Small People Suck

Got nothing against little people. (At 5’8”, some would say I should include myself in their ranks.)  It’s the  Smalls I can’t stand.  Small, as in petty.  Been battling the Smalls my whole life.  They’re everywhere and, like vampires, they suck the life out of you and turn you into one of their own.  Maybe that’s why Smalls appear to be growing in number.

Here’s a classic exchange I had recently with a Small – I’ll call him Small Bob – after my partner and I lost a tough platform tennis match against a rival club.  For the uninitiated, platform tennis, casually known as paddle, is a racket sport that falls somewhere between tennis and racquetball.  Paddle is played outdoors during the winter.

All juicy Small stories have back stories, and the one regarding Small Bob is this:  I picked up paddle a few years ago, and having played tennis most of my life, I’ve become fairly good in a relatively short time.  I play every chance I get, which helps.  My wife would tell you I’m paddle addicted.

Bob has been playing paddle forever, and in recent years has fallen from his place among the area’s better players. Bob might not be 100 years old, but on certain days, when it’s really cold and he’s clinging to a post-paddle, half-consumed beer and has a cigarette dangling from his lips, he might look it.  (Ok, that’s Small Sean talking.  Shame on me.  See, Small Bob is turning me into a Small!) 

My paddle partner is Bill – paddle is almost always a doubles game.  Bill is the Roger Federer of local paddle players.  He’s built like a brick shithouse, runs like a gazelle, and has a knack for making opponents look ridiculous with his crazy spins and dazzling backward, between-the-legs shots.  He’s not nationally ranked, but could be.  Bill is a paddle stud, and I’m lucky to be partnered with him.  Everyone knows it. He knows it (but would never say).  I know it, and joke about it freely.  And some, like Small Bob, know it, and take every opportunity to remind me just how lucky I am to be paired with someone as skilled as Bill. 

Here’s the exchange after the match the other night:

Small Bob:          Nice playing, Bill.  You played well.

Me:                        Um, thanks…but I’m Sean.

Small Bob:          Yes, I know.  I was talking to Bill.

Me:                        (feeling shittier already) Oh.      

Small Bill:            (smiling sarcastically) Don’t worry, Sean.  We’ll get you a good partner one of these days.  I’ll see what I can do to get you paired with someone who can actually play.

Me:                        (slouched over and moving toward my car, muttering under my breath) Go to hell, Bob.

Smalls are a nightmare.  They’re adept at finding the right buttons to push, and when you wince in pain after they press the right one, they zero in on that button.  Knocking you down seems to make Smalls feel bigger. 

I’ve tried everything to minimize the impact of Smalls on my life:

·         Ignoring them:  they know you’re listening and wincing inside…they’ll just keep coming

·         Yelling at Them: sure, then you look like the lunatic because others don’t know the back story

·         Trying not to Let it Bother You: yeah, right

·         Be Small like They Are: then they’ve beaten you

·         Confronting them Appropriately about their Smallness:  they’ll greet you with shock and utter ignorance

I’ve spoken with Bill about Small Bob countless times, and Bill assures me that he faced the same treatment from Small Bob when he picked up the game and was rising through the ranks.  After giving this some thought, I’ve determined that Bill is so self-assured about his level of play that Small Bob’s jabs eventually lost their sting.  Pushing buttons that cause no pain seem to cause Smalls to look elsewhere.

Maybe I’ll get better at paddle and work on my self-assuredness.  Or play with a worse partner.  Or run for the car after I lose the next time.

Not sure what to do. I just hate those Smalls.

About Sean O'Neil

Sean O’Neil is an expert in workplace and team dynamics.  He is also Principal and CEO of One to One Leadership (www.one2oneleadership.com), a sales and management training firm with clients that include the National Basketball Association, Major League Soccer, News Corporation, First Data, ADP, Xerox, the Oakland Raiders and the New York Knicks.  Sean and John Kulisek co-authored Bare Knuckle People Management:  Creating Success with the Team You Have – Winners, Losers, Misfits and All, which is due to be published in May 2011.  Sean has contributed to or been featured in, among others, The New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Selling Power Magazine and Incentive Magazine.

