Chapter 4
Become a Communicator
All change is political because it inevitably redefines established boundaries. By boundaries, I mean the physical and mental spaces inside of which people experience the three things everyone wants: safety, significance, and control. Those boundaries could be practical or cultural. They could be a job description or hierarchy, the “tribe” of a particular workgroup or division, an office or seating arrangement, a title or a contractual agreement, a technology system, and on and on.
When you threaten boundaries, you face resistance—even revolt—unless and until you find a way to show people how their safety, significance, and control will be preserved in the new order. That is the true art of change politics: being able to communicate that you understand and will respect to the greatest degree possible the boundaries of the people for whom you're responsible. Get good at that and you'll find yourself more successful than not. Real success in politics, by the way, isn't just getting elected; it's using your platform to do something that makes a positive difference. For change agents, success isn't just getting the green light for your agenda, but actually bringing it to fruition and achieving the projected benefits for the organization.
Without effective communication, politics will bring an initiative to a screeching halt. I was once leading a project to install a chemical plant purchasing and maintenance system. The first installation in plant A had gone extremely well. We then went to plant B, which was almost identical to plant A in its layout, processes, and problems the system was going to address. I informed them, through a detail-heavy presentation, that we were going to duplicate everything we had done at plant A. I was very pleased with myself and expected that having succeeded once, this go-round would be smooth sailing.
About six weeks into the project, the plant's management called a meeting. The primary agenda item was my project. The plant's office manager had been assigned as the site leader for the project; she had the complete trust of the plant manager. Well, the office manager kicked off the meeting by launching into a laundry list of everything that was wrong with the project, including its leader (me!). She then recommended that we stop the project because it was interfering with more pressing priorities. (“More pressing priorities” usually just means “we don't want to do it.”) I was completely stunned and, my confidence thrown, I awkwardly made the case again. No one was impressed, and we adjourned without resolution.
I drove the five hours back to corporate in a daze. I went in thinking I was these people's savior. I was going to fix everything! Instead they saw me as the great destroyer. After thinking about it all the way back, I realized that I hadn't taken any time at all to get to know anything about plant B. I assumed I knew it all from working with plant A. But people aren't plants, and I'd need the people's cooperation to change the plant. I needed to know the people.
I called the office manager the next day and set up a meeting. I started by acknowledging the arrogance of my approach. She quickly clued me in to where I had really gone wrong: The different plants in the division were constantly in competition. The people in each plant took pride in their respective operations. Their plant was their tribe—their boundary. By coming in and telling them we were going to carbon copy the work of another plant, I had walked all over the very thing that made them feel safe and significant. The last thing they wanted was to be “just like that other plant.” I had also trampled their sense of control by riding in like I was General Patton, the conquering hero, and telling them what to do.
Because I hadn't taken time to understand the politics, I had insulted everyone I came into contact with. After apologizing again, I took some time to explain who I was and the reasons why the project was so important. Then I offered to remove myself from the project, if she thought it was best. She said she'd think about it.
They soon called another meeting of the plant's leaders. The office manager was again first on the agenda. She stood up and said, “Upon reflection and consideration of other priorities, we have decided that this project is priority one.” She introduced me as “James, our project leader.” This time when I got up, I didn't talk about the project. I talked about me. Specifically, what I had done wrong and how I needed to learn that lesson. The project went on to become a success.
One of the best ways to respect people's boundaries is to kick off with a collaborative approach. In other words, step off your high horse and learn from others first. (You've already seen this strategy at play as part of setting priorities in Part I.) I discovered this when I was put in charge of transportation at Georgia-Pacific. I knew the technology like the back of my hand, but I knew almost nothing about operations. That turned out to be to my benefit, since my first action was to have all the transportation leaders advise me on how to proceed. As a result, they had ownership in how we moved forward. We developed a collective strategy instead of a James strategy. Not only was it a better strategy than I could have developed on my own, but it was also one people were happy to implement.
Never Soft-Pedal
Don't make the mistake of thinking that mastering political communication means becoming a master manipulator. You don't want to be Machiavelli, you want to be Ronald Reagan breaking bread with Gorbachev—transcending politics by understanding what's important to people and doing your honest best to respond to their needs. Never make promises you can't keep or spin things in a way that ignores the facts.
