This is a book about telling stories that matter at work. People want to give voice to their convictions and stand up for what they believe in. Find Your Voice at Work describes a time-honoured way for narrating stories that requires no theatrical training.
  Find Your Voice at Work by Andrée Iffrig   Cover art by Nieves Carusco
     
   
Register for an online course and attend a workshop to find your voice at work.
 
POWERFUL STORIES OF PEOPLE WHO FOUND THEIR VOICE AT WORK

Deep Listening (p. 157-160)
“Why do I put such an emphasis on listening in the first place? Because I believe that listening opens the door to self-understanding, inner security, empowerment and ultimately the development of each individual to be the authentic, unique and greatest person he or she can be. In seemingly tiny ways, every time we listen something great happens. Relationships are transformed.”

Warren Redman, The 9 Steps to Emotional Fitness.

The din in this seminar room has escalated with new arrivals, and there are now more people than chairs. This is a group of aspiring speakers with the extraverts far outnumbering the introverts. We have assembled to learn more about applying a narrative process to coaching. I sandwich myself into one of the last available seats at the back of the room and find myself next to a woman who is frowning. Over the noise, the Master of Ceremonies is trying to get our attention. Eventually she succeeds and now all eyes are on the speaker, Warren Redman. A tall, lean Englishman with a kind face and serene manner, he looks out of place in this room full of boisterous participants.

After sharing a humorous story about a painful experience with public speaking, Warren outlines his main topic for our workshop. He has developed a narrative process for coaching situations, and following a short but instructive introduction, he puts us to work. I am paired with the woman next to me. She is still frowning. We are to each take 10 minutes to share a story following Warren’s five step narrative cycle. The noise in the room suddenly rockets, and I invite my partner into a quiet corner of the hallway where we can be more at ease and hear each other without shouting. There are two armchairs and I sink into mine; my partner is perched on hers.

Her face is contorted by distress, as though the prospect of telling a story is intimidating her. I have been through this process before with Warren and find it to be full of wonder. The results are unpredictable but invariably enlightening. Our first step for working together today is for one of us to assume the coach’s role; I volunteer to take this on. I sense this woman has something she needs to relate, even if she hasn’t recognized it yet herself.

As per our instructions, she begins by creating an index of experiences. There are five subtitles or categories under which she can identify stories. The categories are work, leisure, education, relationships and life events. “How will I ever identify one or two experiences under each subtitle?” she laments. I suggest she start with the area that seems most immediate for her. In the next two minutes, she has written down brief notes for at least one experience in each category. Choosing an experience from her academic studies, she launches into her story.

In the ensuing 20 minutes, I hear a story full of pain and anguish, the description of an experience she has been carrying like a stone for years. It is a tale of betrayal and unfairness, of missed opportunities and failure. The story concerns one of her professors at university who marked her harshly on a major essay. In spite of her intentions to redress this, her courage failed and when she had the chance to speak up, she couldn’t defend herself adequately. Long after she has graduated, this story still leaves her struggling with tears and feeling the universe is not fair.

My task is to listen without interrupting while she narrates her story. When she has finished relating the experience, I finally speak. I clarify what I have heard, repeating elements of her story and asking if I have understood. Yes, she answers, it was just as I say.

We move on to the second stage of the narrative cycle. I invite her to write down her story in full and to read it back to me. My prompt for her is: What have you learned from this experience? She hesitates only momentarily and then pours out her feelings. When she should have stood up for herself, she was afraid. Having shared this, she writes down what she has learned.

Step three of the narrative cycle requires that she demonstrate her achievement. How might she use what she has learned about herself? As I listen carefully, inclining towards her so that I can hear her over the other groups in the hallway, she regrets she has previously failed to see that it was never about the professor at all; it was about her fear.

In the fourth stage I inquire what else she can learn from this experience. Suddenly the answer is crystal clear: to have carried around this resentment so long has been punishing, robbing her of joy and failing to change the underlying problem. If she wants to find peace, she will have to let go of her resentment.

In the final step, I ask what learning opportunities she plans to take up. Her anger and sorrow evaporate as she thinks about what she can do. She could write out her resentments each evening, putting them to bed rather than carrying them around for weeks and months at a time. She could take a course in self esteem, she could seek counselling to deal with her fear. There are a myriad of options.

The bell goes off, indicating it is time to return to the seminar room. I have not had time to share, but this seems inconsequential compared to the momentous experience of my partner. The energy in the room is calmer now. Warren inquires what participants have learned. Those at the front of the room monopolize the exchange at first and then from the back of the room, my partner finds the courage to put up her hand. She declares for the whole room to hear: “I feel like I have really been listened to for the first time in my life.” There are tears in her eyes as she says this.

A coach can offer the gift of listening; it is as much a part of storytelling as the narrative itself. Too often, the coach is preoccupied with providing solutions, with “fixing” the client, rather than allowing her to find her voice. Warren Redman has made deep listening an essential element of his Emotional Fitness training courses for coaches and therapists. Forget about offering solutions or demonstrating how smart you are. Just be. Breathe deeply, relax, and incline your head to hear the other person’s story. If you ask questions, do it to clarify, not to challenge or contradict.

When your colleague has finished her story, summarize what you have heard. Each encounter or coaching appointment is an opportunity to help another person gain insight into who she is and why she reacted to a situation in a particular way. By the simple act of listening to a story, you will be helping someone see herself in a new and more positive light.


Reprinted with permission from Find Your Voice at Work Copyright © 2007 Andree Iffrig. All rights reserved

 

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