Tag: promises

Unhelpful people

Near the start of a book I found a curious entry among the ‘Acknowledgements’. Having named those to whom the author was grateful, he then writes: ‘On this particular volume I received no help from Josiah S. Carberry. For that too I am grateful.’

It’s a joke. Josiah S. Carberry is, in fact, a fictional character[1], the name standing for someone we might describe as a crackpot. The author I was reading, Joel Feinberg[2], is humorously saying that none of those who helped him were crazy.

However, I suspect many authors could identify people whose help would be thoroughly unhelpful. And most of us could list folk like that too.

I’ve been grateful for supportive, gifted, positive friends and colleagues, and I’ve valued their backing and input. But a few have been ‘Josiah S. Carberry’ types. Some have discouraged, some misguided, some wasted my time. They were unhelpful people.

By ‘unhelpful’ I don’t only mean ‘annoying’. We all encounter folk who annoy us:

Those who are repeatedly late. I recall someone calling such people ‘thieves’ because they stole everyone else’s time waiting for them.

Those who won’t switch off their phones during meetings (or on the golf course!). One speaker, at a very large conference, not only failed to switch off his phone, he took a call midway through his talk. That’s so bad.

Those who constantly try to impress with their successes. Their achievements usually aren’t special. Most of us have the good sense not to brag about ours.

Those who boast constantly about their children’s successes. That might be their youngsters’ progress at reading, or their older ones’ exam achievements, or their grown up kids’ careers.

Those who take 500 words to say what deserved only 50. Long-windedness is not a quality.

Taking a hint from that last sentence, I won’t list more ‘annoyances’. My point is that annoying people do no more than annoy; usually they don’t stop us doing what we need to do. But unhelpful people are a real hindrance.

I’ll describe some unhelpful people who’ve crossed my path, partly from my time as a pastor but also from when I was leading major organisations.

Those who are excessive time-consumers  Ann made an appointment to speak with me. “What’s on your mind?” I asked. “Well,” she said, “sometimes I’m just not very happy”. My inner reaction was that I wasn’t always happy either. But there might be something much deeper troubling Ann, so we talked. And another time we talked. And another time we talked. At no point did Ann describe anything as seriously wrong, other than that she wasn’t always happy. We talked about expectations, and I left things there.

Ann may have wanted to talk more. Perhaps she was lonely, and enjoyed conversation. But I couldn’t be her talk-buddy long-term. To give Ann more time would have been at the expense of other people and other tasks which were in greater need of that time. That would not be right.

Some people demand attention which takes more than our time. Gordon MacDonald describes Very Draining People – he calls them VDPs – who sap the passion of leaders. Their demands keep increasing, they take but don’t give, and leaders who indulge them pay a massive bill in inner exhaustion.[3]

People who consume an inordinate amount of our time are unhelpful.

Those in love with their own opinion  Martin accosted me. He wanted me to know that people were saying that in our church services we should return to singing traditional hymns, and have far fewer modern worship songs. I had learned to be suspicious when someone used the phrase ‘people are saying’, so I asked Martin “How many are saying that?” He answered: “Everyone I’ve spoken to”. Exactly, those he’d hand-picked to be on the receiving end of his opinion. In fact, I’d heard already that Martin was cornering certain church members, pushing his passion for traditional hymns on them, and when they nodded, he considered they agreed with him and added them to his list of ‘people are saying’. But some of them had told me what was happening, and that they didn’t agree with Martin. However, he was a forceful personality, a man who believed strongly in the rightness of his own ideas, so partly out of politeness and partly out of fear they had just nodded in order to get him to stop.

I saw the same happen with departmental heads who pushed for more funding or more prominence for their area of work, sometimes going direct to trustees to win their support. I saw it too with people who thought they knew exactly what was needed for our organisation to grow, then sowed their opinions among other staff members, but they had neither complete understanding of the facts nor the ability to bring growth about.

People in love with their own opinions are often unhelpful. 

Those who are perpetually negative  Faced with problems I’ve been reassured when someone says, “Don’t worry; every cloud has a silver lining”. I like that positivity, looking for how something bad might also turn into something good.

But Charlie never reassured me. He was near 100 per cent consistent in seeing only insurmountable problems. His gift for gloom and doom depressed everyone around him. One colleague summed up Charlie this way: “Charlie is convinced every silver lining has a cloud – and it’s a black cloud”.

