Chapter 11
Dealing with Difficult People
Nowhere is it written that you
have to get along with everyone. There are people in the world who should not,
who must not, be on any team -- ever. And they are not especially unusual.
Last chapter talked about people
whose intentions toward teaming were OK, but whose ability to team successfully
was hampered by differences of opinion and approach. This chapter is about
people whom nature did not inculcate with the instinct or the will to team.
They are not necessarily bad
people – though some (the dark angels) are truly bad. All require action on the
team's part – either distancing, discipline, or banishment.
On any given day, we can all be
jerks -- rude people who are unaware how they come across. But the true team
jerk goes beyond occasional jerkiness to full-blown jerkhood. They are jerks
par excellence. Compared to them, we are amateurs.
A team jerk is usually its most
talented member. He or she may have made some very important contributions to
the enterprise. Their specialty is ideas -- new technologies, new products, new
processes, new applications, new combinations of existing things, marketing
ideas. Extraordinarily bright and creative, they are high-achieving dynamos
when motivated, giving off ideas the way regular folk emit carbon dioxide.
Take Bert (please!). He is a
prima donna about his talent. He won't play by the rules other team members
follow. He demands that other people attend to him, while he ignores them.
Communication with him has eroded to the point where the team simply ignores
him -- yet hopes he includes them the next time a great idea comes to him. When
team members do try to include him in things, he brushes them off.
A good archetype for Bert is the
software programmer who is a genius with C++, but has horrendous social skills.
You hate to lose his talent, but you could sure do without his arrogance, his
eccentricities, and his contempt. Wouldn't hurt if he bathed a bit more often,
either.
What can you do with a guy like
Bert?
First, acknowledge that his
personality is not his fault. None of us asks to be born with the precise set
of talents and peculiarities we get. The jerk is often blessed with great
creativity, but cursed with a crummy personality.
There are two strong opposing forces
in the creative person. The one force is that person's internal standards,
which are precious and, in many ways, the secret to that person's success. At
all costs, the creative jerk tells himself, he must be true to that inner
measure. The other force is one we are more familiar with -- the drive we all
have for recognition by others. The problem is that the two forces don't
reconcile all that easily. Especially bright people have to struggle to know
which drive to honor at any given moment.
Second, appreciate that what you
see is probably not all there is. People who act arrogant often have profound
insecurities. People who laugh in your face may well cry when you are gone.
These people may simply be failing to adequately communicate what is going on inside
them. The sad secret of many creative types is that they are experiencing more
stress and more pain than other team members.
In addition, an individual who is
susceptible to the terrible pressures of the workplace is probably not immune
to pressures on the home front, either. It's possible that behind the
superficial inappropriate behavior may lurk problems far more difficult to
solve -- marital conflicts, chemical abuse, mental illness even. Historically,
creative geniuses have always had a knack for turning their right-brain talents
against themselves.
Third, see if the team itself is
helping to create the problem. Maybe team members have unconsciously
"outed" the jerk because he is cut from such a different bolt of
cloth than they are. Or maybe the team rules and policies are too narrow to
accommodate a personality with extra, um, verve.
Having made these adaptations,
however, you still have the problem of Bert being Bert. You can change the
whole world to suit some people, and they will continue to be jerks.
Here's a radical idea: Why not
ask him what he would like? Ask if he wants to continue as a team member. Ask
him if there is anything he would like done differently -- whom to report to,
how and how often to meet, whether to work side by side or from remote
locations.
Make clear that you are searching
for a solution that enables him to keep being himself, and doing the quality of
work he does, and making some kind of contribution to the team -- and that
alleviates the personality clashes that are making everyone miserable.
If he perceives himself to be at
war with the team, he may be very wary of such a pow-wow. So you must be very
supporting, yet very candid with him.
The best solution is to put
distance between him and the team. Set him apart from the core team, as a
valued resource team member. Make him a unit unto himself – a team of one --
with a dotted-line relationship to the team, as a reference source, sounding
board, or technology guru. Set him up as a one-man skunkworks. Give him an office
in a separate building, or on a separate continent, even. Buy him some bunny
slippers and make a telecommuter out of him.
