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The National Cohesion and Integration Commission, NCIC, was established following the post-election violence of 2008 as one of the commissions that would help re-establish sobriety in Kenyan society. It has been going about its work ever since, with the media mainly expecting it to go after those spouting hate speech. However NCIC was not given prosecutorial powers, and so they were often described as “toothless bulldogs” – despite them working closely with other institutions that did possess such powers. Their budgets have also been limited.

The media has by and large ignored NCIC’s other activities, ones that have been occupying most of its time. These included peace-building mediation in different parts of the country, and five years ago I wrote an article about how they went about it. “They collaborated with other agencies,” I wrote then, “benefitting from their expertise and their networks; held public barazas; organised work projects bringing youth together; and through all this started developing a culture of peace rather than of conflict. As a result of their mediation expertise progress has been made, and without needing to resort to judicial intervention.”

More recently, inter-generational issues have emerged as a serious source of conflict, and so NCIC decided to apply its skills and experience to hosting meetings that brought together members of different generations, as well as both genders and various sectors of the local communities in which these town hall meetings were held. They held them where conflict issues specific to those communities were evident, in Marsabit, Isiolo, Nairobi, Taita Taveta, Kisumu, Busia and Kilifi.

They called these meetings Intergenerational Conversations, a really nice term, as it speaks of listening as much as speaking, and this is in a friendly atmosphere. NCIC applied its mediation expertise to facilitate a coming together between the different elements present.

In the selected counties, where interethnic tensions and historical marginalisation have strained community relations, the need for cross-generational dialogue was particularly pressing. Intergenerational and interethnic mistrust have continued to fuel misunderstanding, polarisation and vulnerability to manipulation by extremist actors. And when youth – especially Gen Z – feel alienated and unheard, they become more susceptible to recruitment into violent networks and misinformation campaigns.

Conversely, when they are meaningfully engaged and connected to mentors, elders and institutions, they become powerful agents of peace and resilience. The county-level Intergenerational Conversations bridged these generational divides and created a platform where all voices were valued. By bringing together the experiences of elders, the innovation and energy of youth, and the influence of women and local leaders, the conversations facilitated mutual understanding, addressed generational grievances, and fostered a shared vision for peaceful coexistence.

In Isiolo, for instance, the forum generated several recommendations and achievements, including calls for increased youth representation in governance, review of public participation laws, and strengthened mentorship programmes to bridge generational gaps. It fostered peace, unity and social cohesion by encouraging dialogue and understanding across age-groups. A key outcome was the recognition that elders provide wisdom, while youth bring energy and innovation, helping dismantle the “us versus them” mentality and replacing it with a shared vision of cooperation.

NCIC followed up with podcasts where diverse voices from across Kenya were heard to engage in honest, reflective, positive and forward-looking discussions on governance, leadership and political culture.

The first episode, “Wisdom in Transit”, explores how values, ethics and lessons on leadership are passed across generations. “New Guards” highlights emerging youth leaders and their role in reshaping Kenya’s governance culture. “Old Wisdom: Bridging the Ages” examines how traditional knowledge and modern governance can coexist to promote cohesion. “Political Decency in Action” focuses on civility and integrity in political engagement, while “Government Without Borders” discusses collaboration across counties, institutions, and communities within a devolved governance system. The sixth episode, “The Cost of Indecency,” analyses how intolerance, corruption and disrespect weaken democracy and development. “Youth Agenda: The Future of Governance” centres on the aspirations of young people and their inclusion in leadership, and the final episode, “A Shared Vision”, calls for collective action toward a just, decent and unified Kenya.

Given an availability of budgets, NCIC would host many more town halls, create and distribute more podcasts, and follow up on earlier engagements. Indeed I am encouraged to see that the recently appointed NCIC CEO/Secretary, Dr Daniel Mutegi, has a serious background in monitoring and evaluation, including through the World Bank, and he has been a member of the Vision2030 Secretariat. All this means he will be focusing on the long-term impact of such initiatives in a robust manner.

And as Rev Dr Sam Kobia reaches the end of his term as chairman of NCIC, we can look back on all this “toothless bulldog” has accomplished to promote cohesion and integration, much of it quietly and behind the scenes, as such activity is at its most effective. Well done, Dr Kobia.

So see NCIC’s Intergenerational Conversations as role models for how to bring Kenyans together, within their communities and higher up to the national level.

