The only three true job interview questions are:

1.  Can you do the job?
2.  Will you love the job?
3.  Can we tolerate working with you?

That’s it.  Those three.  Think back, every question you’ve ever posed to others or had asked of you in a job interview is a subset of a deeper in-depth follow-up to one of these three key questions.  Each question potentially may be asked using different words, but every question, however it is phrased, is just a variation on one of these topics: Strengths, Motivation, and Fit.

Can You Do the Job? – Strengths

Executive Search firm Heidrick & Struggles CEO, Kevin Kelly explained to me that it’s not just about the technical skills, but also about leadership and interpersonal strengths.  Technical skills help you climb the ladder.  As you get there, managing up, down and across become more important.

You can’t tell by looking at a piece of paper what some of the strengths and weaknesses really are…We ask for specific examples of not only what’s been successful but what they’ve done that hasn’t gone well or a task they they’ve, quite frankly, failed at and how they learned from that experience and what they’d do different in a new scenario.

Not only is it important to look at the technical skill set they have…but also the strengths on what I call the EQ side of the equation in terms of getting along and dealing or interacting with people.

Will You Love the Job? -Motivation

Cornerstone International Group CEO, Bill Guy emphasizes the changing nature of motivation,

…younger employees do not wish to get paid merely for working hard—just the reverse: they will work hard because they enjoy their environment and the challenges associated with their work…. Executiveswho embrace this new management style are attracting and retaining better employees.

Can We Tolerate Working With You? – Fit

Continuing on with our conversation, Heidrick’s Kelly went on to explain the importance of cultural fit:

A lot of it is cultural fit and whether they are going to fit well into the organization…  The perception is that when (senior leaders) come into the firm, a totally new environment, they know everything.  And they could do little things such as send emails in a voicemail culture that tend to negatively snowball over time.  Feedback or onboarding is critical.  If you don’t get that feedback, you will get turnover later on.

He made the same point earlier in an interview with Smart Business, referencing Heidrick’s internal study of 20,000 searches.

40 percent of senior executives leave organizations or are fired or pushed out within 18 months. It’s not because they’re dumb; it’s because a lot of times culturally they may not fit in with the organization or it’s not clearly articulated to them as they joined.

Preparing for Interviews

If you’re the one doing the interviewing, get clear on what strengths, motivational and fit insights you’re looking for before you go into your interviews.

If you’re the one being interviewed, prepare by thinking through examples that illustrate your strengths, what motivates you about the organization and role you’re interviewing for, and the fit between your own preferences and the organization’s Behaviors, Relationships, Attitudes, Values, and Environment (BRAVE).  But remember that interviews are exercises in solution selling.  They are not about you.

Think of the interview process as a chance for you to show your ability to solve the organization and interviewer’s problem. That’s why you need to highlight strengths in the areas most important to the interviewers, talk about how you would be motivated by the role’s challenges, and discuss why you would be a BRAVE fit with the organization’s culture.

There are several components of this including positioning yourself for a leadership role, selling before you buy, mapping and avoiding the most common land mines, uncovering hidden risks in the organization, role, and fit, and choosing the right approach for your transition type.

A young woman I know is a star. In her early thirties, she had an M.B.A. and was already running a small division of a successful fashion company. She had that rare combination of design sense and business savvy that makes a virtuoso fashion executive.

The owner of her company noticed. And when the company’s president left, the owner tapped my friend for the job.

She had her doubts. In the job, she would be more disconnected from the design work she loved and she would be focused far more on finances and doing deals. More than anything, she would have to manage the owner who was temperamental. That wasn’t really her forte or interest.

On the other hand, what an opportunity! And honor! It would look amazing on her résumé, the money was great, and to be president at this young age? How could she turn it down?

So she took the job.

The first few months were grueling, but she expected that. What she didn’t expect is that it wouldn’t get better. She mastered the finances – and even enjoyed that part – but the politics of her relationship with the owner were sapping her energy. Things began to slip through the cracks. The designs began to sell less well. And the owner was becoming increasingly tense and erratic.

Within a few years, she left the job and the company.

If you think about it, the entire outcome was predictable.

