4. Untangling Tangled Interactions: Reaction of the Recipient

At my urging, Jim, a buddy of mine, attended one of my workshops. Given what an energetic, quick thinker he is, I was concerned that he’d be impatient with the slower, more reflective parts of the class. During day one of the class, he seemed focused and attentive. The next day, however, while I was presenting a key segment, Jim rose, went to the back of the room, leaned against a wall, and closed his eyes. My worries had come true; it was all he could do to stay awake. He probably felt trapped and upset with me for badgering him to attend. Why in the world did I invite him in the first place?

As we were gathering after lunch, I overheard someone tease Jim about his little snooze. He responded, “I didn’t sleep well last night, but I really didn’t want to miss Naomi’s presentation. I figured that if I leaned against the wall, I could close my eyes and still be sure to stay awake.”

I was shocked. I had interpreted Jim’s shut-eye to mean he wanted to leave; he explained it as meaning he wanted to stay. Could I have been more wrong? “Anyway,” he added, “Naomi has known me for years, and she knows I wouldn’t miss a minute of her class.” I do? Then why was my interpretation so far off? And why was I so sure about his intent that I had not a single doubt about it?

The reason is simple: I had a mental view of how things were, and I had interpreted what I saw to fit that view. This adjustment wasn’t a conscious, analytical process, but rather an automatic, instantaneous response. Anyway, I knew I was right, so what was there to analyze? As Barry Oshry points out in Seeing Systems, in the absence of information about other people’s worlds, we make up stories about them: “We create our myths about their motives, their competencies. And we don’t see ourselves making up stories, we see our stories as the truth.”¹

¹ Barry Oshry, Seeing Systems: Unlocking the Mysteries of Organizational Life (San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 1995), p. 12.

That’s exactly what happened here. I received a nonverbal message from Jim—“I don’t want to be here”—that Jim didn’t even know he had sent. If I hadn’t overheard his explanation, I’d have remained certain that he disliked the class and was angry with me for cajoling him into attending. I’m sure I’d have interpreted everything he said and did during the rest of the class to fit this conclusion.

As a result of that experience, I’ve never again made the mistake of misinterpreting someone else’s words or actions. Well, no, not really. That’s just wishful thinking. As Chapter 3 illustrated, it’s easy to misinterpret, and no one is immune. My discovery of the explanation for Jim’s actions was a strong reminder that I should consider alternative explanations before leaping to a conclusion. The problem is that although it would be ideal to cautiously, logically, and dispassionately consider alternative explanations for someone’s words or actions, sometimes I simply react. So do you at times, and so does everyone else. Sometimes, a word or phrase or gesture triggers an unanticipated reaction. But are we to be held hostage by reactions over which we seemingly have no control?

This chapter addresses that question, and presents a model that helps to explain the recipient’s experience upon receiving a message. This model sheds light on how to resolve misinter pretations after they’ve occurred—and how to prevent them in the first place.

If you’re an equipment installer trapped by a raging snowstorm in a hut on a remote mountaintop in Alaska, the number might hover close to zero.² But if your company employs one hundred people, or a thousand, or several thousand, the number of interactions is large—and grows even larger when you include interactions with customers, vendors, and other outside parties. Add in the number of nonverbal interactions (a wink, a frown, a hand wave, a pat on the back), e-mail messages, and other written communications, and the resulting number would be well on its way to infinity. And that’s just in a single day!

² This was the experience of a fellow named Joshua Caldwell, as reported in an article in The Wall Street Journal on Dec. 26, 2000.

Consider how many of these interactions would have to go awry in order to seriously damage your organization. In these turbulent times, it’s not inconceivable that just one would be enough. A New York Times article reported a 22 percent drop in a software firm’s stock price within three days after the highly belligerent and blaming message sent by the CEO to company managers found its way onto the Internet.³

³ Edward Wong, “A Stinging Office Memo Boomerangs,” The New York Times (April 5, 2001), p. C1.

Fortunately, most communications have less at stake. Our daily interactions can withstand a vast amount of ambiguity without major repercussion. As Donald Norman points out in Turn Signals Are the Facial Expressions of Automobiles, both speaker and listener contribute to an exchange, “. . . the one clueing the other as to the amount understood and the points of real interest.”⁴

⁴ Donald A. Norman, Turn Signals Are the Facial Expressions of Automobiles (Reading, Mass: Addison-Wesley, 1992), p. 11.

Nevertheless, messages are constantly lost, misinterpreted, ignored, dismissed, or distorted. Spoken and written communication are full of opportunities for confusion. Listen in on somebody else’s conversation, for example. The talk meanders all over the place. Pay attention to the way people give instructions and directions, and you’ll hear imprecision galore. Notice how inattentively people listen to each other.

