July 2001
by Holly Weeks
We live by talking. That’s just the kind of animal we are. We chatter and tattle and gossip and jest. But sometimes—more often than we’d like—we have stressful conversations, those sensitive exchanges that can hurt or haunt us in ways no other kind of talking does. Stressful conversations are unavoidable in life, and in business they can run the gamut from firing a subordinate to, curiously enough, receiving praise. But whatever the context, stressful conversations differ from other conversations because of the emotional loads they carry. These conversations call up embarrassment, confusion, anxiety, anger, pain, or fear—if not in us, then in our counterparts. Indeed, stressful conversations cause such anxiety that most people simply avoid them. This strategy is not necessarily wrong. One of the first rules of engagement, after all, is to pick your battles. Yet sometimes it can be extremely costly to dodge issues, appease difficult people, and smooth over antagonisms because the fact is that avoidance usually makes a problem or relationship worse.
Since stressful conversations are so common—and so painful—why don’t we work harder to improve them? The reason is precisely because our feelings are so enmeshed. When we are not emotionally entangled in an issue, we know that conflict is normal, that it can be resolved—or at least managed. But when feelings get stirred up, most of us are thrown off balance. Like a quarterback who chokes in a tight play, we lose all hope of ever making it to the goal line.
For the past 20 years, I have been teaching classes and conducting workshops at some of the top corporations and universities in the United States on how to communicate during stressful conversations. With classrooms as my laboratory, I have learned that most people feel incapable of talking through sensitive issues. It’s as though all our skills go out the window and we can’t think usefully about what’s happening or what we could do to get good results.
Stressful conversations, though, need not be this way. I have seen that managers can improve difficult conversations unilaterally if they approach them with greater self-awareness, rehearse them in advance, and apply just three proven communication techniques. Don’t misunderstand me: There will never be a cookie-cutter approach to stressful conversations. There are too many variables and too much tension, and the interactions between people in difficult situations are always unique. Yet nearly every stressful conversation can be seen as an amalgam of a limited number of basic conversations, each with its own distinct set of problems. In the following pages, we’ll explore how you can anticipate and handle those problems. But first, let’s look at the three basic stressful conversations that we bump up against most often in the workplace.
“I Have Bad News for You”
Delivering unpleasant news is usually difficult for both parties. The speaker is often tense, and the listener is apprehensive about where the conversation is headed. Consider David, the director of a nonprofit institution. He was in the uncomfortable position of needing to talk with an ambitious researcher, Jeremy, who had a much higher opinion of his job performance than others in the organization did. The complication for David was that, in the past, Jeremy had received artificially high evaluations. There were several reasons for this. One had to do with the organization’s culture: The nonprofit was not a confrontational kind of place. Additionally, Jeremy had tremendous confidence in both his own abilities and the quality of his academic background. Together with his defensive response to even the mildest criticism, this confidence led others—including David—to let slide discussions of weaknesses that were interfering with Jeremy’s ability to deliver high-quality work. Jeremy had a cutting sense of humor, for instance, which had offended people inside and outside his unit. No one had ever said anything to him directly, but as time passed, more and more people were reluctant to work with him. Given that Jeremy had received almost no concrete criticism over the years, his biting style was now entrenched and the staff was restive.
In conversations like this, the main challenge is to get off to the right start. If the exchange starts off reasonably well, the rest of it has a good chance of going well. But if the opening goes badly, it threatens to bleed forward into the rest of the conversation. In an effort to be gentle, many people start these conversations on a light note. And that was just what David did, opening with, “How about those Red Sox?”
Naturally Jeremy got the wrong idea about where David was heading; he remained his usual cocky, superior self. Sensing this, David felt he had to take off the velvet gloves. The conversation quickly became brutally honest, and David did almost all the talking. When the monologue was over, Jeremy stared icily at the floor. He got up in stiff silence and left. David was relieved. From his point of view, the interaction had been painful but swift. There was not too much blood on the floor, he observed wryly. But two days later, Jeremy handed in his resignation, taking a lot of institutional memory—and talent—with him.
