It was lunchtime and the seven of us — two kids and five adults — would be in the car for the next three hours as we drove from New York City to upstate Connecticut for the weekend.

We decided to get some takeout at a place on the corner of 88th and Broadway. I pulled along the curb and ran in to get everyone’s orders.

In no time, Isabelle, my eight year old, came running in the restaurant.

“Daddy! Come quick! The police are giving you a ticket!”

I ran outside.

“Wait, don’t write the ticket, I’ll move it right away,” I offered.

“Too late,” she said.

“Come on! I was in there for three minutes. Give me a break.”

“You’re parked in front of a bus stop.” She motioned halfway down the block.

“All the way down there?” I protested.

She said nothing.

“You can’t be serious!” I flapped my arms.

“Once I start writing the ticket, I can’t stop.” She handed me the ticket.

“But you didn’t even ask us to move! Why didn’t you ask us to move?” I continued to argue as she walked away.

And that’s when it hit me: arguing was a waste of my time.

Not just in that situation with that police officer. I’m talking about arguing with anyone, anywhere, any time. It’s a guaranteed losing move.

Think about it. You and someone have an opposing view and you argue. You pretend to listen to what she’s saying but what you’re really doing is thinking about the weakness in her argument so you can disprove it. Or perhaps, if she’s debunked a previous point, you’re thinking of new counter-arguments. Or, maybe, you’ve made it personal: it’s not just her argument that’s the problem. It’s her. And everyone who agrees with her.

In some rare cases, you might think the argument has merit. What then? Do you change your mind? Probably not. Instead, you make a mental note that you need to investigate the issue more to uncover the right argument to prove the person wrong.

When I think back to just about every argument I’ve ever participated in — political arguments, religious arguments, arguments with Eleanor or with my children or my parents or my employees, arguments about the news or about a business idea or about an article or a way of doing something — in the end, each person leaves the argument feeling, in many cases more strongly than before, that he or she was right to begin with.

How likely is it that you will change your position in the middle of fighting for it? Or accept someone else’s perspective when they’re trying to hit you over the head with it?

Arguing achieves a predictable outcome: it solidifies each person’s stance. Which, of course, is the exact opposite of what you’re trying to achieve with the argument in the first place. It also wastes time and deteriorates relationships.

There’s only one solution: stop arguing.

Resist the temptation to start an argument in the first place. If you feel strongly about something in the moment, that’s probably a good sign that you need time to think before trying to communicate it.

If someone tries to draw you into an argument? Don’t take the bait. Change the subject or politely let the person know you don’t want to engage in a discussion about it.

And if it’s too late? If you’re in the middle of an argument and realize it’s going nowhere? Then you have no choice but to pull out your surprise weapon. The strongest possible defense, guaranteed to overcome any argument:

Listening.

Simply acknowledge the other and what he’s saying without any intention of refuting his position. If you’re interested, you can ask questions — not to prove him wrong — but to better understand him.

Because listening has the opposite effect of arguing. Arguing closes people down. Listening slows them down. And then it opens them up. When someone feels heard, he relaxes. He feels generous. And he becomes more interested in hearing you.

That’s when you have a shot of doing the impossible: changing that person’s mind. And maybe your own. Because listening, not arguing, is the best way to shift a perspective.

Then, when you want to leave the conversation, say something like,”Thanks for that perspective.” Or “I’ll have to think about that,” and walk away or change the subject.

I’m not saying you should let someone bully you. This weekend I was in a long line and someone cut in front of me. I told him it wasn’t okay and he started yelling, telling me — and the people around me — that he was there all the time, which was clearly not true. I began to argue with him which, of course, proved useless and only escalated the fight.

Eventually a woman in the line simply drew a boundary. She said, “No, it’s not okay to simply walk in here when the rest of us are waiting” and she stepped forward and ignored the bully. We all followed her lead and, eventually, he went to the back of the line. Arguments: 0. Boundaries: 1.

When I went online to pay the parking fine, I tried to dispute the ticket. Before arguing my case though, a screen popped up offering me a deal: pay the penalty with a 25% discount, or argue and, if I lose, pay the entire fine. I thought I had a good case so I argued and, a few weeks later, lost the case.

Next time, I’m taking the deal.

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 was walking down Main Street in Park City, Utah during the Sundance Film Festival with my friend Allison*, a casting director who seemed to know everyone. We stopped to say hello to an actor who was disappointed by the reception he was getting at the festival. “Actors are who really make the movie,” he told me. “The script is just black and white on a page. It’s the actor who breathes life into the words.”

