I presented a tele seminar last month on dealing with difficult employees from which I received several questions. Here’s one I thought interesting:

Dear Larry,

On Wednesday, March 11, I attended your Webinar on Handling Difficult Conversations. I have a question for you on handling a difficult conversation with a direct report of mine. He generally does good work and meets his deadlines, but he’s not always the hardest worker. He’s quiet and you won’t see him in the casual conversation at the water cooler like most of the rest of us do. However, he surfs the web on non-work related sites more than I would like to see. (At least what appear to be most of the time without snooping over his shoulder).

I cut him a little slack because you don’t see him discussing the previous night’s ball game or TV show like many (including myself) do around the office. And pretty much everyone in the office will do a little personal surfing from time-to-time. I’m OK with that.

But I was looking for some advice how to approach him to discuss with him that I’m seeing too many personal web sites up on his machine. I also want to put him on notice that I’m wise to his practice of creating a web browser small in the corner of his computer screen so that he doesn’t appear to be surfing (I’ve seen him do this on occasion).

I want to be very careful when I approach him on this and keep it as “positive” as possible. We’ve had some issues in the past where he didn’t take criticism like this well. And I realize I could have done a better job presenting it. (Part of the reason why I attended your webinar).

Puzzled.

Dear Puzzled,

If I were in his place, and I could complete all my assignments on time, at an acceptable level of quality, and still have time to surf the web, I’d surf the web too. If he has all this extra time on his hands, it sounds like he needs more work to do and/or more challenging assignments. I suggest you give him enough work assignments that are challenging, so he’ll have to put in a full 40 hours or more to get them done. Hold him accountable for results.

If he rises to the occasion, praise him and reward him with whatever your system will allow. If he fails to perform, and the surfing continues, then tell him your concerns about his surfing, just as you have done in your question. Continue to hold him accountable for the work and explain that not performing could adversely affect his career. Be sure to document this conversation in case you have to defend taking disciplinary action down the road.

By now you’re probably aware of Alaska’s ex-senator Ted Stevens’ conviction on seven counts of filing false statements on his Senate financial disclosure forms. You’re also probably aware that Attorney General Eric Holder asked U.S. District Judge Emmet Sullivan to drop the charges. Why? Because in reviewing the case, Holder’s team discovered that the lawyers who prosecuted the initial case withheld critical information from the Stevens’ defense team[i] – a major no-no in the world of criminal proceedings.

This case is remarkable because Holder could have ignored the egregious behavior in which his department had engaged, and let the conviction stand. Instead, he chose to act with integrity, honesty, and transparency, and do the right thing – even though the costs would be high. It put a black mark on the Justice Department, it moved a win into the lose column (something prosecutors hate to do,) and, it robbed the Democrats of an opportunity to embarrass the Republicans (something both parties love to do.) Regardless of my politics, which I won’t discuss here, my hat is off to Holder. It was an act of true leadership because he behaved the way he wants his staff to behave – and the way most citizens would want them to act – with honesty, integrity, and by the rules. With that kind of principle-driven leadership, it seems less likely that there will be the kinds of scandal in this Justice Department that plagued the previous one.

So what can we learn from Holder’s courageous act? I think it comes down to a simple question: Am I acting the way I want my employees to act? Whatever they see me do is a signal to what is the right thing to do. That’s what leadership is all about.

The last time I posted on this blog, I talked about a lesson I learned on one of my daily bicycle rides last week. On today’s ride, I learned about change.

I follow a route that takes me up a gradual, six-mile climb, and then I turn around and go home the same way. It’s not steep enough to coast, but if I peddle hard, I can average better than 35 mph coming back. For a wanna-be cyclist like me, that’s what it’s all about.

As I started the ride this afternoon, I noticed that I was making great time. Within six minutes I passed a land-mark that usually takes me eight minutes to reach. I gave myself a psychological pat on the back and told myself that my daily workouts were paying off. I reached the turnaround point a full five minutes ahead of my normal time.

As I turned to go home, I realized why I had made such good time. The wind, which was now in my face, had been at my back on the way up. Despite going down hill, the ride home was painfully slow. I ended up completing the trip one minute slower than usual.

In retrospect, I realize that when the wind was at my back, I never felt it. I assumed my improved performance was due to my skills and abilities. It was only when I changed direction that I felt it. But that’s typical of change. When times are good, we assume it’s because we are talented, we are good workers, or we’re just lucky. We don’t feel the wind on our backs so we take credit for our good fortune. It’s when things change, when the market shifts, when demand for our products goes down, or when the economy craters, that we realize the wind had been at our backs and we never knew it.

In his compelling book, Only The Paranoid Survive, ex-Intel CEO Andy Grove pointed out that it pays to be a little paranoid in business, because you never know when your market is going to shift. He called these changes “strategic inflection points.” I call them “shifts in the wind.” Whatever the term, the lesson is clear. Don’t get too comfy with the way things are, because you never know when the wind at our backs will become the wind in our faces.

I’m an avid cyclist – not very good or very fast, but I like the exercise – and the fresh air you get from riding everyday is invigorating. Yesterday, after my standard 12-mile jaunt, I stopped for coffee at Starbucks. Sitting at one of the umbrella-covered tables was a group of men about my age. They were all dressed in the same funny-looking bike clothes that I was wearing, so I stopped to talk bikes.

