Two months ago I headed out the front door with my lanky, moody, shaggy-haired teenage son, unlocked the van and, with not a little discomfort, slid into the passenger side. Placing his shiny new driver’s permit in the console, he turned to me with just the hint of a smile. “Mom, the key?” With just the hint of a smile, I handed it over.
He took a deep breath as he backed slowly down the driveway. I felt my shoulders tighten and my brake foot tense (what if he hits the mailbox? what if he forgets to look both ways? what if he takes a curve too fast?), but realized that my approach on that very first outing with him behind the wheel would determine whether he tuned in or out the next time. Envisioning him a year later driving around without me to diligently depress my imaginary brake pedal when he needed to slow down, I knew that I really wanted him to hear me.
So when I wanted to say, “Slow down!” I made myself say, “Lift your foot off the gas.”
Instead of, “Can’t you see that kid on his bike!?” I said, “Make sure you give him some room so he knows you see him.”
And rather than gasping and blurting, “Don’t get too close!” I asked, “How many car lengths of space did your driver’s ed. teacher recommend?”
With teenagers – with anyone – effective communication relies on considering their point of view and saying things so that they’ll listen with interest. That means thinking about culture, expectations, environment and mood. So if you’re going to network online or try to encourage two-way communication with your customers (or your client’s customers), consider who you’re talking to, what they expect to read, where they’re spending their time and the general mood.
The challenge here is determining these things in a situation where you can’t see the people you’re trying to communicate with. The only way to understand what those people might appreciate and respond to is to sit back, be an observer and think before you speak. If you shoot from the hip, you might shoot down your chances to connect.
When my son drove me to the pet store the other day, I went to the passenger’s side without hesitancy. As he put the key in the ignition he said, “I thought you were going to be nervous and critical and I wouldn’t want to drive with you. But you’re cool, Mom.”
Just what I needed to hear.
Photo credit: baking_in_pearls via flickr