Later, we bumped into another friend of Allison, a writer who had a movie in the festival. He too was feeling dissatisfied and the conversation was remarkably similar. “A movie is created by the writer,” he told us, “It’s the writer who invents the story, who’s responsible for the film.” We didn’t speak with a director on that walk, but I’m confident that if we had, we would have heard the claim that films are most influenced by the creative voice of the director.

That walk happened to be down Main Street during Sundance but it could have been down the corridor in almost any office building during a typical day.

Who is responsible–and should get the most credit–for a product or service that brings in high revenues? The team who designed it? The people who marketed it? The sales force who sold it? The service reps who gave customers the confidence to buy it? The executive leadership team who strategized it?

Not every person on the team is equally valuable, right? Think of a sports team–there are stars, who get paid tens of millions, and then there are the other players, who make, well, a lot less. It’s simple supply and demand: some people are more easily replaceable than others.

So, logically, we would have to say that the highest paid, most visible, most irreplaceable people are responsible for the greatness of the product or service. Until we look at the list of Oscar nominees for 2010.

What’s most interesting about the list isn’t which movies were nominated for Best Picture. What’s most interesting is what other categories the Best Picture winners were nominated for.

Best Picture nominee, Black Swan, for example, was also nominated for Directing, Actress in a Leading Role, Cinematography, and Film Editing.

Best Picture nominee The Fighter was also nominated for Original Screenplay, Directing, Film Editing, Actor in a Supporting Role, and two nominations for Actresses in Supporting Roles.

Best Picture Nominee Inception was also nominated for Original Screenplay, Art Direction, Cinematography, Original Score, Sound Editing, Sound Mixing, and Visual Effects.

Best Picture nominee The King’s Speech was nominated for a total of eleven other awards.True Grit had nine other nominations. The Social Network, seven.

And, perhaps most telling, the number of Best Picture nominees with no nominations in other categories? None. In fact, to be nominated for Best Picture, a film had to be best in at least three other categories.

In other words, a movie is only considered great when all the various parts are independently, and collaboratively, great. It’s never entirely the talent of a single person or team. It’s never even mostly the talent of a single person or team. Even when that person is Mark Wahlburg, or Natalie Portman, or a Coen brother.

In total, the ten Best Picture movies were nominated for 5 directing awards, 9 screenplay awards, 15 acting awards, and 29 other awards. I call these others the back office awards–like film editing, sound mixing, cinematography, and art direction.

It is unlikely that any of these movies would be nominated for best picture–and even more unlikely that they would win–if not for the stellar work done by the teams and people we rarely see and almost never acknowledge. We probably don’t even know what most of them do.

It is almost always a mistake to highlight an individual, a role, or a team as responsible for the success of a venture in which a group contributes. Those we spoke to at Sundance might have each been correct in thinking that they don’t get enough credit. But they were also each wrong in thinking of themselves as deserving the credit.

The best producers–arguably the CEO of the movie–understand this. I spoke to one highly accomplished producer who told me that the film world highlights directors because, from a PR standpoint, it helps to have a focal point for a movie. Like a brand name for a company. But, he told me, putting all the focus on a great director or a famous actor is clearly not the way to make a great movie. Did you see The Tourist? Even Johnny Depp and Angelina Jolie can’t save a bad film.

The best leaders know this–they don’t just devote lip service to it–they really know it to be true. And they convey it through their own humility. Humility isn’t just an attitude, it’s a skill. The most effective people are highly confident (they know they add significant value) and manifestly humble (they recognize the immense value added by those around them). The skill is letting those around them know it.

At the end of our walk down Main Street in Park City, I turned to my friend Allison and asked her whether she wasn’t the most important person in a film because she chose many of the people who would make it successful.

“Oh, I’m important,” she told me smiling, then added “At least as important as everyone else.”

* Names and some details changed

About the Author

Peter Bregman writes a weekly column called How We Work at Harvard Business. He speaks, writes, and consults about how to lead and how to live. He is the CEO of Bregman Partners, Inc., a global management consulting firm, and advises CEOs and their leadership teams. You can sign up to be notified of new articles. Bregman is the author of Point B: A Short Guide To Leading a Big Change and the forthcoming 18 Minutes: Find Your Focus, Master Distraction, and Get the Right Things Done to be published in September. Peter can be found at PeterBregman.com or @PeterBregman.

[Via FastCompany]

“Listen, I would love the reorg to work. But I just can’t trust them.”