Be careful about sending your
genius off to the jungle by himself, however. The idea of separation may sound
good to both him and to the team, but it may backfire. It's very likely that
Bert needs human contact to keep from going completely insane, or depressed.
The team he derides and ignores may be his lifeline.
Perhaps the best solution is for
the team to accept the fact that it needs Bert and Bert, though he gives little
indication of this, needs the team. Why not make a concerted effort to give
Bert what he needs -- admiration, support, and sympathy? Just because he
doesn't act especially human doesn't mean he is immune to human feelings. We
all need a kind word from time to time, and the occasional reassuring pat on
the back.
Now that you have his attention,
let your newfound appreciation be the basis on which a new alliance can be
built between the individual and you. Once he sees you are a true fan, you can
do something. Acknowledge his talents, but put an arm around his shoulder and
say, "Hey, if we're going to let that talent blossom, we have to do
something about these self-defeating behaviors."
Don't apply the medicine, the behavioral
change, until you have first proffered the candy of encouragement and
fellow-feeling.
And when the time comes to name
those self-defeating obnoxious behaviors, be specific. It's no good using
value-laden, broadbrush terms like jerk,
arrogant, obtuse sonofabitch, etc.
Instead, say:
ƒ "It
appears to me that you shoot from the hip during the meetings, and you hurt
people's feelings and make enemies."
ƒ "It
appears to me that you can't take criticism. When I asked you about your design
at Thursday's meeting, you got up and left the room."
ƒ "It
seems as if you like making cruel jokes, and you don't know how badly that
makes people feel."
ƒ "Julie,
the transcriptionist, quit because you yelled at her."
ƒ "I
left six messages on your voicemail and you never got back to me."
ƒ "You
play Cubanismo! when the rest of us are trying to read professional
journals."
The creative high-achiever has a
hot pilot light. He or she burns hotter and works harder than most people. And
where all of us have an inner core that we descend into from time to time in
our lives, the creative high-achiever virtually camps out there, intensely
focused on whatever it is that he or she is striving to create or achieve. They
are almost of another race than the rest of us -- us being turtles and them
being racehorses. Small wonder if adapting to our hobbling pace causes them
problems.
One thing about them is that you
can't help them by slowing them down. Stress for them may actually be lower
when their activity level is hyper or beyond. Never tell a racehorse to walk a
few laps. Creatives and high achievers are often subspecies of workaholics, and
workaholics have a way of dying within a year of retirement.
Can people, whether they are
genius-jerks or whatever, really get hold of their basic natures and change
them? How many teams have ever witnessed the kind of transformation necessary
to turn around a career?
And even when the results are
good, the process may not be over. A team member who has alienated everyone on
the team will find that his transformation is not universally trusted. Like the
boy who cried wolf too often, the genius-no-longer-(such)-a-jerk will find that
many colleagues are hard to win over. There is a degree to which people almost
prefer the two-dimensionality of poor behavior to the unpredictability of more
sensitive behavior. So more has to change sometimes than just the individual.
Sometimes the team has to change with him (or her).
In the old Aesop fairy tale, one
thing stood between a houseful of mice and complete happiness -- the cat. So
the mice met and voted to eliminate the danger forever, by tying a bell around
the cat's neck. With the bell in place, the cat would be unable to sneak up on
and devour another mouse. Only problem was getting volunteers to tie the bell
on.
The same goes with teams. Nearly
every team has one member, either a leader or a peer, who cannot seem to help
dominating team activities. Even when time is short, and the agenda is crowded,
these blowhards feel they have to get their share of attention. Team blowhards
talk too often, too long, are impossible to shut up, enjoy initiating
distractions, and just generally dominate team proceedings.
What can the team do to suppress
these people? Putting a bell on them doesn't work -- we saw it tried once, and,
well, the blowhards just take it off. But there are other solutions.
The most conventional solutions
are managerial in nature. They are old-fashioned, autocratic, pre-team remedies
by which the team leader shuts up the noisy and encourages the quiet. The most
drastic is to simply terminate the overbearing offender. Termination may seem
like the perfect weapon in all kinds of team personality issues, but beware.
