How I Learned to Stop Being a Jerk (Mostly)

"This conversation is making me feel defensive," David said. (Not his real name.)

David’s comment paused me for a moment.

I blurted out, "Good."

Then I realized what I was doing. I was justifying a bad behavior. Something I have done all my life. A behavior no one would want to be on the other end of, not even me. I would hate it.

Here's what it looks like.

David, who is the CEO of a business, was explaining how he coached an employee. The employee was feeling minimized by one of David's managers. This manager had the employee doubting his competency. It was having a negative effect on his work to the point of questioning if he was up to the job.

I've known David for a long time. I worked with him for over ten years. He had this same reaction to unbalanced negative feedback, meaning when a manager was mostly critical with little encouragement.

David explained the conversation he had with the employee. He handled it very well. The advice he gave was excellent. But it wasn't what I thought he should have done. I was thinking it could have been even better.

So off I went.

"You are that employee," I said. "Instead of giving him advice on how to think and what to do, you should share stories from your life. Tell him stories of when you were in your early thirties. How managers just like his sometimes made you question your competency. Then tell the story of how you worked through it. After all, look at the success you've become. You are such a great example to this employee."

David listened and then said, "That's a good idea. I guess I could have done that. But you weren't there, and I didn't tell you the whole conversation. In fact, it went really well."

I leaned in and said, "But it could have gone better if you’d shared your life stories. It would be more helpful to the changes he needs to make. After all, people remember and internalize stories rather than advice over the long term."

"I hear you. But I think I did a good job," he answered, wanting to end the conversation on this topic. He felt the tension between us. And to be honest, so did I.

But did that stop me? Heck, no.

"But stories are the answer, your stories." I pressed on. By now I was not only leaning in but also looking him right in the eye with my jaw locked. I continued to give him reasons why my advice was right.

And that's when he said, "This conversation is making me feel defensive."

After saying, "Good," I realized what I’d just done.

I stopped and apologized to David.

I said, "I'm doing it again. I fell into my old, bad behavior. You've known me a long time, and you've seen me do this. I hate it. It is wrong. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I don't want you to feel defensive in any of our conversations."

What is interesting about this conversation?

About fifteen minutes earlier in our breakfast meeting, I’d told him all the great lessons I am learning from the people I interview on the Charlie Paparelli Show.

One of those lessons was from Bobby John, who is the founder and CEO of Band of Coders.

When I asked Bobby about the potential stress I saw between him and one of his band of coders, he said, "When a conversation gets stressful, I simply tell the other person how the conversation is making me feel. This stops the conversation in its tracks. Then we address what was said, how it was said, and what we are trying to achieve. We then resume the conversation without the stress."

When Bobby told me this, I said, "This is brilliant. I need to do this."

And here I was with David, and it happened. David did it to me. And it worked.

We were on the way to ending our breakfast meeting feeling awful after a stressful conversation. But because David stopped me and said I was making him feel defensive, we got to a healthier place.

I walked away with higher awareness. I just had an example of what triggers my destructive behavior. And maybe, just maybe, I can stop it in its tracks in the future. Thanks to David for loving me enough and trusting our relationship enough to tell me how I was making him feel.

What I really liked is David put a name to this behavior of mine. He called it "Lean-in Charlie."

I'll never forget it.