Simple StrategiesBill Hennessy

Are you driven by money? Give it up.

Are you a multitasker? Give it up.

Do you work for power? Give it up.

Can you sell binoculars to a blind man?  Give it up.

Like cream in your coffee? Give it up.

Lent starts tomorrow. It’s a Christian period of sacrifice, abstinance, and reflection. Lent lasts 40 days.

Catholics are still encouraged to give up a temporal pleasure during Lent–every day but Sunday. The sacrifice should be private and small, because visible and grandiose sacrifices tend to lead to pride, not humility.

These concepts are so foreign today, aren’t they?

How many of us–believers or not–ever consciously choose to humble ourselves? In the popular culture that worships Lady Gaga and Modanna, humility, modesty, and abstiance are mortal sins.

Think, though, of the power of humility and futility of power. The mighty fall, but he lowly march on. Stories of the rich and powerful and greedy might entertain, but it’s always the tale of the little guy, the good person, the cleaning woman that moves hearts and minds.

Naked pursuit of money, distraction, and power make us temporarily stronger and permanently weaker. What’s it worth to gain the world and lose your soul?

Let begins Wednesday. Give something up. Don’t tell anyone.

I talked to two cops tonight for a little while.  They’re young men, in their early 30s.  One was a Marine before joining the police force.  (Which police force doesn’t matter.)

They told me some stories about the things they see. The bad things.

“We showed up and he [refering to the other cop] started doing life support on a seventeen-year-old with gun shot wound in his head. Gang banger.”

They talked about some of the details, then closed out the story.

“He died. That man [pointing to his partner] was the last person to touch him. Trying to save his life.”

One more detail.

“His mom [the victim's] was there. She was giving the kid mouth to mouth when we got there.”

Why is this important? 

Because my luggage was late today at the carousel at the airport. And our flight was a few minutes late. And Starbucks wouldn’t honor my iPhone app gift card. And I complained about the cruelty of the world.

Then God and the universe conspired to say, “Really?”  

It gets better. If you don’t believe me, just talk to a cop.

I had an amazing game that day. Truly amazing when you consider the secret I carried onto the court.

I was tall for an 8^th grader at six foot. But six foot is short by basketball standards. My parochial grade school team, the Epiphany Crusaders, were playing the best team in our league, St. Gabriel’s, at their gym. 

Somehow, I scored 32 points—24 from the floor. I had numerous offensive and defensive rebounds and several assists.  Even though I played center, my teammates passed me the ball for the final shot of the first half, and I hit it from well above the key.  We won by at least eight points. I don’t remember the final score, but it was the highest scoring game of my life to that point.

I was simply on fire.  In more ways than one.

When I woke up that Sunday, I  knew I was sick.  Every joint ached.  My room looked like a scalding hot road on a blistering day in the desert.  When I changed my focus, I got confused. 

Had I told my mom, I would have been sent back to bed. Not a chance I’d miss this game, so I avoided the parents as much as possible.

I stealthily took my temperature after putting on my uniform and warm-up suit.  One hundred one point seven. 

As I said, I was on fire.

Aside from the (would be) 3-pointer at the buzzer, I remember only sketches of that day.  I never broke a sweat, miserbly cold the entire game.  I wasn’t tired, exactly, but I felt physically weak.  Yet everything went right for me from the opening tip to the final buzzer.

Oh, one thing I do remember, if you can call it that: my mind was blank.  I didn’t think about anything. I simply reacted.  I was on autopilot, as if Dr. J had possessed my body and taken my brain along for the ride.

When my coach and parents realized how sick I was (I told them immediately after the game), they were shocked—not by my confession, but by my performance.

Had they known then what Dr. John Milton and colleagues at the University of Chicago know now, they wouldn’t have been surprised. Sometimes, we perform best when we don’t think.

E. Paul Zehr, PhD, of Psychology Today wrote about the study last week.  Dr. Zehr reports that in a recent study using functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI), Dr. Milton’s team compared brain activity between two sets of athletes: LPGA experts and golf novices.  The golfers were instructed to imagine their pre-shot routine before a shot requiring exact location. 

Both groups showed activity in the parts of the motor control parts of the brain, just as if the golfers were actually playing golf.