The negative Charlies of this world don’t see themselves as difficult. They believe they’re helping by pointing out the hard challenges to which we have no answer. But that’s not helpful. It tempts people to give up without trying. The truth is that virtually every project has tough challenges, but often those challenges are resolved by moving forward carefully and constructively. When running a marathon, you feel pain – cramps, blisters, weariness – and finishing the race seems impossible, but careful self-management before or after that point can still get you over the finishing line. Problems are usually not reasons to give up.

Negative Charlies are unhelpful people.

Those who oppose  The Old Testament book of Nehemiah records the rebuilding of the wall of Jerusalem. Decades before, the Israelites had been transported from their own land and made slaves. While they were gone, Jerusalem fell into disrepair and was occupied by other peoples. But then Nehemiah, cup bearer to his overlord, King Artaxerxes, got permission to return with others to rebuild Jerusalem’s walls. He succeeded, and Nehemiah 12 describes a lavish dedication ceremony for the new walls.

However, what happened between permission to rebuild and celebrating the completed walls is far from a story of straightforward success. In places it reads like a thriller novel.

Right from the start the project was opposed by other tribes and peoples. As soon as Nehemiah returned to Jerusalem and surveyed the damage, Horonite and Ammonite officials spread stories that Nehemiah was rebelling against the king (chapter 2). Once work on the walls began, Samaritans – backed by a large army – ridiculed what he was doing. But Nehemiah and his fellow Jews kept building. So his opponents, who’d enlisted even more support, plotted to kill the wall builders. Nehemiah posted guards and later assigned half the men to work on the walls while the other half held weapons ready to defend them. Eventually the order became: ‘Work with one hand and hold your sword ready in the other’ (chapter 4).

Nehemiah’s enemies got more subtle. They invited him to a meeting. That sounded reasonable, even friendly, but what they intended was neither reasonable nor friendly. They wanted Nehemiah alone to murder him. He sent a reply that he was doing a great work, and had no time to meet with them. Frustrated, his foes spread more stories: ‘Nehemiah is leading a revolt, and he’s planning to install a king in Jerusalem’. It was a rumour of insurrection, which could get Nehemiah killed. But the work went on. His enemies decided enough was enough. They appointed assassins who would creep into the Jewish camp in the dead of night and dispose of Nehemiah for good. Nehemiah learned of the plot, but despite the intimidation and danger he would not be stopped, and the new wall was completed in a little over seven weeks (chapter 6).

Nehemiah’s opponents were clearly the worst of unhelpful people. Few of us work with constant life-ending threats from people who want us to fail.

But we do face challenges in ways like these:

Head on  We can experience direct opposition from senior colleagues. They may be honest – they disagree on some matter. But it’s awkward, unsettling and, even when we have the authority to press ahead anyway, their opposition leaves us distressed.

Non-cooperation  Management gurus describe the covert way staff can halt new initiatives – they simply don’t implement them. They like the culture they have, the ways of working with which they’re familiar, the colleagues they work beside, so they don’t make the changes they should.

Campaigns  Opponents seek support from others for their point of view. They enlist sympathisers, who in turn enrol more. It all builds until there are sufficient numbers to obstruct a policy change.

Leaders must listen when people hold alternative views. But often it’s right to press forward despite opposition. That’s part of the job.

Those you can never please  There’s a common saying: ‘You can’t please all the people all of the time’. I don’t agree. Here’s my saying: ‘You can’t please all the people any of the time’.

The culture in my Christian tradition is to find unanimity. “We can’t move forward until we all agree,” someone says. Now, if we’re talking about a group of less than six people, we might get total agreement, especially if the matter is a small one. But complete unity of heart and mind is rare with greater numbers and bigger issues.

In fact, a call for unanimity can be a stalling tactic. When change can’t happen until everyone agrees on every detail, at the least it’ll be a long way off or, very possibly, it will never happen. That’s an intolerable situation. It’s a case of the perfect being the enemy of the best.

Those who demand agreement from all are mostly unhelpful people.

Finally, three more – briefly!

Those who are all talk and no action  I’ve had colleagues and friends who argued powerfully for policies or positions, but did very little after getting those positions. Terry was keen to head up maintenance work, and great at listing repair and development tasks. But he didn’t do any of them, nor delegate the jobs to others. People complained about facilities not working. I encouraged Terry, and was assured matters were getting his attention. But they weren’t, and more and more people grumbled to me about uneven paths, broken equipment, peeling plaster, and much more. I went again to Terry, and was very straightforward that he wasn’t doing the job. “I guess I should resign then?” he asked. I didn’t talk him out of it. Soon after, we appointed Gary who boasted no special skills, but made sure every task brought to his attention was completed promptly. No more complaints.

