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From Nothing is as Fast as the Speed of Trust
Speed happens when people . . . truly trust each other.
-- EDWARD MARSHALL
If you're not fast, you're dead.
-- JACK WELCH
I'll never forget an experience I had several years ago when I worked for a short stint with a major investment banking firm in New York City. We had just come out of a very exhausting meeting, during which it had become evident that there were serious internal trust issues. These issues were slowing things down and negatively affecting execution. The senior leader said to me privately, "These meetings are dysfunctional and a waste of time. I just don't trust 'Mike.' I don't trust 'Ellen.' In fact, I find it hard to trust anyone in this group."
I said, "Well, why don't you work on increasing trust?"
He turned to me and replied seriously, "Look, Stephen, you need to understand something. Either you have trust or you don't. We don't have it, and there's nothing we can do about it."
I strongly disagree. In fact, both my personal life and my work as a business practitioner over the past 20 years have convinced me that there is a lot we can do about it. We can increase trust -- much faster than we might think -- and doing so will have a huge impact, both in the quality of our lives and in the results we're able to achieve.
TRUST ISSUES AFFECT EVERYONE
As I speak to audiences around the world about the Speed of Trust, I repeatedly hear expressions of frustration and discouragement such asthese:
I can't stand the politics at work. I feel sabotaged by my peers. It seems like everyone is out for himself and will do anything to get ahead.
I've really been burned in the past. How can I ever trust anyone enough to have a real relationship?
I work in an organization that's bogged down with bureaucracy. It takes forever to get anything done. I have to get authorization to buy a pencil!
The older my children get, the less they listen to me. What can I do?
I feel like my contributions at work are hardly ever recognized or valued.
I foolishly violated the trust of someone who was supremely important to me. If I could hit "rewind" and make the decision differently, I would do it in a heartbeat. But I can't. Will I ever be able to rebuild the relationship?
I have to walk on eggshells at work. If I say what I really think, I'll get fired . . . or at least made irrelevant.
My boss micromanages me and everyone else at work. He treats us all like we can't be trusted.
With all the scandals, corruption, and ethical violations in our society today, I feel like someone has pulled the rug out from under me. I don't know what -- or who -- to trust anymore.
So what do you do if you're in a situation like one of these -- or in any situation where a lack of trust creates politics and bureaucracy, or simply slows things down? Do you merely accept this as the cost of doing business? Or can you do something to counteract or even reverse it?
I affirm that you can do something about it. In fact, by learning how to establish, grow, extend, and restore trust, you can positively and significantly alter the trajectory of this and every future moment of your life.
GETTING A HANDLE ON TRUST
So what is trust? Rather than giving a complex definition, I prefer to use the words of Jack Welch, former CEO of General Electric. He said, "[Y]ou know it when you feel it."
Simply put, trust means confidence. The opposite of trust -- distrust -- is suspicion. When you trust people, you have confidence in them -- in their integrity and in their abilities. When you distrust people, you are suspicious of them -- of their integrity, their agenda, their capabilities, or their track record. It's that simple. We have all had experiences that validate the difference between relationships that are built on trust and those that are not. These experiences clearly tell us the difference is not small; it is dramatic.
Take a minute right now and think of a person with whom you have a high trust relationship -- perhaps a boss, coworker, customer, spouse, parent, sibling, child, or friend. Describe this relationship. What's it like? How does it feel? How well do you communicate? How quickly can you get things done? How much do you enjoy this relationship?
Now think of a person with whom you have a low-trust relationship. Again, this person could be anyone at work or at home. Describe this relationship. What's it like? How does it feel? How is the communication? Does it flow quickly and freely . . . or do you feel like you're constantly walking on land mines and being misunderstood? Do you work together to get things done quickly . . . or does it take a disproportionate amount of time and energy to finally reach agreement and execution? Do you enjoy this relationship . . . or do you find it tedious, cumbersome, and draining?
