381. The Biggest Mistake We Make About People
My wife thought our dog didn't like her. She was wrong. And that’s how I learned the biggest mistake we make about people.
These are our cats.
Their names are Sparrow and Willow.
I say “our” cats like I feel a sense of ownership.
Sure I feed the cats and I clean their litter box, but I’m not much of a cat person. I don’t need, nor want, their affection.
Don’t judge me.
Fortunately, the cats feel the same way. They are obsessed with my wife and daughter. My wife and daughter are also obsessed with the cats. The cats don’t care about me.
Everybody wins.
Three years ago, the wife and kid told me they wanted a third cat.
Nope.
No way.
Not gonna happen.
I told my ladies that we are never going to have three cats.
Three cats is the tipping point into “crazy cat lady”. And I will not live in a house with crazy cat ladies who will no doubt put this bumper sticker on the car.
If you want another pet, I said to them, let’s get a puppy.
So we did.
Say hello to Twiggy.
What I Didn’t Expect
The thing I didn’t expect was for my wife and kid to not care about Twiggy. I mean she was (and is) really cute, but they definitely like the cats better.
Soon enough, Twiggy became my dog.
I walk her, I feed her, I train her.
When I stand up, she stands up.
When I walk across the room, she walks with me.
For three years, my wife didn’t really like our dog.
She’d never say it in those words, but it’s the truth. There was a distance between them that everybody in the house could feel. Even the pesky cats.
I’m pretty sure it’s because Twiggy isn’t a cuddler.
She’s not the dog who curls up next to you on the couch while you watch TV. She’s not even the dog who rubs up against you so you keep petting her.
Twiggy is the dog who sits four feet away, facing the window, monitoring the perimeter for threats that don’t exist.
My wife wanted a couch dog. What she got was a security consultant.
And somewhere in the first year, she came to a conclusion about Twiggy.
Twiggy doesn’t really like me, she said to me one day.
She was pretty direct about that. And every so often she’d say things like “she’s your dog” or “she doesn’t care about me.”
I got three years of that.
The Week Everything Changed
Four months ago, for reasons I can’t remember, I decided to teach Twiggy a new trick.
Not sit. Or stay. Or shake. She does all those with gusto.
I taught her to kiss my wife.
Whenever my wife came home from work, I’d say “give mama a kiss” and then I’d reward her when she did it.
It only took a week, maybe less, but Twiggy figured it out.
Now, whenever I say “Give mama a kiss”, she hightails it across the room, or to wherever my wife is sitting, and gives her a smackeroo right on the face.
Every. Single. Time.
Lo and behold, my wife and Twiggy are suddenly best friends.
She loves the dog and the dog loves her. Twiggy follows her around the house like she does with me.
Three years of uncomfortable distance magically disappeared in a week.
All because of a kiss-on-demand.
Twiggy Didn’t Change. The Story Did.
Here’s the thing… Twiggy didn’t change at all.
Twiggy’s feelings about my wife didn’t shift. It’s not like she was secretly indifferent to my wife for three years and then suddenly warmed up because I gave her a command.
Twiggy always loved my wife.
She just didn’t have a behavior that proved it in a language my wife could understand.
My wife wanted evidence of Twiggy’s love. Twiggy didn’t know what to do with that.
So my wife built an entire story about who the dog was - all based on the absence of a behavior.
The Person Standing In The Middle
If there’s somebody that screwed anything up in this scenario, it’s me.
I knew my wife wanted affection.
I knew Twiggy had it in her to give affection.
I knew she was trainable, because I’m the one who taught her all the things.
I was the sole person standing in the way of two beings who liked each other and couldn’t figure out how to express it.
And I did nothing about it. For three years.
I had the ability to fix it the entire time. I just never considered that it was mine to fix.
Let’s Talk About Your Team
Somewhere in your company - or on your team - there are two people who “just don’t click.”
Maybe you’re convinced it’s just different styles or different personalities. Maybe one’s an introvert and one’s too blunt.
Whatever the reason, they’re like oil and orange juice - they just don’t work well together.
You’ve told yourself that story for so long, it feels like a fact.
But what if your story isn’t true?
Maybe there’s one person you’ve decided isn’t warm enough. They aren’t a team player and don’t care about the group the way the others do.
Usually the evidence for that belief is based on some behavior they’ve never actually demonstrated.
Not a behavior they refused to do.
A behavior nobody ever taught them how to do.
They don’t speak up in the all-hands. They don’t say thank you in front of the group. They don’t ask people how their weekend was. They don’t do the small thing that would make everyone stop wondering whether or not they give a damn.
And whatever it is, you’ve translated that lack of behavior as a character flaw.
You might very well be wrong.
You Already Know Who This Is About
In every one of those situations, you are the person standing in the middle. You know both parties. You know what one of them needs. You probably know the other one has it in them to fulfill that need.
So why don’t you try to fix it?
Because my story about Twiggy isn’t really a story about Twiggy.
And it’s not about my wife.
It’s about a guy who had the solution to a problem for three years and never once thought to do anything about it.
Don’t be like me.
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P.S. Twiggy still monitors the perimeter. Some things don't change. But at least now my wife gets a kiss whenever she wants one.
The patterns keeping your team from connecting - the ones where two people "just don't click" - are exactly what the free Leadership Diagnostic Workshop addresses. Sign up now.