I recently participated in a company’s annual management conference in which each departmental manager reported on what they would continue doing because it was working well, and what they would do differently in future. They showed us the SWOT (Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities and Threats) faced by their departments, and shared the results from the surveys they’d sent out to staff members, their “customers”, that had led to their conclusions.

I was so impressed as I absorbed what they were presenting, more so as this company is easily the leader in its sector, while showing zero signs of incumbent’s syndrome. No complacency, just the assumption of continuous innovation and improvement.

So what kind of questions were in the surveys? Two kinds: first, ones where ratings from 1-5 were sought, representing from very dissatisfied to very satisfied. Then, open-ended questions, requiring a written response. Here’s an example, of questions from the HR Department’s survey:

  1. On a scale of 1–5, how satisfied are you with the support you receive from the HR team? (1 = Very Dissatisfied, 5 = Very Satisfied)
  2. How well does HR respond to your queries, concerns, or requests in a timely and helpful manner? (1 = Poorly, 5 = Very Well)
  3. In what ways has HR contributed positively to your experience and engagement at the company?
  4. What areas do you feel HR could improve to better support you in your role?
  5. Overall, how would you rate your experience as an “HR customer”? (1 = Very Poor, 5 = Excellent)

Other surveys, plus their feedback, were displayed by the Internal Audit, Finance, Customer Focus and other departments, and each was most enlightening. Respondents were protected by anonymity, and summaries of their ratings and comments were shared.

Here are other questions such surveys pose, and again from the HR stable: “On a scale of 1-5, how motivated do you feel at work?” and then “What factors influence your motivation?” Followed by “On a scale of 1-5 how would you rate collaboration within your team?” and “What improvements would enhance collaboration?”

Let’s keep going: “On a scale of 1-5 how would you rate your overall wellbeing at work?” and “What support systems would you like to see implemented?” “How encouraged do you feel to share new ideas?” and “What barriers hinder your creativity?” You get the picture.

So, while anonymity encourages openness, other aspects also motivate staff to be responsive. First, that the summarised results be shared across the company so there is transparency. And then that there are consequences, a “So what?” of the survey. The departments in question must analyse the results and act on the feedback, again sharing the essence of it all. Finally what is the impact of having acted, including as assessed through follow-up surveys.

The company I was with is now considering issuing a consolidated set of questions on the subject of internal customer satisfaction, and here they are, seeking ratings from very dissatisfied to very satisfied:

  1. We understand and are conscious of the customers’ needs.
  2. We are responsive to issues/queries raised.
  3. We respond with thoroughness and promptly to your requests or queries.
  4. Quality of feedback/solutions provided for requests and queries raised.
  5. Are we knowledgeable to address issues and queries with high level of understanding?
  6. Consistency of support offered by the whole team.
  7. Are we able to work speedily and effectively with other departments?
  8. Willingness to lend a hand and give advice, offer expertise, and gather information to assist others.
  9. We always look for ways to improve services to others.
  10. Teamwork within the department.
  11. We are truthful, transparent (not hiding intent), communicate openly, honestly and often.
  12. We generate ideas or solutions to problems and questions.

Finally, they’re adding open-ended question seeking suggestions on potential areas of improvement so that the levels of service and satisfaction can be improved.

Do you have such surveys circulating in your organisation? Do they result in cost-effective returns on the investment in the whole process? The company I was with indeed derives great benefit from this practice – and this due to their overall healthy culture. What stood out wasn’t just the sophistication of the surveys. It was how the company closed the loop: asking the right questions, sharing the results openly, acting on the feedback, and then checking back in. It’s a full-circle model many organisations talk about but few actually practice.

By the way my contribution to the conference was to make a presentation on The Power of a Positive No… the topic of my last article.

I’ve been reading The Power of a Positive No: Save the Deal Save the Relationship – and Still Say No by William Ury, the author of the earlier bestseller, Getting to Yes. Ury is an experienced mediator, at levels from the corporate to the national, and he is a co-founder of the Harvard Law School Negotiation Program. I found his writing very helpful… just as I do the related Disagreeing Well initiative at University College London, where I was an undergraduate.

Ury’s three-step method for saying a Positive No shows us how to assert and defend our key interests by first, exercising our power; then how to make our No firm and strong; how to resist the other side’s aggression and manipulation; and how to do all this while still getting to Yes and protecting our relationship. The Positive No helps us get to the right Yes, the one that truly serves our interests.

