"So visitors," she asked, "let's hear what you thought of the meeting and give us some feedback."
Oh four letter word, I thought.
Well, she did ask for it.
I visited my mom's Toastmasters group today. We started at 6:35, so I made sure to wake up early to go for a walk and get breakfast going beforehand. Was it easy? No, and I was still a few minutes late--but at least I was prepared.
Until the point she said that.
Now, I give very blunt feedback. I like to start off every critique to someone new by saying that. It's not that I'm trying to be mean or that I don't believe in the possibility of the work--I just want my words clear, concise, and unable to be misinterpreted.
But, as I was the last visitor, I had a few minutes to think. After all, there are a multitude of different kinds of feedback: knowing which type is wanted is important. That's why I like to ask my kids what combination they'd like; do they want affirmation, grammar, and/ or content? (Ah, the joys of not having to give a grade).
A mismatch of expectations with reality can lead to terrible results. And, from what I'd seen in the meeting, they were looking for things to make them feel better (
AFFIRMATION!).
I hadn't heard a lot about how to improve.
Take me for example. I'd given a forty-ish second speech that had dipped into the negative end of the spectrum (fault 1) and had repeated itself at the end (fault 2). And what did my evaluator say? That I did well, and there wasn't any constructive feedback since I'd done everything well.
Feedback doesn't just have to be the things done poorly--it can also be the things that are missed.
A moment of silence caught my ear. The first person was done talking (I'd been listening! They'd talked about how he'd enjoyed the meeting and how cool it was to see everyone perceiver with the technology that they were unfamiliar with [a good point].) They were thanked for their feedback, and attention went to person number two.
My heart beat faster.
He talked about the things he'd enjoyed. Looking at everyone, they seemed to be responding positively--either that or they were bored. It's hard to tell on a screen sometimes--as we say in theater: one person doing jazz hands is dumb, but thirty doing it at the same are amazing!
But I was procrastinating: what kind of feedback should I give? I could follow their lead and focus on the positives--heck, I could even add a nitpick critique since that seemed OK. But would that be honest? ARGH! Should I give the feedback they were expecting or the feedback that they asked for?
Well, I thought, change in tactics: what would I be more proud of saying to my kids?
A) That I'd stood by my convictions and told the truth.
B) I'd utter a platitude and let my future actions say what I'd been too afraid to put words to. After all, I was already pretty certain that I wasn't coming back next week.
Laid out like that, it really wasn't a dilemma, was it? After all, the worst that could happen is that they'd ignore my advice.
Oh naïvety, how you do believe the best of everyone.
The second person wrapped up his comments--ending with how he'd be back next week. She thanked him.
And all attention turned to me. My heart thudded in my ears, nervous energy flowing through my knees and elbows (does it do that for anyone else?).
Well, it's always best to lead by example. Besides, I could start with a positive--that should help.
"And what about you, Austin?" Her voice was full, contrasting to her internet connection. "What feedback do you have for us?"
This was the moment, and she'd asked for it again. As I tell my children, "ask and you shall receive--just don't complain if it's not what you were expecting."
"Overall," I began, keeping my voice neutral, "I liked the array of speakers. We had a variety of topics and a plethora of levels (
a nice thing about writing this later is that I can make myself sound a whole lot better), and it was really cool to see and hear them all interact." Here was the moment--I'd said the nice bit of fluff. I could stop here and move on with the rest of my life.
But she'd asked for it, and if someone is going to express what they want, I'll work hard to give it to them.
"But," my voice hardened slightly with the force of my conviction. At the last second, my brain made a u-turn: don't make this all about them. Use the 'I' statements to reflect where you're coming from. "I'm a person with a lot of energy," they smiled and laughed, "and I just didn't see that here. With that in mind, I don't know if this is the right group for me and," I decided to give myself a slight out, since the meeting had gone on so long that it was eating into the scheduled stuff that I needed to do, "depending on my scheduling, I don't know that I'll be here next week."
That last part was true--I haven't had a shower or taken a break yet because I've been working on catching up. On top of all of that, not only had the meeting started and ended later than the one I join with my dad (my base point), but--to be honest--it'd just given me the impression of the color beige. I go to these places to improve by hearing good speeches and the feedback about them and myself (and, let me tell you, being told that a speech you've worked hard on ALL WEEK is, "just fluff
" is really hard to hear, but makes a whole lot of difference).
