My first memory of a difficult conversation comes from when I was 14 years old.
When I was at school, I was a decent footballer.
I used to play to county standard, and there was some discussion among my teachers about whether I could be a professional.
For a young lad, used to watching matches on television with his Dad, that was an exciting prospect, of course.
(Didn't I look cute at that age, as captured in the picture? Hmmm...!)
I lived in Sussex, and scouts from local professional sides, like Brighton and Southampton, would come to watch myself and others play.
It was the day after one of those games that the conversation came.
Fortunately, it was with my beloved father, the most wonderful of men, which perhaps made it a little easier.
But it was still hellishly tough.
As you can probably tell, given how well I remember it, almost 40 years on.
The good news was that Dad, my teachers, and even the scouts, thought I could probably make it as a professional footballer.
The bad news was that it would be in the lower divisions, perhaps third, or second at best.
I would never be distinguished, never a real talent, never be outstanding, never a top professional.
Which was, of course, my dream.
What young lad doesn’t want to captain England at Wembley?
I remember crying, then getting angry and initially resisting, insisting I could make it.
But the gentle caring love of my father convinced me otherwise.
He would support me in anything I chose to do he said, that was a given.
But being honest with his son, he wanted me to make the best life I possibly could for myself.
He thought I had other talents which would help me flourish in a range of different areas.
And he never wavered in that, no matter how upset I was, and never talked to me with anything other than kindness and love.
It was a difficult period, because I remember raging, and crying, and insisting that I really could do it, could become a professional footballer.
- I could, I could, I could!
I was so upset, and I know that upset Dad too.
But, after some time adjusting, I came to terms with what he said and looked elsewhere for a future.
And here's the point:
If Dad hadn’t said those things to me, had instead taken the easy path and let me go ahead, under the illusion I could achieve my footballing dream...
I doubt I would have achieved everything else I've done in life.
Working at the BBC, writing books, travelling around talking about them, teaching at Cambridge, running my own business, helping so many people, from young to old…
Which means I wouldn’t be as fulfilled and content as I am today.
Perhaps worse, I suspect I would always have been filled with bitterness and regret.
We’ve all met those people, who live every day with such corrosive and miserable feelings.
And who wants to be that way in the world?
The importance of not flinching from difficult conversations was reinforced for me at the BBC.
Even as I write this, it makes me sad to recall:
I had one colleague who was a lovely man, kind, caring, gentle, thoughtful, he had so much going for him…
But he was determined he wanted to be a journalist, a TV reporter.
Even though it was obvious he didn’t have the toughness, the storytelling and writing talent, the robustness you require.
He tried so hard, but was always passed over for the real stories, the important ones…
And time after time he would be horribly upset by that.
All because no one ever had the courage to sit down with him and explain he wouldn’t make it as a TV reporter, and should instead find another career.
One where he would excel, be recognised, and appreciated.
One where he would be happy, and feel fulfilled and rewarded.
What a terrible waste for all concerned.
- All because no one summoned up the courage to have that difficult conversation
I still see it today.
I meet managers who are barely administrators, let alone the leaders they would wish.
They don't receive respect, they fail in their work, they get upset, their organisations stuggle, and everyone suffers.
- Because no one had the courage to tell them to find another path
I see executives whose companies struggle and fail...
Even though they had viable offerings...
- All because no one had the guts to tell them they weren't up to the job
And I've seen it in myself - even though I should know better - which is why I decided to write about this subject now.
It’s all because of a difficult conversation I’ve had recently.
I was working for someone I know, and like, but it just wasn’t going well.
For some reason, we didn’t click.
We didn’t seem to understand each other, we couldn’t find a harmony in our relationship.
The work I was producing wasn’t pleasing him, and I was getting frustrated.
We kept trying, but eventually had to have a difficult conversation.
Our partnership wasn’t working. It was as simple as that.
It happens in life, and sometimes you have to face it.
I wasn’t the person he needed, and that didn’t feel good to hear, but I had to be honest and accept it.
Some weeks on now, I feel much better about it.
We could’ve kept going, kept trying, but it would have been unpleasant, frustrating, tense for both of us.
Far better to have that difficult conversation and move on.
And an important point:
It doesn't have to be angry, or rude.
Just honest, respectful, and preferably with compassion.
(Just like my beloved Dad to me, all those years past.)
Finally, a thought about the most difficult, yet by far the important conversation of all.
- The one you have to have with yourself
Looking back almost 40 years, that was what eventually persuaded me not to try to become a professional footballer.
I had to ask myself:
Could I really tolerate a life in which I was average, ordinary and achieving nothing of note, certainly nothing which made me feel worthwhile?
I’m glad for the answer I came up with, even if it really hurt at the time.
With my former client, I had to face the fact that my heart wasn’t in what he was trying to achieve.
That was coming out in my work, which was why he was getting frustrated.
So in that difficult conversation with myself, I had to accept I had made mistakes and been wrong.
I told myself off for not being honest in the first place, and taking on something I suspect I knew I shouldn’t have.
I scolded myself for not putting in the belief and effort I should.
But most of all, I gave myself a real going over for not being honest about it for weeks and weeks…
Not having the courage to have that difficult conversation with myself…
- The one which is the most critical of all