, he dialed it back so he could take the time to soften his approach, acknowledging and encouraging the contribution of others. Before long, I heard some of his co-workers take notice: “I was pleasantly surprised when Matt validated my idea rather than shutting it down in the meeting yesterday,” or “Wow! Matt heard me out and liked my suggestion.”
Little by little, Matt started seeing that his projects moved forward more effectively because of his focus on relationships. As a result, he started naturally dialing back the volume on the strengths that were getting in the way before. Best of all, we no longer had to walk on eggshells, worried if Matt was going to shut down the energy of the team. Matt found himself being invited to more project teams and getting his career back on track.
Like many of us, Matt hadn’t realized he’d been turning the volume up too high on one of his particular strengths. His intentions had always been good, and it was easy to rely on the strengths that had served him well in the past. In my own case, I have an amazing, world-renowned strength for humility. Just kidding. But I do believe I have the strength of being accommodating. Like many of our strengths, it’s something that’s been a part of me my entire life. Now, that might seem like a pretty good thing all in all, and you might wonder how being accommodating can lead you down a path you don’t like, but too much accommodation can pull you into situations where you feel responsible for things and people you probably shouldn’t. You end up trying to help everyone, everywhere, and sometimes at a tremendous personal cost. In the middle of writing this book, in addition to doing my full-time job, I was asked to deliver a last-minute keynote speech as a favor to a colleague who had a work crisis. A request like this one can be stressful because of the preparation required: I’d lose a good deal of time on writing this book, I would still have all of my regular responsibilities, and I’d want to keep honoring my family commitments. Immediately, my mind screams, No way, Todd! You’re slammed as it is You can’t do everything! I want to accommodate her need of getting this keynote off her calendar. I’m also invested in her solving the work crisis; I want to be helpful and I care.
My accommodation strength begins to take over, and because it’s one of my go-to strengths, I let it. As my mind continues to pull the fire alarm, my mouth opens, and I utter, “Sure, I’ll do it.” I then literally start doing the math in my head: If I cut my sleep down to five hours a night, I can probably squeeze this in. I can also reschedule my weekend plans, just to be sure. But like my son leaving the volume too high on the car stereo, I don’t consider the impact of my decision on the people around me. I will add an extra burden to the book-project team because I’m not available on the days to which I had originally committed. And while I think I’ll be able to save my weekend, all it will take is one unexpected work issue, or me miscalculating my time, and my family will bear the cost of my overdone accommodation strength. And worse, when the volume is turned up too high, everything suffers: I get less than stellar results on the book, deliver a less than engaging keynote presentation, and have less than optimal relationships with the people who matter most.
No one dials up the volume of their strengths with the intention of a bad outcome. Yet, it happens. If the volume of our strengths is set too high, turning it down can often make our strengths more effective. I recognize this approach may seem counterintuitive. We’re used to mantras such as bear down, work harder, push through it! And while those all have their place, there’s wisdom in knowing when to lighten up, to take a step back, or to just say no. In my own case, I could have declined the keynote invitation by explaining the pressures I was also under, yet stay true to my strength by helping my colleague find an equally capable replacement. Had I done that, I would have been faithful to all my relationships while still being accommodating. I would also have had the time to write the chapter “Synchronized Swimming and Its Parallels to Strategic Planning,” but regrettably, I had to cut something.
To be fair, we may be unwittingly encouraging people to dial up their strengths. Many of the tools used to measure strengths send mixed messages regarding this point. Consider the numerous 360-degree surveys that rank strengths and propose that the higher you score, the better you’re doing. It seems like a reasonable premise on the surface, but researchers Bob Kaplan and Rob Kaiser found a problem. “Such tools overlook a key lesson from decades of research on derailment: More is not always better, and executives lose their jobs when their strengths become weaknesses through overuse.”11 Be suspicious of any strengths-measuring instrument having an inherent premise that more is better.
Earlier in this section, I suggested you think of deploying your strengths like a musician on a stage. I shared the risks of raising the volume because we grow too accustomed to the current level, or cranking up the volume under the assumption that more is better. But in keeping with our analogy, we should also consider the venue in which we’re performing; that is, sometimes getting the volume right means choosing another go-to strength or recognizing that the venue or situation is calling for a different strength altogether—one that may not be as natural to you and may need to be developed.
A good friend of mine told me the story of a CEO he worked for. This entrepreneurial man’s strength was his ability to focus and get quick results. When the company first began, it was obvious how accomplished he was on his own, delivering keynotes at large conferences and pumping out articles, blogs, and several books at a steady pace. He had great skills for a startup company. Yet, when his company started growing, adding additional talent and personalities, this dialed-up strength started to work against him. It manifested itself as a palpable impatience for any errors, glitches, or snags, which then surfaced as a tendency to micromanage people and processes. He would often excuse his behavior as him being simply who he was, and his style necessary to growing the business. “Hey, look, we are where we are today because of quick turnaround and quick decision making,” he would say, and gave himself permission to turn up the volume even higher.