I had called Mary* as part of my preparation for an offsite with the leaders of a fast-growing financial services firm. Mary was talking about the newly reorganized HR department.

Before, when she could trust them, Mary had a dedicated HR person — Lucinda — to address her needs. But now? Now she had to call a shared services group who were, collectively, responsible for following through on her requests.

“Why can’t you trust them?” I asked.

Mary had a hard time answering. It wasn’t that they had failed to deliver — but she was pretty sure they would. With so many different people involved, how could things not fall through the cracks?

“The more people juggling,” Mary told me, “the higher the risk of someone, somewhere, dropping a ball.”

True. But there’s another, more positive, side to group juggling: the more people juggling, the more likely someone, somewhere will be able to catch a ball that an otherwise busy, overwhelmed individual would have dropped.

“How do we keep them accountable?” Mary asked, still uncomfortable. “At least with Lucinda, responsibility was clear.”

Mary had a point. Which got me thinking: when does a ball usually get dropped? I thought of all the mishaps, mishandles, and mistakes I had witnessed in the past month and realized they could all be traced to a single point in time: the handoff.

For the most part, problems didn’t arise because of incompetence, laziness, or disinterest. They arose because of poor communication. At the moment two people were discussing what needed to get done, something, somehow, went awry.

The solution can’t be as simple as one point of contact because, in a large, complex, global organization, one point of contact is never simple. The solution has to be even simpler than that. It has to work with one point of contact or many. It has to work across the hierarchy, across departments, and across all silos.

As I finished my pre-offsite interviews, I made a single request of each leader: read The Checklist Manifesto by Atul Gawande.

A physician and writer, Gawande describes doctors who resist the checklist — it’s too simple, insulting even — and then shows us how hospital staff who follow a checklist save more lives than most medical “miracle drugs” or procedures.

Gawande makes a strong case for why experts need checklists, especially for the most mundane of tasks. The more expert we are in something, the more we take things for granted, and, as a result, miss the obvious.

Most of us think we communicate well. Which, ironically, is why we often leave out important information (we believe others already know it). Or fail to be specific about something (we think others already understand it). Or resist clarifying (we don’t want to insult other people).

Thankfully, there’s a simple solution: create a checklist and use it during every handoff.

During the offsite, the leadership team looked at where problems happened in the past and where they were likely to happen in the future. Almost all were during handoffs.

So we developed the following mandatory “handoff checklist” — questions that the person handing off work must ask the person taking accountability for delivery:

Handoff Checklist

• What do you understand the priorities to be?
• What concerns or ideas do you have that have not already been mentioned?
• What are your key next steps, and by when do you plan to accomplish them?
• What do you need from me in order to be successful?
• Are there any key contingencies we should plan for now?
• When will we next check-in on progress/issues?
• Who else needs to know our plans, and how will we communicate them?

Time it takes to go through the checklist? One to five minutes. Time (and trust) saved by going through the checklist? Immeasurable.

We came up with this checklist because it addressed the most common reasons for dropping balls in this particular organization. Your handoff checklist may be different.

Here’s what’s compelling about an established checklist: it not only reduces mistakes, it reduces the need for courage.

Why would we need courage? Imagine you just finished explaining the priorities of a project to someone. Wouldn’t it seem a little patronizing, a little insulting to their intelligence, to ask them to tell you what they understood the priorities to be?

With an established checklist, it’s no longer offensive; it’s standard. And when they answer, often with a slight misunderstanding of the priorities, you can correct them on the spot, saving them two weeks of misguided work and the loss of trust that goes along with it. That’s the power of the checklist.

A few months after the offsite, I called Mary to ask her how it was working. Was the new HR Shared Services organization delivering? Did she miss Lucinda?

“Sure I miss Lucinda,” she told me, “but I don’t need her.”

Then she pulled out her checklist to make sure we were both on the same page for our work going forward.

*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)

My wife Eleanor and I were alone on a three-week kayak expedition in Prince William Sound in Alaska. Eleanor was in college; I had just graduated. We had spent plenty of time in the wilderness but never just the two of us, and never this kind of wilderness. When we landed in Anchorage, I looked around for a currency exchange desk before Eleanor reminded me we were still in the U.S.

Prior to arriving, we prepared meticulously, studying the nautical charts, plotting our route, and practicing our kayaking skills. We paddled into the nastiest surf we could find and then rolled ourselves upside down to see how quickly we could either roll back over or get back in the kayak if we came out. In Prince William Sound, there’s no margin for error. You can survive in the freezing water only four to five minutes.

