Unexpected outcomes.

I’m not much of an interior decorator, but I do have one tried-and-true rule which has served me well: 

Almost everything can be improved by a coat of fresh paint and the creative use of a black permanent marker. 

And, like all rules, there are exceptions: last spring, my beautiful 25-year-old dark red couch began to seriously fall apart. It was time for a new one. 

As much as I loved that red couch, I definitely wanted something different. Something more modern, more comfortable — and definitely NOT RED.

 

Well.

 

A cascade of decisions narrowed my choices, supply chain issues narrowed them further, and a whole host of other disruptions occurred, too long to outline here — but the day finally came when my new, warm brown couch arrived. Woo hoo!

And it was red. 

>> cue record scratch <<

 

After the couch arrived, I spent about 24 hours absorbing the reality of its color, which was pretty different from what I expected based on online images and a teensy tiny fabric swatch. 

I had somehow managed to end up with another realio, trulio red couch.

 

I spent some of that first day feeling pretty dumb. I also spent some time considering whether I wanted to be annoyed with the folks who had advised and assisted me in this process. 

And finally I just threw up my hands and had a good laugh.

 

This is progress for me. A previous version of me would have had a really hard time letting go of this unexpected outcome. She definitely wouldn't have found it funny. And she probably would have worked herself into what felt like totally justified levels of upset, shame, and blame. 

This time, though, I was able to do two things:

 

Get perspective: It’s just a couch! In the grand scheme of things (especially these days) a couch does not deserve much, if any, mental real estate. A million things call for my attention and my emotional investment every day. This doesn’t need to be one of them. (Also — a healthy reminder to note exactly how much privilege is required to even consider becoming upset by a couch.) 

 

Look deeper: When I slowed down I realized that all I really craved back in the spring was change. My shorthand for change was NO RED, but in reality this new couch is very different. It IS change. And I actually love it. If I had fiercely clung to that original vision, I might have missed the opportunity to notice all that’s great about this new one. 

 

I wonder… Is there a chance you might be working with your own red couch opportunity? If yes, you are not alone!

 

Managers and leaders grapple with frustration and disappointment when they delegate to their teams. Spouses struggle to relinquish control when they ask their partner to handle a household task or decision. Parents fight the urge to micromanage when they invite their kids to take on a new responsibility. And more…

 

It’s common to develop a fixed idea about what the ideal outcome of a project will be. We might communicate about it or we might assume it’s understood — either way it’s very typical (and very human) to hold on tight to our version of “ideal.”

 

And when the project comes back different from what we imagined, it’s tempting to fixate on what doesn’t match the original vision. ("I said NO RED!")

 

A better approach is to slow down and ask these questions:

1. How important is this, truly? When I focus my energy on this outcome, what other important projects (or values) am I overlooking?

2. Was my original vision too rigid? Is there room to consider whether this new result is better — or at least equivalent?

 

YOUR INVITATION TO REFLECT: Think about a time when you felt disappointed by a result. Allow hindsight to help you notice whether these questions might have assisted you then. Or, better yet, if you are in the midst of a red couch situation right now, challenge yourself to ask these questions today. Even a 5% softening of your grip on the “ideal” outcome can make a big difference.

PS — “Realio trulio” is a reference to a childhood favorite of mine, the Ogden Nash poem Custard the Dragon. Custard was a “realio, trulio, little pet dragon.”

 

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