He required that his team be innovative, but then challenged the process when it didn’t yield immediate results. Within a few years, turnover began to increase with both new and seasoned employees. People in the organization who stayed learned that the best way to keep the CEO off their backs was to appear busy, even if they weren’t, being careful not to make a noticeable mistake. One needed to generate an activity-laden scorecard and appear to do a great deal of work at a near-frantic pace to please him. Employee engagement waned. Unfortunately, the CEO was unable or unwilling to acknowledge the change of venue: from a startup to a rapidly growing business. While the old venue needed a high degree of his independent focus and quick agility, the growing company required much more interdependence—purposefully seeking others’ ideas and patience to work through the inevitable glitches and snags that come with involving additional people. Relationships with many of the talented team members began to fracture. Those who were incapable or simply unwilling to look busy for its own sake, or who needed a safer, more encouraging environment in which to unlock their best stuff, started to disengage. Today many of his original team members no longer work for him, and the company is losing market share.
We have many venues in our lives, not the least of which is moving from work to home. We should be especially careful that the strengths that serve us in our career are not assumed to be the same ones needed by our family and significant others, and vice versa. An important part of getting the volume right isn’t just about turning our strengths down when necessary, but making sure we have the right strength applied at the right time and in the right situation. I wondered if my golfer friend Thomas might be making the same kind of mistake . . . .
• • •
It took nearly twenty minutes before we made it to the tee box. The teenager at the pro shop did his best to shuffle the schedule and squeeze us in. Thomas thanked him, missing the annoyed glances from the others who had showed up on time. As I pulled my driver from the bag, I noticed a pair of golfers who were waiting for us, arms crossed and glaring.
“It’s worth the time it takes to do things right,” Thomas announced as he prepared for his swing. “You’ll see.”
Thomas always had a methodical nature, and he seemed to enjoy the analytical process. I’m sure that’s what made him a good programmer. But I also wondered if he’d lost track of how far he’d turned the volume up on that particular strength. I motioned to the golfers behind us and invited them to play through. Thomas tossed me an inquisitive look as we stepped off the tee and allowed the other players to move ahead.
“What was that all about?” Thomas asked.
“I don’t think I could have concentrated knowing those guys were waiting for us the entire time.”
“I understand,” Thomas said. “You’re uncomfortable making people wait. I suppose I’m not, something my partners would probably tell you as well.”
“You mean your call from earlier?” I asked.
“Yeah. They’re upset that I want to delay the product launch. They don’t understand that we need the time to make sure everything’s right.” It sounded reasonable, but I wondered if what I was experiencing on the golf course was similar to what Thomas’s partners were going through.
“So, what does right look like in your world?” I asked. “I mean, I get software updates all the time. Is there a point where you ever get it totally right?”
“You sound like the marketing team,” Thomas replied. “And I suppose there’s some truth in that. While software is always changing, in our effort to keep up, we can’t jeopardize the quality. But marketing is bugged because they’re missing deadlines.”
“Because you’re slowing it down to get it right?” I responded.
“Yes,” Thomas agreed. “But I don’t think the deadline should prevent us from at least trying to get quality as high as possible.”
“So how do you balance things?” I asked. “You know, the need to be agile in your development, meet the launch deadlines, and yet make sure you have all the quality assurance taken care of?”
“You prioritize. And for me, it’s always going to be quality assurance that wins out, even if it means missing a launch window. Or three.”
“Three?” I practically gasped. I wasn’t an expert in the technology field, but I’d served with enough companies to know regularly missing product launches could have serious consequences.
“I know. Three delays make for bad business,” Thomas confessed.
“Hey please don’t be offended by this. I know being detail-oriented is a strength of yours—something I’ve always admired. I mean, look at your clubs. You could practically eat off one of those things they’re so clean.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Thomas said with a smile.
“And yet we ended up being late for our tee time,” I continued, “which in turn affected the other golfers who had showed up on time. So I’m wondering if you have that particular strength of yours dialed up so high you’re missing some of the bigger picture.”
“So you’re suggesting there’s some room for compromise with my partners?”
“I’m not a programmer by any stretch of the imagination, but the practice is sound. I’ve been in situations where people need to step back at times and make sure their strengths are actually working for them and not getting in the way.”
“Well, I’ll give that some thought.” Thomas said as we took our places on the tee.
On the drive home, I wondered about where I’d set the volume on my own strengths—especially the one about accommodating others. I decided to make a mental list and reprioritize some of my upcoming commitments so that I could focus quality time on a few important things rather than try to do everything. By the way, polishing my golf clubs wasn’t on that list.