For the record, in over 400 posts on this blog, I have never used the word awesome.
This past weekend, I attended a swim meet in Miami. Some very dear friends from out of town were here to watch their daughter swim and try to qualify for the US team. It was just like any of the dozens of swim meets I attended in my youth, with swimmers hanging around on the deck with their friends while they waited for their events, coaches dispensing last-minute advice, and parents in the stands with video cameras and heat sheets close at hand.
Just as I remembered from my swimming days, each athlete had the same look of eager determination as they lined up behind the blocks for their event, and as their names were announced for each event, individual burst of cheers would come from each family contingent. During the race, the parents would yell and watch each split closely, and I’m sure the parents’ highs and lows depending on results were more intense than their child’s.
The only difference between this meet and the ones I knew so well was that this meet was the U.S. Paralympics Spring Swimming Nationals. Every single competitor has a physical disability. Some have less obvious disabilities: you might not know the swimmer in lane 5 is blind until you see a helper tap them on the head with a long pole to signal it’s time to turn. You might not know they have cerebral palsy until you see that they can only drag their legs behind them as their powerful arms slice through the water. Some are more obvious: those born without one or more limbs, or those who gave eyes or limbs in service to their country.
Let others use the word awesome to describe the dessert they ate last night. I prefer to ration that word only to describe–to paraphrase F. Scott Fitzgerald–something commensurate with my capacity for wonder. I prefer to use that word to describe the heart of a thirteen-year-old girl with no legs and only one arm competing in the 100 freestyle. I prefer to use that word to describe the parents of those children, who do everything possible to ensure that their kids lead lives defined by their possibilities, not their limitations.
It was an awesome privilege to be in the company of these great athletes.
As I’ve written before, clarity is one of the most important factors in persuasive communication. It gives you credibility and ensures that your intent is transferred as accurately and efficiently as possible. So why can it be so hard to achieve?
The core idea of clarity is that if you want to be clear, you have to work hard so that others won’t have to. This sounds harsh, but it’s hard to think of a good reason for being unclear. If you’re not clear, you could be confused, lazy, or even worse.
Confused: This the most common reason for lack of clarity. How many times have you heard or read an explanation that made perfect sense to you—until you tried to explain it to someone else? Until you actively try to explain something, you can’t be sure you understand it. This applies just as much to explanations in our own heads; they always make perfect sense until put into words. You have not thought the issue through carefully enough to explain it simply, or you have overshot your available facts. Although Einstein never actually said, “if you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough”, there is a lot of wisdom in that statement.
Lazy: You don’t take time to refine your own understanding and expression; you just say or write the first sloppy draft that forms in your mind. It’s amazing how much a two-second pause to think before answering a question can clarify your answer. In addition, many things can be made much clearer to your listeners if you first take the time to find out how much they already know, why they need the information, and figure out ways to use their language and analogies that will resonate.
Selfish: Your primary purpose is not to benefit the other person, but to advance your own interests, generally to make yourself seem smarter or more important in the other’s estimation. You are more focused on sounding good than being understood, more worried about seeming smart than making the other person be smart.
Afraid: Even in our egalitarian society, there can be clear distinctions in status among individuals, which I often reflected in our speech patterns. Lower status individuals tend to mitigate their speech, saying things indirectly to avoid offending a higher-status person. The problem has even been linked to plane crashes, which is why the aviation industry has instituted a training program in crew resource management to eliminate it.
Dishonest: You’re trying to cover up the truth or the fact that you don’t know the truth. You may be generating FOG on purpose. That’s the acronym coined by L.J. Rittenhouse, in his book, Investing between the Lines; it stands for “fact-deficient, obfuscating generalities”, and it’s a staple of many annual reports.
A few ideas occurred to me over the weekend for blog posts but none are big enough for a full post.
Isn’t it funny when the things you “don’t have time for”, suddenly become the most important things you have to do? For example, in January I offered to introduce Friend A to Friend B because Friend A was unsure about his job situation, and could use the advice and contacts of Friend B. Friend A was too busy to pick up the phone in January, but last week he lost his job and suddenly talking to Friend B was the most important item on his agenda. Like the lifeboats on the Titanic, he went from an afterthought to a critical necessity in a blink.
I find nothing as boring as listening to someone drone on about their theories on nutrition, and why this one ingredient will lengthen/shorten my life. Why do they spend so much time worrying about what they put into their bodies and so little thinking about what they put into their minds?
Woody Allen’s quote that showing up is 80% of life[1] is probably in need of an update. I think that maybe 80% of life is simply replying, even if only to say “thank you”, or even “Sorry, I’m not interested.”
Some industries overly complicate their critical success factors. The Miami Dolphins account manager who was trying to get me to renew my season tickets for a 28th season was talking at length about the wonderful marketing improvements they’re making for this season. I told him sports marketing is not that difficult: just win a few more games. (It’s like my formula for air travel: as long as the number of takeoffs and landings are equal, everything else is just details.)
I have to end on a positive note. John Spence is always saying that you become who you surround yourself with, and it’s clear that he lives what he preaches. I had the privilege of attending his 50th birthday party last Saturday night, and I was blown away by the smart, dynamic and caring friends who showed up. It was an honor and a pleasure to be there.
Can’t wait to hear what he’s got to say
It’s a tiny bit ironic that this post is appearing on a Friday, which is a day when sharply-dressed, professional-looking people suddenly become casual and appear in the office looking like they just rolled out of bed at camp.
Although I haven’t seen hard evidence, I firmly believe that how you look and dress can affect how you feel about yourself and therefore how you perform. But evidence certainly exists that shows how you look and dress can affect how others perceive your competence and credibility.
Your appearance actually works in the same way as credentials do, in that they form others’ impressions in advance of anything you do or say; people generally see you and begin making judgments about your credibility even before you open your mouth. Ideally, your credibility should be judged by the quality of your content and your communication skill, not your appearance or dress, but the reality is that your appearance does make a difference, sometimes so much so that it will determine whether you even get heard (or interviewed).
A professional appearance shows pride, authority, and respect for others. Without even saying a word, what you wear can have a significant effect on how others see you. In a study cited in Joe Navarro’s excellent book, Louder Than Words: Take Your Career from Average to Exceptional with the Hidden Power of Nonverbal Intelligence
Remember, credibility is not something you have, it’s something that others give or withhold, depending on what you do, say, and how you look. So you can decide to “be yourself” and not care what others think, but as Navarro says, “If your attire says you don’t care, trust me, others won’t care, either.”
Appearance is like an effective slide: it should support your communication goals without calling undue attention to itself. That’s why it’s a good idea to dress up or down to your audience’s expectations.
The way you sound also affects your credibility. Part of professional look and feel is how you sound. Avoid verbal typos, such as using words like “irregardless”, or mispronouncing words that you’ve picked up only through reading. If you’re not sure about your wording, ask others to point them out to you. I also note an increasing tendency to use profanity; Guy Kawasaki tells us in one of his books that it makes you more influential. I think he’s full of—stuff.
I began with appearance and sound because they are the most immediately apparent to someone else, but probably the most important factor in maintaining a credible look and feel over time is your professional demeanor. Are you always outwardly in control of your emotions and actions? Losing your temper, appearing frazzled all the time, or bringing your bad mood into the office can be a serious drain on your credibility.
So, now that you’ve read this, get on with your Friday. But tuck your shirt in first.
