Does this person think they will have a long relationship with you?
A perpetual irony of historic upheaval is that it rarely feels historic at the time. The heat of the moment just feels hot. Not like history.
The same general principle applies to heroism. People usually aren’t aware of it when they’re acting heroically. They’re usually too busy, too exhausted, or too frightened.
And too often, heroism is conferred posthumously.
In the clandestine services, there’s yet another layer of irony that shrouds incidents of history, heroism, and the cases that create them: Nobody knows about them. Ever. At least, that’s the goal.
That’s partly why it’s so important to have a reliable system for sizing people up and assuring predictability. Without it, logic and reality can get lost, and not even heroism can make history flow the way we want.
In the cataclysmic months after 9/11, when the world changed radically and time slowed to a crawl, I met a hero who changed history, but it took me years to fully appreciate his contribution. Only the passage of time, I’ve found, offers the clarity of vision that’s generally absent during turbulent times.
My encounter with this man’s heroism started on the aircraft carrier Intrepid, the temporary site of FBI operations in New York during the shell-shocked period when our tower was being repaired from the World Trade Center attack, about five blocks from us. Every agent in the city was confined to reacting only to 9/11 tips, instead of working any of the usual proactive cases that created new opportunities, attracted new spies, protected America’s security, and supported myriad global projects.
The fall of the World Trade Center was the worst thing that could possibly occur—or so it seemed at that time.
So I didn’t know what to do when Leo called one morning in the early spring and told me that I needed to meet another member of the Outsiders Club. But the member had nothing to do with 9/11, so I was dubious about seeing him—and didn’t even know if I’d be allowed to. Leo sounded unsettled, though, and repeated a very short and explicitly worded message from the guy—the kind of thing that’s never put into writing.
The message was essentially a plea for contact with a federal intelligence official, and implied a great deal of urgency, but offered no clear reason for it. This potential CHS was obviously being ultradiscreet, as confidential human sources often are. It ended, Leo said, with a cryptic and indirect plea for help, due to the fact that “we are all mortal.” People tend to contact the FBI every time they see Bigfoot flying a UFO—and the days after 9/11 were a snowstorm of citizen reports.
But Leo said that our mutual Russian friend Sergei also knew who this person was, and had vouched for him. That made me feel a little more grounded in reality. Even though I’d met Sergei only a few weeks earlier, I’d experienced a connection with him that felt as if it would last. It was a prototypical case of trust at first sight.
But trust at first sight is uncommon, and it’s not nearly as effective for sizing people up as their belief that they’ll know you for a long time. When somebody thinks they’ll have a long relationship with you, they’ll usually treat you well, because they know they’ll eventually face consequences—good or bad—some of which may last for years.
That’s just one of those laws of human nature that make many of the tenets of the social sciences almost as viable and predictable as those of the physical sciences.
So I jotted notes while Leo talked, and took them to my Jedi Master, Jesse Thorne, the senior agent who’d helped me get to know Leo. Jesse taught me something new almost every day, and this day looked like it would be another.
I read him my notes, ending with the remark about mortality. “What does that mean, ‘We are all mortal’? Is it a threat?”
“Not directly. It’s a reference to an old JFK speech,” he said, “about being close to nuclear war. So I’d say go meet the guy. Save the planet. If you’re not busy.”
I didn’t feel remotely ready to work that kind of case. “How about you meet the guy?” I said.
“He doesn’t know me.”
“Me, either.”
“He knows of you. Through your friends at the club. He trusts them and they trust you, so he trusts you to trust him.” I sifted through the pronouns and got the idea. He was talking about primacy. That’s an FBI “term of art”—phrases that have specialized meanings within specific professions. He was referring to a “transfer of trust” from one stranger to another through a mutual friend.
“But this isn’t a 9/11 lead,” I said, “so I can’t work it. Even if I wanted to.” I started to pace.
“Robin, take a breath! Don’t sweat this.”
“How can you not sweat this?”
“Agents don’t sweat,” Jesse said. “They think.”
The second he said that, I knew I’d always remember it. It was some of the best advice I’ve ever gotten, because type-A people like me are notorious worriers, who are often vulnerable to emotional hijacking. We’re classic best enemies: ambitious to a fault.
Even after this incident, though, it took me years to stay rational, stick to my systems, and do the legwork. Work is never easy, but I’d take it over worry any day.
“Let’s go to the garage and see a friend of mine.” He meant the garage of the FBI building, which was for many months the makeshift headquarters for all the bosses.
On the way over, Jesse said that a program director he knew—an Assistant Special Agent in Charge—was great at tweaking the bureaucracy and making things happen. “He’s not a career guy,” Jesse said. That was one of his highest compliments. He cared about people, not pedigrees, and thought his own success came directly from his dependable, predictable relationships—even more than from his case outcomes, long hours, or awards. So he put great effort into his ultimate goal of finding the specific people he could count on and who relied on him. The resulting relationships had been portable, moving from case to case, office to office, and into the personal realm. Business done right is always personal.