The difference between a high- and low-trust relationship is palpable! Take communication. In a high-trust relationship, you can say the wrong thing, and people will still get your meaning. In a low-trust relationship, you can be very measured, even precise, and they'll still misinterpret you.
Can you even begin to imagine the difference it would make if you were able to increase the amount of trust in the important personal and professional relationships in your life?
THE CRUCIBLE
One of the most formative experiences I've had personally in increasing trust occurred several years ago as a result of the merger between Franklin Quest and Covey Leadership Center to form FranklinCovey Company. As anyone who has ever been through a merger or an acquisition will know, these things are never easy. The merged company had terrific strengths. We had great people, superb content, loyal clients, and productive tools. But the blending of the two cultures was proving to be enormously challenging.
As president of the Training and Education business unit, I had traveled to Washington, D.C., to address about a third of our consultants on the topic of our division's strategy. But a meeting that should have had me looking forward with anticipation literally had my stomach churning.
Several weeks before, the company's new CEO -- frustrated (as we all were) with the enormous problems and friction that had beset what had seemed to be a promising merger -- had scheduled a meeting of all the consultants in the company. In an effort to "get out" everyone's concerns, he had created a format in which we, as leaders, were to listen, but could not respond, to anything anyone wanted to say. The meeting, scheduled to last four hours, turned into a 10-hour "dump" session. With no one allowed to amend, correct, give context, supply missing information, discuss the other side of the issues, or even show the dilemmas involved, only a small percentage of what was said had real contextual accuracy. Most was misinterpreted, manipulated, or twisted, and some of it was flat-out wrong. There were assumptions, suspicions, accusations, frustrations. And, as leaders, we had reluctantly agreed to a format in which we weren't permitted to say a word.
In the end, we'd had over a dozen such meetings. The whole experience had been brutal, and, with my position of leadership, I had taken it all personally. Having had some experience on Wall Street, I knew mergers were usually hard, but I had thought we could do what needed to be done to make this one work.
The problem was that I had assumed far too much. Mistakenly, I had failed to focus on establishing trust with the newly merged company, believing that my reputation and credibility would already be known. But they weren't, and, as a result, half the people trusted me and the other half didn't. And it was pretty much divided right down Covey or Franklin "party" lines. Those from the Covey side who knew me and had worked with me basically saw my decisions as a sincere effort to use objective, external criteria in every decision and to do what was best for the business -- not to try to push a "Covey" agenda . . . in fact, sometimes even bending over backward to avoid it. Those who didn't know me, hadn't worked with me, and didn't trust me interpreted every decision in the exact opposite manner.
In one case, for example, a question had come up concerning the use of the Sundance Resort for one of our leadership development programs. Sundance had been somewhat hard to work with, and some felt we should move the program to another venue. The program director strongly wanted to keep it at Sundance because clients loved the location, and the financial data showed that we were averaging nearly 40 percent more revenue per program held there compared to other venues. I said, "Because the economics are better and the program director strongly recommends that we keep it there, we'll find better ways to work with Sundance." That was an example of a solid business decision I assumed people would understand.
But those who didn't trust me didn't understand. They thought I was trying to push a "Covey" approach. Some even wondered if I was getting some kind of kickback because, as a community leader, I had been asked to serve in an unpaid role on the advisory board for the Sundance Children's Theater. Many suspected my motive. Because there was such low trust, the feeling was, "There's got to be some kind of hidden agenda going on here."
In another situation, I had made the decision to move "Ron," an extremely talented leader who had come from the Covey side into a different position because, like many of us, he had gotten caught in merger politics and had polarized the two camps. I had decided to go outside the organization for Ron's replacement so that there would be no perception that the new manager was a "Covey" person or a "Franklin" person.
When I made this announcement, I thought people would be excited by my attempt to bring in new talent. But among those who didn't trust me, no one even heard the part about bringing in someone from the outside to replace Ron as manager; all they heard was that he was still in the company, and they wanted him gone.
