We just took the van in for an oil change and rear brakes in preparation for our trip(s). We noticed, standing in the long line which had formed even before the doors opened, that Chris McCarthy’s certifications weren’t on the wall any more; just three blank spaces where the paint was a lighter color.

When we got to the front we asked if Chris had left, and the chap behind the counter volunteered that Chris would be opening his own place across the street soon, but that they still had all the same technicians they’d had when Chris was there.

And I thought, so what?

I didn’t go there for anybody’s technical expertise. Most folks who can get and keep a job as a mechanic are competent at the technical stuff. The primary place auto shops fall down is in the ethics department.

We trust Chris McCarthy. I couldn’t care less who his technicians are; I know he’ll hire the right people, expect good work and honesty, and treat me with respect.

It’s not about the technicians, folks. It’s not about doing a good job. You can be the best in the world, but people do business with people they know, like, and trust.

I just got a call on my Skype number from Trevor.

“So what?” Yes, I heard you think that. We get phone calls all the time. But let me describe this in a little detail and see if you feel the same wonder I do.

I’m sitting at my computer. No phone rang; instead, a message popped up on my screen, glowing transparent over other work so as to be less intrusive, telling me not only that I had a call, but the name of the caller.

I am in northern California, just outside Sacramento. The caller, Trevor Gay, is in England. He was using a cell phone, and wanted to make a test call to a Skype number. He saw I was online, and decided to give me a quick ring. To test Skype’s conferencing feature, I added my wife Sue, sitting across the office from me, to the call; she and Trevor had a quick chat.

All this took 8 minutes. And here’s what happened in that 8 minutes.

Someone in England, using a cell phone, called my computer, not a telephone. Both our voices were converted to digital bits, sent over the internet like an email, converted to sound, all that stuff.

We had a conference call. Remember when that was a big deal, requiring special equipment? Nah. Just click a couple buttons and connect people.

I had a free conversation, a quick chat, with someone halfway around the world. I remember a time when long distance was saved for really important stuff, and international calls were virtually unheard of except for the most extreme circumstances.

Are you using technology to cut through the noise, and be more human? Or are you letting technology shape you to its own ends, becoming more ‘connected’, but less connected?

We had a great launch today; I think the radio show is going to be even more fun than I expected.

We talked about how to avoid getting sucked into fruitless and pointless arguments with people who don’t seem to grasp the fundamental rules of engagement in logical debate. Tom’s excellent point was that we need to, as early as possible, assess two things: content and agenda.

Hear Tom’s explanation in this 2-minute clip from today’s show.

It’s probably just me.

I have in my inbox not just one, not just two, but three emails outlining product launches that have happened recently. In them, they glibly refer to “making five figures in XX number of days or hours”

Five figures. That’s, minimum, $10,000 (unless they’re counting pennies, in which case it’s $100.00 which I sorta doubt.)

Really? Folks I’ve never heard of are making what I would consider two solid months’ income in a couple days? Does anyone else ever feel like maybe, when their ship came in, they were at the airport waiting for a train?

It’s probably just me.

Participated in a nice conversation with Sherri Rosen and some other very smart people about how to balance a deep desire to give a client value, and the potential for being taken advantage of.

How do you handle it when you’re trying to give that little bit extra, because, hey, that’s how you roll, and you realise that they’re just taking advantage? Leave a shout for Sherri here, or pop on over to her blog and join the fray.

I had a very rewarding interaction this past week. Someone with whom I’ve had a secret conflict, a silent frustration, has responded to a wild rant with an olive branch.

Get to the Root

Okay, my rant wasn’t so wild, and wasn’t even really a rant, it was more, “this is how I feel, and we have to change something or we can’t operate any more.”

The clincher? The subject line to my email (yeah, yeah; email is totally wrong for this, usually, but it was truly the right choice this time.) My subject line was “we need to communicate better” and then I talked about how I felt regarding the disconnect we’d experienced. While the issues were all over the map, the other person recognised that, at its core, our challenges were completely about communication. Not character, not ethos, not ability, not even respect.

Being able to clearly define the root of the challenge, and communicating my acceptance of that, was key to opening the floodgates of some of the most rewarding communication I’ve had in years.

Strip away the emotions. Get what they did/what I want out of the way. Dig down to the one thing that could change it all.

Exposing roots = crucial conversation win.

We all know someone who’s always promising but never delivers. We also know that we eventually stop trying or caring or trusting. It’s not always clear why.

So I’ll tell you.

Trust was the important word in that sentence. In “The Speed of Trust” Stephen M. R. Covey uses the illustration of trust as a tree, with four main components.

Trust is Like a Tree

Under ground are the roots. They picture the part of trust that’s not visible to others: integrity. Others can’t see, just by looking at us, whether we have it or not.

Partially hidden and partially above ground is the trunk: intent. Intentions can be hidden, or signaled by our actions.

Integrity and intent make up the character portion of trust.

Above are the branches, the visible supporting structure of the tree. That’s our capabilities, our skills. These are fairly evident to most observers.

Finally, the fruit: results. Until we deliver results, real trust can’t exist. Capabilities and results are the competence portion of trust.

What happens when someone promises results, but doesn’t deliver? Trust is damaged. The only way to rebuild trust is to deliver results. Deliver enough results, and damaged trust can often be rebuilt.

But damage trust again without rebuilding it first, and rot sets in.

We’ve already got rotten fruit; a lack of results. Soon, the branches of capability are effected, and we start to wonder if this person actually knows what they’re doing.

Before long, the trunk is showing signs of decay. Do they ever intend to act? What are their intentions?

That leads to root rot: we no longer believe in their integrity.

And now, the tree is dead.

No dead tree ever produced fruit. No results, no trust restored.

It’s easy to see this in the other guy. Stop and ask yourself: how many times in the past month have I had to explain to someone why I didn’t deliver? Sure, each isolated case can be explained.

But if there’s a pattern, there’s a problem.

Stop. Think. Are you hacking at the roots?