You can learn a lot about emotional intelligence standing in front of a dishwasher, particularly one someone else was supposed to empty.
My kids are a bit older now, but I can vividly remember drawing a big imaginary circle in the air and saying, “I love you.” Then pointing to a tiny dot inside it: “But I don’t like that you haven’t emptied the dishwasher.”
The circle is the person. The dot is the thing we need to discuss. Both can be true at once – I can love you and still be frustrated by something you’ve done. I still occasionally got a ‘Dad! Why do you hate me?!’ in response. Kids have a superpower when it comes to misdirection!
The distinction between person and thing matters just as much in leadership as it does in family life: we sometimes need to address what someone has done without turning it into a verdict on who they are.
I’m not suggesting you open every performance conversation by declaring your love for the Finance Manager. “I appreciate you and value your contribution” will do the job, and likely involve less paperwork if HR gets involved. But the principle remains the same.
‘You’re unreliable’ can hit hard. ‘The last two client updates went out a day late’ gives us something we can examine and fix.
“You’re arrogant” invites a massive argument about character whereas “I noticed you interrupted your colleague a few times before they could finish” gives us a specific behaviour to discuss and work on.
Labels are easy to throw around, particularly when we get frustrated, but they’re much harder for someone to actually do anything with, other than get hurt, defensive, or ready to retaliate. Where, exactly, does someone start with “be less annoying”?
Strong emotional intelligence helps us notice our own frustration, consider the other person’s perspective and choose a response that gives the conversation a chance of going somewhere useful.
And sometimes the first bit of work is ours: Am I addressing a real issue, or reacting because someone challenged me? Did I actually explain the expectation, or just assume they’d downloaded the latest version of my brain?
Knowing the theory doesn’t make any of us immune from being a bit of a muppet occasionally when under pressure. The useful skill is noticing before our mood becomes everyone else’s problem.
I once worked with a candidate who interviewed brilliantly but arrived with a strong smell of cigarette smoke on his clothes. He had failed at the first hurdle in a couple of recruitment processes and didn’t know why. It would have been easy to wish him luck and say nothing, sparing myself an awkward conversation. Instead, I told him directly: something like, “Before you head in next time, think about the smell of cigarette smoke on your jacket. That could be worth sorting before the next interview.”
Okay – so to be fair he was embarrassed and left my office in a bit of a huff. No immediate “Thank you for this wonderful developmental opportunity Rob.” But a few weeks later he told me he’d skipped the nervous cigarette before his next interview and had his suit cleaned. He got the job.
The smell on his clothes was something he could do something about. It said nothing about his worth or capability and giving specific feedback gave him something to actually work with. Emotional intelligence doesn’t guarantee the feedback will feel good going down. We can take care with the delivery and give someone time to process it, without withdrawing a valid concern just because the first reaction might be discomfort. Clarity is kindness.
In a leadership conversation, that might sound like: “The client updates were due Friday and went out Monday. That left the client chasing us and the team answering questions without current information. Can you talk me through what got in the way?”
Then we must listen, properly. The answer might reveal a workload issue, an unclear handover, a poor decision, or something we contributed to ourselves. Curiosity gives us a better shot at solving the actual problem. From there, we can agree what needs to happen, what support is needed, and when we’ll check back in.
Standards still matter, too. Repeatedly damaging behaviour needs a response, even from someone talented, well-liked, or who brings in impressive revenue. The rest of the team deserve consideration as well. Separating the person from the problem lets us hold someone accountable while preserving their dignity. It’s not a free pass.
There’s a commercial case for getting this right, too. When every mistake becomes a judgement on someone’s character, admitting one becomes a much bigger risk. Problems can stay hidden, questions go unasked, and energy goes into self-protection instead of the work. That makes running a business considerably harder than it needs to be.
The same principle applies in reverse. If someone questions my decision, that doesn’t mean they’ve rejected me as a person or leader – I need to make room for the possibility they’ve spotted something I missed. We can’t ask people to separate themselves from their own mistakes if we treat every challenge to our own thinking as an act of treason!
So, before your next difficult conversation, it’s worth asking: what, specifically, needs to change – and how can I make that clear whilst still respecting this person’s dignity and mana?
I love you. I’d still like the dishwasher emptied…
About the Author
Rob Bishop is the Director of Bishop Associates, a Christchurch-based executive search and recruitment consultancy known for its values-led, people-first approach. Drawing on more than 30 years working with people, leaders and organisations, Rob and his team support boards and senior leaders through executive search, professional recruitment, interim appointments, assessment and HR advice.