control versus power
Because we were celebrating something lovely, a small group of us went out to eat at a very fancy restaurant this week. We had to make reservations two months in advance and in the intervening time between making the reservations and the day of the meal, I got seven email messages from the restaurant: confirming the reservation, nailing down an assurance that we would pay, telling us about the dress code (and how committed they are to enforcing it), or giving us friendly pointers on how to enjoy the menu. Those messages were followed by reminders. As we got closer to the date of our adventure, certain members of our party began to feel a little rebellious about the implied pressure--be on time or you'll miss a course! Men, wear a jacket or we'll turn you away!--and there developed in each of us a sense of mild resistance to all these rules and reminders.
On the day of our reservation, I got a call from the friendly folks at the restaurant reminding me--yet again--that we should be on time for our meal. I started to laugh. "Wow," I said, "you guys are really intense! You better measure up to all this anticipation you're building!"
They did measure up. The food was amazing, the service was excellent. And each of us carried within us--especially the guest who had sprinted for several blocks to make sure she was on time--a tiny little fragment of resentment because of the management's steady onslaught of rules and reminders. There was certainly no confusion about the balance owed or the location of the restaurant. Plus, we showed up on time and we wore the right thing. However, I have a sneaky suspicion we would have done all that anyhow.
That restaurant is in full control.
As counter to that, this week I watched a child--about four years old--on my uncrowded train ride. He slid out of his seat and began a happy may-pole dance around the stainless steel grab bar in the middle of the subway car. Every single one of us was watching him. No exceptions. We all looked up from our cell phones, our books, our newspapers or our naps and smiled at his utterly joyful little face. "I love this pole," he chortled to his bemused mother, "it's great for my dance moves!" And--New York moment--the entire subway car of jaded commuters burst out laughing.
That, my darlings, is power.
I occasionally tell clients that making rules, sending memos and standing over someone to ensure that they go the right direction may give us a sense of control (not to mention exhaustion), but real power is the metaphorical equivalent of mixing up a batch of chocolate chip cookies* and sliding them into the oven. Then everyone wants to be in the kitchen with you.
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*Cookie, as photographed, is a credit to my friend and master chef, Bruce White, who keeps us all wanting to be in his kitchen.