Communication is hampered when we can’t rely on nonverbal cues (gestures, facial expressions, and the like), such as when we communicate over the phone or by means of written documents. Written communication, lacking the auditory emphasis and the um’s and ya’know’s of everyday speech, is especially prone to misinterpretation. We use symbols and special formatting to try to convey in written material what we can more directly communicate vocally, but this process is highly imperfect; who hasn’t gotten tangled in a misinterpretation of an e-mail message?

Recipients, having read the wrong meaning into a spoken or written message, are often quick to take umbrage without ever bothering to verify their understanding or clarify their interpretation. What’s amazing, really, is not how many tangled interactions occur, but how few, given the odds.

Sue:    “I’d like you to send me an agenda for the class.”

Stan:   “Okay.”

But that response was hardly Stan’s entire reaction. No matter how cleanly or quickly an interaction seems to happen, a lot is going on that causes the tangle. A valuable model for understanding the intermediate steps between the sending of a message and the response is called the Ingredients of an Interaction Model. Also known as the Interaction Model, this model is applicable in organizational settings and is one of many created and used by the family therapist Virginia Satir.⁵ By using this model, you can become skilled at debugging an interaction that has gotten tangled—and at avoiding a tangled interaction in the first place.

⁵ Virginia Satir et al., The Satir Model: Family Therapy and Beyond (Palo Alto, Calif.: Science and Behavior Books, 1991), ch. 6.

How can the Interaction Model help to untangle Stan’s reaction to Sue? The model divides an interaction into four major components:

1. Intake: what the recipient saw and heard

2. Interpretation: how the recipient interpreted the message

3. Feelings: how the recipient felt about that interpretation

4. Response: what the recipient communicated in response

When you use this model, you describe your intake, interpretation, feelings, and response. In conversations I had with Stan, he reported the following:

What Stan heard Sue say: “I’d like you to send me an agenda for the class.”

This statement is an exact replay of what Sue said. Ideally, the intake matches what we’d hear if we had taped the interaction, and in this situation, it does.

How Stan interpreted what Sue said: “She’s asking for something she really doesn’t need. I already provided all the information she requested. I thought the class was a go. Why in the world does she now need to know what order I’ll be presenting the topics in and how long I’ll spend on each?”

This is the meaning Stan attached to Sue’s request. Notice that the interpretation is different from the intake. Sometimes, when people are asked what they saw or heard, what they report is their interpretation of that experience. They’ve moved so quickly from intake to interpretation that they may have missed the intake altogether. As a result, they can’t restate what they saw and heard, suggesting that they may be interpreting a distorted version of the actual intake.

How Stan felt about his interpretation: Angry, frustrated, and nervous. “She seemed happy with me, but suddenly, for some reason, she no longer trusts me and I don’t know why. Maybe she changed her mind and wants to scratch the whole thing. I really need the money and I know I can do the class, but now I’m wondering if I should just cancel. I’m feeling stressed. Maybe I really can’t do what she wants.”

This was Stan’s visceral reaction—how he felt when Sue uttered her request for an agenda. Stan didn’t consider any other possible explanations.

How Stan responded: “Okay.”

Stan responded grudgingly, and with suppressed anger, shaken by his sudden uncertainty about his ability to meet Sue’s expectations.

This is a lot to have happened in an instant—yet it’s exactly what often happens, especially when those who receive a message have an emotional reaction to what they see or hear. As a result, a disconnect occurs in the infinitesimally short period between the time one person says something and the other person responds. Just as quickly, a gap can begin to form in the relationship, as confusion surfaces and then grows.

Not until Stan was on-site did he discover the true motivation behind Sue’s request: It wasn’t that she distrusted him, but that an unsettling experience with a previous instructor had made her cautious. His erroneous interpretation had triggered a strong internal reaction related not to Sue’s request, but to his own fears and vulnerabilities.

Stan was fortunate; he had the opportunity to learn Sue’s actual meaning. Often, though, the recipient never discovers the sender’s real intent; indeed, even Stan wouldn’t have found out if Sue hadn’t volunteered the information. However, if he had asked her for additional information when she requested the agenda, his response (“Okay”) might have been the same, but his internal experience might have been very different, and much less distressing.

To see another example, think back to Jim’s snooze in my class. Notice that in this interaction, the sender didn’t even know he was sending a message. The experience was entirely the recipient’s (which is to say, mine). Here’s what I experienced:

What I saw: “During the class, while I was speaking, Jim stood up, walked over to the wall, leaned against it, and closed his eyes.”

How I interpreted Jim’s behavior: “He’s having a hard time staying awake because he’s so bored. He doesn’t want to be here. He wishes he hadn’t come to this class. He’s angry with me for persuading him to attend.”