Now that we were on Prince William Sound, we were thankful for all the preparations we had done. And knowing how quickly the weather changes in Alaska, we had a ritual of precautions we took every morning before pushing the boat off the relative safety of the beach. We carefully packed everything in waterproof bags and placed those bags in the watertight compartments in our boat. We kept all our essentials — VHF radio, sun block, signal mirror, peanut butter, and chocolate chips: the stuff we couldn’t live without — in a dry bag in my kayak cockpit.

And every morning, before we left shore, we asked the same question: If we died today, what mistake would Sea Kayakermagazine get us for?

Before coming to Alaska, I read through the accident reports in every past issue of Sea Kayaker magazine I could get my hands on. The reports identified the mistakes and poor decisions people made that led, more often than I shared with my parents, to their deaths.

One person knew he shouldn’t paddle that day because the weather was bad and the surf was rough, but he had a meeting to get to and didn’t want to miss the ferry home. Well, he missed that ferry and every one since. Another kayaker, on the last day of his trip, didn’t bother to pack his gear in waterproof bags since he didn’t expect to need it. But then a wave hit his boat, and he flipped, and everything got wet. He got back to shore but had nothing to keep him warm, and, eventually, died of hypothermia. Then there was the Outward Bound course that found itself surprised by strong winds and currents off the coast of Baja. Three of the students died.

So each morning, before pushing our kayaks away from shore, I stood there for a few minutes thinking about the day — our plan, the weather, our gear, pull-out points, our skills, challenges we might encounter — and then I asked the question: If we died today, what mistake would Sea Kayaker magazine get us for?

And now, years later, from the safety of my office chair, I still think that’s the right mentality with which to approach each day. The questions are slightly different. The risks are very different. But the idea is the same: are you prepared for this day? For the meetings you have planned? Have you really thought about the work you plan to do? Anticipated the risks that might take you off track? Are you focused on the larger goals you want to achieve? Will your plan for this day bring you one day closer to achieving them? And, finally, if something goes terribly wrong, what mistake would you get yourself for at the end of the day? (See my last post, The Best Way to Use the Last Five Minutes of Your Day, for advice on how to incorporate a five-minute review into your daily routine.)

In Alaska, we completed our trip successfully because we took the time to prepare for each day as if that day was the most important day of our lives. Because, in fact, the risks were great enough that if we had not prepared that way, it might have been the most important day of our lives — the last one.

Why not treat today, given that it’s the only day you’ve got right now, with the same importance?

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)

Julie Anko*, the head of a division of a retail company I work with, was at risk of getting fired. Here’s the crazy thing: she was a top performer. She had done more for the brand in the past year than any of her predecessors had in five years.

The problem was that she was a bear to work with. She worked harder than seemed humanly possible and expected the same of others, often losing her temper when they wouldn’t put in the same herculean effort she did. She was also competitive and territorial; she wanted the final say on all decisions remotely related to her brand even when her peers technically had the authority to make a decision. She wasn’t good at listening to others or empowering them or helping them feel good about themselves or the team. And, though she was working all hours, things were falling through the cracks.

But none of that was the problem for which she was at risk of being fired. The real problem was that she didn’t think she had a problem.

I was asked to work with her, and my first step was to interview everyone with whom she worked in order to understand the situation and share their perspectives with her.
When I did share the feedback, her response surprised me. “I didn’t know it was that bad,” she said, “but it doesn’t surprise me.” I asked her why.

“This is the same feedback I received at my previous company,” she said, “it’s why I left.”
We could look at Julie and laugh at her ignorance. At her unwillingness to look at her failures and, as a result, repeat them. But the laugh would be a nervous one. Because many of us — and this includes me — do the same thing.

I’m often amazed at how many times something has to happen to me before I figure it out. I believe that most of us get smarter as we get older. But somehow, despite that, we often make the same mistakes. On the flip side — but no less comforting — we often do many things right and then fail to repeat them.

There’s a simple reason for it: we rarely take the time to pause, breathe, and think about what’s working and what’s not. There’s just too much to do and no time to reflect.
I was once asked: if an organization could teach only one thing to its employees, what single thing would have the most impact? My answer was immediate and clear: teach people how to learn. How to look at their past behavior, figure out what worked, and repeat it while admitting honestly what didn’t and change it.

