Sarcasm, Patience, & Sheep Molars 🐑

Or How to Be A Work In Progress

I’m scary.

That’s what I was told three years ago in my performance review.

Two years ago, I was told the same thing in a more let’s-tap-dance-around-the-subject way. My boss wrote, “Not everyone on your team responds well to direct feedback.”

When I read that, all the words raced toward my mouth door like Walmart shoppers at midnight on Black Friday racing for the last 85” TV, completely blocking it up where nothing could get out, which was probably for the best.

My most coherent thought was “How, exactly, do I lead a team without giving direct feedback?”

But since I was convinced I was the problem, even those words never made it out. Once again, I put on what felt like the equivalent of a “Kick Me” sign and wore it for another year. I sucked up the hurt and tried to change myself to suit someone else’s framework.

The feedback last year, while better, didn’t come close to compensating for all the effort and tongue biting I put in.

And so we’re giving it one more last ditch effort.

I wrote about a test I took on Emotional Intelligence, that oH-So-rEliAbLE measure of one’s ability to manage your emotions and social interactions. After my less-than-stellar scores, I decided I would put some of the suggested actions into practice. I figured, what the hell? Can’t hurt, might help … keep comments about my lack of “people skills” off my review.

It’s been two weeks of practicing my new self-management strategies and I’m here to report that some of them are helping. Taking two slow, deep breaths before I get out of bed in the morning has significantly reduced the dread I feel when facing the day. Add a generous helping of gratitude, and I’m ready for my morning coffee.

I’m exercising again, getting 20 minutes of morning sunlight (This is a thing! Who knew?), intentionally smiling more (without looking maniacal), and going “public” with my self-management goals. Does it get more public than writing about it here?

Practicing these techniques has given me more awareness and perspective. Also some occasional anxiety and frustration. Mostly awareness and perspective, though.

It’s true I still don’t care whether we have black gel pens or blue ballpoint pens, or that Tom likes the black gel pens because they come in the Fine point .7mm size and Kathleen likes the black gel pens, too, but the Fine point .5mm size she likes are out of stock so we can’t get them, unless we get the quick dry gel pens because those come in both sizes and are in stock but they’re $1.10 more per box than the regular ones and if you read any of that past “blue ballpoint pens,” I’d like to make you a job offer. My job, specifically. (Just kidding. For now.)

I don’t think it’s unusual to feel annoyed by conversations like that one — and that one isn’t as unusual as you might think.

My first realization is that I run into trouble with HOW I express my annoyance. My sarcasm flows so easily it doesn’t occur to me that someone might be intimidated by it or interpret it as anger.

I struggle to express that “I don’t care if the contract is signed using a .7mm Fine point black gel pen, or a .5mm Fine point quick dry black gel pen, or the fine point of a sheep’s third molar as long as it’s signed and sent back to the client before the end of the day,” in a way that isn’t scary to someone else just trying to do their job.

Photo by Sam Carter on Unsplash: Nothing personal, dude. You understand.

“Scary” happens when I think I need to get caught up in what feels to me like ridiculous details of conversations like the ones above, precisely because they’re so frustrating, and my face still hasn’t learned how to use its inside voice.

These techniques, though, have helped me shift my perspective, and see a larger picture.

Yes, I have tons to do. No, this is not important TO ME. Yes, it IS important to the person standing in my doorway, asking my opinion.

So when I focus on the path around what I see as an obstacle, rather than focusing on the obstacle itself and how I’m driven to plowing it down with my Caterpillar bulldozer-sized sarcasm, I make more progress — both personally and professionally.

Now, I respond to these situations with a genuine smile and, “I’m sure whatever you decide will be perfect,” or “You’re really good at what you do and you know way more about these things than I do,” or “If spending an extra $1.10 will make everyone happy, feel free to order those.”

The key takeaway is my responses are still honest and sincere. Less snark, more sincere. I like how that sounds. And my face doesn’t need to worry about its inside voice because my outside voice and my face match. (Please clap.)

To be able to say I have never felt more authentically myself in my life is indescribably liberating and I can’t think of many bigger wins than that.

Now. How do I lead someone who “doesn’t respond well to direct feedback?”

Patience. I’m learning patience. That means being more patient with them and with myself — because I honestly don’t know the answer beyond that right now.

And this is what it means to be a work in progress, I guess.

I realize none of this guarantees I won’t get the same “scary” comment again this year. If I do, though, I’ll know I did the best I could to be better.

And that maybe I’m not the problem. 👀 👀 👀

I hope at least some of what I’ve written here will be helpful to you. And if you have any helpful ideas for me, please share. My sheep friend and I would love to hear them.

Photo by charlesdeluvio on Unsplash