My Dad has Parkinson’s Disease

There, I said it.  I’ve known for several months now – since the day he was diagnosed.  And if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve known for a few years.  My dad’s father and sister died relatively young from Parkinson’s-related symptoms, so I’ve been alert to the classic signs for years.  As the family member nearest to Dad, I was enlisted by Dad to accompany him to a neurology evaluation for a second opinion at a prestigious Ivy League hospital (the one in Connecticut…it rhymes with shale).    

My day began with me whining to my wife and kids about the date and timing of this appointment – middle of a busy workweek and my wife’s birthday.  Then, as I was pulling up to the hospital garage 5 minutes before the appointment, Dad called to ask whether he should go north or south on I-95 in Bridgeport, which is a solid 20 miles away.  He’d be late.  I was pissed.  (The doctors among you will say that getting lost and being late are symptoms of Parkinson’s, but my old man has been getting lost and running late for all of my 42 years.)  I was short with him on the phone and then tapped an annoyed email out to my sibs.  What am I doing here?  I have work to do.  Why did I come?

When he finally arrived, the receptionist told us that the doctor would still see us, and we were asked to complete paperwork.  Dad asked me to read him the questions and fill in the answers.  I was shocked by the number of symptoms he listed – blurred vision, joint swelling, trouble swallowing.  I was floored when the doctor pointed to her armpit and he couldn’t name what it was.  This was my father.  Wow, he’s sick.

I held Dad’s coat and insurance papers, sat off to the side, and occasionally checked my Blackberry.  The doctor – a young, pleasant woman at whom I directed an anxiety-driven jab in our first moments together (for which I later apologized) – artfully brought me into the assessment process.  I occasionally clarified a family timeline discrepancy or added my observations about onset of certain symptoms.  The process allowed for some memories to emerge that made us alternatively laugh and cry.  In the end, the doctor confirmed the Parkinson’s diagnosis, but also offered a rather favorable prognosis.  Dad’s symptoms were progressing at an unusually slow rate, so the meds would likely be very successful in stalling the progression further.

Dad and I had lunch in a crappy little diner, and we talked about coaching and business and family and kids and Parkinson’s.  We connected in a way we haven’t in a very long time. 

Dad will soon be leaving his Connecticut home to live near/with my mother in Florida. They have been apart for almost 12 years (I’m saving that story for another post…or a dime-store novel).  I’ve known for at least several months of his Parkinson’s diagnosis, but haven’t done a thing about it…I’ve barely even spoken about it.

Why is it sometimes so hard to spring into action even when you are in complete control of making a beneficial change?

·         I’m fat.

·         My website sucks.

·         I hate my career trajectory.

·         My wife and I haven’t spoken meaningfully in months.

·         My employees don’t know how much I appreciate them.

·         My backhand really sucks.

·         I hate my office space.

·         I can’t remember the last time I hung out with each of my kids individually.

It wasn’t until today that I accepted the reality of Dad’s health and decided to actively involve myself in his treatment.  I’ll now be doing it 1,200 miles from where he’ll be living, even though he’s practically been in my back yard for the past 8 years. 

On the bright side, my visit with Dad jolted me to make a list of things I can start changing now.

How to Handle a Mutiny

Detroit Pistons’ head coach John Kuester recently found himself at the epicenter of the worst of management storms: Mutiny.  Seven Pistons players apparently staged a protest against Kuester, purportedly wanting ownership to ouster him, by skipping a required practice.  Kuester responded by benching the protesting players in a loss against the 76ers. 

There are conflicting reports about what actually led to this whole mess in Detroit, as well as about who is more or less to blame.  Regardless, the important question for us is what the hell a manager can do to end a serious controversy and return his team to a state of relative calm, normalcy and productivity?

Here are 3 things a manager facing mutiny must do:

1.       Take Stock.  Bad storms are violent and disruptive. But managers need to find time in a quiet place to reflect on how they got to this awful point to begin with.  And because managers are in the center of it, they are wise to get counsel from a smart, objective, observant, straight-taling sounding board.  Could be a colleague, mentor, executive coach or hired consultant.  An objective person can help you identify the keys to sorting through all of the noise, and understanding how you got here and where you are now:  What factors led to this?  When did the problems begin? How did it escalate? Who is involved? Who holds the power? What are the possible outcomes?  Which, among those, are the best for you (or least undesirable)?

