The Laugh-Off

I live in a part of town that attracts an unusually large number of non-American residents.  Most of these are European professionals, and for many of them it is the first time they’ve owned a home.  The guy who lives kitty-corner hails from Spain.  I’m willing to bet that he had never seen a lawn mower before.

One fine spring day I was sitting in my living room relaxing from a hard day’s labor.  My neighbor, who had recently moved in, was attempting to mow his lawn.  The large cardboard box was indication that the mower was a new purchase.  Though we live in an area with numerous Mexican immigrants, the instructions were apparently not in Spanish or he chose not to read them.

It was a nice mower.  Nicer than mine.  It had a nice big bag for catching the clippings.  It had a drive so he did not have to push it.  I glistened in the early evening sun.  I was almost envious.

Unfortunately, the house had been vacant for a while and the weather had been nice.  He would have been better off using a machete than his beautiful new mower, but he was undeterred. 

Once he got it started he charged dead into his jungle of grass.  The engine, like a nerd in a sorority, bogged down and quit after a few feet.  He tried the pull starter but couldn’t budge it.  He took the bag off and dug all the clippings out because they had already plugged the chute to the bag.  He re-installed the bag and tried again.  Predictably…  Repeat.  Repeat.  [I swear to God] Repeat.  Repeat.  Next he took the bag off (mulching mode) and stopped using the drive.  Next he learned to tilt the mower back to allow the clippings to escape.  After 35 minutes he had done about 200 square feet.  He had his mother, who looked to be in her seventies at least, raking the debris.  It was at this point that I finally took pity on the poor guy.

I introduced myself, made some chit-chat, told him what a nice neighborhood it was, talked about the length of his grass, and then said, “Hey, did you know you can raise the mower up so your grass is longer?  You might be able to use the bag if you move the deck up from the very bottom.”  At this point I might as well have been speaking Swahili, so realizing this I reached down and adjusted the mower for him.  At that point one could see the light come on.  After that he had no trouble.  I don’t think he has spoken to me since.

I think that we all have the fear that someone will think we’re stupid.  It is hard to go through life and not have a few episodes where we turn ourselves into idiots, at least temporarily.  When someone points out the duncical moment, we get embarrassed and go into fight or flight mode.  When you manage people this event could alter your reputation into someone you really don’t want to be.

People with a high degree of emotional intelligence weather storms like these easily.  Daniel Goleman coined in the term in a book of the same name.  The book, which I’ll likely review some time in the future, is a fascinating path through the brain and why we think what we think when we think it.  Emotional intelligence allows a person to balance their reasoning and their emotions within themselves in a way that neither get the upper hand.  People with less emotional intelligence tend to be impulsive, moody, quit in the face of resistance, or get so angry they lose their grip. 

I tend to be moody.  I also tend to let loose with words at inopportune times that would make a longshoreman blush, so I’m not necessarily the model for exemplary emotional intelligence.  However, one skill that I have gained is the ability to laugh at myself.  Heck, I’m an engineer by training, so I do stupid things [not sure that the preceding statement was logical, but go with it…].   I’ve had plenty of chances to practice.

Recently I walked through one of the production areas of the plant where I work.  I greeted the folks I knew as I wandered from one end to the other.  Most of them laughed with me (I thought) as we joked about this and that.  It was only when I completed the circuit that I realized my fly was wide open.  Of course I wanted to crawl into a hole and make like a mole for the rest of my life, but when I stopped and thought about it I burst out laughing.  When I turned around to see if anyone had noticed, I saw that most of the plant was pointing in my direction and slapping their knees.  So I walked back and shared in the laughter.

I’ll say this over and over – middle management is a communication business.  People need to think they know you so that they will trust you.  Trust you with their information.  Information you need to do your job well.  If you embarrass yourself and act like a douche bag afterward, people will not want to know you.  I’ve heard it over and over again – managers who relate poorly to people wonder aloud why people do not share information with them.  Emotional intelligence is part of that equation.

Next time someone points out an idiot move of yours, grin madly.  Your heart will beat out of your chest, and the blood will flow to your head, but you can beat it.