When Trust Has Been Broken

Every human relationship involves an emotional contract. It may be formal, a trigger for work, such as signing a non-disclosure agreement with an employer. Or it may be a deeply complex pledge that’s formal, legal, moral, and spiritual — vows of marriage are, perhaps, the most common of these, and, very likely, the ones most frequently broken. But for this blog, we’re talking only about workplace betrayals.

A breach or betrayal of trust has an immediate effect: it confuses and disorients the one who’s been betrayed. It’s a negative game-changer. Suddenly every aspect of the relationship has to be reviewed: what has the past really meant? What were the more recent signs, and did they all point to trouble? Was there any deception and has it been of long standing? Does this relationship have any future? Can the betrayer ever be trusted again?

Immediately after this distress, there’s the need for justice. Scales must be rebalanced. Equilibrium must be regained. In the process, don’t be surprised to find the entire relationship being re-evaluated for its overall value.

So what do you do if you’re the one who’s been betrayed?

• Take your mind off revenge, because that’s not justice or equilibrium. Fortunately, work involves tangible deliverables, so focus on keeping yourself professionally intact and above reproach. No matter how badly you’ve been burned, deliver on your commitments. “Being the adult” will only inspire more respect and trust for you. You’ll recover equilibrium faster this way than focusing on how to get even.

• Confront the betrayer and ask for a candid assessment of what happened, and what needs to happen, going forward. I don’t mean a knock-down-drag-out confrontation. I mean a rational, dignified inquiry into their motives which, if they’re legit, should not be difficult to discuss openly. It could, after all, have been a misunderstanding or misstep. If you tend to be indirect, this would now be a time to not mince words. Don’t pussyfoot around. “As I see it, this is what was done to me and here are some of the consequences I’ve had to deal with as a result. I need to know why you did this and what I can expect from you in future.”

•  Let it go. You may not get what you want from that discussion. Chronic betrayers act from cowardly impulses—they act badly, then can’t own up to it, so they often pretend it was a honest mistake, or that you simply got it wrong. Let it go. The strain of carrying the grudge or memory will only deter you, not your betrayer.

Relationships can come out stronger for having navigated crises of trust. The air gets cleared, the exact measures of loyalty and respect are renewed, and life moves on.

If you imagine your life as a series of concentric circles, you’ll see that the individuals you trust and respect most occupy the innermost circle closest to you. The upside to betrayal is that you get instant, crystal-clear insights on that other person—details you may not have had cause to perceive. But with the betrayal, they’ve proven themselves to be unworthy of your trust, so it’s entirely fair to remove them from that inner circle. If they want to regain it, leave it up to them to choose when and how they’ll do so.

You keep moving forward.

Trust: Building Relationships Versus Claiming Rights to Them

Last week I mentioned “karmic panhandlers,” those people who hope to benefit from large concepts of trust and respect without proving themselves worthy of such investment.

A few years ago I was approached by a mother from my kid's school. She said she'd worked for years in marketing and, as they were newly relocated, asked if she could have lunch with me about freelance work prospects here in town. Long story short, what began as a professionally extended invitation boiled down to this:

Me:             “So have you tried cold-calling prospects here?”

She:             “No.”

Me:             “Have you tried interviewing with the big companies in town?”

She:             (shifting uncomfortably) “No.”

Me:             “What is it you'd like me to help you with?”

She:             “I just thought, maybe, if you had some accounts you needed help with...or, um, clients you

wanted to offload....”

I can't recall the last time—before or since—that someone had the gall or naivete to ask me to just hand over some clients. A more professional response from her would’ve been along the lines of, “I was wondering if we could consider partnering up to go after opportunities we might not otherwise get on our own.” It would imply a willingness to work, to share risks and skills-building, and to take the time to build a collaboration.

Instead, when I demurred, she got into some remarks about how, as professional working moms, we automatically belonged to a network of mutual respect and support (ie, you owe me your help). She struck me as wrongheaded—far more aware of the standards to which she held other people than herself. And I didn’t understand the resistance to cold calling. As awful as cold calling seems, it is actually the initiation of new relationships. It seems less horrible when you regard it that way.

Trust is no different than loyalty or credibility—it has to be built and earned. It may have a stated value (“Seriously, you can trust me”) but the real proof is in how each individual takes action. They have to demonstrate they know how to help themselves. They have to know how to initiate, versus relying on others to do that for them. (And it helps to know how to follow up, because how do you learn to trust someone who never follows up with you, or does so in a spotty way?)

