You can have intellectual curiosity. You can relish inquiry. But I still think people don’t like being wrong. And as much as I dislike being wrong, I hate being in the wrong.
I snapped at a direct report today. It was in a tense voice, at a normal volume. It was one sentence long.
I Was Ill Prepared
It was a time sensitive meeting where I was leading the discussion but disallowed from contributing solutions. We had about 40 people in the meeting — two locations over video conference.
I had scheduled too little time and framed the problem poorly. I had the wrong document for leading the discussion and had to scramble to find the right one.
See. In all those things I was wrong. But that’s not so bad.
Their Input Was Essential
We had a few pages of data to digest. Then we needed to stimulate debate in the group. Then we needed to select 4 items to commit to acting on.
Slowly, I realized that the information the group needed to digest was too vast for the time we had, especially over a video conference. We had gone over it once very quickly. I was sure it wasn’t making sense to them. And with so many people in the mix people weren’t speaking up.
So, I made a last ditch effort to get what we needed out of the meeting. With ten minutes left I suggested that we break into small groups, review the data, come up with one or two suggestions in each group, then combine.
I Snapped
While hastily explaining the change in procedure Gene interrupted me to say, “Are you telling me we need to go over this data and come up with some suggestions?” To this point Gene’s laptop had been open and he had been studying it’s display.
We pushed on and separated the groups. Gene asked a couple more questions about the data and process — items I had recently covered — and I replied, “Yes. If you hadn’t been looking at your computer screen you probably would have known that.”
That’s me in the wrong.
That’s Frustration, Not Feedback
Even if you don’t have a problem with what I said, I have a problem with the process I followed. If I think someone is doing something counter productive then I ask them to do something productive. And I do it one-on-one, not in front of their peers.
I wasn’t faithful to my own process. And I was sure that I hurt Gene.
Again, we pushed on. The meeting went over by five minutes. We got a rough draft of what we needed.
I Apologized In Private
Before heading to lunch, I stepped into Gene’s cubicle and said, “Gene, I’m sorry I snapped at you in that meeting.” By Gene’s face I knew I was right. I had hurt Gene.
Here we come to the question: If you hurt someone in public, is a private apology adequate?
Certainly, you can never entirely undo the consequences of a false step. Like going to a mountain top and releasing a bushel of feathers onto the wind, we all affect one another in ways that are difficult to trace or track.
I asked Gene if he would appreciate a public apology. “My bad behavior was in public, would you like me to apologize in public?” Then I switched and asked instead if a public apology would bother them. Gene shrugged noncommittally.
Sorry Is Inevitable
We can’t entirely avoid some bumps on the way. If I had to choose between passive and aggressive dialog I’d choose aggressive. I think we need to vie to get all the good ideas out there.
But that is a fool’s choice. We can have vigorous without cutting.
Since we are only human, if we aspire to be debate leaders then we need to be prepared to be in the wrong and apologize.