“What’s Going On Here?”
Often we have stressful conversations thrust upon us. Indeed, some of the worst conversations—especially for people who are conflict averse—are the altogether unexpected ones that break out like crackling summer storms. Suddenly the conversation becomes intensely charged emotionally, and electricity flies in all directions. What’s worse, nothing makes sense. We seem to have been drawn into a black cloud of twisted logic and altered sensibilities.
Consider the case of Elizabeth and Rafael. They were team leaders working together on a project for a major consulting firm. It seemed that everything that could have gone wrong on the project had, and the work was badly bogged down. The two consultants were meeting to revise their schedule, given the delays, and to divide up the discouraging tasks for the week ahead. As they talked, Elizabeth wrote and erased on the white board. When she had finished, she looked at Rafael and said matter-of-factly, “Is that it, then?”
Rafael clenched his teeth in frustration. “If you say so,” he sniped.
Elizabeth recoiled. She instantly replayed the exchange in her mind but couldn’t figure out what had provoked Rafael. His reaction seemed completely disconnected from her comment. The most common reaction of someone in Elizabeth’s place is to guiltily defend herself by denying Rafael’s unspoken accusation. But Elizabeth was uneasy with confrontation so she tried appeasement. “Rafael,” she stammered, “I’m sorry. Is something wrong?”
“Who put you in charge?” he retorted. “Who told you to assign work to me?”
Clearly, Rafael and Elizabeth have just happened into a difficult conversation. Some transgression has occurred, but Elizabeth doesn’t know exactly what it is. She feels blindsided—her attempt to expedite the task at hand has clearly been misconstrued. Rafael feels he’s been put in a position of inferiority by what he sees as Elizabeth’s controlling behavior. Inexplicably, there seem to be more than two people taking part in this conversation, and the invisible parties are creating lots of static. What childhood experience, we may wonder, is causing Elizabeth to assume that Rafael’s tension is automatically her fault? And who is influencing Rafael’s perception that Elizabeth is taking over? Could it be his father? His wife? It’s impossible to tell. At the same time, it’s hard for us to escape the feeling that Rafael is overreacting when he challenges Elizabeth about her alleged need to take control.
Elizabeth felt Rafael’s resentment like a wave and she apologized again. “Sorry. How do you want the work divided?” Deferring to Rafael in this way smoothed the strained atmosphere for the time being. But it set a precedent for unequal status that neither Elizabeth nor the company believed was correct. Worse, though Rafael and Elizabeth remained on the same team after their painful exchange, Elizabeth chafed under the status change and three months later transferred out of the project.
“You Are Attacking Me!”
Now let’s turn our attention to aggressively stressful conversations, those in which people use all kinds of psychological and rhetorical mechanisms to throw their counterparts off balance, to undermine their positions, even to expose and belittle them. These “thwarting tactics” take many forms—profanity, manipulation, shouting—and not everyone is triggered or stumped by the same ones. The red zone is not the thwarting tactic alone but the pairing of the thwarting tactic with individual vulnerability.
Consider Nick and Karen, two senior managers working at the same level in an IT firm. Karen was leading a presentation to a client, and the information was weak and disorganized. She and the team had not been able to answer even basic questions. The client had been patient, then quiet, then clearly exasperated. When the presentation really started to fall apart, the client put the team on the spot with questions that made them look increasingly inadequate.
On this particular day, Nick was not part of the presenting team; he was simply observing. He was as surprised as the client at Karen’s poor performance. After the client left, he asked Karen what happened. She lashed out at him defensively: “You’re not my boss, so don’t start patronizing me. You always undercut me no matter what I do.” Karen continued to shout at Nick, her antagonism palpable. Each time he spoke, she interrupted him with accusations and threats: “I can’t wait to see how you like it when people leave you flailing in the wind.” Nick tried to remain reasonable, but Karen didn’t wind down. “Karen,” he said, “pull yourself together. You are twisting every word I say.”
