On the Mastering Project Work mailing list, Amy Schwab offered this nice quotation:

“A teacher of dialogue put it this way, ‘You are only listening to the extent that you are willing to be changed by the conversation.’”

This lovely idea helps me to understand an important element of resistance. When I interpret another person’s actions as resistance, that’s a signal that I am listening from a fixed perspective, a perspective in which my goal is to influence the other person to change. Interpreting the actions as resistance separates me from the other person’s point of view, and reinforces my own. This reinforcement is not just the outcome of using the word resistance; it is the purpose. I call the person’s actions resistance in order to hold onto my goal, in order not to change. I call another’s actions resistance in order to resist being changed.

When I define my goal as influencing another person to change, I limit my options. Holding tightly to this goal leaves me with only one way to get what I want: The other person must change.

If I am willing to listen fully to the other person, if I am willing to be changed, I open up new possibilities for resolving “resistance.” For example, I may learn new information that shows that the change I am promoting is not such a good idea after all. I may discover that the change includes some element that is unimportant to me, but creates a big problem for the other person, and that a simple adjustment would eliminate the problem. Or the other person may offer an idea that is even better than the one I was promoting. Or the two of us may create new ideas together, ideas that satisfy both of us.

In each of these cases, the “resistance” vanishes. Each of these happy outcomes is possible only if I am willing to allow myself to be changed.

Experiment: Recall a recent experience in which someone resisted your proposal or request. How important was it for you to influence the other person to change? What made that so important to you?

I’ve noticed a pattern in the way people sometimes explain the resistance they are experiencing. Here are some examples:

• “People don’t like change.”
• “The managers around here just want to control everything.”
• “Walter is only interested in protecting his budget.”
• “The developers don’t care about anything but their paychecks.”

Each statement attributes the resistance to some general characteristic of the people who are resisting.

I’ve noticed that when people explain resistance in this way, by attributing it to some persistent characteristic of people in general, or of some group of people, or even of a specific person, they become discouraged and stuck. Actually, my guess is that they become discouraged first, then generalize as a way to “explain” their stuckness.

If it’s true that people resist change, then there is no hope for my ideas that would ask people to change. I’m stuck. What a discouraging thought!

Fortunately, it isn’t true. People are much richer than this discouraging thought suggests. I believe that each of us welcomes some changes and resists others. And each of us might resist a specific change at one time and welcome it at another.

If I’m feeling stuck, and attributing my stuckness some general characteristic of other people, I lose contact with what is happening here and now. I lose contact with the very information that would be most valuable to me.

The way to become unstuck is to let go of my generalizations, to make contact with what is happening here and now. People resist change? No. This person is responding in this way to this change at this time. If I am to find possibilities for moving forward, the possibilities are in the specifics of this situation.

Experiment: What generalizations do you make to explain why other people are resisting your ideas?

Experiment: What leads you to think of a response as resistance?

Experiment: Notice that “resistance” is a generalization. The next time you experience resistance, turn your attention to the person’s specific response. Describe as accurately as you can what the person said or did. What ideas do these details suggest about possibilities for moving forward?

I’m attending Payson Hall’s Fundamentals of Successful Project Management class this week. Day one focuses on defining the project.

My big learning for the day was something Payson calls “The Cheeseburger Talk.” This is a lunch conversation you hold one-on-one with your project’s sponsor as soon as possible after you’ve taken the job of managing the project. The Cheeseburger Talk has two purposes. First is to understand the context of the project—how it was initiated, what constraints you will be working under, where the constraints came from, and so on. The second purpose is to initiate an effective working relationship with the sponsor.

Payson writes about The Cheeseburger Talk in the Project Management Instutute’s San Diego Chapter newsletter (PDF, see page 4). He lists the key topics to cover in The Cheeseburger Talk, and offers a set of questions to guide the conversation.

One important question to ask the sponsor is, “If at any time I have concerns about the viability of the project, when do you want to know?” Payson says that sponsors always answer, “Right away!” That answer gives you the sponsor’s explicit permission to talk about concerns.

In the PMI San Diego newsletter, the question doesn’t include the word “when.” To me, that little word makes a big difference. Without that word, the question suggests that the sponsor may never want to hear your concerns. With the word, the question assumes that the sponsor will want to hear about your concerns, and the only thing left to decide is when.

If all I had learned today was The Cheeseburger Talk, I would have been satisfied. I learned lots more, and I’m delighted.

