Thanks for the Feedback: The Science and Art of Receiving Feedback Well

by Douglas Stone

And we came to see how this could transform not just how we handle performance reviews on the job, but how we learn, lead, and behave in our professional roles and in our personal lives.

Unfortunately this doesn't scale well nor lend itself to an easy implementation

The term “feed-back” was coined in the 1860s during the Industrial Revolution to describe the way that outputs of energy, momentum, or signals are returned to their point of origin in a mechanical system.

Fitting

It doesn’t matter how much authority or power a feedback giver has; the receivers are in control of what they do and don’t let in, how they make sense of what they’re hearing, and whether they choose to change.

Creating pull is about mastering the skills required to drive our own learning; it’s about how to recognize and manage our resistance, how to engage in feedback conversations with confidence and curiosity, and even when the feedback seems wrong, how to find insight that might help us grow. It’s also about how to stand up for who we are and how we see the world, and ask for what we need. It’s about how to learn from feedback—yes, even when it is off base, unfair, poorly delivered, and frankly, you’re not in the mood.

Receiving feedback sits at the intersection of these two needs—our drive to learn and our longing for acceptance.

Truth Triggers are set off by the substance of the feedback itself—it’s somehow off, unhelpful, or simply untrue.

The very first task in assessing feedback is figuring out what kind of feedback we are dealing with. Broadly, feedback comes in three forms: appreciation (thanks), coaching (here’s a better way to do it), and evaluation (here’s where you stand). Often the receiver wants or hears one kind of feedback, while the giver actually means another.

Those who handle feedback more fruitfully have an identity story with a different assumption at its core. These folks see themselves as ever evolving, ever growing. They have what is called a “growth” identity. How they are now is simply how they are now. It’s a pencil sketch of a moment in time, not a portrait in oil and gilded frame. Hard work matters; challenge and even failure are the best ways to learn and improve. Inside a growth identity, feedback is valuable information about where one stands now and what to work on next. It is welcome input rather than upsetting verdict.

Why is it that when we give feedback we so often feel right, yet when we receive feedback it so often feels wrong?

Type of Feedback Giver’s Purpose Appreciation To see, acknowledge, connect, motivate, thank Coaching To help receiver expand knowledge, sharpen skill, improve capability Or, to address the giver’s feelings or an imbalance in the relationship Evaluation To rate or rank against a set of standards, to align expectations, to inform decision making

April is in serious need of a pat on the back and a great big “I see all that you do for me.” What she got instead was coaching—ideas on how she could improve. The conversation hit her hard, leaving her feeling more invisible than ever. She wonders if she should quit. The problem wasn’t that Donald’s feedback was wrong or poorly delivered. His coaching was thoughtful and actually quite useful. April’s distress results from the cross-transaction: She wanted one thing and got another.

If your organization has formal feedback conversations at yearly or semiyearly intervals (where, for example, supervisor and supervisee develop objectives or a learning plan for the coming year, with specific skills and outcomes targeted), the evaluation conversation and the coaching conversation should be separated by at least days, and probably longer.

But in the end, wrong spotting not only defeats wrong feedback, it defeats learning.

So to clarify the feedback under the label we need to “be specific” about two things: (1) where the feedback is coming from, and (2) where the feedback is going.

Summary: SOME KEY IDEAS Feedback is delivered in vague labels, and we are prone to wrong spotting. To understand your feedback, discuss where it is: Coming from: their data and interpretations Going to: advice, consequences, expectations Ask: What’s different about The data we are looking at Our interpretations and implicit rules Ask: What’s right about the feedback to seek out what’s legit and what concerns you have in common. Working together to get a more complete picture maximizes the chances you will (both) learn something.

Instead, ask (the feedback giver, not your nine-year-old): “What do you see me doing, or failing to do, that is getting in my own way?” This question is more specific about the honesty you desire as well as your interest in the impact you have on others. It’s also a narrower and easier question for others to answer.

Summary: SOME KEY IDEAS We all have blind spots because we: can’t see our own leaky faces can’t hear our tone of voice are unaware of even big patterns of behavior Blind spots are amplified by: Emotional Math: We discount our emotions, while others count them double. Attribution: We attribute our failure to the situation, while others attribute it to our character. Impact-Intent Gap: We judge ourselves by our intentions, while others judge us by our impact on them. To see ourselves and our blind spots we need help from others. Invite others to be an honest mirror to help you see yourself in the moment. Ask: How am I getting in my own way?

But it’s not. Kim is using the red roses to raise how she feels unseen and unheard. Louie walks right past the topic of how Kim feels and talks instead about his own topic: how he feels unappreciated. There’s nothing wrong with that reaction or that topic, but it has zero overlap with Kim’s topic. Now we have two people giving feedback and no one receiving it. The dynamic that Louie and Kim have fallen into is so common that we’ve given it a name: a switchtrack conversation. Their conversation gets smoothly shifted, as if by railroad switch, from one topic to two. Soon they are each heading in their own direction, moving farther and farther apart.

Sometimes the second track in a switchtrack isn’t out in the open, but runs underground. Our reactions remain locked in our heads, silently shouting objections while we resentfully endure the criticism from our stepdaughter or department head. We’ve long since switched to our own topic: Wow, you’re telling me to calm down? You’re the most tightly wound person I’ve ever met in my life. And I guess I now have to add un–self-aware. We then walk away and vent our frustrations to others. (“Is Jenna the most neurotic person on the planet, or just this hemisphere? I can’t decide.”) We triangulate the conflict and short-circuit learning in all directions.