When he asks participants in his executive seminars why they find it challenging to say No, the commonest answers he receives are: “I don’t want to lose the deal”; “I don’t want to spoil the relationship”; I’m afraid of what they might do to me in retaliation”; “I’ll lose my job”; and “I feel guilty – I don’t want to hurt them”.

In reply, Ury gets us to avoid what he calls “the three-A trap”: Accommodation (saying Yes when we want to say No); Attack (saying No poorly); and Avoidance (saying nothing at all), none of which works. Instead, we should “go to the balcony” as he puts it, to adopt a detached state of mind that enables you – as I would put it – to separate how you feel from how you behave.

By sheer coincidence, as I was reading through the book I came across a speech by Obama on my phone that fully reflected Ury’s thinking. Who knows, it may be thanks to Obama’s own Harvard connections. It’s about how the Indian Minister of External Affairs Dr S Jaishankar so offended Trump when he was in his first term by refusing to simply go along with his demands that India should stop buying weapons from Russia, stop doing trade deals with Iran, and generally pick America’s side in every global dispute. India was not into negotiating – they would be making their own decisions. No explanations, no apologies, just making deals with whoever offered the best terms: the Positive No.

Trump took it personally and was furious, and that was the end of the good relationship. What he failed to accept was that America is no longer the super-power that it was, and India is no longer the poor, weak supplicant but a fast-growing world force with a population of 1.4 billion.

It all happened in one conversation, away from the cameras, where Trump was simply told ‘No’. The Indians now expect to be respected, and will no longer simply go along with anything that America demands, explained Obama. But Trump’s entire foreign policy is built on personal relationships. He needs world leaders to like him, to have him feel important, to seek his approval. But Jaishankar treated him as an equal, and just spoke straightforwardly.

“It’s not India that’s the problem,” Trump later said, “It’s one Indian who destroyed our relationship.” The man who dared to say No. It’s about people, about ego. Even allies had choices now, and could say No while also dealing with others. Your power doesn’t come from making others comfortable, Obama explained. You aren’t just grateful for scraps because you need them more than they need you. You know what you value, and without getting angry, you just know what you deserve. Americans now know they must treat India as an equal.

Trump reacted in similar ways to Angela Merkel of Germany, to Emmanuel Macron of France, and to Justin Trudeau of Canada, all of whom had the audacity to treat him as an equal rather than as a superior.

Now Obama told us we can apply these principles in our personal lives. Your boss who demands more work for the same salary, your client who demands the same payment for more product… But do you simply acquiesce? Sometimes relationships aren’t worth keeping, said Obama, like if they require you to accept less than you deserve. Why be silent if there is unfairness? Why compromise your values?

Successful people aren’t the ones who say yes to everything, he concluded. That’s when their character gets tested, as dignity isn’t negotiable.

So there we are, reflections on the power of No from two Harvard fellows.

Having lost an article I’d written about three of Adam Grant’s books, I asked an AI-ologist friend to find it in my laptop. Unfortunately he couldn’t, so instead he kindly asked ChatCPT to write it on my behalf. He fed thirty of my past columns into the app so it could get a feel for my style, and then gave it this prompt: “Extract the style of Mike Eldon from the document and use it to analyse the books of Adam Grant listed above.” Here’s what emerged with the usual AI speed…

On Being Bold, Humble, and Human: Adam Grant’s Lessons for Kenya Today

In my years of working with Kenyan leaders, teachers, youth groups, and executives – from Kisumu to Kilifi – I’ve often found myself returning to one quiet question: Can kindness survive the pressures of performance? Can empathy and ambition walk together? Adam Grant seems to think so. And as I reflect on his ideas, I find echoes of our local struggles, and, our quiet triumphs.

Take for example the idea that we should learn to “think again” – to unlearn, to remain curious, to admit we might be wrong. This, I find, is deeply counter-cultural in many Kenyan institutions, where hierarchy can freeze dialogue and where a title sometimes carries more weight than an idea. But I’ve also seen young professionals in Nairobi tech hubs and rural community organizations challenge outdated assumptions, ask better questions, and surprise even themselves. As Grant reminds us: intellectual humility isn’t weakness—it’s wisdom.

Then there’s the myth of raw talent. In a country where exam results define futures and where brilliance is often measured by a grade, Grant’s notion of hidden potential is both refreshing and liberating. He tells us that coachability, not credentials, is the true predictor of greatness. And indeed, I’ve witnessed it – an overlooked intern in a county office who becomes an indispensable problem-solver; a high school dropout in Kakamega who leads her peers in microenterprise. What they needed wasn’t a head start. It was someone to believe in their stretch.

