Comfort with Conflict

...sounds like an oxymoron.

Henry Givray, the man who is leading the course I am taking called Leadership’s Calling, assigned a test to identify key aspects of our ‘behavior DNA’. Its not-so-sexy name is the Management Potential Profile, or the MPP. It’s one of those 45-minute tests that asks you the same questions in fifteen ways - so as not to be fooled - then leaves you scratching your head wondering “Did I answer that the way I meant to? Who am I?” It measures preferences related to individual ways of learning, communicating, collaborating and problem-solving; and, of course, it’s another feather in the cap of improved self-awareness.  I have several of those feathers. No biggie.

Biggie.

Of the seven measurements we reviewed, there was one, Comfort With Conflict (CWC), that may have changed my life; more importantly, it may have changed the lives of those around me.

First of all, doesn’t a result entitled “Comfort with Conflict” kind of catch you off guard? It did me. If I had to talk about conflict in the context of, well, having to solve problems, I would say I am willing to deal with conflict. But, no, I would not say I am comfortable with conflict, no. Just willing to have it, if need be. Isn’t everyone? 

No.

Colette, the expert MPP interpreter, stood at the front of the class, looking at her matrix of our individual scores. She nodded her head. “We have a wide variety of CWC scores in this room. Remember, higher scores do not mean ‘good’. It just means that those of you with higher scores have a higher comfort with conflict.  Lower scores do not mean ‘bad’. It just means that those of you with lower scores have less comfort with conflict.”

My score: 33.  In the mother tongue of a longtime student, it meant I failed. I was kind of surprised. I did not think I was that uncomfortable with conflict. I raised my hand. “What’s the average score?”

“It’s minus 27 for the general population,” she responded; then looked at her cheatsheet. “You have a very high score. The highest scores in the room are in the 30s. The lowest scores in the room are in the minus-20s. Let’s use you as an example. Okay?”

She proceeded to describe how I handle conflict. It did not sound so good. She described actions of a person who was, well, obnoxious. Offensive. High-handed. Overbearing.  Impatient. Disagreeable. Pesky, at least. Whaaaaat? If someone had asked me, I would have said that, if there was a problem, I would be willing to face it, head-on, in the interest of solving it; you know, in the interest of getting rid of it. I would have called myself efficient. Articulate. Interested. Action-oriented. No-nonsense. I would have said I do what’s necessary. That’s not comfort with conflict. No. That’s commitment to problem-solving! To do anything less is an evasion of responsibility to solve problems. Wait a second! I am a Problem-Solver; that’s all! I interrupted her. “There is nothing worse than confusing people about a real problem by making it not sound like a problem. Dealing with problems is not what creates conflict! It’s not dealing with problems that creates conflict!” There. Problem solved.

After she stopped laughing she asked the class. “Raise your hand if you would feel a little uncomfortable responding to Amelia’s statement.”

Hands went up.

For the next hour, I listened to my classmates talk about how they handle conflict; or, as I interpreted it, how they do not handle conflict.  (Wow: There are some serious aversions to conflict.) I listened to my compatriots describe how, instead of enduring even minimal conflict,  they chose to bow out. Postpone!? Withdraw!? Give in!? Okay, but, what if it is an important problem and you have a strong commitment to a solution? How can you let it go? I could not keep silent. “What if you really care about something? What is your creativity worth if you are afraid to speak up and share it? How do you ever feel satisfied with an outcome if you aren’t speaking your truth? How do you ever get anything done? How do you meet a deadline? How do you get clear on accountability and responsibility? It’s a waste of time to avoid conflict. Just speak up, handle what comes up, and get over it. Move on.”

“Raise your hand if you feel a little uncomfortable responding to Amelia’s statement,” Colette said, again.

Hands went up.

“But, I am serious! How does anyone get anything done? It’s not an accusation. It’s a question! Does that question itself make people feel uncomfortable? Am I creating conflict?” I started to feel uncomfortable. With conflict? What was going on?

Colette looked around at the people sitting quietly in the room and let them answer. Well, to be clear, she let them nod.   

Then it hit me. If what I am really aiming for is to achieve desired outcomes, and my own classmates – accomplished and ambitious professionals in powerful positions who are dedicated to self-study and improvement – did not want to respond to me, well, the problem was mine. 

Henry insisted, “Make no mistakes. How you handle conflict is a huge topic in the context of leadership.  Amelia, you don’t want people to withdraw from you and to not participate, do you? You must be aware that people with less comfort with conflict will withhold their opinions or contributions because they will feel you are being too aggressive. You want your team to stay intact and to get to the goals you set! Right?” 

“Right,” I said. “But, for love or money I don’t know how to make conflict not feel like friction when it is friction.” I was pissed. “As if conflict itself is not enough of a challenge, now I have to figure out how to have it without having it and still solve problems.” It seemed impossible.

Fastforward two weeks.