2.       Own Your Own Shit.  When asked about his job status amidst the Pistons’ fallout, Detroit’s Keuster said: “One of the things you have to do is feel comfortable about the way you're handling things, and I feel comfortable."  I’m often accused of looking too much into things, but Kuester sounds to me like someone who is not owning any responsibility for his team’s mess, and that strikes me as problematic.  Every manager facing mutiny contributed to it at least a little bit: maybe he hurt an employee’s feelings, or let the powerful disgruntled employee go unchecked for too long, or reacted too severely when team policies were violated.  Managers must answer honestly what they contributed to the trouble or the mutiny will end with the manager walking the plank.

3.       Initiate a System Shock.  Don’t pretend it’s business as usual.  Because your employees are revolting, you are in crisis.  Crises require crisis management.  You need something strategic and big to let your people know that radical change is coming.  Some possibilities, depending on your own situation:

·         All-Hands Emergency Meeting/Off-Site: Redefine your team’s mission.  Identify new ground rules. Re-establish trust.  Blah, blah, blah.  Who cares what you do when you're there?  You need a profoundly impactful event.  One-day events rarely create lasting change, but you need to stop the negative landslide and stabilize the troops.  This might be your only chance.

·         Cut Off the Monster’s Head: Sometimes, “Taking Stock” will reveal that the power of the opposition lies in the hands of one thug who’s wreaking all the havoc (in Detroit’s case, fingers are pointing at Rip Hamilton).  In that case, your best move might be to remove him.  Sure, if he’s a compelling leader, you might have others follow him out the door.  But you’re just as likely to gain the respect of those who remain, and hopefully you’ll have a more positive powerful force fill the void.  If nothing else, you will have ridded your team of the thug’s poison.

Mutinies happen for a variety of reasons: crazy managers who drive employees to revolt, powerful veteran employees who use their influence to organize a walk-out, or a confluence of negative outside events.  No matter the reason, mutinies are unnerving for any manager, and often ultimately result in a manager’s departure.  Because they are so serious, they need to be dealt with seriously, swiftly and effectively by the manager if he has any chance to survive and bring his team through.

About Sean O'Neil

Sean O’Neil is an expert in workplace and team dynamics.  He is also Principal and CEO of One to One Leadership (www.one2oneleadership.com), a sales and management training firm with clients that include the National Basketball Association, Major League Soccer, News Corporation, First Data, ADP, Xerox, the Oakland Raiders and the New York Knicks.  Sean and John Kulisek co-authored Bare Knuckle People Management:  Creating Success with the Team You Have – Winners, Losers, Misfits and All, which is due to be published in May 2011.  Sean has contributed to or been featured in, among others, The New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Selling Power Magazine and Incentive Magazine.

Rebuilt Knicks: Can Coach D’Antoni Rise to Transition Challenges?

So the Knicks finally landed Carmelo Anthony, among the NBA’s top players, to become relevant again in the NBA’s Eastern Conference.  But the price was steep: the Knicks shipped 4 of their 5 most recent starters – all young, developing talent – to the Nuggets along with numerous future draft picks.  As a result, the Knicks are now a completely different team, and Coach Mike D’Antoni bears the pressure to make it work now, for the Knicks have left themselves little chance to rebuild if the Melo move proves unsuccessful.

D’Antoni’s task is similar to that of any coach or manager who’s team makeup has materially and suddenly changed – he needs to facilitate a smooth transition so his new team can quickly get up to speed and achieve success. 

This ain’t easy, but here are 3 specific actions Coach D must do now:

1.       Allow Mourning among the Remaining Few: The few Knicks not traded are undoubtedly shaken, and D’Antoni must allow them to mourn the loss of friends and come to grips with what the future holds for them.  Before the trade, this had become the most exciting Knicks team in years.  They rallied around their new star, Amar’e Stoudemire, and together thrived within the pressures of playing in New York.  Roles had been defined, and the team’s identity was certain.  Now, only uncertainty remains.  Where is the team going?  How will it affect each player?  Do they have to jockey for position all over again?  D’Antoni must speak to these questions and more.  The X Factor to the Knicks’ success, after all, as with many teams, will lie in the hands of their role players.  Coach: Better make sure they’re on solid ground if you want to make things interesting in the East!