So the switchtrack dynamic has four steps: we get feedback; we experience a relationship trigger; we change the topic to how we feel; and, step four, we talk past each other.

Summary: SOME KEY IDEAS We can be triggered by who is giving us the feedback. What we think about the giver: Are they credible? Do we trust them? Did they deliver our feedback with good judgment and skill? How we feel treated by the giver: Do we feel accepted? Appreciated? Like our autonomy is respected? Relationship triggers create switchtrack conversations, where we have two topics on the table and talk past each other. Spot the two topics and give each its own track. Surprise players in the feedback game: Strangers People we find difficult People we find difficult see us at our worst and may be especially well placed to be honest mirrors about areas where we have the most room to grow. Listen for relationship issues lurking beneath coaching.

You’re sitting at breakfast with your wife, who is sleep-deprived and agitated. She’s got some feedback for you: Do something about the snoring. Don’t try to pin this on the dog. It’s not the TV or the neighbors. “It’s very simple,” she says. “You snore. I can’t sleep. You’ve got a problem. Fix it.” You wouldn’t dream of blaming the dog. That’s ridiculous. The real problem here is your wife. She tells the story this way: “You snore. The End.” But you know better. Yes, you do snore. But very quietly—so quietly that it should really have its own word. Normal people are not bothered by your snoring. Your first wife never noticed it. The problem is that your current wife is hypersensitive to noise, and particularly when she is feeling stressed and anxious. With teenagers in the house, who isn’t stressed and anxious? Yet she refuses to listen to your ideas for how to relax, and she won’t use the white noise machine you bought her. The problem is that your wife is too sensitive and stubborn. The End.

Too real

Each of us is part of the problem. Maybe not to the same extent, but we’re both involved, each affecting the other. If you didn’t snore—or whatever you want to call it—your wife might be able to sleep. If your wife were less stressed—or less stubborn—she might be able to sleep. It takes the two of you being the way you are to create the problem. That’s how systems work.

Although there are personality-driven aspects to roles—I’m the funny one, you’re the responsible one—roles have an effect on behavior that is independent of character. A role is like an ice cube tray into which you pour your personality. What you pour in matters, but so does the shape of the tray. Whether I’m musical or tone-deaf, humble or a braggart, if I am the cop and you are the speeder, things are likely to play out between us in reasonably predictable ways.

Figuring out your patterns is as simple as asking yourself this question: “How do I typically react?” If you’re like most people, as examples come to mind, you’ll dismiss each as an exception to how you actually are. But those exceptions aren’t exceptions: They are how you are. If you’re having trouble discerning your footprint, ask those around you.

So don’t dismiss others’ views of you, but don’t accept them wholesale either. Their views are input, not imprint.

Dweck talked with the children to find out how they were making sense of things and concluded that the ones who gave up quicker thought along these lines: The first puzzles showed I was smart. These new ones are making me look (and feel) dumb. In contrast, the kids who persisted thought this: These new harder puzzles are helping me get better at doing puzzles. This is fun! The reason some kids kept trying had nothing to do with their interest in or aptitude for puzzles. It came from each child’s mindset. The kids who stopped assumed their puzzle-solving skill was a fixed trait. They had a certain amount of it, the way a water molecule has a certain number of hydrogen atoms. The kids who kept going viewed their puzzle-solving ability as a flexible trait that could change and grow.

loses some weight, or finally finishes college? No. It’s fine to wish that for them, and to coach and support them so they can get there. The key question here: Is it something they want? Or something only you want? If they genuinely do want this change, you’re in the clear. Make your intentions discussable, and most of all, make sure to listen.

What does this have to do with feedback? When we are receiving feedback that feels unfair or off base, when we feel underappreciated or poorly treated, our empathy and curiosity may be neurologically turned off. So listening during a tough feedback conversation won’t come naturally. Even those of us who are generous listeners in other contexts may have trouble finding curiosity when we’re feeling triggered. What Helps? Listen with a Purpose If we’re going to be able to listen more effectively, it’s going to have to be both on purpose and with a purpose. We’ll have to find or create some curiosity—some

Kinda like mindfulness

It seems paradoxical to talk about assertiveness in the context of receiving feedback. But feedback is not simply a thing the giver hands you and you receive. The two of you are building a puzzle—together. They have some of the pieces, and you have some of the pieces. When you don’t assert, you are withholding your pieces. Without your point of view and feelings the giver is unaware of whether what they’re saying is helpful, on target, or in line with your experiences. There’s no problem solving, no adjusting, and no indication of whether you understand the feedback, how you might use it, or why trying it out is more challenging or risky than they assume.

Tie Yourself to the Mast

Favorite Phrase

This suggests that committing in advance to working at something for a specific amount of time—a time that reaches past that most challenging first stage—can be useful. Give it two weeks, thirty days, a fiscal year—whatever seems like a reasonable duration to test whether this new behavior might actually help. Whether you’re learning to sleep with a breathing machine to help your apnea, or learning to stop running the experiments themselves and start running the lab, you need to resist letting the dip of the curve erode your resolve.7

of the vast range of goals that performance systems are charged with accomplishing: Providing consistent evaluation across roles, functions, and regions; Ensuring fair compensation and distribution of rewards; Incenting positive behaviors and disciplining negative behaviors; Communicating clear expectations; Increasing accountability; Aligning individuals with organizational goals and vision; Coaching and developing individual and team performance; Helping to get and retain the right people in the right roles; Assisting succession planning in key leadership positions; Promoting job satisfaction and high morale; and Getting it done on time—in the moment, quarterly, annually. Accomplishing all of these goals can’t be done with a single system or even with a combination of systems.

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