But belief isn’t enough – we must also act. In Give and Take, Grant distinguishes between takers, matchers, and givers. I thought about this as I mentored a young NGO leader struggling with burnout. She was giving too much. Yet, Grant reminds us, being a giver isn’t about being a martyr—it’s about sustainable service. In Kenya, where communal responsibility often collides with individual limits, this is a vital lesson. Generosity needs boundaries. Philanthropy needs self-care.

One of Grant’s most profound collaborations is Option B, which speaks to resilience after tragedy. And here, we need not look far. From post-election trauma to pandemic loss, Kenyans carry many invisible wounds. I think of teachers who show up after personal grief, boda boda riders who persist after injury, single mothers in Mathare who rise each day with quiet strength. Option B gives us language for their courage and, more importantly, tools for healing. In it, Grant and Sheryl Sandberg offer what I would call structured empathy—a kind of practical compassion we need more of in our workplaces and homes.

Finally, Originals is perhaps the most Kenyan of all the books—though not in the way you might think. We are a deeply creative people. From handmade jikos to high-tech startups, we are natural innovators. But what Grant does is dignify the slow-burning rebel, the one who doubts before they disrupt. He teaches us that being original isn’t about being loud—it’s about being committed. This lesson could guide many a changemaker in our counties and ministries.

Adam Grant is not writing for Kenyans, and yet, his work reads like a mirror. It reflects our potential, our mistakes, our hopes. It challenges us to lead without ego, to mentor without condescension, to grieve without shame, and to grow without limits.

What I take from Grant, and what I hope others do too, is this: Success isn’t what you have; it’s what you share. Leadership isn’t dominance; it’s dialogue. Progress isn’t perfection; it’s permission—to rethink, relearn, and rise again.

In Kenya today—where we hunger for ethical leadership, where our youth brim with restless energy, and where communities demand both dignity and development – Grant’s work reminds us to remain bold enough to speak, humble enough to listen, and human enough to feel.

So there it is – very thoughtful and articulate, although not fully a reflection of my style. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll have another go at the topic myself, using my human intelligence.

I’ve been reading an article by Carmine Gallo from the January 2020 edition of the Harvard Business Review (HBR) about how the best CEOs are the ones who know they can improve their skills further, not least their communication skills, particularly through coaching.

Exactly what I have found in my work as a consultant.

The HBR article refers to the Dunning-Kruger effect, and explains it by stating that “people who are mediocre at certain things often think they are better than they actually are, and therefore fail to grow and improve. Great leaders, on the other hand, are great for a reason – they recognize their weaknesses and seek to get better.”

The Dunning-Kruger effect is described as a “cognitive bias”, in which people with limited competence in a particular domain overestimate their abilities. It was first described by David Dunning and Justin Kruger in 1999, and it has since become very well known. It is usually measured by comparing self-assessment with objective performance. For example, participants take a quiz and estimate their performance afterwards, and this is then compared to their actual results.

The original study focused on logical reasoning, grammar and social skills. But other studies have been conducted across a wide range of tasks, including from business, politics, medicine, driving, aviation, spatial memory, examinations in school and literacy, and they all found this over-estimation phenomenon exhibited by significant numbers. I should add that under-estimation is also present in some, leading to the “imposter syndrome” narrative, about which I have also written.

In earlier articles of mine here I have explored various aspects of this subject, including ones about the relationship between competence and confidence. Here, I have suggested, it is particularly politicians – in Kenya and around the world – whose confidence greatly exceeds their competence, and I selected former British Prime Minister Liz Truss as a fine example.

I quoted an article in the London Times about her, whose headline read: “Truss proves talent-free bluster isn’t just for men”. And its opening paragraph told us she broke one of the last glass ceilings – not as the first female Prime Minister in her country, for she was not, but as “the first woman to reach the highest office propelled by gargantuan self-belief alone”.

Why is there this bias to over-estimating one’s capabilities – or indeed in others to under-estimate them? The simple answer is lack of self-awareness. Such people lack an objective view of their strengths and weaknesses, and do not seek feedback from those with whom they interact to align their perceptions with reality. And who would be particularly well-placed to open them up to such gaps? Coaches.