2.       Meet with Power Brokers: Who’s team is this?  Who gets the ball at the end of the game?  How will individual statistics be impacted?  How will they handle any adversity, particularly in the beginning (remember, the star-studded Miami Heat started this season with a record of 9-8, and faced relentless questions about their ability to come together). Stoudemire is apparently happy to have Melo on board, but Coach D better make sure Amar’e understands the impact on him.  Will new point guard Chauncey Billups work the pick and roll as well as Felton?  Similarly, Melo will have to get used to sharing the stage, something he hasn’t had much experience doing.  Knicks fans have been chanting M-V-P! at Amar’e all season.  Will that jive with Melo? Finally, Billups, while in the twilight of his career, is the only roster player with a championship, and commands respect.  Not to mention, he publicly stated he wanted to end his career in Denver.  Coach:  Bring the studs together early and speak to them individually.  If they’re not on the same page with you and each other, it could get ugly quickly.

3.       Don’t Underestimate Team Time:  Not recommending “trust falls” or Kumbaya circles here, but D’Antoni needs to get this team together off the court to allow for informal bonding.  Getting to know each other as individuals, not just basketball players, will accelerate gelling.  D’Antoni should organize a few loosely-organized team gatherings so players can interact freely outside the media focus of games and practices. Coach: Force social interaction.  It’ll be awkward at first, but you don’t have the luxury of time to let chemistry evolve naturally.

Knicks fans – and I count myself among them – are rightfully hyped.  We haven’t had this sort of star power on the court in years.  But we share the pressure to succeed now, particularly since the Knicks pushed all their chips into the middle of the table by shipping their young talent and future draft picks. 

Mike D’Antoni has proved himself a talented manager, showing the guts to make significant midseason adjustments and by tweaking his lineup and shifting player positions.  But the pressure is on now – he got what he’s been waiting for since he became the Knicks’ head coach.  He’ll have to make his most meaningful midseason adjustments yet!

About Sean O'Neil

Sean O’Neil is an expert in workplace and team dynamics.  He is also Principal and CEO of One to One Leadership (www.one2oneleadership.com), a sales and management training firm with clients that include the National Basketball Association, Major League Soccer, News Corporation, First Data, ADP, Xerox, the Oakland Raiders and the New York Knicks.  Sean and John Kulisek co-authored Bare Knuckle People Management:  Creating Success with the Team You Have – Winners, Losers, Misfits and All, which is due to be published in May 2011.  Sean has contributed to or been featured in, among others, The New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Selling Power Magazine and Incentive Magazine.

Dynamics of Conflict and Resolution

I coach my 13-year-old sons' basketball team.  At practice recently, in preparation for a big game, I got into a battle with my point guard son, Ryan.  You know Ryan.  You love him.  He might even work for you.  He's your hard-nosed, never-say-die "coach on the floor" whose grit, stubbornness, and will to succeed - the very qualities that allow you to lean on him so heavily - occasionally cause friction between you that jeopardizes your relationship.

I arrived at practice still tense from work that day, and early on I needled Ryan when he held the ball too long on a fast break.  He shot me a glance as if to say, "Ouch, where did that come from?"  A moment later, in the exact same situation, he made the exact same mistake, and I barked at him loudly.  Ryan rolled his eyes, as if to say, "Really, are you going to ride me like this all practice?"

Then, on the very next possession, the moment he collected the ball in the back court, Ryan purposely flung it far out of reach of his teammate up ahead, as if to say, "There, did I get rid of it soon enough that time, Coach?" 

I was shocked and pissed.  No kid in any practice I had ever run had been so blatantly disrespectful.  I didn’t think.  I just reacted by blowing my whistle and said, "Ryan, on the line. You’re going to run."  In a fit of rage, Ryan drop-kicked the ball against the far wall and raced out of the gym.  The scene was raw and visibly tense.  I didn’t have any idea what to do.  My assistant (I think of him as my own personal Shooter from the movie Hoosiers) eventually prodded Ryan back into practice, but it wasn't until the end.  Ryan never ran his "suicide" for his outburst.  Practice ended.  Oh shit.  Now what?

