I’m going to tell you a dog story. Don’t get offended.
I spend a lot of time with my dogs, and my dogs, do a lot of cool stuff. So naturally, I’ll find parallels between my two big interests – dogs and, um, work. That doesn’t mean I think we can train people like dogs. But it does mean I prefer working dogs. Ba-da-bump.
If you would like to skip the story and just get to work, you can sign up for a free 25-minute session here – I’d love to show you how our expectations impact our work.
Ok – so here’s the story – I was new to dog sports and scheduled to compete in a rally trial. We got to the site a bit late and I was ignoring my dog – as much as you can ignore a seventy-pound Doberman attached you by a leash. I was focused on everything except my dog. Fifteen minutes before we were to go in, I stood up and rushed her through her exercises. Let’s just say, she wasn’t impressed with me. I knew in my bones that we weren’t a team at that moment.
When we entered the ring, things went from bad to worse. She made me sweat for every sit. Every turn, every command was met with excruciatingly slow responses. I was trying to count our mistakes. I kept waiting for the judge to tell us to exit and put me out of my misery. At the three-quarter mark, my anxiety turned to petulance. I was sure we were disqualified. I wanted out. My face was burning with embarrassment and I looked more like a pouting middle schooler than a grown ass woman. We finished the course and, in the ugliest win ever, managed to pull a third place that we didn’t deserve. Neither the judge nor I, wanted us to get that ribbon.
It’s my habit to always thank the judge after a match. I pulled my shoulders back and forced myself to approach her and offer my thanks. She was a stern woman, in her late sixties with a straight back. She had on a pale green suit that was classic and sturdy. She stared at me for a moment and then took me aside.
“Do you know what kind of dog that is?” She asked and didn’t wait for an answer. “Those dogs are military dogs. That breed was used by the United States Marines.” She seemed to grow a foot taller as she straightened herself. I did not inform her this was my third Doberman but I was curious. If this formidable woman wanted to tell me something, I wanted to hear it.
“When you work with a dog like that, you go into the ring and you expect a Marine!” She glared at me. “Perhaps you should get some other kind of dog.” She nodded to herself and waited expectantly.
“Yes Ma’am,” I said. “Thank you.” She clearly didn’t think I had the right stuff.
Because that dog and I were practically joined at the hip, in no way did I think I couldn’t handle her. But I did think a lot about what the judge said. That week, every time we stepped out to train, I’d remind myself to expect a Marine. I stopped trying to control her. I expected her to dog up. I expected myself to act like a person who was teamed with one of the smartest of all breeds. Lo and behold, that dog had game. She was alert, focused and on point. So was I.
Here’s the deal: What we expect to find, is often what we do find.
The belief that we are capable and can create positive change in our lives increases motivation and job performance – but not because the universe falls in line with our thinking. Beliefs impact our actions. If we believe we can succeed, we’re more likely to take actions that lead to success – taking classes, trying one more time, seeking answers. It just makes sense. If you expect that you’ll fail, why bother taking a class?
What happened with my dog and I was this: when I expected her to act like the dog I knew she could be, I walked faster, I moved with certainty. I didn’t keep looking down at her… and she had to be alert and moving quickly to keep up. She had to think for herself, so she stayed interested. Nothing magic, but man, it felt great. As we worked together, I was so proud of her, I thought my heart would burst.
So ask yourself, what do you expect of yourself and others when you show up at work? Be careful how you answer – it can be the difference between feeling like a Marine and feeling like you don’t deserve your own dog.