Smashing Co-workers’ Fingers

Have you ever smashed your finger while pounding a nail with a hammer? It really hurts, sometimes for days or weeks afterward. Have you ever hit someone else’s finger with a hammer? Someone who you cared about and who was there to help you hold the nail straight up? Someone whose help you needed and appreciated? In some ways, it feels so much worse (if you realize the damage). In this article I’ll reveal a few personal weaknesses and (whether or not you share them) some methods I’ve learned that will hopefully help you improve interpersonal relationships at work.

When I was 23 years old I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). At the time, I was embarrassed and ashamed. Ever since, I’ve been struggling to discover and manage downstream affects, and likely upstream contributors.

In contrast, many professionals today wear a self-diagnosis of ADD like a badge of honor, along with the associated sleep deprivation and poor diet that probably contributes to their symptoms. In fact, the proportion of male adults who are reported as having been officially diagnosed with ADD at some point in their life has reached one in twenty, according to the National Institute of Mental Health. I digress.

The reason I mention ADD is because if I was hammering in a nail (as I often did as a construction worker during my high school and early college years), and my mind suddenly (yet stealthily) checked out, I was likely to hit my finger. Indeed, I have hit my fingers with a hammer (or even a small sledge hammer) too many times to count. One time I even drove a large staple through my left index finger while using a tool called a hammer tacker. Ouch.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like my finger. It wasn’t that I had a desire to smash my finger. It wasn’t that I thought poorly of my finger. I simply lacked the continued focus to control the hammer every second of every hour.

But what happened if someone else was holding the nail, the stake, or the piece of rebar for me? Typically, I opted for the other person to do the hammering. Sometimes, still, I would make an error that resulted in someone else’s squashed finger. I felt sorry for doing so. It was emotionally painful for me to hurt a co-worker, even if it didn’t match their physical pain.

How does ADD and this hammering of fingers translate into the realm of knowledge work? 

For me, social skills – or emotional intelligence (EQ) – has required a great deal more deliberate effort to develop because I have ADD. Sadly, I have found that involuntarily checking out of a conversation several times per minute makes it challenging to follow the subtle nuances of social behavior. I believe it’s harder to keep up, harder to follow and respond to social cues and harder to decide if what I’m going to say next is “socially appropriate” or if it’s just a really, really dumb thought that’s just floating by (that I should not verbalize). This is all a bit ironic because I genuinely, thoroughly enjoy working with and talking with people.

Unfortunately, this combination of high desire and mediocre ability has resulted in countless experiences where I smash someone else’s emotional finger with my verbal hammer. It’s not that I didn’t like the person. It’s not that I had a desire to smash them. It’s not that I think poorly of them. It’s typically that I lacked the mental control of my tongue for every second of every hour, so I went ahead and verbalized a very stupid, random thought without running it through the proper filters. (It’s tempting to speak without filtering because it takes extra time and effort to filter, and if the moment passes without a thoughtful response, I risk missing a chance to contribute to the conversation or much worse – the other person feeling ignored.)

Once I realize (if I realize) I’ve hurt someone (by saying something horribly rude), and I don’t have a chance to resolve it right away, I often experience stomach aches and lose multiple hours of lost sleep – because I actually care about my teammates – sometimes unbeknownst to them. It’s not good for anyone.

Why the continued smashing, then? 

Without having a perfect replay of my thoughts to learn exactly what happens in the split seconds of response time that are generally afforded in social situations, it’s hard to tell. However, I recently had a massive break through.

Fortunately, I’ve had some great feedback from people who are kind enough (and brave enough) to help me, despite the risk of encountering a rude, reactive response from me.

In fact, last week a coworker who I respect very much told me that I had offended some anonymous person(s). To maintain confidence, he couldn’t tell me of the manner or the situation. I was frustrated because typically general feedback of this nature is useless to my improvement efforts. I asked him to encourage the offended parties to approach me directly. I hope I’ll have the opportunity to sincerely apologize.