I learned never to soft-pedal from a hard-charging EVP from Arkansas named John. John had invited me to participate in a meeting around a topic that turned out to be very contentious. I was quiet until he asked me for my thoughts. Not wanting to offend anyone, I hemmed and hawed instead of taking a stand. When the meeting ended, John pulled me aside and said, “Never pull that $#@% again! I called you into the room for a reason. I wanted your point of view and instead you played it safe. How can I trust you if that's gonna be your MO?”
I realized then that you need to be aware of politics but not let them limit what you have to contribute. My motto became, “If you ask me for my thoughts, you'll get an honest answer. You may not agree with it, but you'll know you can trust it.”
Even heightened sensitivity sometimes can't overcome the real problem: Redrawn boundaries create perceived winners and losers. Those people who were benefiting from the old way and are now handicapped by the new may never come around, no matter how hard you try to make a place for them. Some people will continue to fight the change by finding ways to delay it, disrupt it, and disparage it. Others will take the opposite route, actively seeking out the training and experience they need to adapt to new roles, processes, or systems. As a leader, your responsibility is to be as clear and transparent as you can, as soon as you can, so that people understand the changes that are coming. At that point, they can make their own choices to swim with the current or fight against it.
Brush Up Your Speaking Skills
People who are great communicators understand and speak to people's boundaries. They understand what's important to every stakeholder. But “communicating” is the advanced skill. First you need to become a good speaker. When I started out, I mistakenly thought the most important communication skill in business was being able to give an effective presentation. I bought books and took presentation and design classes. Spinning globes, dancing babies, music—whatever you could think of, my presentations had it.
What a waste of time. Nobody listened to what I was saying because they were so busy watching my slides dance. Those who did listen heard me stiffly recite speeches that had been painful for me to write. Speaking in front of an audience terrified me. I'm the quiet one from a family of talkers. I remember a cousin once saying to me, “James, you're not like the rest of us, you hardly talk.” I was ready with a quick comeback: “Hell, someone has to listen to all that junk you all are saying.”
My first breakthrough came from taking a local continuing education course about becoming a better writer. On the first day, the instructor asked us to spend 20 minutes writing on a topic we were passionate about. We weren't supposed to edit or plan, just write whatever came out. Unlike when I sat down to write my speeches, I let the words flow naturally. My problem had been that I was overthinking each word and sentence. Thinking about it as a “speech” had made me so self-conscious I got stuck. That day in class, I just focused on what I wanted to communicate and let it all spill out. What I wrote wasn't perfect, but I could see right away how I would improve it later.
After class, I told the instructor how helpful the exercise had been. He told me then that the key to writing and speaking well is to simply be yourself. I asked, “That's all?” He said, “Yes.” I then asked, “Do I have to pay for the entire course since I got what I needed and won't be coming back?”
Joking aside, I highly recommend classes to develop speaking and writing skills; they come naturally to very few people. Each year I took an executive media course with my direct reports during which we were filmed, got feedback, and improved our communication skills. I learned that people listen to less than 20 percent of what you say. What really influences their opinions is not what you say, but how you say it. Your voice, tone, and body language are the first steps in getting someone to listen, even if they're still wary of your message.
I also recommend reading at least one book each year on how to be a better communicator. One of the best is Seeing Yourself as Others Do by Carol Keers and Tom Mungavan. Put it on your reading list!
Here are a few other techniques I developed as my education continued:
- Never speak from a script; speak from an outline. The only time you should rely on a full speech or a teleprompter is when you're presenting on something very technical and can't miss a single critical point.
- Ask the audience a question every 10 to 15 minutes during your presentation. It keeps them engaged and gives you a chance to make sure you have closed the loop on key points.
- Never wing it completely. People can always tell. Winging it tells people you didn't care enough to prepare.
Shift from Mr. Spock to Captain Kirk
My initial presentation at that chemical plant was the perfect example of failing as both a speaker and a communicator. I had thought my presentation was tremendous. It made a clear and highly analytical case for the new system, and I had moved through it confidently and at a good clip, my eyes rarely leaving my well-designed slides or the script I had written to explain them.
If I had paid more attention, I would have noticed the room was completely silent throughout the presentation. No one's heads were nodding. Later, I asked someone what he thought of the presentation. After a pause, he said, “It was very logical.” In the moment I actually thought it was a compliment. Later I realized that what the guy meant was, “In theory it makes sense. But I can't relate to it or to you, and therefore I am not interested.” The office manager confirmed it: I had come across as a pompous know-it-all. Hearing that hurt.