We found Jesse’s friend sitting at a picnic table in the garage that served as his command post, and told him the story. “To go ahead with this,” the supervisor said, “a source needs to call the tip line—and they can assign somebody even if it’s not a 9/11 case.”
That wasn’t going to happen. Leo’s contact clearly wanted anonymity.
Before I could say anything, Jesse pulled out his phone and looked quizzically at his friend, who shrugged and nodded. They shared the shorthand of nonverbal communication.
The supervisor, Jack Johnson, was kind of a cowboy. He did his own thing in his own time.
Jesse dialed the tip line and handed me his new phone, which looked like a walkie-talkie. We were in awe of it. A phone rang at an agent’s desk a few feet away, and I reported the tip while we looked at each other. “Can you assign it to Robin Dreeke, please?”
The guy looked at Jesse’s buddy, who nodded his head. Then he said, “You got it,” and hung up.
“There’s one condition,” Jack said. “I don’t know you, Robin, so I need Jesse on this in a support mode.”
“Robin doesn’t need me,” Jesse said, “but I’d be happy to help.” Jack suddenly seemed to look at me through new eyes. From that point on, he became one of my allies. I learned that trust can be transferred at warp speed.
Some veteran agents, though, would have freaked out over working for a relative newbie, but not Jesse. He never got emotionally hijacked, and had almost a psychic ability to read people. He thought anybody could. I can’t. Never could. That’s why I was building my system.
While we were headed to meet the new CHS, I asked Jesse what our immediate agenda was.
“Make friends,” he said. “Real fast. But honor his tempo. If we push too hard or fast, he’ll walk. Always make it about him. And don’t fall in like with him. We don’t have time to sort that out.”
We arrived at a quiet SoHo restaurant where our man was already sipping some kind of tea I’d never heard of. Good sign: Punctuality expresses respect, and anything that reveals somebody’s personal tastes—even if it’s just tea—indicates openness. On another level: Agents are supposed to arrive first, to assert control over the interview.
But the man—named Annan, as in “anonymous”—was so outgoing and charming that he allowed us to guide the conversation.
The short version: Annan was, according to him, very close to the power-elite of one of the world’s few nations armed with nuclear weapons. (That’s as close as I can get to full disclosure.) His country, he said, was eyeball-to-eyeball with another nuclear nation over old wounds that had recently been reopened. The possible conflagration—largely off the U.S. radar due to our preoccupation with 9/11—was building to a flash point.
All we really knew was that both countries had many unknown factors influencing them, and were ruled by people we did not trust. Now the two nations were locked into the nuclear nightmare scenario that has haunted the globe since World War II.
Jesse’s look told me he thought Annan was full-bore serious. It was one of those looks that you try to forget but can’t.
The timing could not have been worse, but that was probably all part of somebody’s plan. The world’s most powerful governments were already in a state of crisis, approaching panic, and this conflict appeared to be a potential tipping point that could trigger a bloodbath: regionally, and possibly internationally.
Both countries were vocally antagonistic to America, and we could easily become a secondary target. But Annan wanted America to step into the middle of this dangerous situation and broker a less incendiary standoff.
Jesse suggested we introduce the information into a very high-level process called the Raw Intelligence Cycle, to get it in front of the country’s primary decision makers, free from any mention in the news.
Annan reiterated that he was afraid of dealing with people who had vast political agendas, which were often partly professional and partly personal.
He said he had a contact “at the mountaintop,” as he put it, of his country’s government, and he believed the best way to defuse the situation was to include only a few people at the highest, most secretive level of foreign relations. He didn’t trust the depersonalized machines of power that run virtually all governments.
As he spoke, he seemed distracted, as if he was worried about being seen with us. It’s an absolutely common concern of any new CHS. Jesse made a direct comment about Annan’s unease, which was how he always worked: everything on the table—no secrets and no surprises.
Annan thanked him for noticing. What he was doing, Annan said, could trigger the wrath of several different sources, who were all diametrically opposed to the others, and not known for respecting human rights. His country had a long tradition of political assassinations, so we saw the full scope of his risk, and understood the depth of his courage.
Annan and I had some things in common. We were both former naval officers—though I’d gone marines—had kids the same age, loved fishing, and were dedicated dads and husbands. We’d read many of the same books and considered ourselves Stoics. He was even familiar with the Epictetus quote, “It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.”
But I wasn’t sure I trusted him, or that he trusted me. Because what did I really know about him? What did he know about me?
Neither of us, it seemed, had time to find out. As a rule, intelligence operations happen in slow motion, because they’re almost always built on trust—and trust can take years to generate, even when trust-building is your day job.
When we got back to the car, I felt more overwhelmed than ever.
Jesse just looked interested—happy to be doing something important—and somewhat amused, mostly by me, I have to admit. “Don’t start worrying again,” Jesse said. “I just need to mull this thing over a little. It would be good if you could get more data points about him, and the situation in general. But we’ll need it in a day or two.”
“How can I do that?”
He shrugged. “By hurrying.”
“Okay.”
“But stay focused. Eliminate distractions. Work efficiently.”
“Okay.”
