Stop fixing. Just Listen!

People sometimes recommend me. It goes like something like this.

"I know a guy who might help you." 

"Really. Who?"

"His name is Charlie Paparelli. But you got to be ready for him."

"What does that mean?"

And it probably goes something like this.

"He listens carefully to understand what really needs fixing. He takes the complex and is always working to simplify it. Then he tells it just like he sees it. This means he can be abrasive and insensitive. But he is often right. It is just hard to take."

I used to be flattered when I heard a story like this. I would pridefully think, "I tell it like it is with no agenda." 

But time has not treated this gift of mine very well. In fact, I find myself leaving conversations thinking, "You weren't very nice to that person," or "Why did you say that so harshly?"

I rationalized this by saying to myself, “Yes, but they needed to hear the truth. What's the difference in how I delivered it?"

Well, there is a big difference. 

When I was coming up as an entrepreneur and later an executive, I was more patient with people. This caused me to think about what I was about to say and how the person would receive it. I also was careful to look for more of the positives about them and not dive right into the negatives. 

This allowed me to use my talent of getting to the real issue, real fast in a constructive way. But little by little I began to abuse this talent. Somewhere along the line, I decided to just let 'em have it. It was up to them to put on their big-boy pants, to toughen up, to park their emotions, and hear what I was saying. 

Slowly over the years, I noticed something.

People stop sending people my way in the same numbers I’d experienced in the past. I realized the way I was treating these people did not reflect well on the person doing the sending.

It's not that my talent wasn't still valuable.

I just was no longer palatable.

I am not the only experienced executive in startups. I am not the keeper of startup and entrepreneurial wisdom. It is out there and can be found in some amazingly bright and insightful people in our community.

Aging is interesting. I see things I never saw before. I understand people better.

I see:

1. Patterns in people's behavior and know the most probable end result.

2. People's motivations with clarity.

3. Past experiences result in current behaviors.

4. How hard it is to be a leader.

5. How lack of transparency inhibits closer relationships.

6. Insecurities in others and in myself. 

All this “seeing” leads to impatience. 

I think to myself, "I see it. Why don't you see it?" And this impatience plays itself out with poor results. People don't want to deal with me because it just isn't worth it. They want an easier conversation. They just want to talk. They don't want to "go deep" all the time. They want to relax without analyzing. 

And I want this, too. 

I want to relax, sit, listen. Let what is said simply be said. To let the words just spill onto the floor. Let people just talk because it helps them to do so. They don't always want advice. They don't always want to be fixed. They don't always want to know the why behind what they do. They just want to talk.

Can I be that kind of man? Can I be that kind of husband? Can I be that kind of father? Can I be that kind of businessman? Can I be that kind of disciple of Jesus Christ?

Can I?

All this said, I realize I need to think about others again. What I am about to say and how I need to say it. Or even, if I should say it. Am I right? Are they ready? Is it the right time? Where are they in their process?

Yes. I need to be thinking about people and the process they are going through.

I have a friend who does to me what I do to others. And you know what? It really torques me. When I thought about what bothered me so much about him, I came to this conclusion. 

He is so focused on giving me the right answer, the biblical answer, that he ignores the value to me of my whining. He has a good heart and wants to help, but he doesn't understand one thing.

I am not ready for “the answer” yet.

I need to process.

I need to roll around in the muddy field of confusion for a while. And when I finally come up stinking, then, maybe then, I'll be ready for “the answer.” But not one moment before.

This is what I learned about my talent. Like any talent, it must be used judiciously. I should use my years of experience with people to better understand them and where they are in their process. Then wait. Wait for them. And not be so anxious to be right.

I'm still learning.