We all have a sweet spot where everything seems to flow; where we feel happy, competent, in sync with everything around us, uniquely talented, and predictably successful. It feels like magic, but it’s not: It’s the intersection of our strengths, weaknesses, passions, and differences.

My friend, in taking the job, veered from her sweet spot.

The scenario is not uncommon. Of more than 10,000 people who have taken a productivity quiz on my website, a full 72% admit to doing work they neither excel at nor enjoy.

That’s a mistake. We should plan our work and our lives so that we operate in that intersection. Outside it? Chances are we’ll fail. We might succeed at first, but it won’t be sustainable.

So why do we ever leave our sweet spot? Sometimes, it’s because we want to learn. One of the reasons my friend took the position was to get experience running her own business.

But there’s another temptation at play: ego. A new job sounds impressive and the external rewards and recognition are significant, so we think we should take it, even when we might know in our gut it’s not the right fit.

A few years ago, I was asked to sit on the board of a non-profit. I was honored and I accepted. After a few meetings though, my enthusiasm started to wane. I liked the organization and I liked the people on the board, but I didn’t care enough to devote real time to it. It wasn’t something I was passionate enough about and it required that I be a strong fundraiser, definitely a weakness of mine. In other words, it failed two out of four of my sweet spot criteria.

Here’s the crazy thing: A year later, they asked me to be president of the board, and I accepted again. I lasted a year.

So, why did I accept? I’m embarrassed to say that, mostly, I liked the idea of being president of the board, even though the role took me out of my sweet spot.

At first glance, you might think the dilemma of seduction could be solved by being clear about what you want versus what other people what from you. That would be a fairly easy distinction to sort out.

But it’s more complicated than that. In fact, the dilemma is entirely within us: It’s between what we want and what we think we should want, which is hard to distinguish.

Still, in the midst of that complexity, there’s a simple way to assess an opportunity. Next time you’re given an “offer you can’t refuse,” ask yourself if it will place you squarely in your sweet spot. If it won’t, you know what to do.

As for my friend? She eventually started her own company. She works on the designs herself, which she loves, and is very close to the marketing, promotions and finances. And politics? Very little.

The company is successful, of course. She’s in her sweet spot.

About the Author

Peter Bregman speaks, writes, and consults on leadership. He is the CEO of Bregman Partners, Inc., a global management consulting firm, and the author of Point B: A Short Guide To Leading a Big Change.

[Via WSJ]

Brad* is as hard a worker as anyone I know. He’s not just busy, he’s keenly focused on getting the right things done. And it pays off — he is the largest single revenue generator at his well-known professional services firm.

A few days before Thanksgiving, Brad flew from Boston to Los Angeles with his family. He was going to work for the first few days and then relax with his family. During the flight, he decided not to use the plane’s internet access, choosing to talk and play with his children instead. A five-hour digital vacation.

When they landed, Brad turned on his BlackBerry and discovered that a crisis had developed while he was in the air and he had close to 500 email messages waiting for him.

So much for a digital vacation.

The truth is, we can’t ever really get away from it. There is no escaping the nonstop surge of email, text, voicemail, Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn — and that’s just the technology-based stream. How can we ever catch up?

We can’t.

The idea that we can get it all done is the biggest myth in time management. There’s no way Brad can meaningfully go through all his email and there’s no way any of us are going to accomplish everything we want to get done.

Face it: You’re a limited resource.

Each day only has 24 hours and we can’t sustainably work through all of them.
On the one hand, that’s depressing. On the other hand, acknowledging it can be tremendously empowering. Once we admit that we aren’t going to get it all done, we’re in a much better position to make explicit choices about what we are going to do. Instead of letting things haphazardly fall through the cracks, we can intentionally push the unimportant things aside and focus our energy on the things that matter most.

There are two main challenges in doing the right things: identifying “the right things” and “doing” them.

Most of us manage our time reactively, making choices based on the needs that land on our desks. To determine the “right things,” we need to make deliberate choices that will move us toward the outcomes we most want. Which, of course, also means that we need to make deliberate choices about what not to do. The world will take what it can from us. It’s never been more important to be strategic about what we choose to give it.

