Isolated acting

Your actions will have a much higher impact if they fit in a story you live every day.

Your feedback will be taken more seriously if it’s part of a more general attempt to genuinely help move the situation forward.

Your survey will get a better response rate if it’s framed in an ongoing effort to better understand and serve.

Your marketing will be more effective if it’s part of a strategy that aims at generating value for the prospect at every step of their journey.

Your message might actually be heard if it’s the bit of a story your audience has been waiting for and cannot do without.

Of course, for all of this to be possible, you need to spend a considerable amount of time tryin to understand the other(s).

The alternative, though, is to share your opinion every time you do not get things your way, to send out a survey without having set the stage for it in the months before, to run campaign after campaign tweaking for conversion, to forge the message with what we have in mind.

It happens every day, almost everywhere. And it drives us crazy when it is done to us.

Who is empathy for?

We commonly believe that empathy is for the person on the receiving end. And that is, at least in part, true. It gives them the space to be with their feelings, thoughts, discomfort, free of the burden of judgement and scrutiny.

We need to be aware that empathy is not for the person on the giving end. Sure, they get an enriched view of the world by being empathetic. Yet, they should not fall in the trap of heroism and self-praising, and even less in the pit of entitlement (“I am doing this, so you owe me that”). At the bottom of that pit is resentment, and it is not possible to be empathetic when resenting someone.

Most of all, I believe, empathy is for the situation, the context, the environment. It gets things unstuck, it moves things forward, it works towards some form of progress. The alternative is banging our heads against the wall. It takes a lot of time, and pain, to get anywhere by just doing that.

First principles

If you get stuck with a problem, it’s good to go back to the foundations of the problem itself to see if you are approaching it the best possible way.

One example. If you want to grow your business, one common way to go about it is to get some funding and hire more people. Of course, hiring more people brings more business in, and for this to be sustained, you need even more people. And even more funding.

On the other hand, one could go to the foundations of the problem, its first principles, and try to understand the type of growth the company needs (not all of the new business that comes in, for example, will be profitable or valuable), or if it needs growth at all, or if growth could be achieved in a healthier way by re-structuring the company, or improving the service, or re-designing the processes.

Another example is reducing car usage. Local governments, for very good reasons, tend to think at the problem mainly in terms of disincentive. Taxes on cars, increase cost of parking, lanes reserved to public transport only, additional fees to access certain areas of the city

On the other hand, the foundation of the problem is that people need to move from one place to another multiple times a day. What are the alternatives we provide to meet this need? Could we make them cheaper (or free) instead of continuosly raising their costs? Could we make them more easily accessible? And the same could go for addressing the fact that to many people a car is a status symbol.

When you go back to first principles thinking, you unlock a whole new spectrum of possibilities you had not considered at first simply because you were thinking by analogy.

Through most of our life, we get through life by reasoning by analogy, which essentially means copying what other people do with slight variations. And you have to do that. Otherwise, mentally, you wouldn’t be able to get through the day. But when you want to do something new, you have to apply the physics approach.

Elon Musk

Overcommunication is about frequency

There is an important distinction to make when we say we want to overcommunicate.

Overcommunication is essential in certain circumstances: change, growth, downsize, new team, new team members, just to mention a few. I actually think that overcommunication is good in general, as we too often have the tendency to assume and take for granted that others know and understand things the same way as we do.

Nonetheless, overcommunication deals with frequency, not with content. It is not necessary to tell more, it is to tell more often.

Sometimes, when reading a presentation, or an e-mail, or a report, it feels like one can almost see the different layers that have been added in the attempt of increasing clarity or including an additional point. At times, it looks like the more bullet points you have, the better.

It does not work.

The more you add to your message, the less it will be understood. Keep it simple, real simple. Make sure anybody who has a superficial knowledge of the matter could get it after reading it once. Read it out loud and listen to how it flows. If you have even a single doubt, start cutting. And if you have no doubts, cut anyway.

I notice that you use plain, simple language, short words and brief sentences. That is the way to write English—it is the modern way and the best way. Stick to it; don’t let fluff and flowers and verbosity creep in. When you catch an adjective, kill it. […] An adjective habit, or a wordy, diffuse, flowery habit, once fastened upon a person, is as hard to get rid of as any other vice.

Mark Twain

Your call is (not) important

My health provider has launched a mobile app a while back. It is pretty handy, as it gives you access to your health history, the booking system, the possibility to consult with a doctor remotely, and other useful stuff.

Today the app failed on me for some reasons, and the error page prompted me to contact customer service to complete what I was doing.

I had to first visit the website from the mobile browser, as the customer service number was nowhere to be found in the mobile app. I called and, after being informed that the call would be recorded for improving the service, I was put in line. Our operators are busy at the moment, if you want you can book an appointment with our app. I realised in the meantime the call was not free. We are still busy, we will answer the phone calls in the order we have received them. Five minutes later, an operator answered and I got the issue sorted in about a minute and a half.

Who pays the price for your faults?

Often, it is the customer. The one you want to serve, the one that already had to endure a disservice and embrace to get on the phone instead of going about their business, the one that can tell others and spread the word.

If your system is designed to ditch responsibility (and costs) when something goes wrong, how do you expect your people to own their failures? How will you get better at doing what you do?