The meeting was between two companies. One company, let’s call them Solution Inc., was pitching a solution to another company, let’s call them Problem Inc., who was facing a nagging, multi-million dollar, complex problem. Problem Inc. was sensing their own vulnerability, their vulnerability from the scope and importance of their problem. I was familiar with this particular problem, an inconvenient lackluster problem, a problem that Problem Inc. wanted someone else to resolve for them. Problem Inc. asked me to come to their meeting, to watch, to provide my impression.
Solution Inc. began the meeting with a polished presentation, complete with graphics and estimated costs. It was a broad-brush plan, designed by hired consultants, a plan highlighting mountain tops while flying high enough to hide the detailed landscape. The CEO of Solution Inc. donned a firm and intimidating presence. I suspect you’re familiar with the bearing; an avuncular and intense demeanor announcing: “I know what I’m doing; you’d be a fool to question”. Solution Inc. developed their pitch over the course of years. Their story included stock responses to most questions, questions that clients felt proud that they’d thought to ask. Solution Inc.’s story had the kind of brittle polish that left little room for flexibility. Their certainty was out of sync, disregarding the complex circumstances of the problem they were addressing. Solution Inc.’s story contained a blunt-force defense narrative against any other possibility: “Why would you need a plan B, all other solutions are sub-optimal.”
It’s a familiar blunt-force narrative, a narrative used by all single solution salespersons, a narrative intended to motivate action through shame; shame for our ignorance, shame for our fear, shame that “we should recognize the obvious”.
Problem Inc. had prepared some insightful questions. Some of their questions managed to challenge the inflexibility of Solution Inc., managed to evoke nervousness and the stump-speech bluster of an excited Baptist preacher. However, Problem Inc.’s questions also revealed their own fundamental weakness, a weakness in their story’s immune system, their longstory immaturity. Problem Inc. lacked a mature and guiding future story that was shared among its members. They were unclear about their own essential priorities, needs, and desires; all products which are derived from a resilient future story. Problem Inc. was intimidated by the complexity of the problem they faced. Problem Inc. also understood that a poor outcome would be tragic, perhaps unthinkable.
Lacking clear needs, Problem Inc. was incapable of developing meaningful alternatives. Solution Inc.’s story told Problem Inc. what they should need, told them what they should want. A seductive pitch when Problem Inc. is intimidated by their own circumstances.
After the meeting my recommendation to Problem Inc. was story resilience. With a resilient story we can discern between our base needs and specific strategies to meet them, we’re poised to recognize fruitful alternatives. I recommended for Problem Inc. to embrace their problem, to embrace an opportunity to strengthen community, to engage their company in co-creation of their shared future story. I recommended story resilience to strengthen their story immune system, their protection from rigid solutions and hazardous certainty. With matured story resilience, including essential priorities, needs and desires, Problem Inc. can bring coherence to negotiations; they can directly request what they need, they can more flexibly discover resolutions.
Embarking on future story co-creation requires leaders to have courage and faith; courage to broaden personal power by inviting others to help forge a shared future, courage to identify elements of unavoidable uncertainty, courage to hear the unexpected and the uncomfortable, and faith that a stronger bond will emerge. Problem Inc. embraced my suggestion; they acknowledged their need for story resilience, they began a process of story discovery.
When unaware of our needs, when out of touch with our resilient story, aggressive stories become Pac-Man stories; they consume us into their narrative. Mindfully attending to our resilient story needs is more than Pac-Man resistance; it’s our fundamental contribution to the world. A resilient story is an epicenter for adaptation, for change, for growth.