Coaching is at the centre of my consulting work, where I seek to create a safe space in which the person being coached feels comfortable revealing vulnerabilities they had previously kept to themselves or had not even been aware of. My role is to help them identify areas for potential development, and then work with them to fill the gaps and so to be at their best.

What I have observed over the years is that those most in need of coaching are likely to least want it, imagining they just don’t need such support. They have a false sense of both competence and confidence that anyway would render them uncoachable. Those who reach out to me for support are overwhelmingly the ones who are already ahead of the game, as Gallo also found. They expect to be able to continuously improve and to do so, seeking ongoing feedback that it is actually happening.

So let me ask you how self-aware you are. Indeed, how sure are you that your perception of the extent of your self-awareness aligns with that of those around you, whether in the family, socially or professionally? At whatever age and level age you are, I urge you to carry out a “health-check” on where this stands between very low and very high.

Wherever you are, as Gallo and I have both found, there is most likely to be scope for being coached to rise further. There may be good coaches within your organisation, including your immediate boss, a board member or others, but there may be benefits to seeking an external coach – who will have no axe to grind within the organisation.

Finally, just as it’s helpful to be coached, surely you could and should also be a coach. Indeed contemporary leadership requires a coaching mindset as a key component in how one operates in that capacity.

Please seek a quiet space in which to reflect on what you have just read, and decide what action to take.

Ten years ago, on the eighth anniversary of my first column in this newspaper, I wrote one about what it’s like to be a columnist. With Business Daily celebrating the 18th anniversary of its birth a couple of weeks ago, my editor and I thought it would be good for me to go back to what I’d written in 2015, now having published over 470 articles here.

I wrote then about how founder managing editor Nick Wachira twisted my arm into becoming a regular contributor, and it was good to see his as one of the articles that appeared a couple of weeks ago about how Business Daily came to life and how it struggled through its early days to the prominence and influence it soon started enjoying.

As I spoke to Nick and to my present editor Allan Odhiambo about this 18th anniversary, they both pointed to the transformative impact of the online version of the paper, of social media, and of younger readers generally, on how contributors communicate these days compared to when Business Daily started.

A very tangible change came when a few years ago the paper went through a redesign and my word limit was chopped from 1,000 to less than 800 – a real sign of the times.

What about the topics I’ve been writing about? For me, the domain that has moved centre stage in the last few years is the one about compliance, sustainability and everything around the Environment, Social and Governance (ESG) trio.

As for my writing style, it has always been rather conversational, and mainly I tell stories about what I experience in my professional life. This enables my readers – very much including my younger ones – to enjoy the ride and not need too much time to absorb my messages.

In my 2015 article, I wrote that as I thought about possible topics I fully assumed I would run dry within a year of starting, maximum eighteen months. Yet there I still was, churning out my twice-monthly thoughts, with little prospect of writer’s cramp setting in, I acknowledged. As I went about my business, as I read an article or a book, heard a talk or participated in a board meeting or a workshop, or just engaged in a casual conversation, I explained, I was constantly scanning for ideas. And that is exactly how it has remained.

It has been very satisfying, and it became a normal part of my life, I wrote, while now I actually think of it as my hobby. “It’s a great feeling when an idea for a piece suddenly strikes me, and then I can hardly wait to hit my computer and get going,” I wrote. “It was George Bernard Shaw who described inspiration as ‘a blank piece of paper’ and other than now replacing the paper by a screen he might have added the need for a deadline. For necessity is indeed the mother of invention, with the columnist’s deadline un-negotiable.”

Now, as has always been the case, quite often as I start hammering away I have little idea of where my story will take me or how it will end. Sometimes, I revealed in the earlier article, I feared that what I have to say would consume considerably less than my word quota, so I would have to force myself to create the balance – and this without waffling. Then on other occasions I overflowed my limit, so I was forced to chop precious phrases and sentences – a painful exercise I still endure.

It was an article I’d read in the New York Times that gave me the idea for my first one on this subject. The author challenged his readers to list all the original ideas they had, and then to write an article about one of them. “Perhaps you’d be very successful at this,” he accepted. “But now imagine doing it for four weeks,” he continued, “then for two months, then six, then a year, then five years. And all this while pursuing your other activities. How do you think you’d fare?”

The writer wouldn’t go so far as to say his readers would be sure to fail. But he admitted being left with a grudging respect for columnists. “It really is a lot harder than it looks,” he concluded, adding that he couldn’t imagine how he’d cope with the demands of staying fresh for a regular column. You can imagine how good that made me feel.