After the usual pleasantries about where we had ridden that day, one of them noticed the seat on my bike, which is one of those skinny, Lance Armstrong types. He said, “At your age, you ought to change out your seat and get one like this,” pointing to his bike. His seat was one of those fat, cushy, gel-covered types with a split in the middle to relieve pressure on the rider’s groin. Real bikers sneer at those miniature Lazy-Boys® as being the mark of a beginning biker.

For me, it’s not just biker snobbery (although, I know I’m guilty of being one.) I’ve researched the subject and there are solid reasons why “real” cyclists ride a skinny saddle (the proper term for a bicycle seat.)

1. It’s lighter so there’s less weight for the rider to propel.

2. It’s designed for the rider to put his weight on the sit bones that lie under the gluteus maximums, so it forces you to ride in proper position. (If your feeling pressure on your groin, you aren’t seated properly.)

3.On rides longer than 10 miles, it doesn’t chafe the way those cushy seats do.

So I replied to the fellow, “Those seats are OK for leisurely riding, but they are killers if you’re going more than a ten miles.” At that point, he shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, “Suit yourself.” One of the other members of his group then said, “Charlie here ought to know what’s the best seat – he rides 50 miles per day. At 75, he looks like a man in his 50’s – don’t you think?”

It was true. Charlie did look young and fit. But he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring off in another direction in a way that told me that he’d disengaged from the conversation.

I made a few more comments, wished them a good day, and went on my way.

In retrospect, I realize that my quick response to Charlie’s comment had cost me the opportunity to get to know him – to maybe gain a new riding partner –all because I’d jumped in and offered my opinion without ever having given due respect and a fair hearing to his. At that point, instead of engaging in further discussion or debate with me, Charlie had simply written me off as a jerk.

It reminds me that difficult conversations are often difficult because we make them so. We expect others to give us a fair hearing when we are unwilling to do the same for them. If I could repeat the conversation with Charlie and his friends, I think I would do it differently. When Charlie told me that I should get a different saddle, I would ask him to tell me why he likes the wider saddle. I would inquire about its features. I’d ask him if there is anything about the seat that he doesn’t like. I’d also ask him about his riding habits, what his favorite routes are, and if he has tried any other kind of seat. I’d want to know what the pros and cons were for each of them. And throughout this inquiry, I would listen to his opinions and not argue, deny, or negate anything he said.

Then, once I was sure that Charlie felt like I had truly listened to and respected what he had to say, I would offer my opinions about the type of saddle I use and why it works for me. My guess is that even then, I probably wouldn’t change Charlie’s mind, but the odds that he would hear me out with a semi-open mind would have risen. And had I done so, maybe I’d have a new biking partner. I guess I’ll never know.

In his classic business book, “Up The Organization,” Avis CEO Robert Townsend described how he toured all the Avis offices where he asked employees what they thought he should do to turn around the company, which at the time was struggling. He noticed that no matter what the quality of their suggestions was, they were most appreciative when he made the effort to truly listen and acknowledge their points of view, even if he disagreed. He concluded that you don’t have to agree with someone to gain their respect, you simply need to “take them seriously, and show it.” According to Townsend, once they know that you have “taken them seriously,” you can “tell them to go to hell and it will be all right.”

This axiom has application for conducting difficult conversations of any sort, whether it’s discussing a performance issue with an employee, having a difference of opinion with a colleague, or arguing with your spouse about why the checking account is overdrawn. All human beings have a powerful need to save face and appear OK to others. If you don’t believe that, think about the last time you looked at a group photo in which you were pictured. To whose face did your eyes go first?

When you show that you’ve taken the other person seriously in a disagreement or heated discussion, you make an implicit statement that the other person is OK.

So how do you do it?

First: Never tell the other person he’s “wrong” or that you “disagree” with him. Those words instantly say that you aren’t taking him seriously and that he must be crazy for thinking as he does.

Second: Carefully listen to his point of view and then summarize it back to him so he knows you were listening. This simple act shows that you take him seriously. For example, “So you are saying that the reason your budget is over spent this month is because there were unexpected costs associated with the purchase of new equipment – and you had no choice but to spend the money?”

Third: Acknowledge how he felt or feels about the situation. Doing this communicates that you are able to feel his pain and are willing to put yourself in his shoes – a further sign that you take him seriously. For example, “It must have seemed that it was critical to make the investment at the time.”

NOTE: Tone of voice is everything here. If you say the words, but your tone of voice says, “Sure Buster, you’re such an idiot.” You’re probably not going to get the kind of reception to your suggestions that you’d like.

Fourth: Offer your point of view, taking responsibility for it by using “I” language. For example: “Here’s the way I see it Jim. I’m concerned that if we continue to run over budget, the costs of this project will get out of control, which can have dire consequences down the road.”

Fifth: Ask for help to solve the problem, focusing on the future, rather than the past. For example, “Jim, can you think of a procedure we could put in place so that when these issues come up in the future, they can get resolved with going outside budget guidelines.”

Difficult conversations can be daunting. Most of us want to be perceived by others as nice people, so we often avoid them or wait until we are so angry about the issue at hand that we allow the conversation to turn nasty. Taking the other person “seriously,” as Townsend suggests, raises the odds you’ll get a positive outcome, and it makes it easier to conduct the difficult conversation because the chance there will be hard feelings afterward declines.