Experiment: Read Payson list of Cheeseburger Questions. Which questions do you know your sponsor’s answers to? Which questions do you want to know your sponsor’s answers to?

Experiment: Take Payson’s class.

When you are asking people to change, it is important to understand how people respond to change. In my article “Managing Yourself Through Change” describes the Satir Change Model. This model says that when we respond to change, we move through four stages: Old Status Quo, Chaos, Practice and Integration, and New Status Quo.

The Satir Change Model tells us the general characteristics of each stage of change. It does not tell us in detail how a particular person will experience a particular change. Different people respond in different ways to each change.

For example, people progress at different paces through a given change. When you propose a change, one thing that you can predict is that,
other people are starting from a stage of change that is different from the stage you are in.

You see the New Status Quo that will result from your proposal. Maybe you’re seeing what the New Status Quo will look like when you arrive. Or maybe you’re there now, having already taken the journey. It’s easy to be seduced by the promise of your vision, or to be enamored of the splendor of the beautiful new place at which you’ve just arrived. Whether you’re already there or looking forward, you see only the New Status Quo, and it’s wonderful.

For other people, the view is quite different. They are standing on the safe, solid ground of the Old Status Quo, suspicious the Foreign Element you have lobbed into their world, dizzy from vertigo as they peer over the edge into the abyss of Chaos.

You see the beauty and splendor of your vision. They see confusion, pain, and risk immediately ahead.

Hold onto your vision. It’s the source of your energy and passion. And just for now, let go of asking people to meet you where you are. Right now, they can’t see what you see. They hear you asking them cross a treacherous chasm into a murky, uncertain future. They hear you asking a great deal.

Instead, meet people where they are. Hear and acknowledge the confusion and risks and losses that fill their field of vision. Accept that their fears are real for them. Let them know that you will take the journey with them, supporting them in the ups and downs of Chaos.

Experiment: Recall some changes that you’ve made after being initially reluctant. What were your initial expectations about each change? What happened as the organization made each change? What did you learn?

Experiment: Recall some changes that you have initiated in your organization. What were your initial expectations about each change? What happened as the organization made each change? What did you learn?

Broccoli is healthy. You want your kids to be healthy, so you want them to eat broccoli. Unfortunately, your kids won’t eat broccoli. It tastes oogie. It looks wicked gross. And George H. W. Bush made it okay to just say no to the stuff.

All of that healthy broccoli is of little use if it stays on the plate. That’s
The Broccoli Principle: It doesn’t matter how healthy it is if they won’t eat it.

The Broccoli Principle applies to your proposals, too, and not just to yucky healthy food. No matter how beneficial you perceive your proposal to be, your impeccable idea will produce little value if people won’t adopt it. And people will adopt your proposal, or not, for their reasons, and not for yours.

If you want people to adopt your proposals, understand their reasons—that is, their values and expectations—and relate your proposal to their reasons.

Experiment: Think of three times when someone asked you to do something, and you chose not to do it. What were your reasons for not doing it? What were the person’s reasons for wanting you to do it?

Experiment: Think of three times when someone asked you to do something, and you chose to do it. What were your reasons for doing it? What were the person’s reasons for wanting you to do it?

Experiment: Ask three other people to answer those questions. Compare your answers. What patterns do you find in your reasons?

Sometimes saying yes is hard. My challenge today is to pull the trigger on a long-overdue decision. I’ve decided to focus my consulting business on a specific area of service:
helping people respond to resistance.

Resistance is a topic that energizes me. Resistance puzzles people, so people often want help responding well. I’ve studied resistance and learned a great deal about how to work with resistance, so I have help to offer. Many people know how I can help with resistance, so the people who might want my help will be able to find me. I’ve talked with hundreds of people about this challenging topic, and conducted dozens of workshops. There is great energy around resistance. I love working with people about resistance.

I’ve known all of this for years. For years I’ve considered focusing on resistance. So now I’m saying yes.

Why did I wait years? Because yes is hard. Saying yes to resistance means giving less attention to other things I love. I love coaching about management challenges. I love facilitating teams. I love conducting retrospectives. I love helping groups refine their processes. When I say yes to resistance, I don’t have to stop doing those other things that I love. But I will put less emphasis on them. I have to let go. Letting go of the things I love is hard, even when it helps me say yes to the things I love the most.

Hard or not, it’s time to say yes. To myself. Yes!

When I started consulting in 1995, my first customer was Paul, a contractor who specialized in designing and building people’s dream homes. My background was software development. I knew nothing about the home building business. So I relied on Alison’s Advice Advice, and tried to help Paul find his own advice.

