Printing 75 double-sided PowerPoint presentations was always time-consuming. Still, the excitement I felt knowing that a training was a mere 48 hours away always negated the boredom of standing at a print shop for over an hour. I always went to this print shop to make photocopies, and I knew this print job would take time.
Richard, an employee of the print shop who I recognized but with whom I’d never spoken, approached me. Jovial and smiling, he walked towards me to check in, see how my day was going, did I need anything, etc. It felt like a lovely and authentic customer service interaction, something I’ve always appreciated and admired.
We chatted for a moment, and Richard looked down to see the word “addiction” all over the materials I was preparing. Then, he asked me what I did for work, and I explained that I was a trainer and coach. Then, I began to tell him about the leadership and organizing training I put on for individuals who aimed to tackle substance use in their communities. But he cut me off about halfway through my sentence. His tone had quickly shifted, and his posture stiffened.
“I have to ask you,” Richard began, “why should I care about the junkies ruining my neighborhood?”
Richard and I had been speaking for what couldn’t have been more than two or three minutes. He had no way of knowing that I was, in fact, one of these “junkies” towards whom he clearly felt a deep disdain. At that moment, I found myself experiencing several different emotions – frustration, anger, hurt – all the things one might feel when someone, knowingly or unknowingly, is horribly judged by another person.
Being Interested
What was my responsibility in this interaction? It would have been satisfying to lash out at Richard, telling him what I felt about people who chose to pass judgments on struggling people. But, on the other hand, feeling superior to him – intellectually, morally, spiritually – would undoubtedly bring some dopamine-ridden pleasure.
However, I was also present to something else within me. I was interested. How does one conclude that all those suffering from a substance use disorder – those “junkies,” as Richard negatively labeled them – are simply “bad” individuals? If I ever wanted to persuade Richard to think differently, to offer a new viewpoint, or reframe his thinking, I had to listen to how he had arrived at his current opinion.
Richard and I began a relationship that day that, while I would certainly not describe it as a friendship, grew warm over the years – despite the frosty start. Over time, I learned about Richard’s experiences, what he felt, what he’d seen, and the impact he had felt personally from substance use around him. In addition, I shared my journey from the bottom of my addiction, the consequences of prison, and the joys of recovery, such as fatherhood, friendship, and a fulfilling career.
I was interested in learning about Richard. I was intrigued by his strong opinion, his willingness to express that opinion to an almost stranger, and whatever it was that led him to the viewpoint he’d developed. So I listened intently to Richard, who neglected other customers once I walked into the shop. And I felt over time, as my interest in Richard became clear, he became more interested in my experience. His interest allowed me to always feel heard – and while I’m reluctant to say anything affirmatively, I’m pretty sure Richard would say the same.
Two people with fundamentally different viewpoints on a critical topic build a warm relationship based on a genuine interest in each other. Yet, sometimes I hear from people that they “are not a very good listener.” This always intrigues me. Is listening really the issue?
Nearly every failure I’ve produced with another person has come about simply because I wasn’t interested in them. If I’m not interested, I don’t listen. I can’t connect if I don’t listen. If I can’t connect, there is no direction forward. It’s that simple. To be effective in my leadership practice, I must remain grounded in a strong interest in everyone around me. When I turn my back on another person, I immediately declare that I have no interest in being effective with them.
The Power of Listening
Years ago, I worked as an organizer on former Secretary of State and Massachusetts Senator John Kerry’s Presidential campaign in Iowa. This was the type of assignment every political rookie longs for. I was eager to succeed. I wanted nothing more than to successfully carry my rural county for my candidate during that caucus season.
Early on the job, I ventured out into Benton County and met with local Democratic activists to get them on board with my candidate. Twenty-Two years old and eager, I attacked the job with tremendous energy but perhaps occasionally lacked tactfulness. Most importantly, I hadn’t yet fully recognized the power a genuine interest in others could bring.
The chair of the local Democratic party at the time was a young man named Steve, who had chosen to back a rival candidate. I eagerly met with Steve and confidently explained why I felt my candidate was superior. And furthermore, pointed out all the reasons that Steve’s choice was flawed. I displayed no genuine interest in Steve or why Steve had chosen another candidate – it was all about me and what I wanted.
On caucus night that January, my candidate did win – we even carried Benton County, to my delight. But when I saw Steve that night, hoping he might have had a last-minute change of heart while standing in his precinct caucus, I was dismayed to learn that he’d stuck with his candidate. He walked by me in the hallways as I was heading out to celebrate our victory and said something I’ve never forgotten. “You did a great job here tonight,” he said, “but you never quite won me over.”
If I’d been interested in what Steve had to say, I could have been effective with him and produced a different result.
There is one common denominator in every failure I’ve produced with others – I wasn’t thoroughly interested in that person and what they hoped for. As a leader, I cannot be an opportunity for someone if I cannot listen and hear what they want for themselves.
I often reflect on my nearly decade-long career in the political arena. The most successful interactions I had – the interactions that often led to winning over the support of a critical community leader or entity – centered around the fundamental notion that I was interested in those individuals beyond wanting them to join my cause.
As my relationship with Steve shows, I never successfully told people what they should think or feel. I was only successful when I heard what they were thinking and feeling and, whenever applicable, could connect their experiences to my own. Sometimes this produced a success, other times, it produced a failure. But, no matter what, it created a substantial impact every time.
Being interested in other people – especially those with whom we have fundamental disagreements – is a choice. I have, at times, chosen to not listen to those with whom I have, for example, stark political differences. But I’ve repeatedly learned that people are always so much more than the labels I choose to give them. If I decide to label them, I can also choose to take an interest in them. As an impact leader, if I take an interest in those with whom I disagree, the door opens to endless possibilities. On the other hand, if I choose to label, blame, shame, and ignore, that door immediately closes.
As an impact leader – I choose to be interested in everyone. I will not close the door to the power of possibility and my ability to be effective with others. I will not shut out those with whom I disagree. Instead, I’ll listen more closely to learn how they arrived at their conclusions. I will not yield the possibility of effectiveness simply because I don’t understand – I will seek to learn. I’ll remain interested, and I will listen. And even if the result continues to come up short, I will still see the benefits of connection rather than dysfunction.
About the Author
Michael King is the Director & Creator of The Communities Project. Email him at michael@communitiesproject.org, or follow him on Twitter @michaelking1981.