How I felt about that interpretation: “I made a mistake in inviting him, and I should have known better. I’m so stupid to have allowed this to happen. What could I have been thinking? I’m going to have an awfully hard time facing him the rest of the class.”

How I responded: “I was in the midst of presenting to the class so I didn’t say anything. I hope my presentation masked the sinking feeling I had. It’s possible my internal dialogue showed in my tone of voice or facial expression and was noticed by others in the class (except Jim, of course, who had nodded off by that point!).”

In both of these examples, the sender was unaware of the receiver’s internal reactions. But in some situations, the sender’s message may inadvertently push the recipient’s buttons, eliciting such a strong or inappropriate reaction that it can’t be missed. When that happens, the parties can use the model to help them untangle their interaction.

For example, during a high-pressure project, Ann, the project manager, checked in with team members to see how they were doing. She asked one team member, Joan, “How are you feeling?” Joan replied, “I’m fine!” An appropriate response, except that Joan said it in a go-away-and-leave-me-alone tone of voice.

The next day, I asked Joan to use the four components of the Interaction Model to describe her reaction to Ann’s comment. She reported the following:

What Joan saw and heard: “Ann came over to my cubicle and asked, ‘How are you feeling?’”

How Joan interpreted Ann’s words: “She’s being thoughtful and caring, which is just like her. She wants to see how I’m doing.”

How Joan felt about that interpretation: “I suddenly felt angry. At the time, I didn’t know why. But in thinking about it overnight, I realized that I want to be valued for my ideas, not my feelings. She was asking me the wrong question. I wanted her to ask how my work was progressing. For some reason, hearing her ask how I was feeling really bothered me, and I snapped.”

How Joan responded: “I said, ‘I’m fine.’ I said it harshly. I may have shouted it.”

I then asked Ann to use the model to describe her reaction to Joan’s response. She reported the following:

What Ann saw and heard: “Joan said, ‘I’m fine.’ There was a certain intensity to her voice. She wasn’t smiling.”

How Ann interpreted Joan’s words: “Something about the way she said it made me feel she wasn’t fine. She didn’t seem to want me around.”

How Ann felt about that interpretation: “I was confused. I was trying to do the right thing in showing my employees that I care about them. I want to be a good project manager, but what I was doing wasn’t helping. I didn’t know what to do. I felt helpless.”

How Ann responded: “I think I said, ‘Good,’ and left.”

Notice that in this example, both Joan and Ann had an internal reaction to what the other had said. As a result, each felt puzzled, Joan by her strong reaction to Ann’s well-meaning question, and Ann by both Joan’s reaction to her inquiry and her own uncertainty about what to do about it.

Discussing their experiences provoked further introspection. Joan became curious why, even given her preference for having her ideas valued, she reacted so strongly to Ann’s caring comment. In further discussions, she realized that her reaction actually had little to do with Ann, whom she admires, but rather was a “then and there” reaction to something from earlier in her life. This kind of reaction isn’t unusual; many of us are occasionally propelled back in time as the result of something we hear, and we react in the current interaction as though it occurred at that previous time.

Ann, in turn, learned that despite her caring intentions, people have different reactions to how those intentions are expressed. This interaction prompted her to learn more about these differences (such as those described in Chapter 6), and to see whether she could tailor her expressions of caring to the intended recipient.

The Interaction Model provided a structured way for Joan and Ann to review what transpired. If they had not examined the interaction, the feelings stirred up might have left behind a residue of confusion that could have damaged their relationship: Joan might have toned down future responses to Ann, so as to avoid an outburst. Ann might have kept her distance from Joan.

Clearly, no matter how brief a communication seems, a lot can happen internally. Let’s look further at the individual components of an interaction.

• The listener may hear poorly, be distracted by noise, be preoccupied, be absentminded, or be unfamiliar with the language.

• The speaker may have a cold, a thick accent, or a tendency to speak so quickly or in sentences so long that listeners stop paying attention.

• A person may misread a written message due to poor eyesight, dim lighting, blurred writing, tiny type, or assumptions about what the message says.

In other words, aspects of oneself, the other party, the message, and the context can all contribute to an incorrect intake.

Donald Norman reminds us that we deceive ourselves even with events that we remember with great clarity, and that what we recall as an accurate memory may in fact differ significantly from what actually happened.⁶ Even with the best of intentions, people often get the message wrong. Recall the game of Telephone, in which children whisper a message, presumably verbatim, one by one, around a circle. Invariably, by the time the message gets around the circle, it’s a distant, distorted third cousin to the initial message.

⁶ Norman, op. cit., p. 4.