Women Who Don’t Help Other Women

 I’m going to start this series with the ticklish issue of trust between women, because it’s the one area where, when we’re good, we’re very, very good; but when we’re bad, we really let ourselves down in big, symbolic ways. My daughter’s generation nailed it when they coined words and phrases like “frenemies,”  “mean girls,” or “Queen Bees and wannabes.” This proliferates the workplace where adult women often find themselves confounded by rivalries and conflicts, and feeling ill-equipped to deal with them.

Madeline Albright said, famously, ”There's a special place in Hell reserved for women who don't help other women.” And trust is the foundation of any helping process.

  

I've given—and received—enough help to know the transformative power it has over us. On the downside, over the years I've been approached by working women who’d “talked bad” about my work or services behind my back but, upon going freelance themselves, felt no qualms about inviting themselves into my network. This I’ve found intriguing because when it comes to trust, it helps if the individual realizes any networking relationship is part of a longer-term, two-way street.

So here are my (post-feminist) concerns:

• Why wouldn't you help anyone who asked for it, male or female? Are we to suspend all critical thinking on the basis of gender only? Is a woman more entitled to my help than a man?

• Would you withhold help from a qualified male in preference for a less qualified female? And by doing that, are we then not perpetuating the very behavior we deplore in “the old boys' network”?

• Finally, the karmic panhandlers. These are the folks who have no problems reaping the benefits of trust, but they haven't earned the right to our unquestioning support. Next week I’ll talk some more about this, especially in light of concepts that suggest some of us are entitled to automatic dollops of trust from others.

Trust and Psychological Safety

Last year Linda Bishop (www.thoughtransformation.com) and I presented a webinar series on relationship-building strategies. Figuring prominently in this was the notion of trust—the sense of psychological safety essential to fostering strong, durable bonds, and highly productive collaborations.

Over the next few weeks I’ll be discussing trust.

Trust is an instinctual response. Policemen often refer to a gut-level reaction that sends up red flags when they sense—they just know—a suspect is lying. Something just doesn’t feel right (“hinky”). A cop’s professional skepticism and wariness would be a finely tuned radar; unlike the rest of us, they’re trained to not trust so readily.

No wonder: according to strategy + business, “…People start trusting someone before they even realize it. To some degree, at least, the placing of trust is not the result of a deliberate assessment, the researchers say, but of subconscious cues.”

Ponzi schemer Bernie Madoff used this quite brazenly: by dropping famous names, he created an illusion of trustworthiness for his investors. (“Hey, if Spielberg’s investing with him, he must be good!”)

But what makes trust real and solid, and when is it bogus? What happens when trust is broken? How do you restore it? How can we tell if someone’s trustworthy or not?

In my work life, I’ve worked with people who were trustworthy to varying degrees. I’ve worked hard to make myself worthy of my clients’ trust and confidence. So I know this to be true: without trust, the world becomes a dark place, the simplest actions fraught with tension. With trust, you can get just about everything done, and have fun too, because relationships come out stronger at the end of every collaboration.

1,000 Paper Cranes for Japan

I’m convinced that people who feel like they don’t belong can become human bridges to enhance insight and understanding. The following interview with a Georgia public school teacher, Kyung Shin, discusses how she and her students responded to recent events in Japan. As a result of their 1,000 Paper Cranes for Japan campaign, over $1,000 was raised for Japan’s relief efforts. Sure, some of you could’ve written a check for as much, but this was a process of learning for the students—and for their teacher, one of forgiveness and reconciliation.

Why 1,000 paper cranes? In Japanese folklore, if you fold a thousand paper cranes, whatever you wish will come true.

Natural disasters happen frequently around the world. Can you talk about why Japan's tsunami-and-earthquake in particular resonated with you?

I had lived in Japan as a child (before moving to the United States at age 10).  I am Korean by heritage but still identify with Japanese culture, and I can speak the language. My dad and his wife currently reside in Tokyo. Most of my maternal relatives also live in Japan, primarily in the Kobe/Osaka region. 

I struggled with my identity as a Korean growing up in Japan, because my childhood wasn’t always so easy. (In 1910, Japan annexed Korea and many Koreans were brought over to Japan for forced labor. As a result, Koreans are still not accepted as equal citizens of Japan). As an adult, I have hurtful memories of discrimination and prejudice. 

Maybe this was a personal act of reconciliation: the tsunami/earthquake disaster opened my heart towards the Japanese.  I saw how desperately they need help, and realized that because I have this background of having been born and raised in Japan, I can act as an intermediary between the people here and those in Japan. So I acted on my conviction, compassion, and also heart for the Japanese, and launched the 1,000 Paper Cranes for Japan campaign at my school. 

What have you learned as a result of this effort?

Early in our campaign I did not believe my students could actually fold all 1,000 cranes because origami is not so easy for elementary students—but lo and behold, we did it! 