On the ride home, Ryan, sensing my conundrum, apologized profusely, but I knew (and he probably knew) I needed to do something to respond to his outburst. 

The next day, after a sleepless night, I told him that he would sit out the 1^st quarter of our next game.  After some tearful pleading, Ryan (and my wife) stopped speaking to me – right up until game time.

During my pre-game talk with the team, I told everyone about Ryan’s punishment.   They glanced down at Ryan, who angrily glared at the wall.  I told the team that I behaved poorly as well, and that this could safely be characterized as punishment for me.  Ryan continued to glare.

Ryan's sullen behavior extended into the pre-game warm-up, and I mentioned to Shooter that if he didn’t pull it together and take on his typical emotional leadership role on this team, I might be forced to sit him beyond the 1^st quarter. 

I was struck by how uncertain I felt.  What would I say to him?  What if his moodiness persisted, and I kept him out of the game?  Would this be the first step in a precipitous slide out of the starting lineup and to the end of the bench?  Would our relationship off the court remain strained?  How does this end or at least get better?

Ever been there with your Ryan?  Found yourself backed into one of those awful little corners with one of your favorite people?  Worried that one wrong word or shift in the discussion might turn what should have been a minor issue into a bigger, perhaps irreversible one?

Here’s what I did:  I had Ryan to come over to the bench while the teams were still warming up, and quietly said:

Listen, I know this sucks – it sucks for me too – and I know you’re pissed.  This is almost over, but I need you to conjure up some support and enthusiasm for your team here, especially while you’re sitting out.  They’re all watching us closely, and I can’t put it behind us unless we get through this the right way.

Ryan nodded tersely, and re-entered warm-ups.  When he thought I wasn’t looking, he clapped hard and shouting encouraging words to his teammates.  He continued this positive behavior through a hard-fought 1st quarter.  Ultimately, we won the game, and Ryan played great. 

Ryan bailed me out and made my decision to put him in to start the 2^nd quarter easy.  But what if he hadn’t?  Just because I was the “coach” and the “adult” didn’t mean I had all the answers.  It certainly didn’t mean that I held all the cards.  Ryan had cards to play too, and I wasn’t sure what they were or how he would play them.  A poorly-played card here or there could have led to a much worse outcome.  There's no coaching manual for situations like that.

Luck had a hand here.

It worked out this time.  But maybe next time I won’t be so lucky.

About Sean O'Neil

Sean O’Neil is Principal and CEO of One to One Leadership (www.one2oneleadership.com), a sales and management training firm with clients that include the National Basketball Association, Major League Soccer, News Corporation, First Data, ADP, Xerox, the Oakland Raiders and the New York Knicks.  Sean and John Kulisek co-authored Bare Knuckle People Management:  Creating Success with the Team You Have – Winners, Losers, Misfits and All, which is due to be published in May 2011.  Sean has contributed to or been featured in, among others, The New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Selling Power Magazine and Incentive Magazine.

CC Sabathia: Flexing his Franchise Muscles to Management

The NY Yankees' ace, CC Sabathia, certainly turned heads upon his arrival to training camp.  Showing up 25 pounds lighter, svelte CC sent a clear message to the Yankees' brass:   I am the Franchise of this organization, I got myself in shape to continue my dominance, so extend my contract and pay me more or I'll opt out of my contract and potentially leave. 

Yankee-Red Sox commentator, Dom Amore, got it right when he said CC is fully aware of his leverage and would be foolish to give it away. CC has been watching the Yankees' management this off-season - the money they offered Cliff Lee (which is a better deal than CC has), and the way they treated their fading Franchise and soon-to-be Legend, Derek Jeter. 

Franchise players on the field and in the workplace give managers fits because they use their leverage to ask for - and often receive - more.  Managers bristle at the leverage play and often fail to bend sufficiently to retain the Franchise talent.  Clinging to your principles looks pretty foolish when your stud is packing his bags to head to your competition.