In terms of the second challenge — “doing” or following through — we need tools and rituals. We need an environment that makes it more likely that we will do the things that matter most and less likely that we will waste our time with meaningless, unproductive diversions. We need to know how to prioritize properly, delegate deliberately, tabulate to-do lists, and mitigate multi-tasking.

But which tools work best? Which rituals will help us follow through? If you spend all your time discovering and using all the advice you get from me and others, it could become a distraction to the work itself. Here’s a process to help you avoid turning time management into another excuse to procrastinate on your most important priorities.

1. Think for a moment about the time-management problems you face. Do you leave the office with a nagging feeling that you worked all day but didn’t get your most important work done? Do you feel like you aren’t taking advantage of your talents and passions? Are you distracted by little things? Avoiding big hairy projects? Do you interrupt yourself with email and other distractions? Try taking this three-minute quiz to discover where you are distracting yourself the most.
2. Once you’ve identified your biggest time-management challenges, choose a single one to tackle. Maybe you’re not clear on your “right things.” Maybe you use the wrong rituals. Maybe you strive for perfection. Pick the challenge that most often gets in your way. Then choose one time-management tactic to solve that challenge — just one of the many good suggestions you’ve encountered here and elsewhere.
3. If that tactic works, repeat the process with another challenge. If it doesn’t, try a new tactic. Continue to approach things this way, one at a time, so you can be sure what works for you and what doesn’t.

Brad, overwhelmed by his hundreds of emails, put his BlackBerry away and did nothing until he arrived in his hotel room. Then, using his laptop, he triaged his now more than 500 emails based on what he knew were his most important priorities, answering the ones he needed to and deleting the majority of them. Within an hour, he was done. He shut his laptop, left his BlackBerry in his room (gasp!), and enjoyed a fun, chaos-filled dinner with his family, which, at that time, was precisely the right thing for him to do.

*Names and some details have been changed

Jim Wolfensohn was a second-year student at the University of Sydney when a friend of his and the captain of the fencing team, Rupert Bligh, asked if he wanted to go to Melbourne the next day to fence in the national university championships.

“You’ve got to be mad,” Jim said. “I’ve never fenced in my life.”

Rupert wasn’t mad, just desperate. A member of the team had fallen ill and they needed a replacement to qualify for the event.

It was a crazy thing to consider. Jim had no money for the trip to Melbourne and no chance of success.

But he said yes, borrowed the money from his parents, and learned what he could from his new teammates on the train to Melbourne.

What a wonderful story this would be if it ended with Jim uncovering a hidden, inborn talent and vanquishing all his opponents. But that’s not this story. Jim lost every bout and failed to score a single point.

Still, he writes in his well-worth-the-read memoir, A Global Life, “I tried to invent new ways to score points on the opponent…I could not remember having such a good time ever before.”

Even with his losses, the team won the championship. And Jim stuck with fencing for years, eventually fencing in the 1956 Olympics and becoming President of the World Bank, a position he held from 1995 to 2005.

What does Jim’s fencing experience have to do with his esteemed business and political career? Everything.

Every life story is complex, with an infinite number of factors contributing to a person’s fate. And yet, there are patterns, ways in which we habitually interact with our experiences. Over time, those patterns become our destinies.

For most of us, our patterns can be seen early in our lives. Jim’s patterns — the ones that led him to great personal, business, and political success — were already clear in his failed fencing bouts.

First, some disclosure: I’ve known Jim most of my life and have always admired him, not just for his accomplishments, but also for his integrity as a person and as a leader. He’s always been on my short list of people I want to be like when I grow up. I’m still working on it.

So what’s the pattern behind Jim’s success?

Psychologists might focus on his upbringing. He grew up poor and developed the dynamic combination of insecurity and ambition that underlies so many stories of achievement.

Life coaches might point to his willingness to agree to opportunities that are larger than he can could handle — often without even really knowing what he was getting into — and then to work tirelessly to succeed, accepting help wherever he could find it.

Sure, consultants might offer, that’s part of it. But the real source of his success is his analytical mind and the disciplined way he solves problems. He enters a situation and assesses it, seeking to understand the system and figure out what’s getting in the way. He identifies the smallest number of actions that will have the biggest impact, and he follows through.