I still remember every detail, because it was scary. What if this guy was just manipulating us toward a disaster? His avowed country had been hostile toward us most of my life. What if he was al-Qaeda and had come at me by tricking Leo? What if he was just nuts?
Over the next few days, I was never more aware that I needed some kind of fast-forward mechanism to size people up. Jesse did it naturally—but I wasn’t Jesse.
If I’d had time—like a month or so—I thought I’d be able to figure this guy out. If I’d known him for a year, I wouldn’t even be sweating. But I didn’t have a month, or even a week. Time was not on my side. That was the deep, dark hole that I was looking down.
As I’ve mentioned, one of the best ways to compile the data points on people is simply to know them for a long time—and to make them feel as if they will continue to know you, which makes them feel accountable for all their actions.
But the monkey wrench with that element of behavioral analysis is—guess what? It takes a long time. But the effects of time can be altered, with the right hacks.
One extremely helpful work-around is to recognize the fact that time is extremely relative—especially from a behavioral standpoint—as demonstrated by a popular quote from Albert Einstein: “When you sit with a pretty girl for two hours, you think it’s only a minute, but when you sit on a hot stove for a minute, you think it’s two hours. That’s relativity.”
So a remarkably effective way to size people up is to perceive the best in them and show them the same attractive qualities in yourself. If you do, time with them will fly—from the perception of both parties—and your insight into them will quickly deepen into a healthy, predictable relationship.
But if people are resistant, it’s easy to get stuck in the strict confines of linear time. When that happens, it can be hard to find people who think that they will be in a relationship with you for a long time.
This has become especially true lately, since technology has created an increasingly myopic, moment-driven, and mobile society.
When you do find people who believe they’ll have a long relationship with you, though, you can reasonably predict that they’ll be more honest, generous, and cordial—and much more willing to support your goals, which they will probably perceive as being linked with their own. So once again we see that the signs of trust are complementary and synergistic.
It’s better when someone realizes on their own that they expect to be in a long relationship with you, but it holds similar power if you initiate that belief. The belief is potent even if you’re linked by a completely arbitrary situation, such as being college roommates, next-door neighbors, or the two newest people in a small company. No matter how the coupling occurs, it carries similar consequences and opportunities.
But remember the Einstein Relativity Rule: If you consciously put yourself in the right situation, you can accelerate the process, and transcend time.
My behavioral analysis colleague Jack Schafer has identified three elements that can change the perception of time: duration, intensity, and proximity. In effect, they accelerate the tempo. He also taught me a few tricks for accelerating the perception of time. Here are the main tricks I’ve learned over the years.
FIVE HACKS TO ACCELERATE THE TEMPO OF A RELATIONSHIP
1. Intensify the experience. You’ve probably noticed that when you pack a lot of experiences into one day, the day seems longer. Simple geographic changes, such as flying cross-country, can also make the hours expand, even when time zones don’t change. To make a recent relationship feel longer, saturate the time with intense experiences. This happens with soldiers in battle, and anyone who undergoes a traumatic event with you. It also happens in happy experiences, such as falling in love, vacationing together, going to a movie, or buying somebody lunch when they get a promotion.
Take people out of their routines, off autopilot, and outside their zones of defense.
2. Ritualize the relationship. Rituals memorialize moments, mark the passage of time, and have the power to expand time.
Bring someone their favorite coffee drink every Friday, or send a note on any kind of anniversary. Even just reminiscing works.
3. Begin at the end. You do this by trusting people soon after you’ve met. It pushes time, and isn’t as risky as it sounds if you stay reasonable. Remember: Doveryai no Proveryai—Trust, but verify. (Which is even easier to remember in Russian, because it rhymes.)
Almost everybody can be trusted to do something, even if it’s just to stay out of your way. If they can’t, but you’re still friendly, they’ll be okay.
4. Demonstrate people’s value. It heightens their feeling of affiliation with you and promotes their honesty and generosity. People feel like they can be themselves around you. Every moment of your life when you have the pleasure of acting exactly the way you feel can stretch linear time majestically.
In friendships, people often experience this time-stopping freedom. If you can bring those golden moments to a professional relationship, people will bring their best selves to you.
5. Decode the “Code of Trust.” In my last book, I created a system called the Code of Trust, a five-point formula for inspiring people to trust you.
The Code of Trust parallels the Six Signs for Behavior Prediction because you usually can’t trust people who don’t trust you.
So one of the best ways to find people that you can trust is to reverse engineer the Code of Trust and look at yourself from their perspective. I call this reverse engineering process “decoding trust.”
When you apply the five principles of the Code of Trust to yourself—from the perspective of someone you are sizing up—and if you think that they don’t find you trustworthy, try to show them that you really do follow these five basic principles:
1. Suspend your ego. If other people think you’re an egomaniac, they’ll be put off and you won’t see the best side of them. They’ll be wary, offended, defensive, and often unfriendly. They won’t trust you to be fair—and you’ll feel the same. To fix the situation, let them be the center of attention, and you’ll begin to see the best in them.