Unhelpful people talk a good game, but have little to show for it.

Those who don’t keep their promises  Some failed promises are relatively minor: the student who didn’t read a set book before class; the fellow actor who didn’t learn their lines; the Board member who, before the meeting, didn’t even glance at the papers staff had slaved to prepare. Such things matter, but they’re not at the level of other forms of promise-breaking:

  • After a lengthy and expensive hiring process, Josh is offered the job and immediately accepts. One week later – after other candidates have all been told they are not being appointed – Josh sends a one sentence email saying he’s changed his mind and won’t be taking up the post.
  • After two years of marriage, Katy tells Bert she no longer loves him and she’s leaving. He pleads; others counsel; but Katy just keeps saying she doesn’t want this marriage any more.
  • Cedric has elevated himself above all his colleagues, and is rewarded with responsibility for the firm’s biggest client. There’s talk of massive amounts of new business. Cedric assures his CEO he’s working day and night on a business plan that will delight the client. The deadline agreed with the client is 20 days away. No plan yet from Cedric, but he guarantees his boss it’ll be ready in time. When it’s down to the last ten days and then five days Cedric promises he’s making the final edits. Deadline day arrives, but Cedric’s plan doesn’t. He’s been doing everything but the plan. The client is furious and withdraws all business from the firm.

I can understand that some people aren’t successful at a task they promised to do. But they tried. What I can’t understand is how people make promises – often solemn promises – and simply walk away from them. ‘Unhelpful’ is far too weak a word for them.

Those who criticise behind your back  It’s those last three words ‘behind your back’ that trouble me most. I have never minded when people raise concerns with me. We can talk, understand each other better, and often resolve issues. But if people have criticisms, and take their complaints straight to others, then two things are wrong: a) I’ve had no chance to resolve anything; b) those to whom they speak are being given only one side of a story. I wish the complainers would be asked by those they talk to: ‘Have you spoken with Alistair about this?’ and, when the answer is ‘no’, they then refused to hear any more until the grievances had been brought to me.

I do understand that people find it difficult to speak to someone in line management over them. Yet, it’s far from fair to go straight to others, without giving the subject of their complaints the chance to resolve a problem. Secret complainers are unhelpful.

Finally, then, how do you deal with unhelpful people?  I can’t give specific answers because each case is unique. However, I learned that the only way to deal with unhelpful people is by actually dealing with them.

What I mean is this. When we don’t face up to the unhelpful:

  • we let the negative person go on being negative
  • we try to sidestep the opponent
  • we tolerate the person who promises much but never delivers
  • we just wait for the critic to get fed up and shut up

But the problem with all these inaction strategies is that, almost always, the unhelpful person keeps on being unhelpful.

So, my policy has been to speak kindly but directly to those causing difficulty. That doesn’t guarantee success. Those who oppose your ideas won’t instantly change their minds. But they might tone down their efforts. And, with others, I’ve seen a realisation that they’re being difficult, and they appreciate the insight they’ve been given.

Take courage. Be gentle but speak honestly. Almost always the end result will be better than leaving unhelpful behaviour unchallenged.

[1] See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Josiah_S._Carberry to fully understand the humour around this name.

[2] From Joel Feinberg, (1989) Harm to self, Oxford Press (p. xix).

[3] G. MacDonald, Renewing Your Spiritual Passion (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1986), pp. 69-88.

Have you forgotten something?

I stared at the phone, willing it to ring. Why hadn’t she phoned? Alison always phoned. She’d call, say ‘I’m on my way – about 15 minutes – put the kettle on for a cup of tea’. So why didn’t she ring today? It was well past when I expected her home. It was freezing cold outside. Maybe her car hadn’t started, but then she’d call. Maybe she’d skidded off the road, and couldn’t call. Should I head out and try to find her? Then I saw why she hadn’t called. Her phone lay on the kitchen work surface. She’d forgotten to take it with her. Five minutes later Alison breezed through the door, saying ‘Forgot the phone, but have you made tea?’

Alison was fine, of course. Just forgetful. As I have been too. I left my phone in a toilet cubicle at a massive conference centre. When I realised it was missing, a deep dread ran through me. I ran back – no phone in the toilet now. Was someone already using it to call relatives in Australia? Alison, calmly, said ‘I’ll try calling your number’. It rang and a voice answered. The thief! No, a security guard. My phone had been handed in, and within ten minutes I was reunited with it.

