Thanks

I talked with a C-level admin the other day about how her annual review with her boss went.  “It didn’t,” she offered, trying to decide between staring at her feet in disappointment, rolling her eyes in cynicism or crying in anger.  “We talked about what she needed for her upcoming meeting. When I asked about my review she replied, ‘Oh, you know.  You’re fine’.”  The admin shook her head (I think to dry her tears before they came out) and went back to her TPS reports.  “She hasn’t given me feedback in 4 years, so not sure why she’d start now,” mumbling just loud enough for me to hear.

Back at my desk, I read articles on how the managers and employees hate the annual performance review. It’s designed to be confrontational. In a 30-minute session, both people try to recall a discussion 18 months ago about directed goals, which weren’t really solidified until 11 months ago to complete the tasks that were supposed to start 9 months ago, which didn’t happen because the budget didn’t get approved until 6 months ago.  The data presented is really only from the past 3 months (and honestly, the past two weeks) and they both know that the manager filled this thing out last night after 2 glasses of pinot and is really worried about the trip to Sheboygan next week for the industry conference.  Meanwhile, the employee wants to know about his raise.

So, once a year, HR mandates that forms are completed and boxes are checked in order to demonstrate that ‘we told ya so,’ defending the company from a potential stand-off.  Managers are trained on how to have these conversations with acronyms and the ‘feedback sandwich’ and given a list of words that must not be uttered, as if doing so will awaken the ghost of HR past.  

And this is the tension (and insanity) of the process.  My Admin friend wants to know where she stands with her boss.  She wants to know if she has a future at the organization.  She wants to know she’s cared for.  She wants to get better. She wants to grow.  She wants to know that she’s seen and that her contribution matters.  She wants to be thanked. Sure, she wants more money, but that question is secondary to ‘thank you’.  

I wonder if in our attempts to engineer out the discomfort, we neuter the value of the discussion.  Because the discussion is likely uncomfortable, we put it off.  Because we put it off, it becomes less relevant and less valuable.  Because it lacks value, we dread it.  Because we dread it, we become anxious about it and get worked up and have another glass of pinot.  

What if, and believe me, this is a hypothetical, instead of that process we simply said 'thank you'. What if we, as leaders, provided tactical feedback.  I don’t remember what was said in my last several performance reviews.  I remember feeling anxious going in and angry coming out.  But I do remember a specific piece of feedback provided in a post-proposal debrief on the way back to our cars six years ago.  

There are better ideas for the necessary processes, which deserve attention, but not here and not now.  What if, instead we said ‘thanks'.  

Thanks, Susan.  Thanks a lot.