It’s his optimism, positive psychologists would likely suggest. How else could he say, after losing every bout, “I could not remember having such a good time ever before.” And his relationships gave him opportunities, as well. He never would have fenced if not for Rupert offering him a place on the team.

Yes, but he would not have been able to achieve anything if he were not capable, his professors at Harvard would argue. Jim is smart and skilled. He works hard. And he never stops learning. The story of his fencing trip to Melbourne is dramatic, but his success as a fencer — and as a business and world leader — is hidden in the long stretch between that bout and the Olympics. He spent years working hard, honing his skills, and increasing his talent.

Maybe Jim’s pattern is really an equation: Jim = integrity + insecurity + ambition + saying yes + asking for help + problem solving + optimism + relationships + capability. Like I said, every life story is complex.

But the more I think about Jim, the more clearly I see simplicity in his success. A single underlying force drove his decision-making. It’s the key that unlocked his equation. Without it, his tremendous talent would have lain dormant.

That key is a question.

Most people, when they explore an opportunity, next step, or decision, ask: “Will I succeed?”

But Jim asks a different question: “Is it worth the risk?”

The difference in those questions is the difference between never fencing at all and fencing in the Olympics. When Rupert asked Jim to fence in the championships, there’s no chance he could have succeeded. Failure was the inevitable outcome. But was it worth the risk? For Jim, it certainly was.

Jim’s approach to life is to take a risk, learn from it, and take his new knowledge and understanding to the next risk. Failure is an essential part of his strategy.

Really taking risks requires failing. You have to fear failure enough to work hard to make the risks pan out successfully, but not so much that you don’t take the risks in the first place. Viewed through the lens of learning, failure is at least as beneficial as success. Working only on things you’re pretty sure will work significantly limits what you can achieve. Instead, take risks. And then see what happens.

After serving as President of the World Bank, Jim was asked by President George W. Bush to be the Special Envoy for Gaza Disengagement for the Middle East. If he had asked, “Will it work?” he would never have agreed to such a task. Instead, he asked the only question that matters — “Is it worth the risk?” — and took the job.

About the Author

Peter Bregman speaks, writes, and consults on leadership. He is the CEO of Bregman Partners, Inc., a global management consulting firm, and the author of Point B: A Short Guide To Leading a Big Change.

(Via HBR)

On a recent hectic business trip to Florence, I lucked out; my client booked me into the Four Seasons. The hotel consists of two restored Renaissance palaces, separated by 11 acres of garden. I was thrilled.

That is, until I arrived and saw that my room was in the more distant building. Every time I entered the hotel, I had to walk the length of the garden to my room.

My days were jam-packed with consulting, and I still had all my other work to take care of. That long, forced walk was going to steal valuable time in my day, time I could scarcely afford.

At first I entered the garden annoyed and walked through with speed and determination. But, to my surprise, each time I walked through the garden, I walked a little more slowly. Eventually, that garden walk became a transformative experience. As I meandered along the winding paths, my mind began to wander too, making connections, drawing insights, and developing ideas.

In our fast-paced, productivity-focused lives and workplaces, we are losing our gardens — literally and figuratively. We need to reclaim them.

I had lunch recently with Rajip, the Chief Technology Officer of a large investment bank. When we returned to his office after spending an hour together, he had received 138 new email messages. As we talked, the email dings kept ringing out. “How can I possibly keep up?” he asked me.

He can’t. Rajip has close to 10,000 employees in his group. “I have no time to think,” he complained to me.

I have no time to think. Possibly the six scariest words uttered by a leader. But they don’t scare us anymore because they are so commonplace. We don’t need 10,000 employees to feel too busy to think. Almost all of us feel the same way.

It’s not that we’re unproductive; we’re astoundingly productive. We produce deliverables. We make decisions. We create and spend budgets. We direct our teams. We write proposals.

Actually, in some ways, our productivity is the problem. Something’s lost in an environment of manic productivity: learning.

These busy days, we rarely analyze our experiences thoughtfully, contemplate the views of others carefully, or evaluate how the outcomes of our decisions should affect our future choices. Those things take time. They require us to slow down. And who has the time for that? So we reflect less and limit our growth.