The difference between the pros and the novices came in other parts of the brain. And the differences were stark.

In short, the  novices’ brains lit up in thought and worry, while the pros’ brains remained dark and focused on motor control.  Here’s why that matters:

Increased activity in different brain areas means a greater chance of error and interference. These additional areas can include the basal ganglia and cerebellum, areas that help interpret feedback and regulate and control movement, particularly during learning. The upshot (no pun intended) is that movement performance can actually be degraded. When it comes to brain activity, more is less (if you’re a novice) and less is more (if you’re a pro).

Nineteen years after my 32-point explosion against St. Gabriel’s, Michael Jordan delivered a legendary performance in an NBA playoff against the Jazz.  “The Flu Game,” as it’s now known. Nauseated and feverish with the flu, Jordan played almost the entire game, scoring 38 points, and pulling his Bulls back from the brink with can’t-miss accuracy in the final minutes.

 After Jordan’s performance, teammate Scottie Pippen said, “He’s the greatest, and everyone saw why tonight.”

Perhaps.

Or maybe what makes Jordan the greatest basketball player of all time was his performance when he was completely healthy.  

If you’re out of touch with people you’re trying to lead, try a dose of humility. 

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Higher status individuals don’t relate well to others, and that’s a big problem for any boss trying to influence an organization.

If you’ve ever heard “our senior managers just don’t listen,” you’re already familiar with the symptom. Research conducted at UCLA on Social Status and Mentalizing shows a possible cause: bosses’ brains are anti-social.

Okay, that’s a little strong.  The way the researchers put it, higher status individuals pay less attention to others, worry more about themselves, and are less generous. Lower status individuals, on the other hand, pay close attention to social cues, work better in teams, and are more generous. 

What’s surprising is that these behaviors seem to be hard-wired into our brains. Under functional magnetic resonance imaging, subjects were primed to feel lower or higher status. Consistently, those primed to feel lower status more accurately discerned the emotional state of facial photographs. That’s no surprise, because numerous studies have found that lower status people tend to pay more attention to the emotions of others.

What the neuroscientists were looking for was different brain activity between the higher and lower status subjects. They found it.

Part of the brain thought to be responsible for “mentalizing”– putting ourselves in others’ shoes–showed heightened activity among the lower status subjects during the test.  (If you’re keeping score at home, these parts include the dorsomedial prefrontal cortex (DMPFC), medial prefrontal cortex (MPFC), precuneus/posterior cingulate cortex (PCC), temporoparietal junction (TPJ), and posterior superior temporal sulcus (pSTS).)

All of this makes sense.  The tribal chief is naturally more autonomous than the lowly brave. The trouble for leaders comes when trying to influence the tribe, because those who are more attuned to others’ feelings will have more rapport and those who are more aloof.  

One can speculate that very large compensation differences between senior managers and employees would only increase the disconnect between the two. Physical barriers, covered parking, and the other perks that go with business seniority increase the relative status differential and logically decrease communication and leadership effectiveness. 

This phenomenon may explain the results of a study by Stephen J. Sauer of Clarkson University in New York.  Dr. Sauer found that new leaders from lower status business schools can take the reins and give orders effectively, while new leaders of higher status must use their personal persuasion skills to succeed. Perhaps the personal approach forces the higher status bosses to better understand their people, while the lower status bosses naturally mentalize and read people more accurately.

While neuroscience recently unveiled the way the brain handles status, the ancients understood the need for humility in leaders.  Victorious Roman generals rode in a special chariot during the Triumph–a celebration of conquest.  As throngs of Romans cheered the general and his family, a slave stood behind him repeating in his ear, “All glory is fleeting.”  

Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle. And so we must straighten our backs and work for our freedom. A man can’t ride you unless your back is bent.

–Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

H/T Seth Godin

I hear it so often.  ”We need to change that, but right now this is more important.”

That more important “this” is usually an emergency created because we didn’t change the last time.  

This is true of nations, companies, and people.  We recognize the need to change, we’re given a map to change, but we’re so comfortable in our lethal ways that we’d rather die than fix the problems.

What changes are you putting off until tomorrow? And how heavy is that freeloader on your back?