We worked together. We failed together.

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How do you deal with your feelings?

I am going to wade through my discomfort and into vulnerability in a few posts about valuing feelings.

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As I arrived in Calgary for a conference, I was trying to avoid this vague sense of uncertainty about meeting a former business supplier. I had pressured him into a proposal to buy his business. Didn’t work.

The first morning over breakfast, I was thinking, “It ended OK, I was just trying to do a deal.”

My second thought was, “I need to just keep my head down and try to avoid him.” At this event, I realized that was impractical.

So I rationalized my behavior; “I’ll talk it over with him. But I’ll go through the mitigating factors and positive outcomes.”

I called up a mutual friend, also at the event. I told him the whole story; “I’m pretty sure it’s all OK, but maybe I should talk to him before the conference.”

He responded, “Yeah, good idea. I’ll see if I can arrange something where you can meet up. Maybe time for a walk”

While I was still mulling over everything, I realized, “Shit, I’m feeling nervous. Wonder if I’m making something big out of nothing.”

Again I called the same friend to give him a heads up that I was a bit nervous. “This could be nothing, or dredging needlessly through the muck of the past. There were others on the team, maybe more at fault. And hey, I’m coming to meet him to seek a resolution.”

“Just talk to him, it’ll be OK”

It was a crisp winter morning, my former supplier met me close to the hotel for a walk in the woods. I don’t like small talk, so I cut him off after a few minutes; “We’re at this three-day conference, are you OK with me?”

”No, I’m not.”

Suddenly it felt super-charged. I mumbled, “Sorry, man. What happened?”

“You were a bully; you thought I had to take your deal.” He continued hacking away at me; “You really wanted me and my company, didn't you?”

“Yeah, you’re right there.”

“You really didn’t listen at all to what I was going through. You didn’t care, and I felt used.”

I fumbled around, trying to be nice. “You – and your family, you’re OK now?” In my head I was trying to justify why this wasn’t my fault.

Silence, I heard just the crisp crunch of frosty snow beneath our shoes. Finally I got up the nerve to start being vulnerable. “Yeah, I screwed things up for you.”

Silence.

I continued, feeling a bit more courage, “I was greedy. I was motivated to press forward by my own desire for money and maybe power.”

“Yeah.” He sort of brushed me off.

“I mean it. It was wrong of me to press for a deal, when you and your wife didn’t want it.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

We walked on again, in silence. “It's really good to get this off my chest.” He finally said.

The one thing I remember was that when I opened up and dropped my defenses, the charged reception I had as we started the walk changed to peace. And the Calgary air suddenly felt cleaner, sharper, and easier to breathe in.

Something changed. It was his willingness to let it go, and my unplanned vulnerability. We haven’t spoken since that day, a couple years back, but I feel that our trust is now restored; maybe even stronger, and freer than before,

We worked together. We failed together. We were honest together. That changes people.

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I would love to connect with you on LinkedIn or Facebook​

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See you next week,

Grayson

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