Often, it’s only when our lives are forcibly disrupted that we slow down long enough to learn. An illness, a job loss, the death of a loved one — they all compel us to stop and think and evaluate things. But those are unwelcome disruptions and, hopefully, they don’t occur often.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could learn continuously without forced disruptions? If we could disrupt ourselves for a few moments every day in order to think and learn?

What we need is a few minutes to walk in a metaphorical garden.

My suggestion to Rajip? Think about where you do your best thinking and make it a habit to go there daily. I have made it a practice to take a variety of garden walks daily.

One garden walk is outdoor exercise. If I go for a bike ride, a run, or a walk, it’s practically inevitable that I’ll figure something out and come back with a better perspective. This is my favorite, most dependable garden for creative ideas.

Another is writing. As I write, my ideas develop and my experiences gently nudge me towards my continuously developing worldview. There’s no need to share the writing — a private journal works well — and it doesn’t have to take more than a few minutes.

Conversations with friends and colleagues reliably provide me with a refreshing and instructive walk in the garden. This depends on the generosity of those around me and I’m careful not to abuse that. I usually start the conversation with some version of: “Do you have a few minutes to think about something with me?” I don’t let it turn into a gripe session, and I keep it focused on questioning my view, rather than seeking confirmation of it.

Garden walks can be very quick; you just have to periodically prioritize thinking over tinkering. I set my watch to beep hourly, and, when it does, I ask myself how the last hour went and what I plan to do over the next hour. One minute is almost no time, but it’s enough of a pause to be useful. And, as I mentioned in a previous post, The Best Way to Use the Last Five Minutes of Your Day, I take a few minutes every afternoon before leaving the office to evaluate what I experienced that day.

Chris Fox, profiled by Fast Company as one of the 100 Most Creative People in Business, manages all the engineers and designers working on Facebook. Like Rajip, he doesn’t have the luxury of lots of time to think. “My commute is my most productive creative time,” he said, “I’m not focusing on anything but I still have the energy of intense focus.”

Unfocused focus. Sounds like a nice walk in a garden.

Some names and some details changed

About the Author

Peter Bregman speaks, writes, and consults on leadership. He is the CEO of Bregman Partners, Inc., a global management consulting firm, and the author of Point B: A Short Guide To Leading a Big Change.

(Via HBR)

What do you do when you have a communication impasse with someone you care about?

Jim* is a friend and colleague whom I hadn’t seen for a year. It’s been a hard year for Jim and I called him frequently as he navigated his business through tough times.

When I last saw him, Jim asked me to meet with a client of his, Ed, for a few minutes as a favor. I agreed. But when I arrived at Ed’s office a few days later, the receptionist told me he was out of the country. He had been expecting me a day earlier, she said, and was disappointed when I hadn’t shown up. I apologized and left.

I immediately called Jim, who checked his email and discovered that he had given Ed the wrong day. I told him I was embarrassed and asked him to send a handwritten note to the client apologizing and explaining the error. He promised he would.

We hadn’t talked about the missed meeting since it happened. Jim’s troubled business had been the focus of our conversations. But I was speaking at a conference in a week and I expected Ed to be there; I wanted to know how things had resolved.

So, recently, when I saw Jim, I asked him whether he had written the letter. He got angry and snapped at me. “I didn’t write the letter. Peter, I’m broke. I haven’t had a minute to do anything. Can’t you understand that?”

I was taken aback, hurt. I mumbled something and walked away. But I couldn’t get it out of my head. Why was he snapping at me?

I’ve always believed that if I simply talk things through with someone I can resolve any issue. So I walked back to him.

“Jim,” I said, “I know it’s been a hard year, but why are you lashing out at me? I asked about the letter because I might see Ed at a conference. The letter isn’t such a big deal to me, but your response really bothers me.”

“Well,” he answered, “I’m sorry my response bothers you.”

Sorry my response bothers you. He didn’t apologize for asking me for a favor and then putting me in an embarrassing situation. He didn’t apologize for not writing the letter. He didn’t even apologize for his response. All he did was acknowledge that his response bothered me. Which bothered me even more.

Intellectually, I understand what was going on. Having a business crash is highly emotional, very strained, and extremely difficult. In that light, my question about the letter seemed trivial and out of place. Add to that his own shame about not having followed through on his commitment and the result was misplaced anger towards me. I get it.