2. Validate people. If people don’t think you approve of them, they’ll pull away and look for people who do. We’re all like that. But if you keep an open mind—and talk to them about their likes, dislikes, experiences, abilities, and problems—they’ll feel comfortable around you, and will be themselves. When that happens, you usually like what you see, because most people do have common decency—and common decency is the common ground of humankind.
3. Don’t judge people. If you do, they’ll judge you back, even if that’s something they don’t usually do. When they start judging you, you’ll stop seeing their kindness, intelligence, and fairness. You’ll just pull away, and that will be the end of it.
4. Be reasonable. If you’re reasonable with people, they’ll probably be reasonable with you. When you are rational and fair, they’ll generally mirror that perception, and you’ll have good reason to trust and admire them.
5. Be generous. If you’re not, people will be tempted to be selfish around you, just to even things out. Nobody wants to be in a one-sided relationship. Try to give people a little more than they expect. If you go the extra mile for people, that mile will be the one they’ll remember. When they do, they’ll be grateful, and want to return the kind and wise behavior.
When people see that you are following this code of common decency and common sense, most of them will give you the best of themselves.
Another way to use the Code of Trust is to simply start looking for those five traits in other people. They’re pretty easy to spot, and the people who follow this code carefully are usually quite predictable and consistent. They’re transparent, they want to know what you think, and they talk in terms of your priorities instead of theirs. They acknowledge that your opinions are understandable—even when they don’t share them—and they refuse to be emotionally hijacked every time someone goes off the deep end and engages in emotional game playing.
I have taught this code to thousands of FBI agents, and thousands of people in the private sector.
FBI agents tend to pick up the code quickly, because it is so valuable during investigations. So do the master salespeople in the companies that I’ve made presentations to, because they’ve virtually all been doing it intuitively for the entirety of their careers. As a rule, the same is not true of people who fail at salesmanship. Similarly, the FBI agents who struggle most with this code are usually those whose primary concern is their own career.
When you treat someone in a way that’s consistent with the code, they usually tell you the truth—even after they’ve hidden it from other people, who often just make them feel defensive.
Some people think it’s ironic that generous, humble, reasonable, nonjudgmental people are quite often more successful than people who are egocentric, self-serving, and full of blame. I don’t. Even though we live in a world where treacherous people amass power and money, these are also the people who so often fall from grace, become their own worst enemies, lose the few friends they’ve got, and don’t even enjoy the process.
By now, you probably recognize the contrasts between trustworthy, reliable people and those who aren’t.
It’s easy for me to size people up now, but only because I created a system for it, rooted in the tells of trust. Now I’ll make it easier for you, with more details on how to decode the tells.
As I mentioned in previous chapters, the tells of trust must always be accepted simply as data: objective, tangible, observable behaviors—often occurring repeatedly—that can be reasonably expected to continue.
The tells are not intended to reveal moral character, nor likability. They reveal only predictability.
As such, they are the best indicators of the six main signs for behavior prediction.
Here’s more granularity on how to identify the four ways that the tells of trust and distrust are conveyed:
SPOT THE TELLS
1. Through people’s actions.
Actions are the single most accurate component of the tells, because they speak louder than words and make things happen.
Current or very recent actions create the best tells of all, but past actions over a long period of time count, too. But these have to be corroborated by objective, observable, verifiable records or references, including public and private sources of information.
Among the most important current actions are someone’s reactions to your actions, because they occur in real time, in the real world, and within a context that both parties understand. Actions need to be consistent with stated goals and intentions. Any conflict is a terrible tell.
2. Through verbal communication.
Most people are quite willing to honestly state their beliefs and positions, because it’s their best way to get what they want. People love sharing their thoughts with a nonjudgmental person. The content of the verbal communication must be rational, relevant, factual, and nonjudgmental. Any major statement that appears to deviate from this can’t be fully trusted.
The style of delivery should be simple, clear, polite, and free from manipulative tricks, such as debating tactics or irrational appeals to emotion. Good communicators must also be good at active listening, and offer immediate, direct answers and questions of their own. You can never ask too many questions.
3. Through nonverbal communication.
Body language must be absolutely consistent with someone’s verbal message. If the two don’t match, it creates the creepy communication style referred to as that of a manipulative used-car salesman.
When you spot any significant discrepancies between verbal and nonverbal communication, be on the lookout for false promises, lies, hidden truths, exaggeration, and insincerity. Any one of them can totally derail an otherwise effective presentation.
Facial expressions are the most revealing form of body language, and the easiest to interpret. Among the most common expressions that reveal stress are: a forced smile, poor eye contact, a furrowed forehead, compressed eyebrows, and compressed lips. Positive facial expressions that help confirm comfort with you include eye contact that is frequent but not constant; a slight tilting of the head; a moderate narrowing of the eyes when listening; occasional elevation of the eyebrows; and natural, unforced smiling.
Full-body nonverbals that reveal a disconnect between what someone is saying and how they really feel include the stress gestures of: folding the arms across the chest; clenching the teeth; keeping the palms down or out of sight; a posture that is notably rigid or slumped; a body position that is slightly turning away and back, or even angled toward an exit.
