Leadership Communication
December 3, 2013
“We’ve got the weather,” the man said. And for years, my wife and I have wondered what he meant.
We had been walking in Dublin, Ireland and paused to photograph the huge wooden doors of an aging church building, when an elderly man on the sidewalk greeted us with those few words.
Did he mean the weather was bad because it was raining? Or, as we think more likely, was he saying the weather was good because it was a mild day with a gentle breeze and only a light rain?
My wife and I still recall that day in Dublin, that brief encounter, whenever we hear people make statements that could be interpreted in exactly opposite ways.
Speakers often say one thing and mean another, sometimes intentionally, sometimes innocently. Listeners often misinterpret what was stated because they had something different on their minds or expected something different to be said.
All of this and more adds to the difficulty of communicating effectively, whether between two people or within a team or organization.
Leadership communication attempts to minimize these misunderstandings; and an effective tactic for doing so is to have listeners restate what they believe they heard the leader say.
Communicating messages clearly and repetitiously is a leadership essential; but so is providing opportunities for others to repeat those messages. This leads not only to more precise communication, but also to more pervasive and powerful messages.
In An Instant
August 4, 2015
The icebergs that enter the harbors along Newfoundland’s north shore started to form thousands of years ago. They broke from ice flows 10 times their size and then got caught in a current that carried them on a 1,000-mile, two-year journey to “Iceberg Alley.” Some of them drift into harbors and, with seven-eighths of their mass below the surface, they get grounded. Eventually they break apart and disappear.
My wife and I “discovered” one of these grounded ‘bergs near the shore of cozy little Coffee Cove. After a 15-minute hike, we got closer to this sparkling monster than third base is to home plate. We each snapped dozens of pictures.
Just as we were turning to begin our hike back to “civilization,” we heard what we thought was a loud gunshot. But what actually occurred was a portion of the iceberg breaking off and falling into the water.
What we had taken pictures of moments earlier no longer existed as it had at that time. In an instant, the iceberg had changed, without respect for the thousands of years in the making and the hundreds of miles of traveling.
A few days after we returned to Michigan, Rich Tompkins died, apparently healthy, just after waterskiing. Death came without respect for the miles Rich had traveled to serve student-athletes and coaches, and without regard to all the victories his teams had earned and MHSAA championships they had won.
I last saw Rich on Valentine’s Day at the first-ever Fremont High School Hall of Fame induction banquet where Rich and many of his athletes were honored. The pictures taken that night are of people and circumstances that can never be reassembled.
We need to more fully appreciate the miracle of such moments. They can be gone in an instant.