Monday, February 25, 2008

Try Not to Say "Try"

I recently overheard a client say to an employee, “I’ll try to send that data to you by the end of the day.”

Not wanting to miss a coachable moment, I asked her what she meant. She seemed confused by my question. “Well,” I said, “did you make a commitment just now or did you not?”

She explained she intended to complete the task, but she had several other matters to complete by the end of the day, so it was possible she would not get to it. I then asked the employee if he needed the information. “Yes,” he said, “I cannot proceed without it, and we have a deadline tomorrow.” In a few more minutes we found a way to get him the information without involving his boss. He would have it faster; she would have one less to-do.

A few days later, the client sent me an email quoting George P. Burnham: “I can’t do it” never yet accomplished anything. “I will try” has accomplished wonders.

She seemed to be telling me that there is nothing wrong with the phrase, “I’ll try.” After all, we grew up with the story of the Little Engine that could, the one who kept chanting, "I think I can. I think I can." As Burnham suggests, “I’ll try” is powerful and courageous when one is undertaking a difficult journey or project.

However, when we apply “I’ll try” to routine promises, the phrase becomes a hedge, an excuse, an admission of weakness or a lack of commitment. For example, if I say, “I’ll try to attend the meeting,” I might be intentionally or unconsciously sending any of the following messages:

• I don’t really have much control over my schedule and other commitments, so I cannot or will not make a firm commitment.
• I am not sure I really want to come to the meeting, so saying “I’ll try” gives me an excuse to bail out later if something better comes along.
• I am pretty sure I cannot attend the meeting, but I just hate to say “no” to anyone. Isn’t it more polite to say, “I’ll try?”
• Everyone knows that when I say, “I’ll try to be there,” I am really saying “I probably will not be able to attend.” It’s obvious.
• I really do intend to attend, but I would rather not set that expectation in case something unexpected happens and I am late or have to cancel. I don’t want to disappoint you.
• I value modesty and am uncomfortable with assertive statements. People might think I’m arrogant.

These are possible meanings – there may be more. The point is that vague, non-specific, uncommitted language creates confusion, inefficiency and mistrust. If a culture is characterized by a heavy dose of such language, imagine how difficult it must be to get anything done. In contrast, picture the competitive advantage that might accrue to a person who makes short, simple promises and acts consistently with those commitments. For example:

• “I will be at the meeting.” (And arrive on time.)
• “I will send you a proposal by close of business Wednesday.” (And deliver it on time.)
• "I cannot meet your deadline without incurring additional expenses or compromising other projects. Would it work for you to add an additional week to the timeline?” (Know your limits, speak them without apology, and stay open to the possibility of creative problem-solving with the other party.)

Suggestion: For one week, try to avoid using the word “try”. Better yet, just do it.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

OK. SMART Goals Work, Too

Last post talked about the power of setting goals that are un-SMART. I acknowledged that Specific, Measurable and Time-bound are fine for any goals. But I took a dim view of Achieveable and Reasonable. In my experience, these aspects of goals contribute to mediocrity.

As with so many things in life, one “rule” does not fit all occasions. While I stand by the assertion as to the power of stretch goals (or as Jim Collins might say, Big, Hairy Audacious Goals – BHAGS), there is at least one place where setting smaller, more reasonable and achievable goals is especially useful. That’s in building competence and confidence.

If you’ve never run a marathon, and you set a big hairy audacious goal of competing in one within, say, 6 months, you need a set of intermediate goals that bridge your current reality (out of shape) with your desired future state. You might start by committing to run at least 3 days a week. Further, you might set a goal of running five miles comfortably by the end of one month. Successfully accomplishing those smaller, more reasonable goals will help propel you toward longer runs, building your body’s strength (competence) and along the way building your own confidence in being able to achieve the BHAG.

If you have employees in roles for which they are relative beginners, it would be overwhelming, frustrating and demoralizing for them to be held to unrealistically high performance goals. Instead, you let them know the ultimate level of performance, and create interim goals or milestones toward that level. Along the way, if you’re a good boss, you will provide plenty of feedback, coaching and encouragement. As reasonable as this sounds, it seems that companies are less and less willing to support newer employees in this kind of step-by-step development. When I coach a first-time manager it is often because her boss lacks the time, and sometimes the skill, to coach and mentor her through the early bumps and trials.

So, if you are tackling something radically different – personally or professionally – your focus should be on short-term, manageable goals that build competence and confidence. On the other hand, when you and your team have talent, experience and skill in delivering a product or service, setting small goals is tantamount to sand-bagging, playing below your ability level. Not only will such a move rob the company of better performance and financial results, but it will also drain the zest and enthusiasm that comes when teams elevate their game to meet and beat challenges.

Bottom line: setting goals and committing to their achievement is far more powerful than drifting along, taking one day at a time. There have been some 200 scientific papers documenting this aspect of being human.