I had taken Henry’s advice and started to keep an Awareness Journal. (“Aware of what, Henry?” His answer: “…Others.”)  During that two weeks, I had toned down my response to anything that seemed to be a seedling for conflict.  I had navigated around conflict. I had put in extra thought before choosing my battles. I had considered others' discomfort with conflict. Tall orders order during a challenging time: Without much planning or runway before doing it, we were moving the office location. There were deadlines everywhere and too many questions sitting around waiting for answers.  Yet, I was doing a good job with my new approach to conflict.  What a good student I was!

Little did I know, my two-week conquest over my comfort-with-conflict nature was about to take a turn for the worse.

The blank stare coming from someone on my staff stopped me in my tracks. We were all in high gear moving the office. Two of us had been finishing clean-up in the old office, when on my way out to meet with the new landlord, I found out the moving truck had left without taking a room half-full of our stuff. The last moving truck was gone. It was the end of the day. 

“Are you kidding me?” I emphasized, as I stared at the truckload of stuff. Then, I closed my eyes and took a breath. I controlled my tone and my temper. “This is what you all had checklists for.” I said. Then, I nodded and stated the obvious. (Stuff here, bad. Stuff at new office, good.)  “Right now, it doesn’t matter who did not use which checklist. What matters is that we have to be out of here tonight. I have to go to see the landlord right now. You have to figure this out. Okay?” I was proud of myself for not throwing a fit; for simply re-assigning a task. I waited for his agreement.

His response: The Blank Stare.

“You have to figure it out. Really, I have to go.” I repeated.

His response: The Blank Stare.

Okay. Ball in my court. Still. “Call the movers and ask them what they recommend. Start there. We have to be out of here today. Call me if you need help.” I insisted. I looked at him and waited for a thumbs up. 

“This was not my job,” he said.

“What does that have to do with the fact that you and I are the only ones here and this still has to be done?” I snapped. “I know exactly whose job it was. That’s not what we are talking about. At this point, I don’t care whose job it was. All I care about is that we are out of this space today! You can see that this was not taken care of. Right? So, now it is your job. Figure out a solution that costs the least amount of time and money, and get it done. I am not accusing you. I am telling you that now you have to figure it out. We need a solution. Now.” 

I won’t go into the ugly details of what happened next. Suffice it to say that it was not good. At all. Oh, no. No, no, no. I did not handle that well. At all.  

I controlled my temper. Check. I stated the facts. Check. It was no time to cloud the problem with a discussion about what should have happened. (What an absurd waste of time.  To point fingers was pointless.) I stated the desired outcome. Check. I reassigned responsibility. Check. Okay, so my temper was elevated. Not so much. Just elevated. But, I could have handled it better. A lot better. With regard to solving the problem, only one thing mattered: Communicating in a way that was acceptable to my employee, from his perspective. That is all that mattered. And I messed up. My communication not only upset my employee, it delayed the solution, and, worse, it disrupted the group.

I nearly upended a relationship with a valuable member of my team. I created a wave of tension that took me two weeks to calm. To tell you the truth, it still feels a little strained. It’s like he witnessed the vision of a demon that he can’t quite shake. That sounds ridiculously dramatic to me. It was no big deal - for me. Plus, it's over. I can skip along with nary a thought to the incident. According to my perspective, what’s done is done. The problem got solved. It’s already ancient history…

The tough part is that it is not ancient history for him. For him, it was a big deal. And, within his nervous system, it's still being wrestled with. Like it or not, that is my problem.

Looking back, I wish I had said, "Oh No. We have another problem. I can't solve it myself. I have to go to see the landlord right now. I need your help. If you could drop whatever else is on your mind and help me handle this, I would really appreciate it. Can you take care of this?" I think he could have responded to me without feeling defensive; without feeling accused. More importantly, he could have gotten busy with the work instead of busy with his emotions. Arf. Instead, I had no regard for his experience and blurted out what was on my mind. Really, there is no good reason why I didn't speak more thoughtfully. I was careless.

It’s funny how, when we need each other the most, we stand the chance of repelling each other the most. 

I have to get better at this. Conflict is coming. Tomorrow. The next day. The next day. And the next. Working well together requires conflict. It is the creative friction that sparks new ideas and actions; that fires things up; that gets rid of what is obsolete. It is the tug of war of problem-solving that happens in the field of many possible right answers that makes us evolve. How to do it right really is an art, and I don’t possess that talent. Yet.   

When I told my daughters, Isabella (15) and Sophia (11) about my Comfort With Conflict score and my challenge to improve how I handle conflict, they offered up their advice.

Standing at the kitchen island, Isabella peeled her banana and said, as a matter of fact, “Just change the tone of your voice. That’s what really matters. It’s not what you say. It’s how you say it.”

Sophia shrugged her shoulders in modest agreement with her sister. “Yeah, that’s true.“ Then she turned her attention towards me, “Mom, you are the one who told us to choose our words. Choose your words. Even if it takes you a minute. Once you choose the right words your tone of voice will get better all by itself.”

I, Amelia Case, hereby pledge, that I will regard others during times of conflict; that I will choose my words and my tone of voice with self-awareness; and that I will manage my communication with the express intent of achieving my goals while maintaining congenial relationships and encouraging a productive and inspired team. 

…back to my Awareness Journal.