And then, it hit me! He had used words something like: “You might want to raise your filter a bit.” In the moment, because I’ve experienced filtering issues throughout my life, I thought: “Yeah, thanks! I know!” But the look on his face stuck with me. It was a look of disgust. I interpreted that look to say: “How could you have said those things to these kind people? Have you no soul?” I see his point, and I’m very eager to begin working to rebuild those relationships (if I can figure out which ones). My typical damage control process is this: First, offend someone I care about without knowing it. Second, if I’m lucky, find out about it later (usually through a 3rd party). Third, I feel really bad about it, seek out an opportunity to apologize, clarify intent, and work my tail off to rebuild trust from scratch. Admittedly (years ago), I didn’t care if I offended people because I didn’t respect people as infinitely valuable human beings. Now, I do, so I make this third set of efforts. 

So, here we go again. Another cycle…

If you’re thinking: “That all sounds like a huge, painful waste of time, especially if your Filter Switch is voluntary,” then we’re on the same page. Except, at the time I didn't believe my Filter Switch was voluntary because I didn't remember ever turning it off. 

But wait! There was something else my coworker said in that recent conversation that caught my attention, upon further reflection. He said I had apparently turned on my filter with him, and I turned it off with some others. To me, the point was clear: If my filter is always switched on with some people, why did I allow it to switch off with others? Doesn’t that imply that the Filter Switch is voluntary?

After wracking my memory for several hours about this, I recalled a half conscious, fleeting thought process at the beginning of several recent events when I (I am coming to realize) probably offended someone. Here’s how it went: “Gee wiz, it's hard work constantly holding this Filter Switch on all the time! This thing is heavy and I'm tired! I do feel very comfortable here. This person is very kind. I trust this person. Therefore, I'm switching my filter off now. Whew. What a relief! This is great!” Oops. Not great. 

And the more I think about it, the more events I can remember when I had this half conscious (very half baked) thought process. 

The good news: My Filter Switch has become somewhat voluntary! I believe that in high pressure situations (speaking with my boss, speaking with a larger group, etc.) I have been extra motivated to maintain the enormous workload to keep the switch on, and it seems that I was somewhat unaware of it. And now, given a new social environment to learn from (including many similarities that I’m recognizing as they repeat) I believe I have developed some control of my Filter Switch. This is great!

What will I do with this magnificent new level of control over my Filter Switch? I'll tell you what I’m going to do:

1. I'm going to catch myself before smashing my coworker's fingers! When tempted to release the Filter Switch (to the default "off" position) I'll be far more conscious of the ugly downstream results for the people who matter to me and that will motivate me to maintain the effort to hold it on.
2. I'm going to inject social break periods into my day so I can rest (for at least a few minutes) from holding the Filter Switch in the "on" position. I realize that some of these breaks may necessitate an occasional intermission in a conversation, especially if it's near the end of a long day. I will negotiate this while my Filter Switch is on.
3. When I make a bad call, I’m going to be able to notice it more easily (because I’ve developed awareness of the use of my switch) and I will try to resolve it before it festers. 
4. Now that I've made myself vulnerable to you (and I hope you trust me that I'm doing my best), I'm asking you to do something for me (and for anyone else who may be similarly challenged): Knowing that I still won't be perfect, will you please tell me if/when I hurt your feelings? I can't address it if I don't know about it. Nothing personal. 

This new level of self awareness and control is immensely exciting to me because I can better align my communication habits with the way I feel about the people I work and live with. For me, this means I can avoid smashing more fingers!

On a different note, if I’ve smashed your fingers and I haven’t resolved it, please let me know so I can apologize and be a better friend or coworker. In advance, I do apologize and I’d like to make it right with you.

Please share this article with people you care about if you have similar communication opportunities or if you know someone who does.

What are your thoughts? Please share them in the comments below. I'll use my filter in responding, even if I have to take a break first.