We all forget things.

This week – one unusually busy for me because of my studies – I’ve kept this blog simple by jotting down situations when we forget things. (Those I remember, that is.) Perhaps they’ll amuse you; perhaps make you feel guilty (‘yes, I’ve done that too’), perhaps help you think more about what matters.

Here’s my list.

Appointments or events    Until I had my first job I never needed an appointments diary. My earlier life was going to school, doing homework, playing football, watching TV. Then I was off to the big city and the world of work, and life was more complicated. Journalism isn’t a 9 to 5 job, so I had to know whether I was starting at 10.00 am, at 2.00 pm, or 8.00 pm, and who I was meeting with, and when, and where. A diary was essential. Life was even busier when I became a pastor, with more who, when, where notes to make, plus details of events at which I’d speak, funerals at which I’d officiate, and wedding services I’d conduct.

I’d have been lost without my calendar-style diary. I’d forget half of what I had to do. Besides, some things simply mustn’t be forgotten. Imagine mourners gathered at a crematorium or graveside waiting for a minister who’s on the golf course. What if I’d been in my home office still writing a sermon, while at the church building wedding guests were getting restless in the pews, the bride on hold in one room, the groom in another, and the organist stoically playing her way through the whole hymn book? Forgetting engagements like those is professional suicide.

It nearly happened to my pastor friend Jack. He didn’t miss weddings or funerals, but he started getting phone calls asking why he hadn’t turned up for a meeting, or visited a parishioner with whom he’d made an appointment. Jack would apologise, of course. He was sure he’d noted these things in his diary, but clearly hadn’t. But the ‘where are you?’ calls kept coming. That’s when Jack discovered the problem. Somehow, in his old-style diary, the month of May had been printed twice. So he really had noted down his appointments, but when he checked for upcoming events he’d looked at the ‘other’ May, and found nothing scheduled. In the future Jack always checked his annual diary had 12 months, not 13.

Names    I’m impressed when someone I’ve met only once remembers my name. They must have a really good memory for faces. Some don’t have a good memory; they’re just good at noting down who they’ve met and anything they’ve learned about them.

I’ve scrambled through life without a great memory for faces, and without the diligence of writing notes about people. I did try making notes once, just after starting ministry in a new church, but then I forgot to consult it and eventually forgot where my list was. Which was not a lot of use. My biggest struggle was that, after you’ve met someone a couple of times, it’s too embarrassing to ask their name again.

My biggest name challenges happened at large conferences. I would have met many of the attendees before, but perhaps not for one or several years. They’d greet me, ‘Hello Alistair – how are you?’ and I’d lamely reply, ‘Well hello there… So nice to see you again’. I’d no idea what their name was. Perhaps they’d be wearing a name tag, but a furtive glance down to the badge was a dead give-away that you hadn’t remembered their name. Besides, at one conference, a lady complained to the organisers that she’d never had so many men stare at her chest.

But, when Alison was with me at a conference, she’d bale me out about names. First of all, I told her, ‘If I don’t introduce you to someone, it won’t be because I’ve forgotten your name!’ And, second, she devised her own name-discovery strategy. If I didn’t introduce her, she’d quickly step forward, shake the person’s hand and say, ‘Hi, I’m Alison, Alistair’s wife – what’s your name?’ and follow up with questions about where they were from, what position they held, and did they have ten children? (Okay, she didn’t ask if they had ten.) Alison rescued me many, many times.

Birthdays / Anniversaries    Probably most find some cards or gifts don’t arrive on time. Maybe there’s a message that ‘It’s on its way’, which could mean it’s in the post or on next week’s shopping list. Happily, I remember the date of my wife’s birthday and my children’s birthdays. Unhappily, that’s far from a complete solution because I don’t always remember to buy a card or present.

But, of course, Alison has a system. For the two of us, all these key dates are in our shared electronic calendar with reminders popping up several days before. For the wider family she also sends out ‘the list’ once or twice a year. As well as birthdays, it lists changes of address, phone numbers, and additions to the family such as new nephews and nieces. But some admit they forget to check the list. Hard to criticise when you’re guilty yourself.

My phone number    In the days before mobile phones, I knew my home number because I often dialled it. But now we call people, not places. That means many more phone numbers, but we don’t need to remember them because they’re stored in our phones.

My awkward moment occurs when someone asks me for my mobile number. I can never remember it because I never dial it. So embarrassing.