Time after time, my actions had been misinterpreted and my motives questioned, even though I had involved both Covey and Franklin camps in making decisions. As you might imagine, some who had no idea of my track record and results had assumed that the only reason I was in my position of leadership was simply that I was Stephen R. Covey's son and that I had no credibility on my own.
As a result of all this, I'd had to make decisions much more slowly. I tried to project how every decision would be interpreted by each of the cultures. I began to worry about baggage and risk. I started playing a political game that I'd never played before -- one that I never had to play before, because it had never been part of who I was.
As I thought about everything that had transpired, I came to the realization that if I didn't take the tough issues head-on, the current situation would simply perpetuate itself -- probably even get worse. My every decision would be second-guessed and politicized. Getting anything done would be like trying to move through molasses. We were facing increasing bureaucracy, politics, and disengagement. This was wasting enormous amounts of time, energy, and money. The cost was significant.
Besides, I thought, given how badly things were going, what did I have to lose?
So when I walked into the consultant meeting that day in Washington, D.C., I basically said, "Look, we're at this meeting to talk about strategy. And if that's what you want to talk about, that's what we'll talk about. But if you would rather talk about the merger issues that are really on your minds, we'll talk about those. We'll talk about any of the tough questions you have: Who's staying and who's going? Who's making what decisions? What criteria are being used? Why aren't we more informed? What if we don't trust those making the decisions? What if we don't trust you, Stephen, to make some of these decisions?"
At first, people were stunned that I would bring up these difficult issues, including their perception of me. Many were also wondering what my real agenda was. But they soon realized that I wasn't hiding anything. I was being transparent and candid. They could tell I genuinely wanted to open things up. As the meeting progressed, they could see that I wasn't operating from any hidden agenda; I was sincerely trying to do what was right for the business.
As it turned out, the scheduled one-hour strategy meeting turned into a full day's discussion of their concerns: Whose buildings were we going to use? Which compensation plan would we adapt? Whose sales model would we use? Are you, Stephen, really competent to make these decisions? What is your track record? What are your criteria?
I openly acknowledged that these were challenging issues. I candidly shared the thinking and rationale behind the decisions and the process by which they were made, or were being made. I shared all the data I could share, and if I couldn't share it, I explained why. I listened and sought to understand their concerns. Based on their recommendations, I made several commitments around improvements.
At the end of the day, there was a renewed feeling of hope and excitement. One participant told me that I had established more trust in one day than I had in the prior several months. More than anything else, I realized, it was a starting place, an acknowledgment of the value of our transparent communication. I also realized that the real test, however, would be on how I followed through. At least now, people could see my behavior through new eyes, not tainted by the lens of low trust.
Word from this meeting spread, and within the next few months, I was able to meet with the other consultants and go through the same process with the same results. I followed a similar course with other groups and divisions. In a very short period of time, we were able to establish trust with our entire business unit. As far as my unit was concerned, this increased trust dramatically changed everything. We were able to increase speed, lower cost, and improve results in all areas.
Though I eventually left FranklinCovey to start my own company and write this book, I am happy to report that they have weathered the storms created by the merger and are now doing very well. On a personal basis, the whole experience helped me to understand trust far more clearly than in premerger times when trust was high and things were good.
First, I learned that I had assumed way too much. I assumed I had trust with people, when in fact I didn't. I assumed that people were aware of my track record and Covey Leadership Center's track record, which they were not. I assumed that because I was teeing up the tough issues in my private meetings and making decisions based on objective business criteria, this was being reported down line, but it was not.
I also learned that I had been politically naïve. Yes, I made mistakes. But I didn't make the mistakes I was being accused of making. The most significant mistake I made was in not being more proactive in establishing and increasing trust. As a result, I experienced firsthand both the social and the hard, bottom-line economic consequences of low trust.
In addition, I learned that trust truly does change everything. Once you create trust -- genuine character- and competence-based trust -- almost everything else falls into place.
A CRISIS OF TRUST (to be cont........
Copyright © 2006 CoveyLink, LLC
Get The Speed of Trust: The One Thing that Changes Everything
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