Adult interactions are like the game of Telephone. People are remarkably poor at restating what they’ve just heard or at seeing what’s right in front of them. In How We Know What Isn’t So, Thomas Gilovich addresses this issue, citing research that demonstrates that people rarely convey messages verbatim, and noting, “The limits of human memory and the implicit demand that the listener not be burdened with too many details constrain the amount and kind of information that is transmitted. What the speaker construes to be the gist of the message is emphasized or ‘sharpened,’ whereas details thought to be less essential are de-emphasized or ‘leveled.’”⁷

⁷ Thomas Gilovich, How We Know What Isn’t So: The Fallibility of Human Reason in Everyday Life (New York: The Free Press, 1991), p. 91.

It’s easy to understand why some intake distortions occur. For example, I posed a question about French poetry to Yvonne, a colleague visiting from Paris. Although fatigued from jet lag and immersion in English, she reached for her pad and started drawing some elegant curves. I didn’t know what she was doing, but then I suddenly realized: Yvonne had heard me say “French pottery,” a subject she knew well, and she was sketching some examples for me. I was glad I discovered this error before she spent her hard-earned francs to buy me some “poetry” from an expensive craft shop nearby.

Other mistakes are less amusing. People frequently misspell my street name as Woodlawn Parkway rather than Woodland Parkway, even when it’s is in large type right in front of them. This would be inconsequential—except that a half-mile north is Woodlawn Road. And a half-mile south is Woodlawn Street! You can understand why I get nervous when someone tells me the check is in the mail.

Unfortunately, intake errors can have devastating consequences, as revealed by experiments such as those conducted in law school classes to demonstrate the fallibility of eyewitnesses. In one experiment, the professor secretly arranges for an accomplice to dash into the room unexpectedly, create a commotion, grab an item, and run out. Afterward, the “surprised” professor asks the students what happened. Their descriptions of the intruder’s appearance are strikingly different from each other’s as well as from the person’s actual appearance—differences as extreme as tall versus short, red jacket versus blue jacket, and black hair versus blond hair. Equally striking differences characterize what they say they saw happen.

These scenarios confirm how readily what we see and hear becomes distorted. Yet distortion is a natural process, occurring because we process what we see and hear through filters that modify the message our senses deliver. These filters derive from our upbringing, recent history, habits, prejudices, moods, hopes, dreams, fears, vulnerabilities, and maybe even whether the car started right up this morning. The intake resulting from the message passing through these filters is the first ingredient of an interaction. Is it any wonder that interactions get so tangled?

⁸ Gilovich, op. cit., p. 15.

Yet this fact is extraordinarily difficult to remember in the moment. The ease and speed with which people draw erroneous conclusions is fascinating and, at times, unnerving. Just as our filters influence our intake, so too do they influence the meaning we make of that intake. In The Power of Nice, authors Shapiro and Jankowski comment on people who listen through a negative filter. “They suspect what is being said; they’re skeptical of motives. It can’t be good; it’s someone trying to get the better of them.”⁹

⁹ Ronald M. Shapiro and Mark A. Jankowski, with James Dale, The Power of Nice: How to Negotiate So Everyone Wins—Especially You! (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1998), p. 55.

Such errors can be deadly—as one fictional example reminds us. In a Chris Bohjalian novel, a patient asks a specialist what would happen if he took a small dose of a certain remedy. The specialist answers, “Nothing,” meaning, “It won’t help you.” The patient, however, takes this response to mean, “It won’t hurt you.” The devastating consequence for the patient is disturbing, even in fiction.¹⁰

¹⁰ Chris Bohjalian, The Law of Similars (New York: Vintage Books, 1999). I’m deliberately being vague about the details of what transpired, so as not to ruin the story for you.

When you encounter misinterpretations that others have made, it often seems obvious that they should have noticed the ambiguity or asked a few questions. But when it’s you, somehow it’s much harder to slow down and consider other possible interpretations. As project-mastery guru David Schmaltz observes about the behavior of others on a project team, “Because we are not others, our meanings, our interpretations, are most likely to be wrong if we ascribe our meanings to their behavior.”¹¹

¹¹ David A. Schmaltz, Coping with Fuzzy Projects: Stories of Utter Ignorance, Theologic Wars, and Unseen Possibilities (Portland, Oreg.: True North pgs, 2000), p. 66. For additional insights on the behavior of project team members, see www.projectcommunity.com.

One way to become more skilled at considering multiple interpretations is to practice with hypothetical situations or with real situations that you analyze after the fact. You might be surprised at all the possible interpretations. Take the case of two help-desk groups, a Level One group that was the first point of contact for callers with problems and that resolved as many problems as possible, and a Level Two group that handled more complex problems referred by Level One. The responsibility of both groups was to help employees with their technical problems, but their spirit of cooperation with each other was less than optimal.