Managers need to do the following to keep their Franchise:

1. Give In:  Managers fear that caving to the Franchise would somehow weaken or threaten their authority, or perhaps be deemed unfair treatment by Franchise's peers and ultimately lead to low morale.  Sure, possible.  But managers who clearly articulate a policy of perks for performance and apply those equally across their team are likely to look like savvy business people and not like wimps.  In business, he with the most leverage wins.
2. Offer Value Not Easily Acquired Elsewhere:  Skilled, observant managers highlight value they offer Franchise that other managers would not or could not.  In the Yankees' case, they promote pitching on baseball's biggest stage, Yankee Stadium.  In the workplace, maybe it's removing Franchise's obstacles so he can perform better, or securing part-time admin help to ease his paperwork burden.  Managers would be wise to think creatively and self-promote often. 

"Self-promote?  To a subordinate?" you ask.  You bet.  This guy is your meal ticket.  Treat him like he is.  Managing Franchise players is challenging, but won't you look better if you attract and retain them, instead of sending them running to the competition?  Creating an environment that recognizes Franchise value will help you keep your very best producers.

Word to Brian Cashman (or the George's kids, or whoever is making player personnel decisions for the Yanks these days):  Take care of Big CC now, or the hat he famously tilts off the side of his head might have a big ugly B on it instead of the much more appealing inter-locking NY.

About Sean O'Neil

Sean O’Neil is Principal and CEO of One to One Leadership (www.one2oneleadership.com), a sales and management training firm with clients that include the National Basketball Association, Major League Soccer, News Corporation, First Data, ADP, Xerox, the Oakland Raiders and the New York Knicks.  Sean and John Kulisek co-authored Bare Knuckle People Management:  Creating Success with the Team You Have – Winners, Losers, Misfits and All, which is due to be published in May 2011.  Sean has contributed to or been featured in, among others, The New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Selling Power Magazine and Incentive Magazine.

Inspiration and Gimmick - Finding the Line

3 Questions to Determine Whether Your Rally Cry is Inspirational or Gimmicky:

    1. Is it personal to your team?

    2. Is it unique and meaningful (or is it another in a long list of contrived attempts to motivate)?

    3. Does your team embrace it and add to it so it evolves organically (or is it solely your creation)?

 This morning at the gym, I saw a moving piece this morning on Sports Center about a Tennessee high school football team that found inspiration in a teammate, Dylan, who was diagnosed with cancer and extended his battle right up to the day the team won the state championship.

Much to the chagrin of my elliptical machine mates, I found myself blubbering like a baby. ("Uh, Sean, are you crying?" "No, my eyes are sweating.")  I really lost it when they showed Dylan's best friend and teammate giving his impassioned speech before the championship game, in which he implored his team to selflessly fight like Dylan fought for his life and in his last hours asked about his team.  Needless to say, the team charged out of the locker room and thoroughly romped their opponent to claim the team's first state championship in 58 years.

Dylan's courageous battle was truly inspirational to his team - they cared for their friend, they knew he wanted them to win, and they rallied behind him.  It appears, at least, that Dylan's battle motivated the team to perform beyond expectations.

Coaches (and managers) constantly and ineffectively try to manufacture this type of inspiration to motivate their teams, and instead of inspiring, it gets dismissed as gimmick.  Every college team these days seem to have a black band or teammate's number or the water boy's uncle's initials patched onto their uniform, purportedly in the interest of motivating the team.

There's nothing wrong with seizing upon a life circumstance is personal, meaningful and embraced fully by a team to help it outperform.  But events like Dylan's are (thankfully) rare.  As a coach or manager, when you go to that well too often or frivolously, the message rings hollow, and often distracts you and your team from rolling up your collective sleeves and doing the real, hard, day-to-day work that makes you better.

About Sean O'Neil

Sean O’Neil is Principal and CEO of One to One Leadership (www.one2oneleadership.com), a sales and management training firm with clients that include the National Basketball Association, Major League Soccer, News Corporation, First Data, ADP, Xerox, the Oakland Raiders and the New York Knicks.  Sean and John Kulisek co-authored Bare Knuckle People Management:  Creating Success with the Team You Have – Winners, Losers, Misfits and All, which is due to be published in May 2011.  Sean has contributed to or been featured in, among others, The New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Selling Power Magazine and Incentive Magazine.