Comfort is reinforced by open, relaxed actions, including: standing or sitting at a slight angle; moving calmly and smoothly; nodding the head occasionally to show attention and agreement; leaning forward while listening; and open displays, such as palms facing upward while speaking, centered around the abdominal area. Some experts in nonverbal communication advise people to subtly match the other person’s movements, but if someone notices that you’re doing this, it backfires.
4. Through people’s stated and observed intentions.
Intent that is only implied or assumed is notably unreliable. To believe someone’s intent, you need to see clear signs of it, or at least hear a logical, articulate statement of it.
The most revealing element of someone’s stated intent is their description of their short-term, long-term, and ultimate goals. Among these, their short-term goals will have the most immediate impact upon you, but their ultimate goals most accurately reveal their core self, and what they see as their priorities and best interests.
Their stated intent must clearly reflect their sense of their own best interests. If it doesn’t, it probably won’t last.
Here are ten of the most common tells that indicate people do not think they will have a long relationship with you. They are therefore much harder to size up. When you spot these tells of distrust, be cautious!
Sometimes you’ll see them in people you like, who seem also to like you. The affection may be quite genuine, but don’t let it fool you. It’s not the same as trust, reliability, and competence.
TEN NEGATIVE TELLS FOR LONGEVITY IN A RELATIONSHIP
1. Your supervisors often forget your name but don’t seem to care. It’s another example of the silent language of scorn, which speaks volumes.
Not everyone is good with names, but almost all people seem to miraculously remember the names of people who are important to their future.
Don’t buy a house. Rent. Month-to-month.
2. You were hired on a temporary contract, and no effort is being made to extend it. Working temp isn’t a great indication to begin with, but if you’ve been somewhere long enough to make an impression, this is an even worse tell.
Gather your guts and ask—in a rational way—what you can do to be a better resource for your boss and the company. The only qualities of your personality that this direct, proactive response will hurt will be your shyness or lack of self-esteem—but those are qualities you don’t want.
Watch closely for the general nonverbals of acceptance that I mentioned, which include an overall body position called body blading, in which the person stands slightly sideways, to avoid looking overly aggressive. Other friendly, inviting nonverbals include head tilting, an upbeat expression, and solid eye contact that doesn’t petrify into a stare.
If you get a lukewarm response that lacks the clarity and transparency you were hoping for, determine what function or service you can do better than most people, and start doing it. It may be your only ticket to a longer stay.
3. Your supervisors confine virtually all workplace conversations with you to a nonpersonal, surface level. This is common during the early days of employment, but if they don’t seem to realize that you’re a human being, you’re either failing at your job or failing at being a human being.
Act like who you are. It’s not a dangerous strategy—unless you’re a jerk—and will probably break the ice enough to integrate you more fully into your position.
It’s easy for bosses to say good-bye to people they don’t really know. Make your termination a hard conversation for a boss to have, and it will be less likely to happen.
4. Other employees in similar, related positions tend to hear important information before you do. This means you’re not in the prime information loop. Find out why. To survive at a company, you need situational awareness. Survival usually has very little to do with charm. It’s about getting the job done.
Again, be proactive, because these are difficult days for surviving business bureaucracies. When you don’t hear about something that would have allowed you to do your job more productively—and be of benefit to your boss, peers, or others in the company—share your concern with people and seek their advice on how to make the information flow better, in order to enhance their success.
Passive people—who don’t have information or situational awareness—often disappear into the woodwork and wonder why their careers never take off.
5. Your supervisor never asks you about your long-term career goals. Bad, bad sign. Ultimate language of silence!
Ask them if you can have a conversation in which you share your goals with them. Maybe they thought you were satisfied with staying exactly where you are, and are content to stagnate and remain expendable.
You can start the conversation by asking in a respectful way what their goals are. Don’t expect people to know more about you than you do about them. Remember: The center of your universe is you, and the center of their universe is them.
6. You aren’t included in any work-related social events. It’s similar to people forgetting your name, or not talking to you about anything other than work. People are people—but only when they act like it. If they don’t, they’re just a function—a suit—without an identity.
Focus on someone who seems to like or respect you, and ask them if they want to get a drink or snack after work, or have lunch. It never hurts to tell them the bill’s on you. Put some effort into your own positive nonverbals. Find out if the company, office, or group has a social networking page where they share info.
7. A peer employee is rude to you. Try to determine if it’s because other people have been talking smack about you. That’s easier than you may think, because people are attracted to gossip in the same way they like to look at a wreck. Do not reciprocate. Rise above it.
8. You volunteer to expand your role, but your boss rejects the offer. It happens. If it keeps happening, it means you’re a cog in a wheel. One reason may be that you are offering resources in areas that are already covered. Seek to understand their priorities, and ask them what is falling short, and how you can be a resource.
With alarming speed, though, people are dismissed when they’re considered replicable.
Start expanding your role on your own—gratis. When people around you get something for nothing, they want it to continue, and sooner or later they’ll reward it. Your reward is that there is a “later.”
9. You feel as if there are cliques around you that don’t welcome your presence. You’re probably right—rather than paranoid—because cliques by definition are exclusive.