I ended my last article noting that I was approaching my 1,000-word limit. And here I am now reaching the 800 mark. Gotta stop.

I hardly ever drive my car anywhere in Nairobi these days, having become accustomed to the convenience of calling up an Uber Chap Chap. I so appreciate not having to deal with the heavy and unruly traffic, and not having to worry about parking. Plus, I enjoy chatting with many of my drivers. Not all of them, as some seem to prefer quietness. A few open our conversation, while with others I’m the one to get us going.

Amusingly, several of the chatty ones have started by asking me which country I’m from, and it shocks them to learn that while I wasn’t born here I have lived in Kenya for nearly half a century – before any of them were born, and for some even before their parents were.

This typically leads us to talking all the way to my destination, making the time go by much more quickly and enjoyably. Often we moan about the potholes and the general state of the roads, and about the aggressive matatu drivers and the entitled Prado ones with their tinted windows that provide them with that extra anonymity.

The most interesting and easiest conversations are about politics, as we dissect the state of the economy, how our leaders are handling the issues and how their skills at selling their policies and programmes so outweigh their ability to deliver on what they promise.

For those who stay quiet, and particularly for the more serious and unsmiling ones, I hold back, as I continue judging whether they’d be OK with some chatting or whether they would rather just focus on the driving. There’s speculation on my part here, as maybe they are more introverted types who prefer spending time with themselves, or maybe they just feel I might be such a person and it would be more respectful to restrain themselves unless I initiate interaction.

The easy test is to just to make a brief comment, about the weather maybe, or the traffic, and then to see how they react. If I am sufficiently encouraged I might follow up by asking how long they’ve been an Uber driver, or whether it’s their full-time job – as for some it is not and they are also studying or doing business or are otherwise engaged.

Recently I was shown a facility on the Uber app that asks us riders if we want to converse or not – impressive, and it avoids wrongful speculation on either side. I’ve also been informed by one driver that as part of their training they are advised to stay quiet – more so with women passengers, in case their chatting is misinterpreted – unless the rider starts chatting.

Hm, maybe that’s rather more prudent than necessary as surely, just as with us riders, they learn to assess who prefers silence and who would enjoy conversation – particularly if, like me, their passenger is sitting in the front seat next to them and they can observe body language more easily. Indeed the mere choice of sitting in front means one is more likely to be a chatty type.

For those who make my trip with them fun by chatting with me, they become my friend and I’m sorry to have to just MPESA them my fare and leave when we arrive at my destination, knowing it’s unlikely we’ll ever meet again. For the quiet ones, I respect their preference – provided they show adequate friendliness.

As I’ve been reflecting on these interactions with my Uber drivers it’s led me to think more broadly about how we and those beside us decide whether to stay quiet while spending time alongside each other. It can for instance be on adjacent airline seats, where we might well be together for several hours, including for one or more meals.

I love it when I can strike up a conversation with such a neighbour, accepting that it’s not what everyone wants. On a recent flight to London the lady sitting next to me spent the entire journey looking out of the window next to her or buried in her phone. I got the message!

How sensitive are you to what your Uber driver’s preferences may be? How good are you at launching conversations – whether with such a person or with anyone else? Some are better at it than others, putting those they are with at ease and having the time pass by more interestingly and enjoyably. It’s a skill worth developing if you are not.

As I interact with different kinds of people, in one-on-ones or group sessions, in board meetings or workshops, I am exposed to bright sparks who speak too quickly. And as I listen to them I speculate on why they’re breaking the vocal speed limits.

My first thought is that the root cause of the fast speaking is fast thinking: needing to speak at a pace that keeps up with the speed at which their scripts are being formulated upstairs. Others, however, rush through what they have to say because they don’t want to occupy too much of our time, or are actually bound by a time limit and don’t want to miss anything out.

Whatever the reason, the consequence is that they leave us panting with exhaustion as we try to keep up with their jet-propelled outpourings. Their speed also takes away from their gravitas, leading us to see them as less senior than we otherwise would. A slower pace, with appropriate pauses too, would both help us absorb and up our image of them as people of presence and poise.

Then there are those who speak too softly, so we can hardly hear them. Maybe although we can’t even figure out some of what they’re saying we don’t want to upset them by keeping on asking them to repeat what they’d said and to kindly speak up. What’s the mindset that delivers these whisperers? From what I have observed they are often people of humility – or what I describe as “excess humility”. They don’t wish to be perceived as noise-makers, trumpet-blarers, and swing to the other end of the volume spectrum.

