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A pause for self-reflection in the midst of chaos…

If we ponder for a moment before walking into a conversation, a meeting, or an altercation, to ask ourselves:
“Is this the biggest difference I can make?”
…could we reshape the outcome by adjusting our approach?

This specific adage interrupted my reaction to an offensive driver recently. It altered my attitude before schooling a barista on her job. It invariably shifts how I contribute to my team. And, when I employ it early, inspires me to purposefully create my day before it starts.

Is this the biggest difference I can make…

• with this person?
• in this conversation?
• with my time?
• with my thoughts?
• in this meeting?
• with my team?
• in my job?
• with my career?

If we answer “No” to the question, aren’t we just wasting our time and energy, shortchanging people of our best selves? Should we really be in that conversation, that meeting, or that job if we’re not going to make our biggest difference?

Of course, this notion challenges the hours we squander watching mindless television, surfing social media, reacting with emotional outbursts, or succumbing to other people’s drama.

With this question, a reality sets in… how are we choosing to show up, engage, contribute, influence, respond, serve, and lead?

Thus restoring our power to be victor not victim.

A mere burst of self-reflection not only makes us better leaders, it makes us better people.

When I spent a week in Bali recently, I was awestruck by the monkeys, elephants, temples, villages, hospitable people, and … homeless dogs.

It felt discordant with the extremely kind and caring Hindu culture. But according to our guide (and fast friend) Putri, Balinese dogs are irrelevant.

While the dogs are not mangy or abused, they are ignored, destined to scavenge through village streets for their own food.

According to Hindu beliefs, if you are a good person in your life (referred to as dharma), you will reincarnate as a human. If you live an immoral, sinful, or wicked life (referred to as adharma), you will reincarnate as a dog.

Being a dog lover, I was stunned. I regaled Putri with stories of our dog obsession in America: dog food, doggie day cares, dog walkers, and dog parks. She was aghast!

I later emailed Putri a picture of my dog in my bed and she responded, “My husband is in shock. He can’t decide who is mistaken – your people or Balinese.” Putri schooled him, “Different culture, baby!”

That’s right! Different culture, diverse perspectives, divergent convictions. No mistakes.

But it’s not our differences that should give us pause, it’s our insularity.

When we travel to new countries (even new cities and states!), we become cognizant of how isolated we are in our hermetically-sealed worlds.

And it’s this isolation that threatens our success as leaders.

If we don’t deliberately “travel” to different departments, engage with distinct job levels, and expose ourselves to unique issues on various teams, we too will operate with a limited view of the world.

And trying to lead while insular always results in adharma!

Each day we interact with countless people, exchanging pleasantries as we proceed. “How are you?” How was your weekend?” “What’s new?” “How was school today?”

And as we are asking, we anticipate their one-word responses: “Good” “Great” “Nothing” “Fine.”

1-inch questions yield 1-inch responses. And yet these quick interactions are vital to our survival, ensuring we connect with cordiality, but without getting stuck confabulating. 1-inch questions allow us to converse while moving, and transact while multi-tasking.

But to engage with others, we must evolve the 1-inch conversation using Yardstick questions:

• Really? What was that like?
• What did you learn?
• What was your experience?
• Anything surprise you?
• Interesting. Tell me more.

Yardstick questions force us to pause for a person, intentionally making the moment about the other person. Suddenly, we are listening as if our relationship depends on it. When we authentically ask Yardstick questions, we become curious, eager, and present – not knowing what we will discover.

Yardstick questions demonstrate our commitment, while Yardstick answers reveal volumes about the other person. The result is transformational, not just transactional.

• We care about them.
• So they trust us.
• And then they share.
• Which bolsters our connection.
• And fuels our trust.
• And then they care about us.

When we need to get by people, we ask 1-inch questions. When we need to get into people, we ask Yardstick questions.

1-inch questions create transactional connections. Yardstick questions create transformational engagement.

Leave it to 7-year-olds to reinvent a game that’s been around since the Chinese Han Dynasty (206 BC – 220 AD): Rock Paper Scissors.

I was at a youth soccer practice when the coach initiated a game of Rock Paper Scissors to see who was going to be up next to practice kicking the ball to the goalie.

Suddenly, the boys were shouting, “Dynamite beats rock!” “Sword beats dynamite!” “Handgun beats sword” and “Lava beats handgun!”

Dynamite? Sword? Handgun? Lava? This isn’t the game I grew up playing! What happened to the rock, the paper, and the scissors?

I asked the boys, who quickly informed me that the game had been expanded. They delighted in teaching me about the weapons available.

I was being mentored by 7-year-olds.

And more than just introduce me to the reinvented game, they reminded me:

• to be more innovative with simple, everyday tasks, routines, and processes
• to be open to the adventure of change
• to experiment with fresh ideas and new games
• to play outside the 3-weapon box
• to pay attention to the new kids on the block

It never occurred to us that we could change the game… but it occurred to them.

It struck me: what other viewpoints, new approaches, or original concepts am I overlooking?

The older we get, the more wisdom we gather. But the more we gather, the more we get entrenched in referencing our own wisdom and ignoring the wisdom of others.

With fresh perspectives come fresh solutions to old, tired problems. We just need to remember to extend the invitation and give people permission to think differently and share their distinct experiences.

Pay attention to young people and young employees – they never need permission to think differently. And as they twist our kaleidoscope, get ready for our wisdom and our world to expand!

A battle cry is what we shout as we run onto the proverbial battle field in pursuit of victory!

