The prior three chapters have introduced you to the trustscape and to the question of where you may be trying to get to within that environment. It is tempting to move from this point quickly to the practicalities of building the trustee-beneficiary relationship or to the even more fundamental, informational business of who are the various players in the trustscape.
But before doing so, we want to spend one more moment on a basic matter of relationships: the orientation that we bring to these structures and roles.
Consider this scenario: A beneficiary who has never met her trustee before walks into the trustee's office for their first meeting. What's the agenda? In the beneficiary's mind, perhaps beyond one or two mechanical questions, her agenda is likely to get through the meeting. A certain amount of “jitters” is natural, and the specific goals, if they exist, are in the mind of the other person.
But that doesn't mean the trustee is in the most receptive state, either. This might be his 150th experience getting acquainted with a brand new “B.” With such a rich database, any professional has coding mechanisms, some of which are subliminal.
Let's assume the beneficiary uses a phrase, or simply gives a look, that vaguely reminds the trustee about his or her all-time most vexing trust situation. In that case, two sets of “jitters” are at work. Tension automatically takes over on the part of the trustee, who would otherwise be doing his best to bring conscious professionalism to the early stages of this trustscape connection.
The point is that the qualities that, in the moment, we attach to an individual or a situation are subjective. Our personal experience, stories (or snippets of stories) from friends about their particular trustscapes, or perhaps even a fleeting memory or an overheard offhand comment are accessed—even when not consciously looked for.
The result is our “narrative” about the person or situation. Sometimes we get so caught up in our uniquely personal narratives that they seem like dependable truths. And our narratives, whether they happen to be positive or negative, may serve us well—or maybe not so well. It is particularly common for us to return to habitual narratives when we face moments of stress.
So it's no surprise that some beneficiaries believe that the problems in their lives are a reflection of certain “truths” about their trusts and trustees. They may assign labels: My trust is “restrictive” or “unjust.” My trustees are “controlling” or “uninterested.”
Trustees, in turn, may think of beneficiaries as “dysfunctional” or “entitled,” which just about guarantees uneasiness at the next meeting.
Given the power of these narratives, regardless of your age and status, we cannot overemphasize the importance of coming to grips with your own narratives about your distinctive trustscape.
To help you get started, here's an exercise we sometimes do in educational programs about family trusts.
Imagine a large round table. Seated around the table are family members of different generations, family advisers, trustees, and others who are touched in one way or another by the family's trusts.
Now imagine that at the center of the table is an oversized beach ball made up of different-colored panels. If asked to describe ball's color, one might say “red and white and yellow,” or “blue and green and orange,” or some other combination, depending on where each observer is seated.
Everyone at the table is describing the ball accurately from his or her vantage point—yet no two descriptions match. And the beach ball always remains the very same beach ball.
Now imagine that the beach ball is replaced by a trust instrument. The same people are at the table. Each describes the trust from his or her vantage point. Different descriptions, same trust.
And so on.
Now it's your turn to speak. Imagine that the trust agreement sitting in the middle of the table is a trust that affects your life. How would you describe it? What would you say? What's your narrative about trusts? Even if you're a brand new trustee or beneficiary, you have one.
Pick and choose from among these questions to help you get started.
Sometimes narratives about others may get us caught up in a destructive way of thinking. Here's a situation related by a trust officer:
James was part of a very wealthy family that had a family office. The head of the family office was the individual trustee, with a trust company as co-trustee. The head of the family office had a very long history with James that was quite negative. He did not trust James, he didn't like him, and James knew it.
James called me, the trust officer for the trust company, one day. He was in his late 30s at this point, living most of the time in Paris. He said, “I want to go back to school. I want to get a postgraduate degree at the Sorbonne. There is a program that I like very much, and it will take me about two years to complete. This will enable me to have a better life, and maybe I will become a teacher. I don't know what I want to do specifically, but this program will provide me with career choices I won't otherwise have. This is something I really want to do.”
After I got off the phone with James, I then called the individual trustee and he said, “Absolutely not—I don't trust James. How do we know he is really going to use the money for that purpose?”
The problem the co-trustee had was that he couldn't conceive that James had changed.
I had a different take on James than the other trustee did. I really thought that he was serious in this endeavor. I did not know him as long as the other trustee, so there wasn't a negative history with me.1
James and his trustees worked out an arrangement that included checks and balances. James was indeed serious, completed his education, and moved on to the next stage of his life.
The point is that, if a particular narrative (positive or negative) serves us well, we can expand upon it. If not, we may be able to break loose of it. That's easy to say, but doing so requires deliberate effort. Our natural tendency is to resist change, especially of narratives that are longstanding.
Our friend Stephanie West Allen, a skilled mediator knowledgeable about neuroscience, suggests that we're more likely to embrace a new narrative if we:
These additional questions should help you clarify your narratives.
If you are (or will be) a trustee:
And if you are a trustee who has been—and still may be—a beneficiary yourself:
If you are (or will be) a beneficiary:
We have now oriented ourselves to the trustscape—the environment of people, structures, roles, and responsibilities that grow up quite naturally around a family trust. We have the help of some key terms, and we have had a chance to reflect on where we are trying to go and what assumptions we bring with us as we start out on the journey. In the next part of this book, we look more closely at some of the denizens of the trustscape with a view particularly to their roles and responsibilities. We will then move on to the practical work of building stronger relationships across the trustscape.