aware of the issue.
After lunch, I began to unpack what he’d said. How much of it was true? Certainly, I had no reason to hoard credit. At that point in my career, my influence in the firm was substantial and my track record with the CEO and the board was exceptional. Was I so insecure that I needed more attention and accolades than I already had? Was reaching up for that next rung on the career ladder more important than helping someone else up? Had I really—consciously or subconsciously—managed my brand, reputation, and career at his expense?
I made a conscious effort to publicly praise anyone who truly warranted it, and share credit when my team had shone independent of me. I haven't always been perfect but by remembering the principle of abundance, I believe I've become a more gracious, generous, and respectful leader. And not only do I not miss out, I've found more reward in the accomplishments of others.
I believe the executive team would tell you that, in their presence, I frequently lift others up and acknowledge their contributions. But what happens in a closed-door C-suite meeting rarely gets passed on to other employees. So, what went wrong this time?
I had failed to think abundantly.
It’s human nature to feel scarcity when we fear we won’t have enough—money, gifts, attention, praise, fill in the blank. Was there really a finite amount of credit in the firm? Clearly, no. To use the buffet metaphor, I kept stacking “credit” on my plate like an ever-growing pile of shrimp. Not only had I not stopped to consider “how much was enough,” I was driven by a scarcity mindset that made me fearful of missing out on even more credit. Worst of all, I wasn’t even aware that I thought that way.
After my conversation with Jimmy, I made a conscious effort to publicly praise anyone who truly warranted it, and share credit when my team had shone independent of me. I haven’t always been perfect since then, but by remembering the principle of abundance, I believe I’ve become a more gracious, generous, and respectful leader. And not only do I not miss out, I’ve found more reward in the accomplishments of others.
From Mess To Success:
Think Abundantly
• Think of a situation where you can share credit, praise, recognition, or decision-making power.
• When you catch yourself believing you alone should be recognized for success or achievement, pause and reflect deeply: Why? What is the cause? “Peel the onion” around your scarcity thinking.
• Reflect on your unforgettable career moments where scarcity may have been a theme. Is there a pattern in your thinking or behavior?
• List any trigger points (certain people, personalities, topics, or situations) that prevent you from thinking and acting abundantly.
• Address other areas of your life where scarcity thinking could be limiting you, your relationships, and your ability to lift others up. Envision the impact of having an Abundance Mentality throughout your life.
When was the last time you listened to understand rather than to reply?
I have a propensity to interrupt. I'm not proud of this, but I’m also not usually aware I’m even doing it. Maybe it’s in my DNA and I missed my calling in life to be a courtroom litigator or CIA interviewer. Either way, if you’ve seen me in action at a dinner party, you’ve likely witnessed this behavior on display.
Most of my conversations follow the same self-defeating cycle: To show genuine interest in the other person, I ask questions. Repeatedly. In rapid-fire succession (like a boxing kangaroo deploying the full speed and power of its feet against its victim). Rarely do I give the other person time to answer before I’m on to the next query. Embarrassingly, I know this because my wife will often put a hand on my arm and say, “Scott, let them finish before you ask another question.”
Why would I do this? It might be to circumvent my social awkwardness. In fact, because of a compulsion to fill any silent space, I frequently ask the same question over an hour or two, to the point where people must think I’m suffering from early dementia, which is no joking matter. My attempt to develop rapport and fill the silence usually creates more awkwardness and lessens my credibility. It also puts people on the defensive—maybe a great asset if you’re an attorney cross-examining a witness, but in all my life roles, not so much.
It’s easy to see how interrupting works against listening. When others are talking, we’re in our own mind formulating a response, crafting a rebuttal, or outright abandoning any mental engagement because we vehemently disagree with such an absurd position. How could you possibly think that? is something I think (or worse, say) way too often. But I’m working on it.
I host a radio program called Great Life, Great Career. In this setting, I’ve discovered not only the importance of silence, but its absolute requirement for listeners to ponder some of the conversational insights. As I interview many talented thought leaders and industry giants, I’ve found that it’s important for people to have space to consider the question I’ve asked—to be allowed time to put a mental peg in their thoughts and hang meaning there. Thankfully, neuroscience backs up everything I’m learning on the job.
Several years ago, I met one of my heroes, Deborah Tannen, the famed Georgetown University professor of linguistics and bestselling author. Her seminal book You Just Don’t Understand claimed the #1 New York Times bestseller position for an amazing eight consecutive months.
During our conversation, she taught me that each of us has a subconscious sense for how long we think the other person should be talking, and when that metaphorical timer ‘’dings” (could be 32 seconds, 48 seconds, might be several minutes), we then interrupt. The result can be an unexpected interruption, which likely comes from a well-intended place (which is to help the other person by offering advice, providing direction, or asking a question). If you find yourself consistently interrupting, she suggests you mentally count to 7—or, if necessary, 10—before you begin speaking, to give the other person more time to continue or complete their thought. You might be amazed at what they end up saying, because it’s in this moment where they might share something especially vulnerable, insightful, or merely be allowed the courtesy of completing their thoughts.
There’s a novel idea—letting someone actually talk without hijacking the conversation based on your own agenda, timeline, or compunction to solve their problem for them.
Here’s my take on this: When someone else is talking, purposely close your mouth and focus on the physical sensation of your lips being pressed together (your own lips, not yours to theirs). And when the other person has paused, count to 7 before responding. Doing so will increase the likelihood that they’ll continue, often sharing crucial details about their point of view or situation. I’m convinced that one of the first steps to becoming a better listener, in addition to actually changing your mindset or beliefs (Challenge 11) about the value of listening, is to simply stop interrupting. Eliminating—or even just lessening—your own interruptions through a small measure of heightened awareness can pay profound dividends in your relationships.
It turns out we don’t invest a lot of time in listening. I often poll leaders in my keynote speeches around the world and ask how many have had formal training around their communication skills. About 70 percent of the audience raise their hand. Then I further