• William Wallace in the movie Braveheart: They may take our land but they’ll never take our freedom!
• JFK: We shall pay any price to assure the survival and the success of liberty.
• Starbucks: We are inspiring and nurturing the human spirit one person, one cup, one neighborhood at a time.
• US Marines Corps: Semper Fidelis (Always Faithful or Always Loyal)
• Crawford, my Hertz Rental car driver at Orlando airport: I save marriages.

Wait! What? Crawford explained, “Dragging all of that luggage and children can test any relationship, especially in the rain. I am in charge of personally driving families who need help getting to the terminal after dropping off their cars. On the way, I talk to them, calm them down, and alleviate their frustrations. I’ve saved numerous marriages.”

We ask ourselves every day to come to work, to be all in, to give a piece of our lives to an organization. We need to show up because we believe …with our heart and soul.

But people don’t believe in to-do-lists, monthly goals, or quarterly quotas. We merely tolerate those. We believe in a purpose – the why behind our work – the reason for the lists, goals, and quotas.

Without a battle cry, setting goals and generating lists become rote exercises. But a battle cry guides our actions and reinforces the fight.

And it’s not about the money. Money becomes the focus when people lack purpose and passion.

To identify your own battle cry, ask yourself:

• what do you love about your job?
• what difference does your work make to others (on your team, in your organization, with your customers, in the community)?

As Crawford dropped me at the terminal, he reflected, “I love my job. I love Hertz.”

That’s the power of the battle cry!

Just when we thought bullying was the most injurious, research reveals that ignoring is actually worse.

This reality can be explained by our basic human needs:

• to be recognized and accepted
• to interact, connect, and belong
• to matter

When we fight, at least we are interacting and connecting – the altercation evidence that the people in it actually exist.

But when we ignore someone, we reject, banish, and ostracize, confirming their fear of irrelevance.

As a result, ignoring easily leads to feelings of humiliation, helplessness, insecurity, and a motivation to quit.

…even when our actions are not about them, but merely a reflection of our own lack of courage or inability to confront.

Ignoring (intentionally or unintentionally) can take many forms:

• not responding to texts, emails, or calls
• not inviting or including someone
• not hearing (or pretending not to hear) a question/comment
• silent treatment

As with all experiences, ostracism is the in the eye of the sufferer, not the culprit. Our own perception or projected response becomes insignificant.

So, short of coddling everyone on our team, what should we do? Help people matter.

• respond and recognize
• include and interact
• argue and altercate
• confront and clarify
• dig in and empathize
• and communicate when we can’t

It takes arrogance or cowardice to ignore someone. But it takes courage to respect their contribution, even if we dislike it, them, or the situation.

Ultimately, we are better leaders when we confront instead of cower, and include (even incite!) instead of ignore.

South Carolina Gamecocks beat the Duke Blue Devils in the NCAA men’s basketball tournament in a major upset this week.

But it was the Gamecocks Coach Frank Martin’s display of unabashed passion and courage that was most remarkable.

Outside the stadium before the game in Greenville, SC, protestors positioned a large Confederate flag, ensuring everyone would see it waving in the wind as they entered.

In the post-game press conference, Coach Martin intentionally commented where others might cower.

He could have ignored the controversy. He could have just basked in the glory that his team was headed to the Sweet 16 for the first time ever.

But Coach Martin believed strongly that:

• not saying something would be saying something
• not saying something would be condoning the flag’s negative message
• not saying something would be a missed opportunity

Here are some highlights from his speech:

• “It’s [the protesting Confederate flag] unfortunate, but it’s America. We have freedoms. People have freedoms to do whatever they want to do with themselves and their property.”
• “There are things out there that I don’t like. But I can’t force people to do what I want them to do.”
• “All I know is this unbelievable university and state has taken in a son of Cuban immigrants that’s married to a Jamaican woman, has mixed kids, and they’ve treated me like I’m one of their own from Day 1.”
• “I wouldn’t want to coach in any other state or with any other group of people or for any other bosses than the ones I’ve got.”

We may not get a press conference for our achievements like Coach Martin, but every day we have the opportunity to exude passion for our work, genuinely appreciate our bosses and our peers, stand up for what we believe in, and model courage for the people on our teams.

My ten-year-old nephew, Joaquin, is dauntless.

He will try any new toy, game, sport, or instrument. He’s on the swim team, plays violin in an orchestra, loves basketball, inhales video games, and is learning archery, snowboarding, and surfing.

And he is perseverant in improving his skills in each new activity.

Recently he was eager to experience Guitar Hero, a video game in which players strum a guitar-shaped game controller and match notes that scroll on the screen in time to the music in order to score points and keep the virtual audience delighted (not disappointed).

After playing a while, Joaquin turned with tears in his eyes and said, “Every time I mess up, my band boos me.”

While he was prepared to make mistakes, he wasn’t prepared to be boo-ed as he learned the game.

None of us are! When we are in the process of learning and growing, getting boo-ed can quickly crush our oomph.

And yet people regularly boo each other, sometimes inadvertently, sometimes in jest:

• discouraging or dissuading statements (“No. That won’t work.”)
• judging, mocking, ridiculing, or deprecating
• scoring anonymous surveys unreasonably low
• submitting unkind comments or reviews online
• leaving bad tips

Wait! Don’t we need to provide people with feedback to help them learn? Absolutely!

But unkind comments, unreasonably low scores, and bad tips are rarely accompanied by recommendations for improving. They merely serve to dignify the boo-er.

To serve another person’s success in learning, our responses, comments, and scores need to contribute to, not contaminate, the process.

Being a contribution to people as they learn and grow means our feedback must make them feel superior, not us.

Less boos, more woo-hoo’s.