To become a member, perform one of the most difficult but rewarding feats in all of business culture: Humble yourself. Humility is incredibly rewarding—it’s Trust 101. It’s hard to reject humble people—it’s like kicking somebody who’s down.
10. Supervisors talk to some of your peers about the future, but leave you out. It’s probably because they don’t see you as part of the future.
To turn that around, ask about the future. Show interest. Make it clear that you not only want to be part of it, but want to help others be part of it. That makes your intent part of their intent.
Because people do what’s in their own best interests, if your presence enhances that, you’ll be much more likely to stick around.
The hardest part of my second meeting with Annan was being allowed to attend it. When Jesse and I reported the outcome of the first meeting—a plausible threat of nuclear war—we got bumped up to a much higher, risk-averse supervisor: the type who’s just a career-in-a-suit. He was clearly concerned that this hot-potato case could blow up in his face and kill his upward mobility. He vented some of his anxiety by telling me he needed somebody on this who had more experience.
I picked up on Jesse’s attitude and didn’t let myself get freaked out by the assault on my competence. The most important element in controlling this case, I found, was to control myself. For the first time on a major case, I just looked at this as an opportunity to manage the system—as Jesse had when he’d let me call in my own lead—and to strategize my relationships. The shift in my attitude was incredibly liberating. I felt like I had a new superpower: thinking instead of sweating, and focusing on the people as much as the process.
I still wanted to control the situation, but sometimes the best way to control things is to let go, and just do what you can to shift things in your direction—which is usually to be a resource for them, helping them to go in their own direction. It’s definitely a Zen concept, but there’s a reason why Dale Carnegie’s famous book isn’t called How to Win Friends and Control People.
As I talked to the new supervisor, I started to look at the situation from his perspective, and made it clear, with facts and figures, that I understood his concerns. Some of the points I made were even critical of my inclusion. But why not? Genuine, self-critical honesty is a great way to help people respect and admire you. It’s the ultimate in transparency, and when you’re transparent about your own shortcomings or question your own strategies, other people don’t have to—which often results in them making your case for you. It’s scary the first few times you do it, but it works wonders.
This strategy changed his attitude toward me. He was still vetting me for competence, but he started to look for reasons to keep me on the case instead of kicking me off it.
Then I threw myself into what felt like an endless day and night of research on every little detail Annan had offered, double-checking against information from other national security agencies. Every bit of Annan’s information—his ground truth—checked out perfectly.
I got the go-ahead to stay on the case.
To get ready for the meeting—a process that agents call “crafting the encounter”—I rented a room at a nice hotel, ordered tea service from the front desk, and found the one store in Manhattan that had Annan’s favorite tea. I was trying to intensify the tempo of cooperation by ritualizing our relationship, and taking liking to the next level.
I didn’t need to worry about intensifying the experience. The people who had their fingers on the nuclear button were taking care of that.
The tea I bought, though, was not the right tone of pink—so I put a drop of food coloring in it, then waited for Annan to call from the lobby. When he did, I poured a glass of the pink tea into a teacup that was reminiscent of his country. And then spilled the whole damn thing down my leg. The food coloring wouldn’t come out. The best-case scenario was that Annan would think I’d wet my pants.
But he didn’t. I think he saw through my innocent chicanery and was actually flattered by it. That was probably part of his own natural desire to intensify the tempo: by being reasonable, and by beginning at the end, with his own leap of trust.
Outcome: excellent! He opened up further, and shared the fact that he was a very close relative of the president of his country. That was extremely encouraging for Jesse and me, because it meant we wouldn’t have to crawl through the usual gauntlet of yes-men, whose primary job is to say no.
For Annan, though, those ultraclose ties were a mixed blessing, because his country, as I mentioned, had a penchant for solving problems with high-level assassinations. If the operation he was proposing went south, his relative might be deposed and imprisoned, and Annan and his family, all in America at the moment, might never enjoy another safe day for the rest of their lives.
The biggest prize of the meeting, though, was learning that Annan’s relative was belligerent to the United States mostly just for the sake of show—to appease the other nations in his part of the world, almost all of which were openly hostile to us. His own country also had many radical, anti-American factions, and ignoring them—with their ability and willingness to launch suicide missions—could be deadly.
We gave Annan several statements to pass to his relative. If the leader was willing to say them publicly, in situations that would be reported by international news outlets, we would know that Annan’s claims and assessments were bona fide.
By the end of the week, each of the statements was in the news. America stepped into the conflict to craft a nonviolent accord. Annan’s relative was vitriolic—absolutely venomous about America—as Annan had said he would be. And he complied perfectly. He ordered his army to stand down. Then withdraw. The other country “won” the standoff.
Peace was achieved. The incident became a small part of the history of the post-9/11 world. The full truth was never revealed.
It was the beginning of my very long, very close friendship with Annan.
Over time, Annan and I exercised virtually all of the tenets that signify the belief in—and power of—a long relationship.
Most of these tells are very common in the workplace, and are usually between employees and their immediate supervisors, but they are also peer to peer.
In the final analysis, trust is trust—whether among people or vast groups of nations—and the most fundamental principles of trust are universal.
