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.

Ever notice how a nearby sound is louder than something farther away? I was in the bedroom, with the radio on in another room. It was loud; loud enough, anyway.

The Little One came in and sat on the bed with a bag of chips and started crunching away. And completely drowned out the radio. Now, there's no way her crunching is louder than my music (trust me) but proximity created greater apparent volume.

Closer = Louder—But Should It?

Who sounds loud, just because they're close to you? Are your newest clients making suggestions or demands that wouldn't make sense to your old loyal cadre? Are your peers offering advice that doesn't fit? Is your mom or your brother or your neighbor telling you what you should or shouldn't do for a living?

It's a good idea to hear a wide variety of input. Hear it, but know what's loud, and what's close, and the difference between the two.

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?