Here, Nick’s problem is not that Karen is using a panoply of thwarting tactics, but that all her tactics—accusation, distortion, and digression—are aggressive. This raises the stakes considerably. Most of us are vulnerable to aggressive tactics because we don’t know whether, or how far, the aggression will escalate. Nick wanted to avoid Karen’s aggression, but his insistence on rationality in the face of emotionalism was not working. His cool approach was trumped by Karen’s aggressive one. As a result, Nick found himself trapped in the snare of Karen’s choosing. In particular, her threats that she would pay him back with the client rattled him. He couldn’t tell whether she was just huffing or meant it. He finally turned to the managing director, who grew frustrated, and later angry, at Nick and Karen for their inability to resolve their problems. In the end, their lack of skill in handling their difficult conversations cost them dearly. Both were passed over for promotion after the company pinned the loss of the client directly on their persistent failure to communicate.
Preparing for a Stressful Conversation
So how can we prepare for these three basic stressful conversations before they occur? A good start is to become aware of your own weaknesses to people and situations. David, Elizabeth, and Nick were unable to control their counterparts, but their stressful conversations would have gone much better if they had been more usefully aware of their vulnerabilities. It is important for those who are vulnerable to hostility, for example, to know how they react to it. Do they withdraw or escalate—do they clam up or retaliate? While one reaction is not better than the other, knowing how you react in a stressful situation will teach you a lot about your vulnerabilities, and it can help you master stressful situations.
Recall Nick’s problem. If he had been more self-aware, he would have known that he acts stubbornly rational in the face of aggressive outbursts such as Karen’s. Nick’s choice of a disengaged demeanor gave Karen control over the conversation, but he didn’t have to allow Karen—or anyone else—to exploit his vulnerability. In moments of calm self-scrutiny, when he’s not entangled in a live stressful conversation, Nick can take time to reflect on his inability to tolerate irrational aggressive outbursts. This self-awareness would free him to prepare himself—not for Karen’s unexpected accusations but for his own predictable vulnerability to any sudden assault like hers.
Though it might sound like it, building awareness is not about endless self-analysis. Much of it simply involves making our tacit knowledge about ourselves more explicit. We all know from past experience, for instance, what kinds of conversations and people we handle badly. When you find yourself in a difficult conversation, ask yourself whether this is one of those situations and whether it involves one of those people. For instance, do you bare your teeth when faced with an overbearing competitor? Do you shut down when you feel excluded? Once you know what your danger zones are, you can anticipate your vulnerability and improve your response.
Explicit self-awareness will often help save you from engaging in a conversation in a way that panders to your feelings rather than one that serves your needs. Think back to David, the boss of the nonprofit institution, and Jeremy, his cocky subordinate. Given Jeremy’s history, David’s conversational game plan—easing in, then when that didn’t work, the painful-but-quick bombshell—was doomed. A better approach would have been for David to split the conversation into two parts. In a first meeting, he could have raised the central issues of Jeremy’s biting humor and disappointing performance. A second meeting could have been set up for the discussion itself. Handling the situation incrementally would have allowed time for both David and Jeremy to prepare for a two-way conversation instead of one of them delivering a monologue. After all, this wasn’t an emergency; David didn’t have to exhaust this topic immediately. Indeed, if David had been more self-aware, he might have recognized that the approach he chose was dictated less by Jeremy’s character than by his own distaste for conflict.
An excellent way to anticipate specific problems that you may encounter in a stressful conversation is to rehearse with a neutral friend. Pick someone who doesn’t have the same communication problems as you. Ideally, the friend should be a good listener, honest but nonjudgmental. Start with content. Just tell your friend what you want to say to your counterpart without worrying about tone or phrasing. Be vicious, be timid, be sarcastically witty, jump around in your argument, but get it out. Now go over it again and think about what you would say if the situation weren’t emotionally loaded. Your friend can help you because he or she is not in a flush of emotion over the situation. Write down what you come up with together because if you don’t, you’ll forget it later.