Level One staff automatically escalated to Level Two certain urgent problems that seriously disrupted employees and that required immediate attention. Level One staff members then would drop by the Level Two work area to check on the status of the resolution. But whenever they dropped by, they found Level Two staff kidding around and giggling. Giggling! Employees were unable to do their work, and those in charge of fixing the situation were having a good old time, and not taking it seriously at all. At least that was the interpretation of the Level One group.

When we used the Interaction Model to analyze this experience, Level Two personnel explained that their behavior had been misunderstood: “We take such situations extremely seriously. But they are stressful, and our way of relieving tension is to laugh. This reaction doesn’t mean we’re not giving the problem our full attention, but just the opposite; it relaxes us and allows us to be more productive.” This explanation enabled the Level One staff to see the giggling in a positive light.

Multiple interpretations are also possible when physical cues, such as someone’s body language or facial expression, lead us to read into the situation something other than what is there: A certain curve of the lips could be a smile or a grimace. A furrowed brow could signify deep thinking or total confusion. The facial expression that accompanies laughing can be similar to the one for crying.¹² Every facial expression or bodily orientation has multiple meanings, and some of those meanings are the opposites of each other.

¹² Daphne du Maurier captures this point perfectly regarding two characters recovering from a fit of laughter in her short story “The Pool”: “Deborah, the first to recover, wondered why laughter was so near to pain, why Roger’s face, twisted now in merriment, was yet the same crumpled thing when his heart was breaking.” See Daphne du Maurier, The Breaking Point (New York: Avon Books, 1959), p. 142.

Therefore, start with the most generous interpretation you can of the other party’s intentions. As the Level One support group learned, the explanation may actually be more positive than you might have imagined. By starting with the most generous interpretation, you will be more likely to ask questions, consider alternative possibilities, and respond in a way that does the least damage to the interaction and the relationship.

As I’ve presented it thus far, the Interaction Model indicates that the feelings associated with one’s interpretation of a message lead to a response. But the model actually includes some other ingredients that get triggered by strong feelings. According to Satir, feelings lead to feelings about the feelings, which trigger a coping mechanism, which activates one’s rule for commenting, which influences the ultimate response.¹³

¹³ Satir et al., op. cit., pp. 124–28.

This complex interplay of ingredients that lead to a response is triggered by “then and there”—some prior time in your life, whether yesterday or when you were six—and the response that results is disconnected from the message the sender intended. As Jerry Weinberg notes in Quality Software Management, Vol. 2: First-Order Measurement, “Obviously, any time my response has little to do with what you said, it isn’t likely to be helpful. For a response to be helpful, it should be coming from the ‘here-and-now-and-you,’ not a different place, at a different time, with different people. When I respond as if I were in a different situation, my response is incongruent—that is, it doesn’t match.”¹⁴

¹⁴ Gerald M. Weinberg, Quality Software Management, Vol. 2: First-Order Measurement (New York: Dorset House Publishing, 1993), p. 209. I highly recommend this entire volume for its in-depth look at the Interaction Model in the context of software organizations.

The model identifies the following ingredients:

The feeling: As a result of your interpretation of a message, you might feel upset or angry or happy or excited or depressed or impatient or any of a variety of other emotions.

Feelings about feelings: This ingredient refers to your internal reaction to the feelings provoked by the message. Feelings about feelings are typically triggered by what you learned while growing up about what is acceptable to feel and what’s not. The feelings you have about your feelings are an important indicator of your emotional health. For example, if you are told that you’re being transferred to another department, away from your friends, you might feel upset. If, as a child, you were scolded when you became upset or you were led to believe that you should never feel upset, you might feel angry with yourself about feeling upset. Conversely, if you learned that it’s normal to occasionally become upset, you wouldn’t think less of yourself for feeling that way.

Coping mechanisms: How do you cope in response to the feelings you have about your feelings? What behavior do you exhibit as a defense? How do you protect yourself when these feelings strike? Coping mechanisms come into play automatically when you experience vulnerability, low self-esteem, insecurity, incompetence, or lack of self-worth. Some common coping mechanisms include lashing out at others, giving in and going along, distorting what’s being discussed, or changing the subject. At times, it could be a combination of all of these—and others.

Rules for commenting: These are rules that influence what we say or refrain from saying in various circumstances, and especially when we feel stressed. We all have rules, many of which are subconscious, about what’s appropriate or inappropriate to say in a given situation. Typically, we acquired these rules during childhood. As we mature, we discard some that are no longer useful. But most of us retain rules about expressing, or refraining from expressing, what we’re thinking and feeling. Such rules include, “If I can’t say anything nice, I shouldn’t say anything at all,” and “I shouldn’t contradict people in roles of authority.” In the workplace, “I mustn’t reveal my feelings” is a particularly damaging rule.

Given this expanded description of the Feelings portion of the model, let’s revisit Stan’s interaction with Sue:

What Stan heard: “I’d like you to send me an agenda for the class.”

