I met recently for coffee with a former student of mine. She’s a rock star - an attorney and consultant and we met to catch up over coffee before she guest spoke in my Introduction to Law class at Emerson College. We shared about the work we’d done the past couple of years and glowed at each other's successes. When talking about my work as an Ombud, she asked me a question I'd never been asked before: Has it ever gone wrong?
As an Ombud, I see my job as triage - I'm the first place to go if you're not sure where to go. I meet people for the first time often when they’re anxious, angry, frustrated, sad and they need to share painful, sometimes embarrassing details about situations they’re facing in their workplaces. They’re looking for a safe space to be vulnerable in where they retain control over what - if anything - happens with what they share. They're looking for compassion, validation, connection and often advice, strategic ways to navigate situations where power and position and timing can often make situations feel like they’re overwhelming and insurmountable (but more often than not, they’re not, they just need help seeing that).
It's challenging and uncomfortable but as I tell everyone I teach and train to do conflict better: I live in the awkward. It’s imperative for me to create instant trust with folks because for our conversation to benefit them, they need to be completely honest about their truth (actual truth is often something slightly different). And I need to do and say the right things to make them feel that they’ve been heard, that I believe in their truth and that I'm there to support them even if I don’t agree with them...all in an hour or less. Somehow, in all the years I've been a mediator and Ombud, it's always managed to go well...or at least it hasn't gone wrong.
When my former student asked me if it had ever gone wrong, my mind immediately went to a recent meeting. It was with a tenure-track faculty member who was part of an otherwise all-male department. She walked in and after I explained that what we talked about was confidential and that she should feel free to share whatever she wanted to share, I noticed that she made herself very small in the chair. Her voice was soft with a faint accent and she made no eye contact, she just looked down into her lap and shifted nervously in her seat.
For the first ten minutes she spoke about her department and herself and for the first time in my career, I had no idea what she was looking for or how I could help her. I asked her outright how I might help. She talked about her tenure process (which, for anyone who doesn't know is much like a prolonged, sanctioned hazing ritual) and how she didn’t think those in charge of it were being responsive. I asked what she meant by "responsive" and she said that she had sent emails to one particular individual but he didn’t reply. I suggested that she call or text him if she had his number or, better yet, that she try to connect with him in person if they were both on campus.
She nodded and fell silent. Something else seemed to be bothering her and after asking some questions to check my understanding, I mentioned that sometimes when people don’t respond in the way we hope they will, or at all, our anxiety can make it seem that the negativity is directed at us; that it's intentional rather than just an extra busy week or that an email got buried. She nodded, said thank you and got up to leave. It had only been 15 minutes and I had the strong sense that I hadn’t helped her or even made a real connection with her. As she stood up to leave, I walked towards her and from the side I noticed a brightly colored pattern on her leg. Trying to make a genuine connection with her I said “I love the pattern on your pants”. She looked at me and said “what?”, I said, "the pattern, it’s lovely”. She responded “that’s my prosthetic leg.”
My heart sank and my stomach tightened. I said “I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t offend or make you uncomfortable”. She said "no" and left the room. I felt gutted - it was 15 minutes of the worst, most awkward interaction I had ever had and I couldn't figure out why. I tried to reconstruct our conversation and still couldn't understand what had gone wrong. I had this overwhelming need to try to talk with her again to see if I could do better or at least know what she was thinking, so I started drafting an email to her when there was a knock on my door.
When I opened it, she was standing there looking right at me as she blurted out "you know it doesn’t feel good to be told that the problem is just your anxiety." I was taken aback by her sudden eye contact, louder voice and directness. I said “I’m so glad you came back" and I apologized and said that wasn’t at all what I intended to convey. I asked her if she would come back in to talk because we still had 30 minutes left for our meeting and she agreed. I shared with her that I needed some guidance on how to be of help to her and she shared that she didn't know she could follow up with this individual who had made her feel ignored. In this moment it became clear to me: power, culture, gender and structure all came crashing in together to reveal that the expectations she understood as being in place were not the same expectations that needed to be in place for her. In other words, she was waiting for permission to advocate for herself.
I told her what I tell everyone I teach negotiation to: you are your best and often only advocate and if you're a woman, you'll likely get backlash for it anyway so just do it. She said she wasn’t sure she could. Then I reminded her that she had marched back to my door to tell me what she needed, looked me in the eye and told me how I didn't meet her needs in our meeting...and I told her that was self-advocacy. When I told her that if she could do it with me, she could do it with anyone she laughed and more importantly, she believed me.
Everything shifted in that moment. We spent the rest of our time strategizing what she could do to advocate for herself throughout her entire tenure process. I was so relieved that she came back and so grateful to have been of help to her and to have connected with her.
In February of this year I did my 7th “Negotiation with a Culture and Gender Lens” workshop for the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health (HCSPH) and I shared research showing that when the opportunity to negotiate is made explicit - the words "salary negotiable" in job postings, for example - women negotiate as often as men . I told participants, 60 or so women and men from around the world, that if they were waiting for permission to negotiate and self-advocate, this was it and that they had permission from now on. Some smiled, some exhaled deeply and I got some really lovely LinkedIn messages like the one below.
So, what are my points? Yes, things can go wrong, but if you stay engaged, keep trying and "marinate in the awkward" as I like to say, they can eventually turn out right. And, you are your best and often only advocate. Do not wait for permission to ask for what you need to succeed (but if you really need permission, you can find it here:
In March I traveled to Bahrain with Empower Peace, a group teaching young women leadership skills, for Bahrain's Women's Leadership Program. 50 young woman ages 15-18 who had been nominated by their schools attended the 4-day training which included leadership and communication skills that are critical to success in global society. My workshops were "The Art of Negotiation" and "The Art of the Difficult Conversation" (I didn't name them both), and they were focused on negotiation skills and productive conflict communication.
I left truly inspired by the amazing young women and awed by the beautiful island nation that is Bahrain.
Comentários