Termination:
ƒ is
unfair; you're effectively dismissing someone for overcontributing.
ƒ is
potentially litigious; nothing like a team lawsuit to bring folks together.
ƒ subtly
undermines the authority of the team leader; it shows you can't manage a simple
situation.
ƒ is
inefficient; you have thrown out the baby with the bathwater, wasted a whole
team member to eliminate a single flaw.
Some teams "quarantine"
overbearing members; they redesignate them as wing units to get them out of the
home office. But here again, keeping expressive people at home -- banning them
from the regular environment -- wastes talent. Meanwhile, it's nearly always a
bad idea to change a job description to suit an individual.
In meetings, some team leaders
bell the bully by artificially ostracizing them from the team process, by
assigning them the task of flipping the flipcharts, or manning the lightswitch
at the back of the room. If a bully is talking, it is possible to talk through
them -- the inappropriate sound of two voices vying for attention gets even the
biggest bully's attention.
Some team leaders turn their backs
to the overtalker -- you don't reinforce what you don't see. You can simply
ignore them. If they are constantly raising hands, don't look their way. If
they interrupt, smile and say -- "Let's look at that later."
Call on other team members to
help. "Come on, gang, let's not let Audrey here do all the work. Who else
has an idea? Who agrees with Audrey? Disagrees?"
If the bully seems unmoved by all
these attempts, take them aside during a break and tell them in no uncertain
terms: "You are dragging the group away from the agenda. If you keep this
up, the team will be a joke. If you can't adjust to the agenda, you're not
welcome here."
The most important tool in
combating distraction is the team agenda. Make your agenda central, and stick
to it at all costs. If someone goes off on a tangent, pull them back. An agenda
keeps you from being the "bad person." You say, "George that is
really very interesting, but it is not what we agreed to discuss today."
Let the agenda take the heat for disciplining the process. You're not
disagreeing -- you're just keeping things on track.
If someone is dominating, they
still have to breathe. When they stop for that breath, leap in, and say,
"George, that's interesting -- can we relate that back to the agenda
before us?" You can also simply say, "George that's interesting, but
let me hear from other people, too." And then you turn your eye contact
away and poll others for opinions.
Some team leaders take preemptive
action -- heading the bully off at the pass, before he or she ruins the team.
The more you can do before a team get-together, hammering out an understanding
of the tasks at hand, the better the meeting will go. Likewise, he said, there
are post-meeting strategies to held ensure meeting success. He who controls the
minutes controls the meeting.
There are social solutions to the
problem of blowhards -- ways of communicating that overtalkers need to turn it
down, and undertalkers need to summon the courage to speak. Consider throwing
the bully a bone. People who want attention can sometimes be satisfied -- or
frightened away -- with a little. Say, "Good idea, Jack. Anybody
else?" It doesn't have to be a big bone. But never appease a bully with
flattery ("Roy, you have so many wonderful ideas!"). Positive
reinforcement only invites more of the reinforced behavior.
The worst person to have in a
team is the negative thinker. "We tried that, and it didn't work," is
this person's bludgeon. One tactic is to turn that person's negativity around:
"How would you make it work this time?" "How can we overcome
those obstacles?"
The imbalance between shy people
and demonstrative people can be a major problem for team interaction. How do
you achieve the team ideal -- everyone participating, everyone contributing --
if one person drowns out three others? A skilled team manager knows how to keep
from being steamrollered by compulsive hard-driving Type A behavior; by
authoritarian personalities, who think it is just, fitting and natural that
others should obey them; and by "Machiavellian manipulators," people
who are on the lookout for a neck to sharpen their axe on
-- yours.
Throw in the cultural and
attitudinal deference often given to males, to people with booming voices, to
tall people, and the natural advantage of seniority on the company flow-chart,
and there is a lot to overcome.
Team leaders need to plan
solutions to these problems in advance. Structure the information so that
people know, when the team meeting starts, what is expected of them, what is
permitted, and what is out of line. Announce that you want everyone's input,
not just one or two people's. With that understanding in mind, individuals are
less likely to hijack the team.