But emotionally it felt like a betrayal of all I had done to support him over the past year. And it left me wondering: Now what?

I could try to talk with him about it again. But I was pretty sure it would go the same way and I would leave feeling more hurt.

I could go around talking to other people about him, getting their perspective, complaining. But that’s not who I want to be.

I could write him off completely. But we travel in the same circles and it’s unlikely we could avoid each other. I didn’t want to get that rush of negative adrenaline every time we were in the same room. And anyway, do I really want to write off everyone whose actions hurt me? I’m sensitive; I might end up alone. Finally, and perhaps most important, I really like Jim. He’s been a good friend for 20 years and I enjoy his company. He’s funny, interesting, and often warm. I don’t want the friendship to end.

The rest of the party was awkward and I left with a bad feeling, not knowing what to do. Eventually, I called my smartest advisor.

My mother is surrounded by people who love her. Recently she told me she was going out with someone who had, quite literally, betrayed her; he went behind her back to buy a rare item that had been promised to her. The seller maintained his commitment to my mother and my mother maintained her relationship with both the seller and the betrayer. How was she able to get over it?

“I know what to expect from him,” she told me of her betrayer. “That’s the kind of person he is.”

“Did you ever talk to him about it?” I asked her.

“No,” she said, “Why should I? It wouldn’t make a difference. I’m not going to change him. And talking about it won’t change the situation.”

“But how can you still spend time with him? Don’t you get angry when you see him?”

“I’m too tired to be angry every time someone does something I don’t like. And I don’t want to be alienated from everyone. I enjoy him for his other attributes. But I know what to expect from him.”

My mother’s insight is profound. Her advice?

Live with it.

Jim’s response isn’t about me, it’s about Jim, and I’m living in the space between never speaking to him again and trying to fix things by speaking to him. That space is called accepting people as they are.

Jim’s response informs me about Jim. He has a reputation for snapping at people and for using anger to intimidate and avoid. It’s just that he never directed it towards me before. It’s a part of his character. He may change but I’m not counting on it. My interaction with him offered me data. Data that tells me more about what I should expect from Jim in the future.

But snapping at me isn’t all I should expect from him. And knowing that lets me appreciate the parts of Jim I like without becoming distracted by the parts I don’t. It lets me accept him fully for who he is, without illusion. And it keeps me safe in our relationship when he acts in ways I don’t like.

In retrospect, I would still ask Jim if he had written the letter. But when he snapped at me, I would have said, “I know this year has been hard for you and I’m sorry you’ve had to go through that. I understand you didn’t write the note. That’s good to know in case I see Ed at the conference next week.” And leave it at that. No hurt. No anger. No avoidance. No passive-aggressive comeback. Just acceptance of the situation and of Jim.

Will my relationship with Jim be more superficial from now on? At first, I was sure it would. But I’m going to try hard not to let it. People are imperfect. That includes my mother’s betrayer, it includes Jim, and it also includes me.

Which makes it all the more important not to write off Jim. If I did, then I’d end up writing myself off too. Accepting Jim’s imperfection and limitations enables me to accept my own.

Which now includes the realization that no matter how good I think I am at communicating, there are some situations I can’t resolve with more communication.

*Names and some details changed

About the Author

Peter Bregman speaks, writes, and consults on leadership. He is the CEO of Bregman Partners, Inc., a global management consulting firm, and the author of Point B: A Short Guide To Leading a Big Change.

(Via HBR)

I know how to handle stress. I know that each day I need to get seven or eight hours of sleep and an hour or so of exercise. I know I need to meditate for a few minutes and eat normal sized, well-balanced meals. I know I need to take deep, calming breaths throughout the day.

I know all this and, for the most part — disregarding the second bowl of chocolate chips mixed with peanut butter and Rice Krispies I just devoured — I do those things.

And yet, even knowing — and doing — the right things to manage stress effectively, I’m still stressed. Almost overwhelmingly.

The work-related things that are stressing me this week are on top of the normal demands of life — raising three children, each with their unique set of blessings and challenges; making time for an amazing wife who has stresses of her own; and growing my own business. These are all good stresses to have. I’m healthy, my family is healthy, my business is healthy, and our finances are healthy.

