Where's the Superglue?

My journey from the front door to the bedroom took less than a minute when I arrived home from work today, but along the path I identified a growing list of things to do. Things I recognized from past procrastinations, plus a few new ones. Like the hot plate. Or whatever you call it.

On the kitchen counter was that plug in skillet thing that my wife uses to make pancakes and grilled cheese sandwiches, except that it was (quite literally) belly up. The plastic piece that had broken off, presumably while she was cleaning it yesterday since I had seen it in the sink, that piece was laying on its belly and turning it over, I discovered where it belonged.

Hard plastic, a clean break. Superglue. I knew right away what my go-to fix-it solution was.

Now rewind 30 minutes. I was finishing up the day with a conversation with a student worker. We had talked for over a half hour about issues relating to a habit of tardiness to work. She had responded to recent rebuffs with a sarcastic text and we were now meeting to discuss future employment options. The parallel with the broken kitchen gadget may not be obvious, but to me it is, because it has to do with the assumed go-to solution.

In the case of the student worker, I had met with colleagues earlier in the day to ask for their advice on the situation. After listing a few options, I had my go-to fix-it plan. I would confront the student and ask them if they really wanted to work for me. I would suggest they try a different job and see if that position was any more forgiving of tardiness, and I would strongly encourage them to consider what life in the "real world" was going to be like a few months from now when they hit graduation.

So I steeled myself for an uncomfortable conversation and put the pedal to the metal and drove in with gusto. Thirty minutes later, I was teared up and asking for forgiveness. So what happened?

Turns out, my confrontational solution wasn't the superglue that was needed. I needed to talk and so did she. And we both needed to listen, which we did. It was genuine communication. I learned some things about her. Things I didn't know. Things that helped me understand her tardiness. And what I perceived as a careless attitude turned out to be a perfectly understandable one based on bad information that I had failed to clarify about the working relationship.

It's actually the second time in a week that a slow, honest, deliberate conversation has stopped me in my tracks. The previous time, just a week ago, the roles were reversed. It was me and a superior at my job. By the end we were both in tears and what had looked like a dire situation was bathed in grace.

So I want to highly recommend the superglue of honest, humble and intentional conversation. It works!