There are Two Kinds of Managers. Those Who Criticize and Those Who Don't.

The good thing about being an introvert is I'm never alone. Being with people is work for me, but being alone is how I recharge. In my mind I'm a busy guy. Not effective, but busy. I have stuff to do, find out, process, research, develop, read, plan, it never ends. Most of it doesn't include other people. This is not deliberate, it's just the way I am. I am a contented introvert.

My dear Colombian lady, the quintessential extrovert, has hundreds of very close friends. I can't assume to understand her suffering before cell phones, email and social media were invented but it must have been unbearable. She went to funeral recently, and suffered less than when her iPhone died.

One of these friends is like some of your critical bosses. I found there's a third kind of manager, the kind who pretends to support you while they're criticizing you.

Some months ago one of those friends, all smiles, told me "Wolf, you paint so much better than you used to. Your boats and seascapes are so much more realistic. Your colors are stronger. I like how much you have improved."

This wasn't new, she's done it before. This time, I told her to stop criticizing me. You've never seen all smiles change to shock and disbelief. You heard right, - it's code for "shut-up." If she thought my previous work was garbage, let it go and say nothing. Nobody said I was a painter. It's cheap therapy and people buy the odd painting. She began a half hearted defence, but she knew I was right. I sipped my wine and painted more improved seascapes.

It's a nasty trick, complimenting someone's emergence from the dung heap. "But I complimented you, why get upset," is their response.

If you want to be great manager, the right thing to do is ask for what's required, (not criticize on what went wrong). It's more difficult to talk about what a great seascape looks like than it is to tell me I paint bad ones. Don't tell people why their work is bad. Tell them what good work looks like. You'll be a great manager!

Now when the wounded lady comes over she picks and chooses her words as she struggles to say only nice things about my paintings. She doesn't yet know that I don't care. I'm an introvert, I'm happiest alone!

See you for breakfast,
Wolfgang

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p.s. The odd extrovert will ask, "aren't you afraid to die alone?"
I reply, "I'm not sure. What's your plan, - to die in a group?"