How Stan interpreted what Sue said: “She’s asking for something she really doesn’t need. I already provided all the information she requested. I thought the class was a go. Why in the world does she now need to know what order I’ll be presenting the topics in and how long I’ll spend on each?”

How Stan felt about his interpretation: Angry, frustrated, and nervous. “She seemed happy with me, but suddenly, for some reason, she no longer trusts me and I don’t know why. Maybe she changed her mind and wants to scratch the whole thing. I really need the money and I know I can do the class, but now I’m wondering if I should just cancel. I’m feeling stressed. Maybe I really can’t do what she wants.”

How Stan felt about his feelings: “I was really upset with myself for feeling angry, because I didn’t think I should feel that way. Why do I keep letting these things get to me?”

Stan’s coping mechanism: “In my mind, I blamed Sue for suddenly asking for an agenda. Yet at the same time, because I needed the money, I placated by convincing myself that her request wasn’t that important.”

Stan’s rules for commenting: “Don’t make a fuss. Don’t be a pest. Don’t let on that I don’t understand. Don’t let anyone know how I feel. Just do what I’m asked to do.”

How Stan responded: “Okay.”

This entire scenario plays out, often at an unconscious level, in every interaction that pushes an emotional hot button.

Similarly in my interaction with Jim, the wall-snoozer:

What I saw: “During the class, while I was speaking, Jim stood up, walked over to the wall, leaned against it, and closed his eyes.”

My interpretation: “Jim is having a hard time staying awake because he’s so bored. He doesn’t want to be here, and wishes he hadn’t come to this class. He’s angry with me for persuading him to attend.”

How I felt: “I made a mistake in inviting him, and I should have known better. I’m so stupid to have allowed this to happen. I’m going to have an awfully hard time facing him the rest of the class.”

How I feel about this feeling: “I really hate feeling stupid.”

My coping mechanism: “I’ll get through the class somehow (placating), but I’d better stay out of Jim’s way (avoidance) so I don’t have to face the fact that he’s unhappy. Afterward, I’ll just steer clear of him (placating and avoidance).”

My rule for commenting: “I can’t let Jim know how I feel or that I know how he feels.”

How I responded: “I was in the midst of presenting to the class so I didn’t say anything. I hope my presentation masked the sinking feeling I had. It’s possible that my internal dialogue showed in my tone of voice or facial expression and was noticed by others in the class.”

In actuality, these ingredients don’t necessarily follow such an orderly path. One’s feelings about one’s feelings can trigger a rule for commenting, which activates a coping mechanism, which triggers another rule for commenting, which stimulates other feelings, and so on. In analyzing your own tangled interactions, you might encounter this type of circuitous path—all in a fraction of an instant.

The Interaction Model can be applied to avoid or prevent tangled interactions. Six uses for which the model is especially effective are listed below, with elaboration in the sections that follow:

1. to untangle problems with a previous interaction

2. to untangle problems with an interaction in progress

3. to untangle problem interactions among others

4. to untangle patterns of behavior

5. to untangle patterns of response

6. to untangle common personal traps

For example, it was several weeks after an exchange had occurred before Sandy realized what probably had happened between herself and her colleague Kate. The interaction had taken place during a project retrospective facilitated by Sandy. At lunch on the first day, Kate had asked Sandy, “How is it going for you?” Sandy said, “Great—but I know what’s coming next.” Kate responded, “Well, that sure sounds like a power play!”

Kate’s reply seemed odd to Sandy, but the conversation quickly moved on and Sandy forgot about it. Weeks later, it came to mind and in thinking about how she sounded as she answered Kate’s question, Sandy could see how Kate might have interpreted her comment to mean, “I know what’s coming next and you don’t.”

Was that what Sandy meant? Not at all. As Sandy worked to untangle this past interaction, she explained that when Kate asked how it was going for her, she was instantly transported back several years to the start of her own career and a stressful retrospective that had followed a battleground of a project. At the exact same time—lunch on the first day of that earlier retrospective—she had been nervous about what the facilitator was planning for the afternoon. So while Kate may have thought what Sandy meant was, “I know what’s coming next and you don’t” (a Sandy-versus-Kate response), what Sandy actually meant was, “I know what’s coming next, and I like that feeling much better than during that first retrospective years ago when I had no idea” (a Sandy-then versus Sandy-now response).

As happens in situations like this, the exchange occurred in an instant. Neither Sandy nor Kate stopped the discussion to explore the many possible interpretations of each other’s comments, and there were no noticeable, immediate repercussions. However, puzzled by what had initially seemed like a strange response, Sandy found it personally instructive to contemplate what might have transpired.

• I’m wondering if you heard me correctly. What I was saying was . . .