Now fine-tune the phrasing. When you imagine talking to the counterpart, your phrasing tends to be highly charged—and you can think of only one way to say anything. But when your friend says, “Tell me how you want to say this,” an interesting thing happens: your phrasing is often much better, much more temperate, usable. Remember, you can say what you want to say, you just can’t say itlike that. Also, work on your body language with your friend. You’ll both soon be laughing because of the expressions that sneak out unawares—eyebrows skittering up and down, legs wrapped around each other like licorice twists, nervous snickers that will certainly be misinterpreted. (For more on preparing for stressful conversations, see the sidebar “The DNA of Conversation Management.”)
Managing the Conversation
While it is important to build awareness and to practice before a stressful conversation, these steps are not enough. Let’s look at what you can do as the conversation unfolds. Consider Elizabeth, the team leader whose colleague claimed she was usurping control. She couldn’t think well on her feet in confrontational situations, and she knew it, so she needed a few hip-pocket phrases—phrases she could recall on the spot so that she wouldn’t have to be silent or invent something on the spur of the moment. Though such a solution sounds simple, most of us don’t have a tool kit of conversational tactics ready at hand. Rectifying this gap is an essential part of learning how to handle stressful conversations better. We need to learn communications skills, in the same way that we learn CPR: well in advance, knowing that when we need to use them, the situation will be critical and tense. Here are three proven conversational gambits. The particular wording may not suit your style, and that’s fine. The important thing is to understand how the techniques work, and then choose phrasing that is comfortable for you.
Honor thy partner.
When David gave negative feedback to Jeremy, it would have been refreshing if he had begun with an admission of regret and some responsibility for his contribution to their shared problem. “Jeremy,” he might have said, “the quality of your work has been undercut—in part by the reluctance of your colleagues to risk the edge of your humor by talking problems through with you. I share responsibility for this because I have been reluctant to speak openly about these difficulties with you, whom I like and respect and with whom I have worked a long time.” Acknowledging responsibility as a technique—particularly as an opening—can be effective because it immediately focuses attention, but without provocation, on the difficult things the speaker needs to say and the listener needs to hear.
Is this always a good technique in a difficult conversation? No, because there is never any one good technique. But in this case, it effectively sets the tone for David’s discussion with Jeremy. It honors the problems, it honors Jeremy, it honors their relationship, and it honors David’s responsibility. Any technique that communicates honor in a stressful conversation—particularly a conversation that will take the counterpart by surprise—is to be highly valued. Indeed, the ability to act with dignity can make or break a stressful conversation. More important, while Jeremy has left the company, he can still do harm by spreading gossip and using his insider’s knowledge against the organization. The more intolerable the conversation with David has been, the more Jeremy is likely to make the organization pay.
Disarm by restating your intentions.
Part of the difficulty in Rafael and Elizabeth’s “What’s Going On Here?” conversation is that Rafael’s misinterpretation of Elizabeth’s words and actions seems to be influenced by instant replays of other stressful conversations that he has had in the past. Elizabeth doesn’t want to psychoanalyze Rafael; indeed, exploring Rafael’s internal landscape would exacerbate this painful situation. So what can Elizabeth do to defuse the situation unilaterally?
Elizabeth needs a technique that doesn’t require her to understand the underlying reasons for Rafael’s strong reaction but helps her handle the situation effectively. “I can see how you took what I said the way you did, Rafael. That wasn’t what I meant. Let’s go over this list again.” I call this the clarification technique, and it’s a highly disarming one. Using it, Elizabeth can unilaterally change the confrontation into a point of agreement. Instead of arguing with Rafael about his perceptions, she grants him his perceptions—after all, they’re his. Instead of arguing about her intentions, she keeps the responsibility for aligning her words with her intentions on her side. And she goes back into the conversation right where they left off. (For a fuller discussion of the disconnect between what we mean and what we say, see the sidebar “The Gap Between Communication and Intent.”)