If a person can do that well, everything else takes care of itself. That’s how people become life-long learners. And it’s how companies become learning organizations. It requires confidence, openness, and letting go of defenses. But here’s what it doesn’t require: much time.

It only takes a few minutes. About five actually. A brief pause at the end of the day to consider what worked and what didn’t.

Here’s what I propose:

Every day, before leaving the office, save a few minutes to think about what just happened. Look at your calendar and compare what actually happened — the meetings you attended, the work you got done, the conversations you had, the people with whom you interacted, even the breaks you took — with your plan for what you wanted to have happen. Then ask yourself three sets of questions:

• How did the day go? What success did I experience? What challenges did I endure?
• What did I learn today? About myself? About others? What do I plan to do — differently or the same — tomorrow?
• Who did I interact with? Anyone I need to update? Thank? Ask a question? Share feedback?

This last set of questions is invaluable in terms of maintaining and growing relationships. It takes just a few short minutes to shoot off an email — or three — to share your appreciation for a kindness someone extended, to ask someone a question, or to keep someone in the loop on a project.

If we don’t pause to think about it, we are apt to overlook these kinds of communications. And we often do. But in a world where we depend on others to achieve anything in life, they are essential.

After several long conversations, Julie came to appreciate the efficiency of slowing down enough to see the others around her. She saw that she was working so hard and moving so fast, that even if she was delivering quality results, she was working against herself, putting her job at risk, and making things harder for everyone.

So, over time and with great discipline, she began to change. And, slowly, people began to notice. I knew things were going to be OK when I left her a message expecting a call back in several weeks, if at all, but she called me back that evening.

“Hi Peter,” she said, “I just wanted to let you know I got your call and I appreciate you reaching out to me. I’m heading out with the team for some drinks. I’ll try you again in a few days.”

And, sure enough, she did.

*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)

A few weeks ago was my birthday. I turned 43.

43 doesn’t mark a new decade. It’s not one of those birthdays people usually celebrate in a grand way, and mine was no exception. No one threw me a lavish surprise party. I had a few small dinners with close friends and family. I opened two presents.

And yet as I emerge from this birthday, I can’t imagine feeling any more appreciated, respected, and loved. Because on this particular not-a-big-deal birthday, in addition to those two presents, I received some other gifts — gifts that cost nothing, and that I have come to realize are, actually, a very big deal.

As we enter this holiday season, it makes sense to pause for a moment and think about gifts. What’s the point of them?

On a basic level, we give gifts because we’re supposed to. On certain occasions — birthdays, anniversaries, dinner parties, the end of the year — it’s customary.

Underlying that custom is an important purpose: appreciation. We give people gifts to show them that we are grateful for them and value the role they play in our lives.

But here’s a common misconception: the bigger, more valuable the gift, the more it expresses our appreciation. I know people who’ve received huge stock grants who feel severely under-appreciated.

Because gifts don’t express appreciation, people do. And when people don’t express it, neither do their gifts.

The gifts I received that meant so much to me on my forty-third birthday? My wife Eleanor asked a small group of my friends to write me a note of appreciation, “a thought or intention or poem,” she wrote to each friend, “that encourages him to accept himself just as he is.”

Just as he is. There is no more powerful way to acknowledge others than to be thankful for them just as they are.

And yet we almost never do this. Especially in a corporate setting where we often ask people to be change and where we value them for what they can do for us and for the company.

Think of our corporate end of the year rituals: performance reviews, holiday parties, and, sometimes, if we’re lucky, bonuses.

Performance reviews are supposed to identify our strengths, and the best reviewers spend most of their time dwelling on strengths. But it’s not a review unless we also look at weaknesses, areas “to develop,” places where we fall short. In other words, immediately after we tell people how great they are, we tell them how they aren’t good enough.

Holiday parties usually include a speech by the CEO or other leader thanking people for their hard work over the year and encouraging them to continue working hard over the next year. It’s an important ritual but it’s impersonal, given to the entire company or department at once. And it’s typically about what we’ve been able to accomplish, not about who we are. People don’t feel individually recognized.

And bonuses are a business deal, based not on appreciating us for who we are, but on compensating us for what we achieved, often delivered with no ceremony and no clearly expressed appreciation. The huge stock grants that left people under-appreciated? They were, literally, placed on people’s empty chairs overnight. No note. No conversation. Just a piece of paper on a chair.

I’m not suggesting these rituals aren’t important. People work together in organizations in order to accomplish things so it makes sense that our organizational rituals appreciate people for accomplishing things and for increasing their ability to accomplish more things in the future.

