Connecting the dots...

I went to hear a classical pianist last week – my first live classical music in many, many years. 

The concert reminded me that music, like words, can create meaning that goes far beyond what the writer intended.

I grew up in a home where classical music played every day, but my parents also encouraged me to find my own musical passions, which didn’t include much classical. 

Still, when I hear classical today, I can identify the melody and composer at least half the time. 

I was evidently paying attention back then, but there is more to it. My recall of the music has much to do with the images I formed of the composers: snippets of who they were as people and the times in which they lived; together with scraps of information from the single theory class I took as a teen.

So I wasn't surprised that I could appreciate the differences between Beethoven and Liszt and Mendelssohn. When the pianist began his final piece, Chopin’s Sonata No. 2 in B flat minor, Op. 35, I followed the first and second movements with the same familiarity I’d felt all evening. 

But when he got to the third movement I was dumbstruck. He was no longer playing Chopin. He’d switched to The Doom Song – the tune they played when Bugs Bunny, Sylvester or another of the Looney Tunes characters was in BIG trouble!

It was probably just a second before I realized that the pianist had not abandoned Chopin; that he was indeed playing the famous Funeral March. But for that brief time, I’d forgotten that the melody was of classical origin.

Did I forget? While I was hearing The Doom Song, my image of the composer was crystal clear: a guy on the back lot of the Warner Brothers Studio, hunched over the piano with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a single bulb above his head. The producer had told him to write something to use when the end was (almost) certain. My composer worked hard to get it right.

The Funeral March says, “the end is here” as clear as any sentence ever written. But it also reminds us that, no matter how clear the message we can’t control what our listeners hear.

My momentary lapse was of zero consequence. Are there consequences if your audience brings a fundamental misconception to your message? What are you doing to make sure they get it right?

Gen Yers only read the subject line of an email. That is, if they read an email at all.

I heard this from Jason Dorsey the Gen Y Guy®. Jason
is not only the guru of all things Gen Y; he is also a brilliant and delightful entertainer. His focus was not on research methodology, so maybe his subject-line-only declaration was part hyperbole.

But I want to know: Is this true? Are employers aware? What are they doing about it?

As an anthropologist and parent of two Gen Yers, I know that generational perspectives – like all cultural perspectives – shape the way we communicate. As a communicator, I know that uncovering listeners’ perspectives is a critical step in designing messages that meet them where they are. 

Last Friday, Jason spoke at the Communication Leadership Exchange annual conference, and he certainly gave me a new perspective on how to design better communication for better results.

He opened by asking us (almost all Baby Boomers) to think of the jobs we got paid to do before we went away to college. From babysitting to pumping gas to cutting lawns to waitressing, we all had plenty of work experiences as kids.

Then he told us that most Gen Yers (now in their 20s to mid 30s) enter the workforce never having held those kinds of jobs. From following through to showing up on time, many simply don't know that there are fundamental rules they are expected to obey!

He also reminded us that Gen Yers are the kids who got trophies for everything – including a last place finish. They begin their careers never having connected the dots between effort, ability, results and rewards.  

These are just two of many insights Jason shared. (Check out The Center for Generational Kinetics for more.) Still, they underscore the need for better communication at work.

Here’s my take: Don’t assume people know what you think they should know. Find out. If people aren’t doing what is required, show them and be explicit. Role modeling isn’t enough. Explain why – that’s how we connect the dots. Give lots of feedback. Make it part of an ongoing conversation.

As for reading only the subject line of an email… maybe that’s not so bad. According to the Information Overload Research Group, the rest of the workforce isn’t reading beyond the first paragraph. A clear subject line just might be the start of mindful communication!

Mindfulness is being aware. It’s a concept foundational to Buddhism. And after several millennia of living in the world of philosophy and religion, mindfulness now extends to the realm of psychology, where it underlies a range of therapeutic approaches.

I continue to think about the potential of mindful communication. Mindful email, for example, would – instead of reflecting the process of formulating an idea – reflect the critical thinking and insight behind an idea that was developed before it was shared.

If you are one who began stringing nouns and verbs together in the days of pen and paper, you might agree that writing used to require greater thought. Even a touch of mindfulness meant fewer cross outs and crumpled pieces of paper. The typewriter opened the door to spontaneity, but White Out took time. It still paid to think first.

Back to email and electronic communication in general: On the face of it, the ability to quickly get an idea down, read it and then improve it was a huge leap forward. At least it was for me.

The issue is what we do with the words and ideas we compose electronically. It's about how quickly we hit “send.”

Without mindfulness, words and ideas can become commodities. Not only do many lack value, they can serve as agents of misunderstanding and markers of ignorance. The easier it is to write and send, the greater the chance of damage. And whether words have merit or not, instant communication can render them quickly forgotten. As Cincinnati Enquirer sports writer Paul Daugherty says in today’s column, “In an age of Instant and Instantly Ancient, we don’t know much. Knowing requires depth. Depth takes time.”

I’m interested in enhancing mindful communication in the workplace, and want to test a few approaches. If you’d like your business or organization to participate, speak up. Hit send.