Other categories of those whose speech we find challenging include ones who insufficiently open their mouths to utter the vowels between their consonants; those who avoid eye contact; and those who indulge in what is called “verbal ticks” – repeated and unnecessary use of “you know”, “sort of”, “like”, and ending sentences with “right?” Plus the “um” and the “er” utterers.

Most of these people just aren’t aware of what makes them less effective communicators than they could be. Probably no one has ever given them feedback, coached them, or encouraged them. Some have had their shortcoming pointed out to them, but they’re so accustomed to how they have always spoken that it’s just proved too hard to change — plus they underestimate the negative consequences of not doing so.

So as I come across the too-fast and the too-soft and other sub-optimisers, I sometimes approach them after the session to chat with them about how they could up their game: what they could do differently, and with what positive consequences. I also have them explore the root causes of speaking as they are doing, to help them overcome whatever psychological or other factors holding them back from being at their best.

If I have the opportunity to see them in action again, where they know I am watching and listening intently, they may try harder and then I can give them specific – and hopefully by then positive – feedback. I talk with them about rising through the four stages of their adaptation, from unconscious incompetence to conscious incompetence, then conscious competence and finally unconscious competence – the new normal, where they no longer have to think about the adjustment.

A few years ago I wrote an article about how communicating clearly is a core competence, at all levels but more so at the higher ones. Yet too many fall far short, lacking self-awareness and the need for improvement.

What about you? Are you communicating as well as you could? Should you be seeking feedback? Should you be getting help to up your game, so that you can enjoy the benefits of being the new optimal you?

Be conscious of how those around you communicate, and as you come across the speed merchants, the whisperers and others who aren’t performing at their best, see if you can find a way to help them. Not everyone’s up for it, but you should be able to judge who is, and then to engage with emotional intelligence so they don’t feel offended.

Needless to say, the one whose communication you should be most conscious of is yourself. Find a way of listening to and observing yourself – including through studying video recordings of you – and assume the possibility of continuous improvement.

We all have tales about feeling frustrated as unhappy customers, and the question for me is how to go beyond whining and moaning – and then defecting to another vendor – to offering advice to the offending supplier so they can restore our confidence and fix the issue. Hopefully not just on a one-off basis for us, but systemically. Sometimes the issue has to do with the attitude and behaviour of the people, sometimes it’s a policy problem, and just as frequently it’s a systems one.

I’ve written before about good and bad experiences of mine, and here today are some more stories, the first of which I was told about by a friend who, knowing I write on this topic, cried on my shoulder about his miserable experience at a coast hotel. Like me, he also consults on customer-friendliness, and that makes us the more frustrated when we are not treated well, knowing how much better things could be – for the benefit of both parties.

The hotel in question is one where he’d been staying several times a year for over 25 years with his family, from when he was a young child. On the last day of each stay his father would book and pay for their next one, reserving the same rooms. He would always be offered a very generous discount as an appreciation for his long-term loyalty… until this year when the family stayed at the hotel without their father, who had recently passed away. They came to honour his legacy and to bring back the many good memories of their times together here.

This time the attitude of the management had transformed from displaying warm and generous hospitality to being mean and unresponsive. When my friend was offered but a notional discount as he went to pay the bill he asked to see the General Manager (GM), certain that at least some of the earlier generosity would be restored.

But the GM proved to be cold and tense, clearly not interested in the decades-long history of the family’s connection with this hotel, and defensive about the meanness, which he justified thanks to the economic hard times.

Reluctantly he offered a small further discount, but for only some of the days, leaving my friend feeling he’d never want to go there again. Never mind that he’s been sharing his tale of woe with me and so many others since then. As he had been with the top person at the hotel there was no one further to whom to escalate, so that was it – a sad lose-lose ending to the story.

My second tale of woe has to do with DStv, who out of the blue sent me a mail confirming that my password had been successfully changed. I replied, stating I hadn’t sought a change, and another mail came immediately, seeking my personal details so they could deal with my case. I sent these, only to receive yet another one asking for further information, including about the country of registration of my decoder. “Why not with the first mail?” I asked, expressing my frustration. A third mail arrived, informing me that as my decoder is registered in Kenya they can’t deal with it from South Africa, so I must get in touch with Multichoice here, whose contacts they provided.