But stress doesn’t discriminate between good and bad. It comes, unbidden, anytime we are in a situation in which we are worried about an outcome we feel is beyond our control. So we complain. We gossip. We get snarky. Which quickly infects those around us. And then they complain, gossip, and snark. Pretty soon we’re competing for who’s most stressed. Who’s got the most work. Who’s got the most ungrateful, unreasonable boss. Which, of course, just makes us all more stressed. What is the best way to cope with feeling overwhelmed while also managing the complaining, gossiping, snarky colleague? How should we respond without becoming that person ourselves?

Offer to do some of their work for them

I know it sounds crazy because you’re already so busy. Probably busier than then they are. Even if you did have the time and energy to help them, you might not be feeling so generous towards them because all of their complaining is annoying. On top of that, if you’re competing for who’s the busiest, how will it look to offer to do their work? You’ll lose that battle for sure. But you’ll win the war on stress.

We complain because we feel alone and disconnected in our stress. So we gossip to create camaraderie with our fellow gossiper. We get snarky about our boss to align ourselves with our colleague.

But complaining and gossiping are like my chocolate chip peanut butter Rice Krispies mixture — they make us feel good while we’re doing it, but we feel worse immediately afterward. Complaining breeds distrust with our colleagues, it infuses the office with negativity, it wastes time, and it solidifies our sense of isolation. Offering to take some of their work, on the other hand, achieves the opposite; it creates connection, which, ultimately, is what we’re after.

If someone we’re really in serious trouble — think of the people in Japan after the tsunami — we wouldn’t hesitate to reach out and help. Think of this as that same, generous, human response only on a much smaller, less critical scale.

The unexpected offer will immediately change the dynamic. Who would continue to complain in the face of an offer to share the burden? It builds trust, creates a positive work atmosphere, and gets things done.

It also helps you get your own work done. Reaching out in an act of generosity makes you feel better and moves you away from your stress and toward your productivity. By acting as if you have the capacity to help someone out, you actually gain that capacity.

So how should you do it?

1. Listen without contributing or competing

Empathize with the other person’s challenge. Resist the temptation to join in, add your own juicy piece of gossip, or talk about how much work you have and how hard it is for you, too. Just listen.

2. Acknowledge the challenge she is facing

In one or two short sentences, let them know that you understand they’re in a tough, stressful spot. Don’t patronize; don’t add on. This might be hard if you feel like you’re in a tough spot, too, but you don’t need to agree with what they’re saying. You just need to convey that you hear what they’re saying.

3. Offer to help in a specific way

Maybe they’re dreading a conversation with someone and you can offer to intervene on their behalf. Maybe you can help them out in a personal way like grabbing lunch for them when you get your own, saving them the trip. Don’t worry that they might become dependent on your doing their work for them. Sure there’s a risk they might take you for granted. But, more likely, they’ll be appreciative, stop complaining, and you’ll both get to work with renewed energy. Next time, they might even do the same for you. Which is how a great, productive team operates.

The other night I fell into the trap of complaining to my wife Eleanor about how busy and stressed I was, even though I knew how busy and stressed she was. She didn’t compete. She listened, told me she could see how stressed I was, and then, even though the next day was my morning with the kids, she offered to wake up with them at 6 a.m. while I slept a little later.

It completely changed the dynamic. I stopped complaining and immediately realized how fortunate I am. Later that next day when she needed time to do some work, I offered to cover for her. Which made me feel even better than sleeping late.

Now you may be thinking, this is your wife, of course she should help you. You two are partners in life. The way we manage workloads with our colleagues is different. But does it need to be? Why can’t we take small steps at work to share an individual’s load in the interest of the well-being of the team?

I’m still super busy. I still have all these obligations that are hanging over me. Nothing material has changed. And yet everything has changed. Because even though I’m singularly responsible for achieving my obligations, somehow, I don’t feel alone in them.

About the Author

Peter Bregman speaks, writes, and consults on leadership. He is the CEO of Bregman Partners, Inc., a global management consulting firm, and the author of Point B: A Short Guide To Leading a Big Change.

(Via HBR)