The bottom line is, you don't get anywhere by being Mr. Spock. There's a reason why Kirk, not Spock, was the captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise. People couldn't relate to him because logic was his only guide. (Naturally, he never got the girl, either.)
People make decisions not like Spock, but like Kirk: influenced by their emotions. That doesn't mean they're going totally on gut instinct or shooting from the hip. They look at facts, interpret them, and choose the path they're most comfortable with. Accordingly, effective communication requires not a recitation of facts, but speaking to what actually matters to your audience.
After the chemical plant disaster, it wasn't long before I had the chance to do it right. I had identified an opportunity to help one of our distribution centers grow and become more productive. It was already one of the most profitable in its division, in large part because the leader was extremely customer focused. His location served many of the prefab and mobile home manufacturers in the surrounding area, and he was constantly providing custom extras for them.
All that said, the center's order processing system was very old and was limiting growth. We had just successfully implemented a new system at one of our manufacturing locations in another division. Logic told me it would work at this distribution center as well. It was an obvious win.
When I flew out to meet the leader of the distribution center, I left my Spock ears in Atlanta. Our meeting started with me listening, hearing his thoughts about his business and what he needed in a new system that could support their growth. I told him about the system we had just implemented, but I didn't foist it on him. I suggested that he and his team evaluate it. If they thought it could work, we would support the implementation. He and his team looked at the system, and, even though some add-ons would have to be made, they were willing to go for it.
The fact was they probably could have found another system that was a better fit right out of the box. They decided to give this one a shot not only based on its merits but also because of the bigger picture of what I was offering: first, the opportunity to make the choice, and second, full control over the implementation with our support only when requested.
This gentleman and his team were accustomed to—and frustrated by—the corporate office dictating every technology decision. Autonomy mattered to him more than the specific technology, an emotional reality Mr. Spock would have missed. The leader and his team implemented the new system with responsive support from my people. At the launch party, he gave us a very heartfelt thank-you.
Well done, Captain Kirk.
Talk Benefits, not Technology, with Executives
People are often frustrated with outside consultants because management listens more to them than to their own people. Indeed, the first step in almost every engagement is to hold internal workshops where consultants get the ideas of the company's internal people. They then package them into a pretty PowerPoint and present the ideas to management.
I used to be frustrated, too, until I realized these people had a bankable skill that others, and especially technical people, lack: They know how to package information in a way that resonates with executives. (And they're definitely Kirks, not Spocks.) I started paying close attention to their presentations at senior-level meetings. I noticed these consultants, and the executives themselves, generally focused up front on the “why” before moving into the “how.” As someone once said to me, “He that knows how will always have a job; he that knows why will always be the boss.”
At the executive level, the details of a plan are less important than the impact you believe it will make. Presentations at this level should be weighted accordingly. Within the first minute of your presentation, hit on the benefits or impact of your plan, otherwise you lose their attention and your creditability. Keep the technical talk to a minimum. They don't care and they don't understand it. Worse, hitting them with jargon and detail can threaten executives' senses of safety, significance, and control all in one swoop.
The opposite applies when speaking to very technical audiences. First start with what process you used, the options you weighed, and the factors you considered in reaching your decision. Then, talk about the benefits. With technical people, you build creditability by showing how you reached your conclusion. They're not interested in hearing about benefits until they trust your expertise.
When Not to “Keep It Real”
Have you ever watched Dave Chappelle's show? I often think about a segment called “When Keepin' It Real Goes Wrong.” In the sketch, someone gets wronged and responds exactly how they feel, pulling no punches—and ends up getting in big trouble. It's funny and profane, but there's a lesson in it that applies to professional conflict: If “keepin' it real” means going off on someone, it is not the way to go. Authenticity in leadership, which is generally a good thing, hits its limit when it comes to losing your cool.
In political battles, some people won't play fair. Instead of debating you on the facts, they'll go after your character and try to paint a negative picture to others. Whatever you do, don't lose control. That's exactly what they're after, because your reaction will be watched and it will affect you more than their behavior ever could. There will be times that people legitimately infuriate you—when they have lied or treated you disrespectfully. Always maintain your dignity by keeping a level head; otherwise, you lose credibility. As they say, “No one listens to an angry man, even if he's right.”