The following tells are portable and widely applicable, because each one is a direct reflection of the one force that animates all valid theories in the science of behavioral analysis: human nature.
TEN POSITIVE TELLS FOR THE PERCEPTION OF LONGEVITY IN A RELATIONSHIP
1. People regularly invite you to participate in their own long-term goals. It’s a significant signal that they not only want you around for a long time, but also trust you with their future.
This indicates two signs at once—vesting, and the perception of a long relationship—wrapped in a sweet package of positive action.
It’s very close to a partnership, although not always an equal partnership. It doesn’t matter: Time is the more important tell.
2. People consistently choose to establish and expand traditions centered on your relationship with them. The traditions can consist of virtually anything—from a favorite restaurant to a favored bourbon—but the premise or setting should reflect the nature of your bond with them.
These special moments can be the perfect time to express your feelings about their importance in your life.
These events reflect not just positive action, but also positive emotion—often expressed with nonverbal communication, including strong eye contact, animated facial expressions, and a sense of energy.
3. People are almost always enthusiastic about including you in their sphere of influence. This is a golden tell, because it shows you—and others—that you are a member of an inner circle, even if it’s a large circle that includes people with various levels of intimacy and power.
A genuine display of enthusiasm is vitally important, because it reflects not just positive action, but also positive emotion, typically driven by dopamine and other feel-good neurotransmitters. Once again, these emotions are often expressed with nonverbal communication, including strong eye contact, animated facial expressions, and a sense of energy.
4. People see you as hard to replace. Celebrate: Many people do everything they can to be irreplaceable and still don’t achieve it.
That’s frequently because they’re in a position that can be filled by another highly skilled person, but sometimes it’s because their supervisors, for reasons of their own, don’t really want them to achieve the reward of longevity.
If you continually excel and sacrifice without reward, you’re working for someone you should not trust, even if they’re pleasant and charming. But if your supervisor acknowledges your special value and finds ways to enhance it, you can probably trust them to act in your own best interests.
5. People periodically give you promotions, commendations, or recognition. Even if the perks or upgrades are relatively minor, they tell you that you’ve been noticed and validated. That’s usually a strong sign of enhanced job security for the foreseeable future. It also indicates that if you do make a significant mistake, you probably won’t lose your job.
The recognition is a message to other people that you’re doing well, which usually prompts widening respect, consideration, and cooperation.
All of this goodwill reinforces your longevity, and your longevity enhances the goodwill.
6. People give you perks and benefits that are consistent with a long-term relationship. This can include the ability to shift your hours as needed, because they trust you to get the job done. It could also include your own choices on office decor, a generous vacation schedule, or upper-tier benefits. Even if you don’t have a high salary, these tells still indicate that your bosses plan on having you around for an extended period.
The people you work for are expressing their desire to keep you there with the one thing that’s more powerful than words: action.
Sometimes this happens when you’re hired, which is an excellent signal of security, and sometimes it’s a reward for achievement, which is even better.
Either way, it allows you to relax about impressing people, which can allow you to indulge in the extremely valuable trait of creativity, a quality that’s usually inhibited by insecurity.
7. People encourage you to attend seminars, conferences, trainings, or college classes. This is especially telling if they include the work as part of your employment or if they pay for some or all of the expenses.
This is rarely extended to people who aren’t expected to achieve longevity. When people with power actively participate in increasing your skills and knowledge, it not only signifies your security, but makes you more valuable to them—and also more valuable to their competitors, which helps shift the power differential in your direction.
Don’t hesitate to send a thank-you note. (Your mother was right about good manners.)
8. People include you in work-related social activities. This shows that they value you as a whole person and want other associates to get to know you. Both of those factors influence longevity.
When someone thinks of you as a person rather than as a cog in a wheel, they’re more patient about problems. When they know that other people in the organization consider you a friend, they’re even more respectful.
This tell is especially important if some of the activities consist mostly of people who are above you in the professional hierarchy. This elevates you from being a standard employee to being “one of the family.” In relatively small workplaces, this tell is relatively common and is practically a requirement for long-term relationships and employment.
9. People usually say “we” instead of “you” or “I.” When this happens during discussions of long-term goals or the future of the organization, it’s pure essence of verbal bonding!
Some people use pronouns that imply inclusion just to be polite, so it’s important to note who else they address that way and what else they say to indicate you are a part of their future.
Another clue is when someone gradually switches from “I” to “we” over an extended period, during which your relationship with them has deepened and withstood the test of time.
Like so many other elements that create trust, it can help if you lead the way in saying “we.” As always, one of the surest ways to find a trustworthy person is to trust them.
10. People never seem to take you for granted. The dark side of longevity is that when you work so well for so long, people assume that what you do is easy.
This is so painfully common that we’re all guilty of it from time to time, but rarely because of arrogance or lack of appreciation. It’s a law of human nature that no one can fully understand us other than ourselves—and sometimes even we fail at that.
Even so, we suffer alone but we survive together.
So if you find someone who acts as if each of your achievements has succeeded beyond all expectations, you can trust them with your future.
