Sitting in white plastic stackable chairs in a garage area attached to the horses’ stalls, we exchange small talk about the weather, children, and our plans for the coming weekend. Above the concrete floor, shelves are filled with horse stuff, bags of Purina miniature horse and pony feed, tubs of supplements, buckets, a hose, plus a variety of toys and tools.
We’ve been hired by Kim, an insurance company manager. She and her therapist husband also offer equine-assisted services. She asked us to deliver this program for her “real job” because she recognized her department was struggling with communication issues, creating conflict among her team members.
She’d invited us to her farm where they raise miniature horses. Amber and I, along with five other women, were waiting for the final team member, George, to join us. The ladies, ranging in age from 20’s to early 50’s were fashionably dressed. Most are wearing colored cowboy boots and puffy coats. From the deep sighs, to fidgeting and noticeable frustration, one could feel the tension as the start time slowly ticked further away.
George hurriedly made his entrance and apologized profusely to the group. He awkwardly plops down in the remaining open chair, then ran his fingers through his unruly hair. The people seated who have been waiting for him sort of politely murmured back, then all turned to look at Amber and me. We take their cue, welcoming everyone to the team development program, thanking Kim for inviting us to share her lovely farm. We emphasized how much we appreciated her trusting us to be able to help them reach their communication goals.
Following our opening sequence of meet & greet and horse safety, we mov into the next bit which is an introduction to Peter Senge’s Ladder of Inference. His work informs us that we live in a world of self-generating beliefs which remain largely untested. We adopt those beliefs because they are based on conclusions, which are inferred from what we observe, plus our past experience. Our ability to achieve the results we truly desire is eroded by our feelings that:
Our beliefs are the truth.
The truth is obvious.
Our beliefs are based on real data.
The data we select are the real data
It’s one of my favorite tools to help visually represent that people find evidence to support what they’ve already decided. Below is part of the handout we shared. Climb the ladder with me, like we did with our six group members:
1) The meeting was called at 9:00 a.m. John didn’t arrive until 9:30 a.m. and he didn’t say why.
2) John knew exactly when the meeting was to start. He deliberately came in late.
3) John always comes in late.
4) We can’t count on John. He’s unreliable.
After reading this first example one could hear a pin drop! Why? Because we had just experienced this exact example with George arriving late. Each of the team members swiveled their heads, looking left and right at each other. Did they just climb the ladder? Let’s unpack this…
· Did they start with observable data? Yes, George arrived late.
· Did they select some details about George’s behavior? Maybe he’d seemed to be uncomfortable and somewhat flustered.
· Did they add their own meaning? Could they have reminded themselves of other times George was late?
· Did they move to assumptions that George didn’t care that he was late? He didn’t explain WHY he was late. To be fair, nobody bothered to ask him.
· Did they then reach the “logical” conclusion that George isn’t a team player and he’s the reason they have communication problems. Heck, maybe the whole reason Kim is requiring them to take a day off from work to spend time on better communication is all because of George’s behavior.
Amber and I look at each other, smiling, silently agreeing “let’s move into this”. We modelled the healthy behavior of getting curious by asking,
“We just shared a similar experience, with George late arrival. Did any of you here climb the ladder?”
After a few minutes of awkward silence, Kim spoke up, admitting that she did. The remaining group members nod their heads, sheepishly admitting that they did too. George is their tech guy, so he explained that there was an emergency that needed his attention. One of the participants lowered her head, commenting that she’s sorry she judged him, assuming he was late because he didn’t care about the rest of the team.
Kim then asks, “George why were you late this time?” Notice the “this time” added to the question. The addition of calling out that there were past experiences with George attending late tells Amber and I that there is more to this story. George doesn’t verbally respond to the “this time” part of the question, though he shrinks down a little in his chair making himself smaller. He then explains,
“I know how important this day is to you, Kim. You’ve been excited and talking about it since you first scheduled it for us. It’s just that if I didn’t solve this server problem this morning we’d have bigger problems when we returned from the training. I had to make a decision in the moment. I’m sorry to have let you all down.”
The ladder of influence affects all our decisions. It all seems so reasonable, happening so quickly, that we aren’t even aware we’ve climbed the ladder. Because it takes place in our head, the process is not visible to anyone else, unless we make it so. Neuroscience tells us that the more we follow a decision-making pathway in our head, the deeper the groove becomes in our brains, so the more we believe what we’ve already decided. The only way to reroute this “truth” is through inquiry, staying present, and considering other options.
“Okay, then,” I say, standing up, shifting the focus away from this awkward conversation. “It’s time to see what our horse partners can teach us.” For this next activity we invite each of you to catch and halter a horse, without talking, then lead your horse for a while. Think of this as a whole group activity. I encourage you to expand your definition of success beyond your individual goal of getting a horse haltered.”
The energy in the group feels more inclusive, with all six of the participants, including George, moving toward the pasture where a herd of seven miniature horses wait. As we walk outside, Amber and I excitedly whisper to each other in anticipation that the horses are going to help us explore their relationships further.
Before walking through the gate, each individual grabs a halter from us, then enters the pen. The horses all rush toward the people to see if they have any treats for them. We imposed a “not talking without a consequence rule” so the people shuffle around, sorting out who will take what horse, by pointing and motioning to each other. Once each person identifies which horse they are going to halter the participants are in various stages of trying to put the halter over the ears, buckle the chinstrap, and figuring out which part of the halter goes where.
George is having the most trouble. He can’t seem to find the top of the halter and every time he tries to put it on his horses’ head the black and white pinto pony walks away. Everyone else is so busy with their own horses that they aren’t paying attention to George. Amber and I whisper to each other that this scenario is just like this morning. George is on his own, with nobody noticing that he’s struggling.
I raise my hand, inviting everyone to stop what they are doing. Then, facing the group, I ask,
“Hey everyone, this is a good point to notice what’s happening. Are you successful?”
The five people standing with horses haltered all nod an affirmative “yes”. George is standing absently holding his halter, while the pinto is on the other side of the pen.
Amber asks, “So your definition of success was each of you reaching your individual goal, not all the group members accomplishing the task?”
The ladies look around, discovering what they hadn’t noticed earlier, that George and his horse weren’t even near each other. One can almost hear the “Awe Sh*t” when they realize the group left George on his own, that they had not offered him support.
The question opened the door for rich discovery of ways they can transfer this learning experience back to their office. Kim, seizing the opportunity, moved to the front of the group. She suggested we walk back to the garage space to start capturing the lessons learned on a flip chart, creating a list of new best practices to take back to the office.