Leader Credibility: Failing Well
Do you fail well, or deflect the sting of imperfection?
The Formula for Overcoming Failure
There was no way I could pretend that I hadn’t goofed up. There was no “strategic” language to glaze over the situation. No reasonable oversight that would explain away my error. I simply made the same mistake – again. With the same person. It wasn’t catastrophic. And I discovered the error before anyone else did. But the error made me appear to be flighty at worst; disorganized at best.My first instinct was to catch the next plan to Antarctica – in part, to run from the problem - in part, as a self-inflicted punishment for letting a simple, but very telling error, bubble past my own filters, into public view.I had two choices. Ignore my gaffe - hoping my colleague was too busy to remember what happened. Or acknowledge my error, clarify my intent, and take responsibility. Always carrying around a good dose of guilt, I chose the former.I asked for a 30 min meeting with my colleague and I started our meeting with what we at T.A.P. Executive Coaching now call a Best Question™:“Sharon, have you ever done something that made you feel vulnerable?” Although I didn’t know I was doing that at the time, I was attempting to create a point of connection with my colleague. She didn't hesitate to respond with "Of course. Why do you ask?" Her admission made it easier to reveal my gaffe. Without hesitating, my colleague – who could have been very critical – went on to share her own story about a series of mistakes she made and what she learned from the experience. We had work to do to resolve the issue, but the world didn't end. In fact, that experience opened the door for a deeper level of mutual respect and trust.Do you fail well? Or do you reach for the easiest point of deflection so you don’t appear flawed? Some mistakes require quicker action and may involve more serious consequences than in my situation, but there is a formula for failing well:
Shift your demeanor. The success of failing well is anchored by a posture of sincerity. If your normal communication style is fast-paced, loud, constantly moving or sitting behind a desk, work on slowing down, using a quieter tone of voice, relaxing your physical stance, maintaining eye contact, and moving away from your desk/computer. This creates a kind of personal access that suggests you owning the moment and you understand the issue. As a leader, it's a way to demonstrate that you are willing to submit myself to the same accountability you expect from others. Those involved may be upset, but shifting your demeanor gives them space and permission to do so, and also gives them space and permission to hear what you have to say. If the shoe were on the other foot, wouldn't you want the same?
Acknowledge that it happened. Recognizing that it can influence how you are perceived and that it can change your relationship(s) is mature and admirable.
Shift your perspective about the failure – immediately. Pretending like it didn’t happen is irresponsible, if not pompous (and nobody wants to work for someone like that). Recognizing that failure is a learning tool, for you and possibly for those involved, is an excellent real-time leadership opportunity (whether you have a formal leadership title or not).
Accepting responsibility for what happened is one of the most difficult parts of failing well. As an executive coach, I see clients breeze through the first three steps, only to get to this step and hesitate or simply freeze. It’s the difference between standing on deck saying you will jump into the water and being on the plank, with one foot extended, and rough seas below. A real mark of Leadership Character™ (http://www.leadershipcharacter.com/model.php) is the ability to say “I’m sorry.” Plenty of PR folks and attorneys will argue otherwise, for very good reasons I'm sure, but when it comes to being the kind of leader people want to follow, being able to genuinely apologize takes this step from being obligatory to being exemplary.
Invite accountability. Several years ago I received some feedback from my team indicating that I move too quickly and don’t give people time to get things done. I was hurt and frustrated that the team was talking amongst themselves (i.e. against me, or that’s how I perceived it) but I hadn’t made it easy for them to give me feedback. Realizing that my strength (getting a lot done quickly) could also be a flaw, I asked my team to hold me accountable by helping me develop a signal to know when I was pushing through without respecting what they needed to be productive. We came up with a signal that resonated with all of us, and I shared what was important for me to know we were staying on track with work commitments. It created mutual accountability and a bond of trust that helped us move forward. It also took the pressure off of me to have to figure out perfection on my own.
Are you wanting to be respected as a leader or wanting to simply grow as a person? Here are the things you may be missing by pretending that you’re perfect:
Handling failure with humility and vulnerability makes you trustworthy. Particularly if you want or need to influence others to do things, your team is much more likely to trust you with the things that are not going well or the things they don’t do well if they know you’ve walked in their shoes.
Failing well is a sign of strength. Covering up mistakes is easy. It’s the path of least resistance; therefore, anyone can do it. Admitting your mistakes takes strength because you are consciously choosing to do something that goes against the natural tendency for self-preservation.
Allowing failure to teach you versus silence you is a mark of resiliency – one of the stabilizing characteristics of a leader. It doesn’t mean you won’t feel embarrassment, hurt, frustration or even anger at the situation. Allowing failure to teach you means that you use what’s happened to help you design a better approach.
For example, if you put your foot in your mouth at a meeting, determine whether or not it would be beneficial to get the perspective of others in the moment, or later on. NOTE: there is a difference between being humble and pitiful. Being humble is recognizing your mistake, learning from it and moving forward. Being pitiful is being wounded to the point you become emotionally or professionally stuck, either causing you to shy away from moving forward or continuing to make mistakes that can’t be ignored. Here’s a short script for initiating a productive conversation:
“(insert name), I value your opinion. I’m afraid I may have (insert a short description of the issue). I want to ensure that (insert what you actually intended). Sometimes (insert what may have caused the foot-in-mount-it is) causes me to (speak too quick/get frustrated), etc. It's something I'm working on. In the future, I’m going to (fill in your strategy). Any thoughts? (or) How would you suggest moving forward?"
Robert Kiyosaki says, “Winners are not afraid of losing. But losers are. Failure is part of the process of success. People who avoid failure also avoid success”. Need more inspiration? Consider these amazing people who can now boast that their failures didn’t hold them back:- Oprah Winfrey (media mogul) was fired from her first anchor job in Baltimore, MD- Thomas Edison (invented the electric light bulb, phonograph and motion picture camera) was told by his teachers that he was “too stupid to learn anything”- Richard Branson (founder of the Virgin group and investor) is dyslexic- Jim Carey (world famous comedian and actor) was once homeless- Stephen King’s (New York times best seller) first novel was rejected 30 times- Vanguard founder Jack Bogle (Wall Street financial whiz), was ousted as president of Wellington Management but then went on to create the index fund and championed governance reform- Lucille Ball’s first films were failures, and she was even dubbed the “Queen of the ‘B’ Movies“ in the 1930s and 1940s- Fashion designer Vera Wang failed to make the 1968 U.S. Olympic Figure Skating Team and then was passed over for the editor-in-chief position at Vogue magazine after a 15 yr. tenureI understand that failing isn’t fun. But don’t let it get in the way of moving forward and trying again. It would be a shame to miss all the times you’re going to succeed.
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