This technique will work for Elizabeth regardless of Rafael’s motive. If Rafael innocently misunderstood what she was saying, she isn’t fighting him. She accepts his take on what she said and did and corrects it. If his motive is hostile, Elizabeth doesn’t concur just to appease him. She accepts and retries. No one loses face. No one scores points off the other. No one gets drawn off on a tangent.
Fight tactics, not people.
Rafael may have baffled Elizabeth, but Karen was acting with outright malice toward Nick when she flew off the handle after a disastrous meeting with the client. Nick certainly can’t prevent her from using the thwarting tactics with which she has been so successful in the past. But he can separate Karen’s character from her behavior. For instance, it’s much more useful for him to think of Karen’s reactions as thwarting tactics rather than as personal characteristics. If he thinks of Karen as a distorting, hostile, threatening person, where does that lead? What can anyone ever do about another person’s character? But if Nick sees Karen’s behavior as a series of tactics that she is using with him because they have worked for her in the past, he can think about using countering techniques to neutralize them.
The best way to neutralize a tactic is to name it. It’s much harder to use a tactic once it is openly identified. If Nick, for instance, had said, “Karen, we’ve worked together pretty well for a long time. I don’t know how to talk about what went wrong in the meeting when your take on what happened, and what’s going on now, is so different from mine,” he would have changed the game completely. He neither would have attacked Karen nor remained the pawn of her tactics. But he would have made Karen’s tactics in the conversation the dominant problem.
Openly identifying a tactic, particularly an aggressive one, is disarming for another reason. Often we think of an aggressive counterpart as persistently, even endlessly, contentious, but that isn’t true. People have definite levels of aggression that they’re comfortable with—and they are reluctant to raise the bar. When Nick doesn’t acknowledge Karen’s tactics, she can use them unwittingly, or allegedly so. But if Nick speaks of them, it would require more aggression on Karen’s part to continue using the same tactics. If she is at or near her aggression threshold, she won’t continue because that would make her uncomfortable. Nick may not be able to stop Karen, but she may stop herself.
People think stressful conversations are inevitable. And they are. But that doesn’t mean they have to have bad resolutions. Consider a client of mine, Jacqueline, the only woman on the board of an engineering company. She was sensitive to slighting remarks about women in business, and she found one board member deliberately insensitive. He repeatedly ribbed her about being a feminist and, on this occasion, he was telling a sexist joke.
This wasn’t the first time that something like this had happened, and Jacqueline felt the usual internal cacophony of reactions. But because she was aware that this was a stressful situation for her, Jacqueline was prepared. First, she let the joke hang in the air for a minute and then went back to the issue they had been discussing. When Richard didn’t let it go but escalated with a new poke—“Come on, Jackie, it was a joke”—Jacqueline stood her ground. “Richard,” she said, “this kind of humor is frivolous to you, but it makes me feel pushed aside.” Jacqueline didn’t need to say more. If Richard had continued to escalate, he would have lost face. In fact, he backed down: “Well, I wouldn’t want my wife to hear about my bad behavior a second time,” he snickered. Jacqueline was silent. She had made her point; there was no need to embarrass him.
Stressful conversations are never easy, but we can all fare better if, like Jacqueline, we prepare for them by developing greater awareness of our vulnerabilities and better techniques for handling ourselves. The advice and tools described in this article can be helpful in unilaterally reducing the strain in stressful conversations. All you have to do is try them. If one technique doesn’t work, try another. Find phrasing that feels natural. But keep practicing—you’ll find what works best for you.
Holly Weeks is an independent consultant and the president of WritingWorks and SpeakingWorks in Cambridge, Massachusetts. She also teaches at the Radcliffe Institute of Harvard University in Cambridge.
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