Challenge them to prove that
their point of view is substantive, that they have something relevant to say,
and are not just talking to hear their tongues flap. Look them dead in the eye
and ask them, "If you could make your point in 25 words, what would it
be?"
Try to win them to your side.
"I like what you are saying, but I have only a short time to make my
points here -- could I go first?" If necessary, shut the blowhard down.
"I have no idea what the answer to the question of parking privileges is
-- I'm here to talk about the team's strategy."
One strategy is to
"equalize" group membership through something called the nominal
group technique. Here the facilitator asks group members to quietly write down
what their thoughts are on the coming meeting. Then the facilitator reads the
ideas, and thus controls group input. This approach can be linked with electronic
meeting tools, which we will discuss in a later chapter.
Judith Bardwick, in
her book Danger in the Comfort Zone (Amacom, 1991), describes an
attitude that has crept gradually into the workplace in recent years -- and one
that spells unavoidable death to successful teaming. She calls the attitude
entitlement. It is a team member's feeling that the rest of the team, or the
organization as a whole, owes him or her membership. If entitlement is too
abstract a phrase, consider the one your parents used when you acted like that
at age 5 -- spoiled brat.
In the old days
there was no spoiled brat syndrome because no organization spoiled its workers,
except for the few lucky ones at the top. But in our century there has slowly
evolved a belief -- and it is shared by many nations, and many systems, from
capitalism to communism -- that people have an inherent right to fair
treatment, a living wage, and decent conditions.
That doesn't sound
too bad. In fact, you probably want to agree that those things should be
guaranteed to all people. The problem is that as these assumptions have
evolved, they have become sloppy, and people -- human nature being what it is
-- have taken advantage. Lots of people in lots of organizations decided that
the new contract between organizations and team members should put the entire
onus for doing on the organization, and none on the team member.
People too often
are too comfortable and held to too little account. For years, people have been
succeeding individually without necessarily contributing to the success of
their teams.
Brattism says:
"I have what I have because the team owes it to me.
I get it simply by existing, not by doing." Spoiled Brat Syndrome happens
at every level. It is the CEO holding out for a $5 million bonus and a golden
parachute compensation plan, despite unprofitability for investors and ruthless
downsizing for workers. It is the shortsighted investor, only interested in
what an investment nets for him, not in what the business makes or does. It is the
perks and plush carpets of Congressional offices during budgetary cutbacks. It
is unions demanding 95 percent of salary for workers when they are not working.
At the team level,
brattism is team members waiting for someone else to show leadership, to volunteer,
to share information, to take chances. It is people hiding behind functions
("I'm in marketing, you need to talk to sales"). It is complaining
about compensation when the team has not produced anything worthwhile for the
organization. It is teams with poorly formed objectives and goals performing
pointless tasks they know have no value or utility, all the while insisting
they are burning the midnight oil.
The terrible irony
is that the utopian idea of providing a more secure life for workers has too
often undermined the American dream. Brattism is a primary cause of bloat,
bureaucracy, turf wars, indifferent service and shoddy product quality.
It is also the
cause of a shift in our character, of our ethics, a point Bardwick made in her
book. When we are not held to account for our actions, it is easy to
rationalize our shortcomings:
No one else is working hard, so why
should I?
If no one catches you, you didn't anything wrong.
A job not worth doing is not worth doing well.
How does a team
combat incipient brattism? Through vigilance and intolerance. By keeping the
team on track to achieve their stated objectives, and by making sure those
objectives are actually achievable.
Team members slip
into brattism for two main reasons -- the team's objectives are unachievable,
or they are too easily achieved. Teams require just the right degree of
engagement, or members rebel and drift into defiant anti-team attitudes.
Restoring a team
from brattism to honest engagement doesn't happen without leadership. The first
order for leaders is to clear away any vestige of brattism at the top. No team
is going to come clean and shed its bad attitudes while the team at the top is
permitted to continue with its own.