This is the point, dear reader of one (now that I actually have someone reading) where I'd love to say that I was thanked for my feedback, and we moved on. After all, the process of critique takes two people: the one to give and the one to receive. I will freely admit that I am not always the best receiver--I have a tendency to speak through my processing, which can be a little jarring. It is a habit that I am improving on, guiding my thinking towards a followup question on a part I'm unsure about, rather than a blanket denial.
What I will say is that I received a polite--if slightly terse--thank you, and a slightly jovial comment that--if she was as energetic as I was, then she'd be exhausted by the time the meeting ended.
Examine my feedback, if you will. I never said that I expected everyone to have my level of enthusiasm--to be frank, that would not only be unfair, but would cause more problems. I just said that I'd like a little bit more oomph in my experience--and that I recognize I'm not going to find it in this club as is.
To state my own opinions and views of this group: were the speeches polished? Yes! But polish something too much, and you'll eventually wipe away all of the substance behind it. Was the meeting polished? Yes! But it was also incredibly bland. I need a group that's more willing to accept risk and be more direct with their feedback--both giving and receiving. In this sense, my critique group (and my dad's group) has ruined me.
So, my feedback failed. I didn't deliver it in a way that they were willing to accept. I take full responsibility for that fact, because my delivery is the only thing that I can control. But as I keep saying, "failure is always an option, surrender isn't."
I learned that there are more ways of feedback that I need to master before I can become proficient, but I also reinforced that it's important to say these things even if they're uncomfortable. By responding she showed me that she heard some part of what I said, and often that can make all the difference.
This has been another Adventure in the Austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way then tell everyone. Stay safe, be amazing--
And happy quarantine.
Update #1)
After talking to my roommate, two things have come to light: one, that I was giving the woman a whole lot of grace; and two, that I was pulling my punches.
I'll admit that I wrote this piece twice, because I didn't think the group could handle the first one. But, after talking with her, I'll add this at the bottom: my actual blunt feedback. If you're a part of the group, read only if you want my honest critique.
There was no constructive feedback in the meeting.
There, I said it.
No one is ever going to grow by being a part of that group. Take the first speaker, for example. Yes, she had an interesting idea (using a jump as a metaphor for rising up) and her ending message was inspiring, along the lines of, "only together can we get through this."
What a nice bit of fluff--I shall call Hallmark.
My biggest problem--structurally--came at the start: her opening message with the jump was that other people will try to pull you back.
Let me reiterate: her ending message--the moral that we were supposed to take away--was that we can only get through this together, and she started by saying that other people will try to pull you back. Now tell me, good reader: how on earth are those things even remotely supportive of each other?
And did her evaluator mention this? No! He was too busy telling her how amazing her speech was to even mention the glaring flaw in the logic.
Now, how is she supposed to get better if she's told that she's already incredible? I'll tell you how: with flying pigs.
And it just went on from there: they focused exclusively on the positives. The evaluators said nice things--in fact, the general evaluator and other general positions said something nice about everyone.
And how do I read this?
Well, let's get back to the woman who asked me, "what do you think of the meeting?" I gave her my honest point of view, just in different words--a lot of them have no energy or drive. And how did she respond? "Well, if I had your energy, going this way and that, I'd be absolutely exhausted by the end of the meeting."
Well, that's fine for you; I didn't ask you to come up to my energy--I didn't even say that you needed to increase energy at all. Once again, all that I implied is that if they wanted me to come back more often, then they needed to do more than just go through the motions.
More importantly, it shows a flawed way of accepting feedback. The truly right way is to say thank you, and then say nothing, unless it is a question--but then you'd better accept the answer. The less right way--my way--is to still say something, but make it a constructive conversation. Not exactly classy, but it works. The wrong way--the way that literally trains your brain to reject all criticism--is to say something to absolutely reject it. And the fact that it was the president of the chapter who said it--the one that everyone looks to as a role model--shows to me that they're not interested in accepting honest feedback.
They're just there to feel better about themselves.
I'm not interested in a place that's actively against helping me improve. If you want this to be your social thing, then fine: have at it. Just be honest and upfront about it--and, for all that is decent, don't then claim to be the best.
The best are willing to fail and make mistakes--in fact, they actively seek out the opportunities to do so. After all, if we only ever do the things we're already good at, then we'll never get good at anything else. As I like to say, "Failure is always an option; surrender isn't!" Or, if you feel fancy and want it in Latin:
An optio sit semper defectum; deditionem venit!
I should also mention that I just can't seem to bring the heat for this one. After all, if they're not going to listen, then why bother putting my energy into it?