I think we made our goal because the children were motivated and very invested in this project, to help and to be compassionate. They understood why we were folding the cranes for Japan. We all learned a lesson of giving and compassion.  I’m humbled by the students’ response since many of our students come from communities in need of help themselves. 

What do you want others to know about 1,000 Paper Cranes for Japan?

We can make a difference, no matter how small our efforts may appear in the big scheme of things. We can influence and encourage others to do the same.  Also, for me personally, as we help others heal from their tragedies, we receive healing in return.

Your father flew out of Tokyo shortly before the tsunami and earthquake, then returned a week later to help his community. How’s he doing? What does he say about the situation?

My father is doing well, thanks. He says that the constant aftershocks leave him edgy and anxious but overall, life is normal (at least in Tokyo). Like everyone else in Japan, he is worried about the radiation. My dad is the pastor of a small congregation right outside of Tokyo and he and his wife are reaching out to the community with words of encouragement through the Gospel. He feels that this is what he could do best as a pastor, to love his community and bless them.

The Best Crisis Handling Solution is Prevention

Every organization will face a crisis at least once every three to five years. Its cause may be internal (lapsed judgment), or external (natural forces), but the best way to handle a crisis is to first anticipate it as fully as possible.

A naïve, passive, or myopic organizational culture will believe nothing bad can happen to it, because so far nothing has. Many organizations simply regard preventive measures with distaste, as if envisioning calamity is equal to inviting it.

But then look at what happened with the BP oil crisis. One of the dismaying aspects was public realization that BP had no “Plan B.” As oil gushed like blood from a wound, it became clear nobody at BP really knew how to respond, and that fueled public disgust with BP’s leadership. We need and expect leadership to know what to do when things hit the fan—but even more, to know how to anticipate and prevent such things from occurring.

The point of crisis handling is prevention, not to ask, “What could possibly happen?” but rather “What would be the consequences to this organization and its constituents if the worst possible thing did happen?”

For starters, posing a question like that gets brains at the table thinking about what those worst-case scenarios might even be. And from there you can block out crisis preparedness plans, and their corresponding messages to the public.

To avoid that analysis on the superstition that it would only invite trouble is . . . well, foolish, to say the least, and the last thing you want is to have your customers assume the role of warning alarms.

Post-incident, as company spokespeople waited on lawyers to vet hastily constructed messaging from PR professionals, plenty of customers have stood in front of TV mikes telling the public, “I warned them over and over again, it was a disaster waiting to happen!”

The Leader as “People Person”

Stadion CEO Tim Chapman advises young people entering the investment management business with this: “Remember there are people and stories behind those accounts. I’ve never had a client talk to me in [the language of the stock market]. What they do say is ‘I want to be able to retire...to educate my kids...’ so be a good people person.”

L for listening.

Without question, the best leaders are skilled listeners. Period.

E for engaging.

The writer Antoine St. Exupery said a leader could tell his people how to build boats, or teach them to love the sea. If the latter happens, those who follow will quickly—eagerly—learn everything they can about building boats, and they’ll learn a great deal about the sea as well. Managers engage their people at one level, for process improvement; leaders engage at another—for the longer view, the bigger picture, the enticing vision of what could be. Also, successful leaders are good at enhancing their customer’s vision of possibilities.

A for accountability.

People in formal roles of leadership can get away with a lot: the media is filled with stories of leaders who’ve helped themselves to company coffers, or we’ve worked for bosses who admonish employees for being slack or tardy while maintaining freewheeling work habits themselves. Bottom line: As a leader, you must be accountable in the same ways you’re holding your people accountable; and when it comes to customers, you must be consistent and disciplined in how you hold yourself accountable.

D for discretion.

I’ve talked with leaders who have no qualms about discussing their employees’ private lives and struggles. Some do this with compassion, in understanding the bigger picture of an individual’s life. Others trade in the currency of idle gossip. Gossip is natural—merely the way people connect to one another, especially in the workplace—but a leader who constantly dabbles in it is gambling with his authority. For a customer to know you’re into petty gossip triggers serious qualms about your professionalism.

E (again) for ego.

It’s natural for leaders to have large passions, but the successful ones balance their egos with constant self-reflection. They also surround themselves with loved ones who keep them grounded and help them through the most painful moments of self-reckoning. When it comes to customers, skilled leaders are, at their core, humble—not as a way of “sucking up,” but because they know their livelihoods would not exist otherwise.

R for reality-checking.

Leaders who surround themselves with sycophants and “yes men” are blocking off streams of crucial information. If informal advisors are driving away formal ones, if the ones in agreement with you are outnumbering those who maintain critical thinking positions, then you may have a problem on your hands, particularly if your advisors are blocking you from authentic customer insights (complaints). Surround yourself with people who aren’t afraid to tell you the truth as they see it. Deal real.