• Might you have misunderstood me? What were you thinking I meant?

• I have a feeling I said something you misinterpreted. My point was . . .

Similarly, if you find yourself about to respond in a way that seems inappropriate, s-l-o-w down and ask yourself, “What was my intake? What did I see or hear?”

If you’re unsure, clarify what you heard by asking questions:

• I’m not sure I heard you correctly. Could you repeat that?

• Did I understand correctly when I heard you to be saying XYZ?

• Did you say XYZ? Or did I hear you incorrectly?

Ask yourself, “What meaning am I making of what I’ve heard? Is that the only possible meaning? What would be the most generous interpretation?”

These questions might lead you to ask the other person:

• Could you clarify what you meant when you said XYZ?

• I’m puzzled by that comment. Could you explain what you had in mind?

• I’m confused because it sounds as if you mean ABC. Is that correct?

If you notice that you’re experiencing a strong reaction, ask yourself, “Am I reacting to what’s happening here and now, or has my reaction come from some other place and time?” If possible, request a time-out or excuse yourself so that you can reflect calmly on what you might be experiencing.

These questions are examples of what you might ask if you need to clarify potential misunderstandings, but don’t be bound by my words. Choose and use your own wording. However you phrase your questions, be mindful of your tone of voice. A tone that conveys that you genuinely seek clarification is far better than one that finds fault before the answer has been given.

• What did you notice?

• I’m curious about what you heard her say?

• What do you suppose he meant?

• Can you think of any other possible interpretations?

You can also invite the parties to restate what they said and what they meant, so that each person can determine whether a misunderstanding occurred. But don’t be intrusive; unless specifically asked to help out, refrain from going beyond an offer to assist. Take your cue from the response you get.

After the fact (and similarly, only when asked to intervene), you can serve as a guide to help each party to a tangled interaction step through the model, with each person’s response serving as the other person’s intake. In doing this, make sure that what people report as intake is really intake. Sometimes, people report their interpretation rather than the intake itself, such as, “He was angry with me.” Or, “She thinks I never do anything right!” Sometimes, too, people report their feelings instead of their intake: “When she said she was taking me off the project, I felt depressed.”

In providing guidance to others, be sure to have them start by reporting the exact words they heard and, for face-to-face interactions, the nonverbal cues they saw. At times, an erroneous intake can account for the tangled situation, so don’t hesitate to ask again, “What was your intake? What did you see or hear?”

In another situation, team members worked among themselves to identify possible explanations for the blaming behavior of a customer whom they’d dubbed Hostile Holly. In discussing her behavior, they realized that their interpretation—that she was trying to goad them into doing things her way—might have been wrong. A more generous interpretation would be that she needed to have her views acknowledged. They speculated that this need may have been driven by her own feelings of inadequacy or her frustration at not being listened to by her coworkers (or even her caretakers, when she was growing up!).

The team members decided to modify their own responses to Holly, agreeing to give her the freedom to tout her ideas and vent her problems. In carrying out this plan, they listened to her carefully, asked questions, and empathized. Over time, her aggressiveness diminished, and then vanished; in addition, she started becoming attentive to the pressures they were facing and, for the first time, empathized with their challenges.

The result: A stressful and adversarial relationship became strong and positive. One unanticipated benefit was that Holly began to alert the team to upcoming business changes that they’d need to support. Previously, the team had not been advised of change requirements until it was too late for them to plan adequately.

There’s no guarantee that your analysis of a pattern of behavior will help you transform all the Hostile Hollys in your midst into Helpful Hollys, but it’s worth a try. The most generous interpretation may open many doors for you, enabling you, too, to replace a troubling relationship with one characterized by collaboration and mutual respect.

For example, I recently tried to reach a fellow who had invited me to give a presentation to a management group. I called the bank where he worked, reached the switchboard, and was transferred to his line. The phone rang what seemed like 27,000 times. I hung up, waited a few minutes, and then tried again. And again, and again, and again. Does this sound familiar?

I was particularly disappointed because I knew that this manager directed a customer-service area, and I expected responsiveness to have been second nature to him. I wondered why he didn’t have voice-mail, or someone else to answer his phone. I blamed him for being unreachable. (Blaming is one of my favorite coping mechanisms!) In this situation, my rule for commenting was: Don’t let him know how miffed I am!

When I met him at the hotel where I’d be speaking, I told him that I had tried calling him several times, but couldn’t seem to reach him. “Oh,” he said, “we had a problem.” Here it comes, I thought. The Grand Excuse. The Alibi. The Passing of the Buck. I could scarcely wait to hear what his excuse would be. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to take your call,” he said, “but the bank burned down.”