“The problem,” Paul said, “is that more and more of our customers are late paying their final bill. They pay all of the other bills on time, but then they’re very slow to pay that last bill.”

“Oh,” I said, not sure what else to say.

“It infuriates me!”

“Infuriates you?”

“I mean, why can’t they pay that one bill? After all we’ve done for them?”

“All you’ve done for them?” I asked. “What kinds of things do you do for them?”

“Here’s an example,” Paul said. “We have a client right now who’s late. Last month, two days before we were going to start building their deck, they called and said, ‘Can you build a 12-foot deck instead of a 10-foot deck?’ We said, ‘Sure.’ But then we had to scramble to make it happen, The lumber for the 10-foot deck was already being loaded onto the truck. So we had to call the lumber yard and change the order.”

Paul continued. “Then, after we’d finished the deck and were about to start painting, the client called to change the color! We had to take the paint we’d bought back to the store to exchange it.”

“It sounds as if you go out of your way to accommodate changes,” I said, “and when the customer pays late, you get angry. Are you angry because they don’t appreciate the things you’ve done for them?”

“That’s part of it,” Paul said. “What’s worse is that we end up with almost no profit. When we had to change the lumber order, for example, the 12-foot boards weren’t much more expensive, so we ate the cost. And it took time to return the paint. These are all small expenses, and we don’t want to piss of the clients by nickel-and-dime them. But the costs adds up. We go out of our way, and end up making next to nothing for the job. Then they don’t pay.”

“I can see how you’d feel angry about that,” I said. “Do you always make these changes at the last minute? Do you always absorb the costs?”

“No, we can’t afford that,” Paul said. “Sometimes we tell customers that we’ll have to charge for the extra time and expenses.”

I asked, “How do they respond to that?”

“They respect it. They understand that changes cost extra.” Paul said. Then he paused for a moment. “And those customers treat us with more respect. And they pay on time… Oh!”

Experiment: Have you ever thought, “How could they do that, after all I’ve done for them?” What kinds of things had you done “for them?” What did you want in return?

One day, my friend Alison asked me to advise her about an important upcoming meeting with her manager and her company’s Human Resources director. As Alison described the purpose of the meeting, and her specific concerns about it, I realized that her situation was far outside of my experience. And the meeting would have significant consequences in Alison’s personal life and work life.

I said, “Alison, I don’t feel competent to advise you about this. The situation you’re describing is way beyond my expertise.”

“Oh, I knew that,” Alison said. “But when I ask for your advice, I’m not really looking for your advice. I’m looking for my advice.

Wow! I took a moment to let Alison’s powerful statement to sink in. Then for the next half hour, Alison and I talked about her situation, exploring possibilities, clarifying what she wanted and what boundaries she wanted to maintain for the meeting. Mostly I listened and asked questions to understand how she was thinking about the meeting. I offered a few bits of general advice, and worked with Alison to see how to apply them, and to test whether they fit for her.

At the end of the half hour, Alison was clearer about what she wanted from her upcoming meeting, and confident that she knew what to do to make the meeting successful.

Alison’s meeting went well. I learned a life lesson. I call it Alison’s Advice Advice:
When people ask for your advice, they are looking not for your advice, but for their own advice.

I apply Alison’s Advice Advice in two ways. First, as a reminder that when I’m consulting, my goal is ultimately to help people find their own advice, advice to which they can commit. If I have ideas, I can offer them, and we can explore whether the ideas make sense. And if I have little relevant experience, I may still be able to help. By listening fully, and by asking questions, I can guide people to discover or create their own advice. In fact, this second style—guiding people to advise themselves—is often more effective than offering my own ideas. No matter how expert I imagine myself to be, people commit more readily to their own ideas than to mine.

Second, I used to be frustrated when people would ask for my advice and then not take it. I couldn’t understand why they would do that. Now I understand. Alison’s Advice Advice reminds me that even when people ask me for advice, they are more likely seeking their own advice, and that sometimes my advice simply doesn’t fit for them at this time. I’m now less frustrated when people don’t take my advice. And when I’m less frustrated, I’m more flexible and better able to help.

I don’t know whether Alison remembers our meeting. I sure remember it. That meeting was a major turning point in my consulting career, and Alison’s Advice Advice is now a core element of my consulting approach.

Experiment: Notice how people react the next ten times you offer advice. Notice how you react, internally and externally, to their reactions.

Experiment: What would you do if you knew that the next person who sought your advice would take your advice without question?