Where your car is    I can’t be the only who’s lost his car in a large car park. It happened most often for me while living in America, where a shopping mall would be surrounded on all sides by expansive parking areas. The problem wasn’t just the size of the car parks, but because you might enter the mall by one door and exit by a door on the other side of the mall – and not realise that the sea of cars ahead is a different sea of cars from where you parked. I’ve always found my car again, but not quickly. Some car parks erect signs showing row numbers. Which is very helpful, providing you don’t forget to look at the sign when you park your car.

Time zone    I include this one for American friends who follow this blog. I was scheduled to preach at a church in Indiana, and, since we’d arrive the evening before, our hosts had invited us for a Saturday evening dinner at a country club. All very nice. We set off from Chicago mid afternoon for the two to three hours journey to our next door state.

Then, when we were three quarters way there, my phone rang. Our host, very calmly, said ‘Are you about to arrive? We’ve been waiting for you.’ Alison and I looked at each other, checked the time, and suddenly it hit us: Chicago is Central Time; Indiana is Eastern Time. When we crossed the state line, we ‘lost’ an hour. It was 5.00 on our watches but 6.00 in Indiana. Thankfully, the problem was more amusing than serious, we adjusted the arrangements and eventually enjoyed our host’s company and dinner at the country club. [1]

Time zones are not an issue in the UK. We only have one. But, like many countries, we adjust our clocks by an hour in spring and autumn for the changing seasons. And every year, some people would arrive an hour late or an hour early for church because they hadn’t allowed for the time change. It’s easy to forget.

Things you’ve promised to do    I don’t often borrow library books. If I did, I’d go broke paying fines because I’d always forget to return them on time. If I promise to call or write to someone, I have to do it within no more than two days because after that I’m likely to forget. But I’ll probably remember a promise to help a family member or a neighbour with something practical, because the task will rattle around in my brain until it’s done. Nor have I ever forgotten to pick up one of our children arriving by plane or train – my angst about them waiting, feeling abandoned, would guarantee I couldn’t forget.

But I’m not infallible. It was early April, and for three evenings I’d watched The Masters golf tournament from America on TV. Now it was Sunday – the final round – and there was an evening church service at which I’d lead and preach. Thankfully coverage didn’t start until about 8.00, so with a quick exit and dash home I wouldn’t miss much. ‘Can I come with you tonight?’ my daughter Rachel asked. That was fine. She was 15, and had friends who attended evening services, so it wasn’t unusual for her to tag along. The service went fine. I kept a good pace throughout, not rushing but not dawdling. The sermon was on the short side, but apparently all the more appreciated for that. When the service was over, I greeted those leaving immediately but didn’t join those staying for coffee and chat. This was not the evening for lengthy conversations. I grabbed my briefcase, drove the five miles home, and settled down in front of the TV.

Then the phone rang.

‘Surely no emergency right now!’ I hoped.

The calIer was a good friend who’d been at the evening service. ‘Did you leave anything at church tonight?’ she asked.

‘I don’t think so…’ I began.

‘How about your daughter?’

Sharp intake of breath. ‘Oh no, I’m so sorry’ Quick thinking, ‘but would you like to come here and have coffee and cake with us?’

Laughter at the other end, ‘And bring Rachel with me?’

‘Yes, that would be wonderful’.

A lot of years have passed since then, but neither Rachel nor I have forgotten how I forgot her. Just as well I’m good at apologising. I’ve so often had to be.


Never forget the things that matter most to you    This is the last but probably most important on my list. You could be the most organised person in the world – a place for everything and everything in its place. You could schedule your tasks and appointments for every 15 minute slot of the day. You could have a system to recall any name, any number, any place you’ve visited. But if you forget to care for the things of highest importance – like your family or your health – the rest won’t matter. The same is true about neglecting your character, thus gaining a bad reputation and no longer being trusted. In the film Rob Roy, Rob is accused of a theft he did not do. Friends tell him to run and hide. But he can’t. ‘My honour is at stake,’ he says. ‘I must restore it.’ Reputation matters.

There are things you never get back once they’re gone. The relationship with your spouse or partner, and with your children. The respect of colleagues and friends.

We can laugh about forgetfulness, but not about being forgetful regarding the things that matter most. Never forget those.

———————

[1] Our main host that evening was Carl Erskine who was a pitcher with the Brooklyn Dodgers baseball team (later the Los Angeles Dodgers) when they won the World Series in 1955. He’s now 95 years old. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carl_Erskine