The bank burned down? That was a new one. But, indeed, it had burned down, the day before I called. Up in smoke. Poof. Just like that. Because the bank was in a city located more than 1,500 miles from my front door, it wasn’t surprising that I hadn’t heard about it. But who had answered the switchboard when I called?

He explained that I hadn’t reached the bank’s switchboard. It seems that at the first sign of the fire, the bank put its disaster-recovery plan into motion: Bank managers set up an emergency phone service to receive incoming calls and reroute them to temporarily relocated staff. But since disasters rarely happen according to plan, everyone was busy attempting to restore order and keep bank business as close to normal as possible. During the frenzy, some phones went unanswered. If I had tried a day later, I probably would have reached him and never would have known the scorching truth.

The lesson? When you don’t receive a reasonable level of responsiveness, refrain from assuming the worst about the silent party. More often than not, there’s a perfectly acceptable explanation.

For example, some people excel at seeing or hearing the intake. They function well in videotape mode, accurately restating what they saw or heard. Some people head directly to meaning. They may take in some of the intake, but as the saying goes, they don’t let the facts stand in the way of a good opinion. Some people dash toward feelings, sometimes short-changing both intake and interpretation; they may be quicker than others to have a visceral reaction to someone else’s comments. And some (perhaps all of us at one time or another) leapfrog over intake, meaning, and feeling—and simply respond.

No timepiece exists that can record how much time people spend at each of these stages. Whatever that amount of time, one thing seems clear: When people’s emotional buttons get pushed, they typically become blind to the intake and meaning, and follow a trajectory directly to feelings. Then, their feelings about their feelings, their coping mechanisms, and their rules for commenting take over and trigger their response. Sometimes, they can barely say what they saw and heard and how they interpreted it. Their insides are too busy playing hopscotch.

By keeping these patterns in mind as you observe your own behavior, you can improve your message-processing skills dramatically. For example, when you get into a tangled interaction, is it because you saw or heard something inaccurately? Do you often make interpretations that prove to be flawed? Do you have strong emotional reactions that seem out of proportion to the intake?

By becoming aware of your own particular traps, you can gain control over them and choose a more congruent response. Ask a close colleague or friend to help you by questioning you about your intake, interpretation, and the other ingredients while you’re in the midst of an interaction. This trusted person can also help you by guiding you in reflecting on an interaction that has ended and by pointing out instances in which you seem to get stuck.

My own challenge is to remember to question my interpretation, especially when the context tricks me into heading in the wrong direction. (Notice how I blamed the context for my own misinterpretation!) I was reminded of this challenge recently when I reacted to an e-mail message I received from Rudy, a fellow who had done work for me from time to time, but whose work quality had declined over the previous several months. The subject line of his e-mail message read, “New Address.”

Upon seeing this subject line, my mental monologue sprang into action: “Gee, and he just moved into a new house a few months ago. How sad. I thought things were good with his wife, but I doubt he’d tell me if they weren’t. This situation would certainly account for all the errors he’s been making. He must be awfully stressed. Maybe I shouldn’t have heaped one more thing on him by telling him I was dissatisfied with his work. I know he’s trying. But maybe I’d better just find someone else. . . .”

These thoughts tumbled through my mind in the time it took me to load the e-mail message. When I read it, I discovered that the “new address” he was alerting me to was a new e-mail id.

Furthermore, in some settings, I may ask people to describe their feelings about their feelings, their coping mechanisms, and their rules for commenting—but I will do so without using these terms. For example, instead of asking people about their feelings about their feelings, I might say, “How is it for you when you become angry?” or “What’s your reaction to becoming angry?” Instead of asking about someone’s rules for commenting, I might ask, “When you have this type of reaction, are there certain things you say to yourself that you don’t say out loud?” Based on the response, I can help people understand their feelings about their feelings or their implied rule for commenting.

In certain situations, I focus on the four ingredients of Intake-Interpretation-Feelings-Response, omitting the other ingredients altogether. In fact, if you are just learning to work with the Interaction Model or have little experience in applying it, I’d urge you to stick to these four ingredients. Unless you’re using the model in a setting in which people feel a strong sense of safety—and few organizational environments have such a setting—it’s wise to bypass feelings about feelings, coping mechanisms, and rules for commenting.

Finally, a few words of caution: This model is both easy to use and, at times, risky to use. There’s a critical line between being a helpmate and playing “therapist.” A person’s “then and there” reaction, which can be triggered surprisingly easily and with little forewarning, can sometimes be intense and emotional. Unless you have the requisite training and skills to handle such situations, limit your use of the model to the four main ingredients—or defer use of the model altogether until you have the opportunity to attend training sessions or to gain experience under supervision.¹⁵

¹⁵ My source of training was the Year-Long Satir Systems Training workshop offered by Jean McLendon and the Satir Institute of the Southeast. For more information, see www.satirsystems.com.