The leader then
administers pressure. People perform or they depart. But the pressure must be
to achieve a very specific outcome. Rewards must be for achievements that
matter, not digging and refilling holes. People must feel their work is
important. People who cannot make the crossing to be more accountable even with
training must be winnowed out and replaced.
The passage from an
attitude of brattism to earning is not an easy one. It requires pain and
anxiety, by definition. Brattism is like dope that numbs us to the twinges of
reality. But at the end of this anxious exodus is the possibility of great
success and great fulfillment. The feeling of achieving this possible success
makes the aches and pains worthwhile.
There are people out there who
should not be on any team, anywhere, ever. We are not referring to reclusives
or the terminally shy. They can participate. We are talking about the
organizational equivalent of the undead. If you follow the medical model, you
would say that are sociopathic. If you are a strict moralist you will call them
evil. If you lean more toward the supernatural, you might call them dark
angels.
A dark angel can take several
forms:
ƒ the addict, who acts crazy because of
some personal problem
ƒ the ogre, who acts out of antisocial
rage
ƒ the crook, who thinks nothing of crossing
ethical lines
ƒ the fanatic, who puts achieving his
objectives above all rules and policies
Here's what a dark angel can do.
A team of five was set up to
study the feasibility of direct marketing a new product. Everyone on the team
seemed to have a reasonable amount of team spirit, except for Roger. Which was
strange because Roger, a mail order whiz, begged to be part of the team. Later,
the team learned he had mortally damaged his current team, and it was time to
move on.
Then the sabotage began. Reports
that had been carefully proofread went out with embarrassing errors. Schedules
that had been carefully synchronized were now way off -- people began showing
up for meetings on the wrong day, or for meetings that the other party was
unaware of. The networking software went down. Even the petty cash account was
off, by almost $50.
Everyone was confused. At first
it seemed like phenomenally bad luck. But after a crucial file disappeared from
the server hard disk, they began pointing fingers. When accused, Roger gave
them his best, "What? Me?" face, denied everything, and declared he
was deeply offended at any suggestion he would undermine the team. And hadn't
his schedule been shuffled as well? He was the victim, not the perpetrator.
He was persuasive. It wasn't
until a bit of e-mail from one of Roger's previous team members surfaced,
asking if the team were experiencing any data problems, that Roger was
confronted again. No one could understand his motive. It wasn't for promotion,
or to make himself look good, or personal vendetta. He was just a crazy, rotten
guy. An ogre, who hated his life, his team, his job -- everything. An
unapologetic wrecker of well-laid plans.
People in human resources
consulting will tell you how to handle all kinds of personnel issues. But no
one's got much of a handle on what to do with a dark angel like Roger. Dark
angels are the beasties in the New Age box, the team poison pill. The brave new
world we've been ushering in didn't plan on their being there. But there they
are.
There often isn't a lot of
incentive to get rid of dark angels. Terminating people is confrontative,
unpleasant, and potentially litigious. So we look the other way and hope the
madness goes away. A team member with an addict personality may collapse from the
weight of his or her own problems. A team member with an ogre personality,
driven by some dark rage, may still be a good producer. Team members who go
berserk and start hurling large objects about the office telekinetically --
well, who are they bothering really?
A team member who is unscrupulous
or super-competitive or overzealous is doing exactly what he thinks he was
hired to do. Be honest -- amoral unscrupulousness is a tried, true pathway to
success in many organizations.
Explaining the ten commandments
to them won't stop these people. Philosopher and social critic Scott Peck
theorizes that evil is not a choice we make but an external force with its own
reality, seeking opportunities, viruslike, where it can find them. And it finds
them most often in isolated, alienated individuals, who are so estranged by
upbringing, circumstance, or by their very nature that no act is beneath them
as they roll unstoppably toward their objectives. (Scott Peck, People of the
Lie, New York: Simon & Schuster, 1983)
Some people you can counsel, some
you can transfer to the company office in Ultima Thule. Some you can quietly
let go, and let their sins paddle off to some new ship to wreck -- you may even
write the delicately phrased letter of recommendation ("I cannot recommend
Kennedy too highly.").
But some people, like the alien
being hiding in your hold, leave you one option. A stake through the heart,
before they put one through you.