I once got taken off a project because I got angry. Really angry. I had been asked to audit a troubled initiative, and when the project leader found out, he jumped into damage control by hiring a consultant to do a separate audit and issue it before mine. The consultant never spoke to me, but in the audit he wrote that I had created problems. I was livid when I read his report. Madder than a hornet, I charged into the CIO's office, yelling that I wanted to sue the consultant.
The CIO knew that the audit was political foul play—but guess what? Instead of penalizing the project leader, he took me off the assignment, telling me I had lost my balance and needed to “go find my big boy pants.” Keeping it real had gone very wrong.
Soon after, the project leader got a promotion. I was ready to go ballistic again, but the CIO told me to calm down. The guy had been promoted because he had some very influential supporters in the company—but a guy like that would eventually do something so egregious even his allies would back away, the CIO said. All I had to do was keep my cool and wait. And sure enough, three months later, the project leader behaved disgracefully in a meeting with senior leaders and was forced to “pursue other options” outside the company.
From this and a few other unfortunate episodes of keeping it real, here are the top things I've learned about communicating with difficult people:
- Bullies and bottom-feeders will eventually self-destruct. In the meantime, vent steam with someone safe (not your boss). Then, approach your boss calmly for advice on how to handle the situation. If both of you report to the same boss, ask another senior person who's in your corner how he or she thinks it should be handled. If you can keep your cool, you may be surprised to find that people will fight your battle for you.
- Never write an ugly e-mail to vent your frustrations. Use e-mail to congratulate or confirm, never to confront.
- Use a “block and bridge” technique when someone is inappropriate or disrespectful in a public setting. First, block by saying something like, “This isn't the place for that, but we can meet afterward to discuss it.” Then, bridge back to the discussion at hand.
- If you are presenting material that is likely to be contentious, have someone prepared to “block and bridge” for you by asking another question to move the discussion forward.
- Ask a hub—someone who people trust—to address the allegations the person is making during workday conversations. There are times that your silence will in effect raise the volume of your critic, since this will be the only person being heard. Your hub is the answer.
When to Tell Tales
Leaders have to touch both heads and hearts; you touch the heart and the head will follow. PowerPoint slides loaded with reasons touch the head; stories loaded with personal experiences touch the heart, achieving a much deeper level of communication. Stories motivate people to do their best and stay the course when things get rough, as they inevitably will when change is transformational.
The best leadership stories create a connection by meeting three requirements:
- They clearly speak to the larger points you want to communicate.
- They're authentic to your experience.
- They are stories your audience can relate to through their own experiences.
When I was president of the lumber division of Georgia-Pacific, careful maintenance of our equipment and attention to rules were extremely important to keeping people safe. I wanted all of our employees to see that every single person makes a difference. So in town hall meetings at every single mill, I told a story about one of my first jobs. I was a janitor at the Pepperidge Farm plant in Aiken, South Carolina. My job was to clean the flour and dough out of the machines to keep the bugs away. It was tedious work. But Ernie, the plant manager, laid it out for me: If bugs got in, it would cause quality problems, leading to people not buying our products, resulting in the company losing money and people losing jobs. Ernie made me see that I wasn't just wiping down machines; I was a key part of the company's success. Knowing that, I did my job that much better, and the steak dinners Ernie served us when we aced our OSHA inspections didn't hurt either.
This was a true story that made my point while showing people where I came from. The story was very much a context they could relate to—they too were responsible for machines that required painstaking care. But what really worked was that it was easy for me to tell the story naturally, conveying authentic emotion, because the experience I was sharing really meant something to me. Decades later, I still missed those steak dinners with Ernie.
Someone once asked me what to do if you don't have relatable stories. First of all, I hope that's not true. It's hard for me to imagine that's true. We all have more in common than we think. But there's an easy solution if borrowing from your past doesn't feel authentic: Get new experiences. Visit their turf, do something that they value, interact with someone that they trust.
When I first started at Medtronic, a place with a very strong internal culture, I knew I'd need to be able to show that I understood what it meant to be an employee there. So I listened to customer calls; I travelled with field sales people; I sat in on every surgical procedure that involved our products; I visited plants and distribution centers. I also met with Medtronic's founder, Earl Bakken. By the time I had spent all that time in the trenches, I had plenty of material for stories.
With storytelling, as with any of the communication skills presented in this chapter, you will ultimately only succeed if you're able to develop content that shows you understand people's boundaries—what truly matters to people. That's the topic of the next chapter.
Coaching Moments
All “no” answers need to be addressed.
| Question | Answer (Yes or No) |
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