But I’d like to suggest an additional way to appreciate the people around us. A way that costs nothing and feels great to everyone involved: in a handwritten note, tell them why you appreciate them.

Not for what they do for you. Not for what they help you accomplish. Not even for what they accomplish themselves. Just for being who they are.

If you’re hesitant — maybe you think it’s too touchy-feely, too sappy — just think about what it would feel like to receive that type of note from the people around you.

Here’s the hard part: don’t be stingy.

You should do this even for people about whom you feel conflicted. Perhaps you don’t like everything about them. Maybe you don’t always appreciate who they are.

That’s OK. This isn’t a performance review. You don’t have to address everything about each person. This is a gift. There’s no reason to hoard your appreciation; it’s unlimited in supply. Just think about what you do appreciate about people and describe that part. Let them know what about them makes you smile. What you admire. What makes them special to you.

Then hand them your notes and thank them, individually, for working with you. Or, if you’re feeling bashful, just leave the notes on their chairs overnight; there’s no risk they’ll open them and feel under-appreciated.

I know, for me, it made my otherwise insignificant, mid-decade birthday the most significant one yet.

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 recently saw the movie The Last Samurai for the second time. Set in Japan in the 1870s, it tells the story of an American civil war veteran who was captured by samurai fighters and, over time, learned to honor their ways.

The first time I saw the movie, when it came out in 2003, I was enthralled by the beautifully choreographed fight scenes.

But this time, I was most moved by a scene I don’t even remember seeing the first time: a samurai drinking tea.

Sitting at a low table, he moved deliberately, singularly focused on his tea. He contemplated it. Then poured it. Then sipped it, tasted it, and, finally, swallowed it.

This, I realized, was the source of the samurai’s strength.

His acrobatics were impressive, but they were merely ademonstration of his strength. The source was this tea ritual and many other rituals like it. His power as a warrior came from his patience, precision, attention to subtlety, concentration, and his reverence for the moment.

The power of ritual is profound and under-appreciated. Mostly, I think, it’s because we live in a time-starved culture, and ritual is time-indulgent. Who can afford the luxury of doing one thing at a time? Who has the patience to pause and honor an activity before and after we do it?

We all should.

Religions understand and leverage the power of ritual. In Judaism, blessings are as plentiful as iPhone apps. Wake up? There’s a blessing for that. Wash your hands? There’s a blessing for that. Experience something new? Eat a meal? Go to the bathroom? There’s a blessing for each one. Every religion I know has similar practices to make our experience of the world sacred.

Which might be why we avoid ritual in the business world. Religion is so loaded, so personal. But ritual doesn’t have to be religious; it’s just a tool religions use. Rituals are about paying attention. They’re about stopping for a moment and noticing what you’re about to do, what you’ve just done, or both. They’re about making the most of a particular moment. And that’s something we could use a lot more of in the business world.

Imagine if we started each meeting with a recognition of the power of bringing a group of people together to collaborate and an intention to dedicate ourselves, without distraction, to achieving the goals of the meeting. Perhaps even an acknowledgement that each person’s views, goals, and priorities are important and need to be heard. Of course, that would require that every meeting have a clear goal, an agenda, and a purpose. But those are just nice side benefits.

What if every performance review began with a short thought about the importance of clear and open communication? If every time we worked on a spreadsheet someone else created for us, we paused to acknowledge the complexity of the work she did and the attention to detail she brought to it? If at the beginning of the day we paused to honor the work we are about to do and the people with whom we are about to do it?

Here’s what makes it easy to get started with this: no one needs to know.

Start with just yourself. Sit at your desk in the morning, pause before booting up your computer, and mark the moment. Do this by taking a deep breath. Or by arranging your pens. Whatever it is, do it with the intention of creating respect for what you’re about to begin. Do the same before you make a phone call. Or receive one. Or before you meet with a colleague or customer.

Each time we pause, notice, and offer respect for an activity, it reminds us to appreciate and focus on what we’re about to do. And by elevating each activity, we’ll take it more seriously. We’ll get more pleasure from it. The people with whom we work will feel more respected. And we’ll feel more self-respect.

Which means we’ll work better with each other. And produce better results.

That focus will help us accomplish our tasks more carefully, more proficiently, and more productively, with fewer distracting under-the-table BlackBerry texts. And all the research shows that that kind of singular focus will make us far more efficient.

In other words, that time-indulgent ritual thing? It might just be the perfect antidote to a time-starved world.

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)