Tolerance Atrophes

My good friend called me a few weeks ago.  He had just watched many people come together to grieve with a family who just lost the man who was friend, father, son, and husband.  Grateful as he was that our community responds well, he missed the fact that the community knew little of his own pain. Specifically, he mentioned to me the ways I had missed an opportunity to enter into his pain with him... ways I could have cared for him and didn't.

He was not complaining.  He was just sharing with me his ache.  It was an ache I suspected, even asked about, but really never really shared with him.  Yeah, I did the drive-by How are you, friend?  I even managed the occasional Really, brother, how are you.  I accepted the strong and predictable response from a male friend, and didn't press further.  And he still ached.

In an unrelated turn of events, I happen to have good friends whose marriage is in a tough place.  I have entered in to their pain, but not with any real competence.  Good will?  You bet.  Good skill?  No.

I've started to ponder how I got to this place where I have good will without good skill when it comes to caring for people I love.  These are people whose best interests I want to promote.  These are people with whom I have lived a long time and I sort of have the insight and the right to be involved when it matters.  I don't think I'm unusual.

Here's another observation:  In both of the tough situations I've mentioned, those I care for have not been really good at receiving care either.

Why is this?

Here's my hypothesis:  I suspect that as our society elevates privacy and tolerance to the position of ultimate values, we put up barriers to caring.  We are at a point of where the cultural norm is to stay out until invited in.  Caring is a muscle that has atrophied for lack of exercise.

We have locked the doors on the exercise room of care.  Here are a two examples:  In the surgical waiting room, my daughter is a number on an electronic board because HIPAA rules are protecting her privacy.  My good friend cannot just drop by to care for us as a result.  When a colleague is dismissed at work we replace clarity with "Pursuing opportunities outside of the business."  We are left with nothing to explain the absence.  Rumors fill the void.

I suppose we use the euphemisms as a way to protect the honor of the injured, but I wonder if we're really protecting much.  And if we're not protecting much, have we erected an un-needed barrier to care?  Have we essentially put a cast on our caring muscles so long that they've atrophied?

Abuse of Power

A coworker stood in the doorway of my office musing about a wide variety of things.  She mentioned her interest in reading on the topic of the use and abuse of power in the workplace.  I was in the midst of exercising my power (not over her) as the manager of my group.  The question caused me to stop and think.

It strikes me that there are two ways to abuse power:  The stereotype is the capricious, ego-centric, unreasonable, fist-pounding leader who exercises power like a sit-com manager.  The other abuse of power is the failure to use legitimate authority when it is needed.  If child neglect is child abuse, then leadership neglect is power abuse.

The former is obvious and stereotypical.  So for the moment, let's consider why we may fail to exercise legitimate authority:

1. We don't know what to do.
2. We are afraid of the conflict
3. We want to protect the vulnerable (a variant of #2)

Option 1 seems easy enough to fix... go get help or advice or, in the case of the truly unsolvable problem, at least take first steps to understand what you're facing.

But for Options 2 and 3, the question seems to bring up moral dilemmas... Do I fire this person for non-performance even though she's the sole wage earner in her family?  Do I redefine this person's assignment to align to the business needs even though this puts him outside of his circle of expertise?  

But we need to see that the failure to address legitimate leadership needs with clarity, though apparently kind or considerate nearly always ends with delayed and amplified anger, frustration, or misunderstanding.  I am learning that clear conversations, even if they're difficult to have, are always better to have early and often.  The anticipation of the difficulty of a conversation seems always ti be greater than the actual difficulty.

Clarity does not require unkindess, but leadership fuzziness is always unkind.