I went to bed last night with in a funk. It doesn’t happen often, so I’m okay when it does happen. And fortunately, I’ve got a switch. I don’t stay down long…if I go to bed mad or sad, I am able to wake up with a different perspective and attitude. And true to form, I woke up today in a good mood. And I stayed that way until I got to work.
And then something happened that triggered me in a way that pissed me off in a way that I haven’t been that irritated at work in I can’t remember how long. And it was over arrows.
Not real arrows. Powerpoint arrows.
We have a monthly meeting where heads of our business units get together to discuss our progress against our goals. Nothing novel here; it’s a smart business practice most companies do. And though I can be rather unconventional at work, I play by the big picture rules. I follow the templates provided. My slides are always completed on time. Today, however, I was critiqued on my ability to shade my directional arrows correctly. And that didn’t sit well.
It didn’t sit well not because I am not willing to take feedback. I am more than open to feedback on general content or overall quality of my material. I’m typically open to just about anything. But nitpicking or micromanaging me on small details? You are going to get a reaction. Why? One big reason.
I focus on the big picture, not the tiny pixels. That can be seen in almost every post of this Experiment as an example. While I do my best, I am ultimately more concerned with what I am writing about, not the inevitable misspelled word or grammatical error that shows up.
I suppose I also really have a hard time with people sweating the small stuff. Especially when you are sweating my small stuff for me. Worry about your own stuff and get out of my business. Please.
Sometimes “small stuff” really is important. Like when I visit my neurologist every few months and she charts my pain logs over the past ten years. Watching it go up or down a point is meaningful. Or pushing my daughters to study that extra few minutes and watch their test scores go up a whole grade point from the last test. Or if the driver on the highway coming down the road at night has had that one extra drink that puts him over the limit. That one extra drink that killed my high school friend.
It’s not a judgment on detail oriented people. Some jobs demand it. I am glad my teammate who runs our compensation and benefits has a strong eye for this. To not pay attention to the details of someone’s salary would be pretty irresponsible. Or a surgeon not being incredibly mindful about the details of the procedure she was about to perform could be catastrophic. I am glad there are people who have an abundance of focus and aptitude in this area.
I, however, need space. To thrive, I need to be given the room to create and deliver. I gladly and willingly collaborate and will accept direction on the end goal. To start picking me apart on arrow shading, however, is to prove you have no clue how to work with me. You do not bring me closer; you push me away.
I know it sounds silly, for my mood to shift based on arrow shading. It’s an example for a larger life challenge for me though. To understand me, or to respect me, is to appreciate and value me at a larger level. You’ve got to get that one of the reasons I’ve had some success in my career over the last two decades is because I work like I live. WIthout boundaries, without preconceived notions of how things should be, and certainly without sweating what my arrows should look like.
So, no grudge held. I very much respect the person who wanted me to change my arrows. And I chose not to change them based on principal. In the end, he did it anyway, because he sweats this stuff. And if that’s how he wants to spend his time, fantastic. That’s on him, not me. I expressed my feelings on being micromanaged to this degree, and I did so in as graceful way as I could. At the end of the day, however, I am an adult. I am an executive. And while I love team harmony and collaboration, I am also a big fan of standing up for what I believe in.
I believe in playing to my strengths. Worrying about coloring in arrows the way you want me to do it is not my strength. Moreover, neither is being micromanaged by anyone. Not by a co-worker, not by my teenage daughter, not anyone.
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