What Got You Here Won't Get You There: How Successful People Become Even More Successful

by Marshall Goldsmith

division. I would keep him in the loop on everything that touched him and me—by following up and getting his input about stuff I’m working on.

(a) that feedback from one person, however abstruse and vague, can be just as important as formal feedback from a group, and (b) not all feedback comes from asking people (solicited) or hearing what they volunteer. Some of the best feedback comes from what you observe.

Every day, people are giving us feedback, of a sort, with their eye contact, their body language, their response time. Interpreting this casual observational feedback can be tricky; learning that something’s not right is not the same as learning what’s wrong and how we can fix it.

We observe all the time. But we don’t often observe with a purpose or with judgment.

For one day, write down all the comments that you hear people make to you about you. For example, “Oh, that was really smart, Marshall.” Or, “You’re late, Marshall.” Or, “Are you listening to me, Marshall?” Any remark that, however remotely, concerns you or your behavior, write it down. At the end of the day, review the list and rate each comment as positive or negative. If you look at the negatives, maybe some patterns will emerge.

You can do the same for yourself and treat it as a feedback moment. Turn the sound off and observe how people physically deal with you.

variation on this drill is making sure you are the earliest person to arrive at a group meeting. Turn the sound off and observe how people respond to you as they enter.

Pick one thing that you want to get better at. It could be anything that matters to you—from getting in shape to giving more recognition to lowering your golf handicap. Then list the positive benefits that will accrue to you and the world if you achieve your goal.

As the benefits you list become less expected and more personal and meaningful to you, that’s when you know that you’ve given yourself some valuable feedback—that you’ve hit on an interpersonal skill that you really want and need to improve.

pseudo-self-deprecating remarks—the ones we say about ourselves but don’t believe—are the rhetorical devices and debating tricks of everyday communication that allow us to get an edge on our rivals.

The lesson: Your flaws at work don’t vanish when you walk through the front door at home.

Let your colleagues hold the mirror

and tell you what they see. If you don’t believe them, go home. Pose the same question to your loved ones and friends—the people in your life who are most likely to be agenda-free and who truly want you to succeed. We all claim to want the truth. This is a guaranteed delivery system.

Feedback tells us what to change, not how to do it. But when you know what to change, you’re ready to start changing yourself and how people perceive you. You’re ready for the next step: telling everyone you’re sorry.

I regard apologizing as the most magical, healing, restorative gesture human beings can make. It is the centerpiece of my work with executives who want to get better—because without the apology there is no recognition that mistakes have been made, there is no announcement to the world of the intention to change, and most important there is no emotional contract between you and the people you care about. Saying you’re sorry to someone writes that contract in blood.

He alienated the people closest to him—not out of malice or arrogance but out of passive neglect. He failed to return their calls. He would never make the first move to check up on them to see how they were doing. He would only pay attention to them if there was business to be done. This is

the kind of benign hurtful pattern that emerges only over time—because you only miss nurturing and caring in their absence.

Vince, a volatile Sicilian who valued loyalty and friendship above all else, was hurt and stopped talking to Ted.

As Boston Celtics coach Red Auerbach used to say about coaching his players, “It’s not what you say, it’s what they hear.” You obviously didn’t enjoy the evening, and for that I apologize. I like to think of myself as a decent and caring and generous host, and I will take your comments as a signal to do better.

I guess I could wander back into my childhood to figure out why I act this way, but looking backward, seeking out scapegoats, is a fool’s errand.

our friendship. Tremendously. We have too many years of laughs and good times and neighboring and genuine caring for each other to let our friendship slip away because I am a schmuck in an area where you least value that kind of behavior. All I can ask is your forgiveness. If you can grant me that, I do not expect us to return to things the way they were. I think we should aim higher. I would want us to return to things as they should be, where I can aspire to the ideal of friendship that you have described in your honest, painfully honest, letter to

You say, “I’m sorry.” You add, “I’ll try to do better in the future.” Not absolutely necessary, but prudent in my view because when you let go of the past, it’s nice to hint at a brighter future.

And then . . . you say nothing. Don’t explain it. Don’t complicate it. Don’t qualify it. You only risk saying something that will dilute it.

In other words, now that you’ve said you’re sorry, what are you going to do about it?

“It’s a lot harder to change people’s perception of your behavior than it is to change your behavior.

The first is assessing the situation; the second is isolating the problem; the third is formulating. But there are three more phases before you get to the seventh, implementation.

phase you must target a different constituency. In phase 4, you woo up—to get your superiors to approve. In phase 5, you woo laterally—to get your peers to agree. In phase 6, you woo down—to get your direct reports to accept.