Most of these tells—or equivalents of them—emerged in my last physical contact with Annan, in 2018. As in the previous chapter, I’ll help you spot them by noting the numbers that I assigned to each one.
Annan ultimately became my longest-tenured CHS, and one of my best and oldest friends. Some business cultures are ambivalent about emotional ties among coworkers, fearing they might cloud judgment and blur hierarchies, but I know of few things more satisfying than blending two of the most powerful forces in human life: friendship and work.
It allows a dual experience of intimacy rivaled only by that of family, which also combines the element of survival with the equally primal impulse of love.
Success for both types of interactions requires a healthy, meaningful relationship. The cross-over nature of the relationship doesn’t allow much of a margin for error.
So in 2018, when Annan called me and said he was in desperate need of help, I immediately told him I would do everything I could—even before he told me what the problem was. I think that’s appropriate among those closest to you, because it elevates your response to the highest level of personal and professional regard. If it turns out to be something you just can’t do—which is rare, because people close to you already know what you can and can’t do—the person will almost always understand.
“A friend of mine,” Annan said, “is being misrepresented in the press in regard to a mass shooting.” Like anyone else who had watched the news that day, I’d heard about it. It was horrific.
“I must ask you to help stop that,” Annan said. “But if you can’t, I’ll understand” (Positive Tell #10).
“I will. Absolutely. Right now.” I planned to verify Annan’s belief—Doveryai no Proveryai—but I was almost certain, after a seventeen-year relationship, that his request was legitimate.
He said that his friend was the father of a young man who had just committed one of the worst shootings in U.S. history, but the FBI was also investigating the father, Annan’s friend, because the shooter had used his father’s computer to contact religious extremists. The media had discovered this investigation, and the father, who was already torn to pieces by the tragedy, was now the source of speculation that threatened to haunt him forever—even after he’d been proven innocent.
“Meet me in two hours,” I told Annan.
I didn’t need to tell him where, because he and I had been meeting for many years at the same restaurant, which reflected his ethnicity. We even ordered the same pink tea we’d drunk in 2002, as the only existing memorial of a peace accord that might not have been, if Annan hadn’t been so brave at that dreadful time (Positive Tell #2).
I immediately called a close FBI colleague who worked in the field office that was covering the case, and I shared my information with him, trusting that he’d do a solid job, because of our past relationship (Positive Tell #5). He said he’d drop everything and get on it right away (Positive Tell #6).
My associate’s help, and my input—combined with the existing investigation—almost immediately shifted the focus on the father: from being a possible suspect to being a helpful resource on the case.
I waited for Annan outside the restaurant—in a private place, because I knew the good news would trigger his emotions.
It did. He embraced me, unable, at that moment, to say anything.
I gave him a moment alone to call his friend. We entered the restaurant with great relief, floating on our camaraderie.
Annan—who was preparing to move back to his homeland, which was much safer now—presented me with a framed photo of us back in the old days (Positive Tell #6). We both stared at it for a long moment, silently, each probably thinking different thoughts, but feeling exactly the same way.
Now came the hard part. Annan had previously asked me to invest in a company he was starting, but at this time I had to decline. His offer was generous (Positive Tell #5), but there were federal ethics issues that made it impossible for me to invest. He mentioned, though, that because I would soon be retiring from the FBI, he would keep the offer wide open, and that “we can do it then” (Positive Tell #9).
I knew he was sincere, so I had to tell him that I was afraid his business might not work. I feared that his natural optimism—which was an important part of his courage—would get the best of him (and it did, causing him to lose his new home).
He was very casual when I declined the offer, but I knew he was disappointed. I looked into his eyes, reached out my hand, and said, “I’m sorry.” That was enough—more than enough—between old friends.
We both knew that this business was simply a different situation from the ones that had bonded us, and we both had learned over the years that trust and affiliation must always be offered in their full context: the intersection of a person plus the situation.
They’ve both got to be right. That’s one of the toughest demands of maintaining a personal relationship in a business situation, since business situations change far more often than people do.
It was sad to see him go. I would miss working with him, even though my role was now changing. Even after retirement, I knew I would still do a good deal of work on behalf of national security, sometimes with old contacts, and at some point it might include him.
But when that happened I would pass the work on to others and let them make the critical decisions. It would be different. The most constant element of life is change. It can’t be avoided.
But it can be mourned, or at least memorialized.
At the point of our parting, we both knew that many of our memories of shared difficulties—sometimes requiring great courage in moments of historic upheaval—would eventually fade to moments of almost-forgotten glory, never to come again.
“Are you coming to my retirement party?” I asked him.
“Of course! It’s mine, too” (Positive Tell #4).
“It will be good to see your family. It’s been weeks.”
Now that the stress of his wrongly suspected friend had subsided, a new reality was weighing upon us: We would soon be continents apart—as would our wives and kids, all bonded now.
“Thank you for what you did today,” he said as we prepared to leave, both with obligations still to be met, none of which would be remembered.
“Thank you for these years of service. To my country,” I said.
“To our country. And to you,” he said.
I watched him walk away.
Agents don’t sweat. But they certainly do tear up from time to time.