I called them, and after pressing the right buttons on my phone, to confirm I wanted to speak in English, had “other” queries to pursue etc., a friendly agent listened empathetically to my case. I told her, as I do to such front-line operatives, that I was talking “through” and not “to” her, requesting that she refer my complaints upwards, which she promised to do. Let’s see.

This is the problem with so many automated customer-response systems – like the NTSA one whose portal I accessed to obtain my new car registration number plate, when it informed me that my effort had failed, without explaining why. Again, fortunately when I called them a very friendly agent helped me.

Online banking systems are in my (and others’) experience often the most complex and challenging to manoeuvre through, leading me to wonder if the staff of these – and other – organisations ever go through the experiences we do. It’s why in an earlier article I wrote about coaching the radiologist who was so disconnected from my discomfort while lying on his MRI that he should spend a similar time there understanding why patients find it hard to remain still for so long.

My conclusion is to encourage you to go beyond being the disgruntled customer to becoming the helpful consultant, sharing your bad experience and also suggesting how things could improve – as I did with Multichoice, with NTSA, with my bank and with others. As for my friend’s hotel, you know who you are!

I was recently invited by professional advisory firm Ronalds East Africa to be one of the keynote speakers at their training event for Chief Finance Officers (CFOs) and other leaders of the finance function. My session was about advising the participants on how to interact effectively at the board level.

There was quite a spectrum in the room, from senior finance folk who regularly attended board and board committee meetings, to younger, more junior ones. Some of the CFOs were executive directors on their boards, with a regular seat at the top table, while others were only invited to contribute on specific items.

I asked them if they held responsibilities beyond financial management, and one lady told me she was the finance and administration manager – a not uncommon combination. (To me “administration” has always sounded rather old-fashioned and bureaucratic, and I suggested they think of a more contemporary term).

Elsewhere I have seen CFOs also oversee functions such as strategy and performance, risk and compliance, investments, mergers and acquisitions, and ICT. For obvious reasons, those whose portfolios are broadest are the ones most likely to climb further up the managerial ladder, I emphasised.

In my session I asked a series of questions, first about their alignment with the CEO. Did they work together as a close team, with mutual trust and respect? And then about management’s relationship with the board – individually and as a team. “Do you look forward to engaging with your directors, or do you dread the interactions?” I posed, before also asking if the directors looked forward to engaging with them.

Not very positive responses here, accompanied by several statements admitting that they only speak if asked to do so.

So, what holds them back? Why do so many CFOs underperform when they appear in the boardroom? My first point was that too many heads of departments, including CFOs, feel intimidated when in the presence of directors, and these feelings are reflected in their behaviour. It’s why they keep their contributions as short as possible, they don’t project their voice, and avoid eye-contact.

Others, however, are over-confident, perhaps being expert at spouting the numbers, despite lacking either the holistic organisational perspective or communication skills. They are inadequately prepared, not having translated their overcrowded spreadsheets into easy-to-absorb graphics; not having been coached in how to communicate for this level of engagement; and not having been through rehearsals to the meetings.

My next slide asked “Are you just Dr No?” Here I had them probe the extent to which the image they felt they should portray had them play too much of a stern-parent role, exception-reporting on the over-spenders and the under-deliverers… while remaining silent when the numbers looked good. Alongside this, many of their tribe enjoy being the most risk-averse in the room, displaying consistent worst-case pessimism and merely focusing on why any new initiative will not succeed, and in any case is unaffordable.

“Are you just book-balancers, number-crunchers, cost-minimisers?” I asked provocatively. “Or do you also see yourselves as advisers, consultants and coaches to your colleagues – including directors?” And how good were they at managing relationships, I inquired, whether internally with other functions, departments and locations, and between levels; or externally with investors, bankers, auditors and others?

To help them here I delved into my favourite topic of emotional intelligence, explaining how those with high EQ interact in ways that result in win-win outcomes, where everyone feels adequately satisfied and so owns the plans and commit to their implementation.

Whether in their technical financial skills or their non-technical skills of 360-degree relationship building, they need not only to be competent, I stated, but to match that with a healthy mix of confidence and humility, making others feel comfortable when interacting with them.

It is by expanding their comfort zone through developing new and broader skills that their circle of influence would expand. Their constructive, helpful voice will be listened to more, and those around them will see their potential for both higher cross-functional and boardroom responsibilities.