Treat every day as if it were a press conference during which your colleagues are judging you, waiting to see you trip up. That mindset, where you know people are watching you closely, will boost your self-awareness just enough to remind you to stay on high alert. • Behave as if every day is an opportunity to hit home your message—to remind people that you’re trying really hard. Every day that you fail to do so is a day that you lose a step or two. You’re backsliding on your promise to fix yourself. • Treat every day as a chance to take on all challengers. There will be people who, privately or overtly, don’t want

You can’t listen if you’re talking. So keeping your mouth shut is an active choice (and as we know, for some people it’s tougher to do than bench-pressing 500 pounds).

After all, what do most of us do when we’re angry? We speak (and not in the carefully measured tones of a diplomat). What do we do when we’re upset? We talk.

You could tell her the world was about to end and she would think before opening her mouth, not only about what she would say but how she would phrase it.

I defy you to argue that this approach is anything but a highly active, decisive choice. Telling your brain and mouth not to do something is no different than telling them to do it.

To learn from people, you have to listen to them with respect. Again, not as easy to do as you might imagine. It too requires the use of unfamiliar muscles.

Listening also requires us to answer a difficult question before we speak: “Is it worth it?” The trouble with listening for many of us is that while we’re supposedly doing it, we’re actually busy composing what we’re going to say next.

He learned what Frances Hesselbein knew—that people’s opinions of our listening ability are largely shaped by the decisions we make immediately after asking, “Is it worth it?” Do we speak or shut up? Do we argue or simply say, “Thank you”? Do we add our needless two cents or bite our tongue? Do we rate the comments or simply acknowledge them?

What impressed me was that when he asked a question, he waited for the answer. He not only listened, he made me feel like I was the only person in the room.”

The ability to make a person feel that, when you’re with that person, he or she is the most important (and the only) person in the room is the skill that separates the great from the near-great.

As I say, Bill Clinton has this skill in spades. Whether you were meeting him for the first time in a receiving line, or dealing with him one-on-one in a private session, Clinton made a point of knowing something positive about you and, without making a big show of it, saying something to let you know he knew it. In effect, he was bragging about you to you. That’s a very meaningful gesture. (Imagine how you’d feel if, instead of being forced to tell someone how swell you are, they pointed out

your wellness to you and to everyone within earshot.

If we’re in a meeting with our boss, we will listen without interruption to every word she says. We will mark the boss’s vocal inflections, seeing nuance

and meaning that may or may not be intended. We will lock in on the boss’s eyes and mouth, searching for smiles or frowns, as if they were significant clues about our career prospects. Basically, we are treating our boss as if she’s the most important person in the room (because she is). Likewise if we’re on a sales call with a prospect who could make or break our year. We prepare by knowing something personal about the prospect. We ask questions designed to reveal the prospect’s inclinations. We scan the prospect’s face for clues about how badly he needs what we’re selling. We are at Defcon Five in terms of attentiveness. Full alert. The only difference between us and the super-successful among us—the near-great and the great—is that the great ones do this all the time. It’s automatic for them. For them there’s no on and off switch for caring and empathy and showing respect. It’s always on.

They don’t rank personal encounters as A, B, or C in importance. They treat everyone equally—and ...

Ninety percent of this skill is listening, of course. And listening requires

modicum of discipline—the discipline to concentrate. So I’ve developed a simple exercise to test my clients’ listening skills. It’s simple—as simple as asking people to touch their toes to establish how limber they are. I ask them to close their eyes and count slowly to fifty with one simple goal: They cannot let another thought intrude into their mind. They must concentrate on maintaining the count.

Listen. • Don’t interrupt. • Don’t finish the other person’s sentences. • Don’t say “I knew that.” • Don’t even agree with the other person (even if he praises you, just say, “Thank you”). • Don’t use the words “no,” “but,” and “however.” • Don’t be distracted. Don’t let your eyes or attention wander elsewhere while the other person is talking. • Maintain your end of the dialogue by asking intelligent questions that (a) show you’re paying attention, (b) move the conversation forward, and (c) require the other person to talk (while you listen). • Eliminate any striving to impress

the other person with how smart or funny you are. Your only aim is to let the other person feel that he or she is accomplishing that.

If you can do that, you’ll uncover a glaring paradox: The more you subsume your desire to shine, the more you will shine in the other person’s eyes.

You’d say the same thing about anyone who brought out the best in you, who made you feel like the most important

person in the room.

Once you master the subtle arts of apologizing, advertising, listening, and thanking, you must follow up—relentlessly. Or everything else is just a “program of the month.”