Tag: intentions

  • Worthless Intent

    Worthless Intent

    danbo appears to be moderating an argument between two lego characters
    Credit: Flickr / Adriane Dizon

    One of the things that I write about in my lessons learned from 6 months of managing blogpost was about my realisation that intentions do actually matter.

    “I’ve long found discussion of “intentions” completely worthless. I just don’t want to hear about it. Especially in the context that it invariably is – men who tell me about their intentions after screwing things up. I still don’t think there is much value in discussing intentions. But intentions are actually the place where your actions come from, and that is important. It’s not what you do, but how you do it. And regardless of what is said about intentions, people always know what your intentions really are. For example feedback can be given from a place of “this will make my life easier” or from a place of “this is how I believe you can be more effective” – which one do you think is better taken?”

    But I still find discussion of intentions worthless. And the reason why has everything to do with conflict resolution.

    This was a big gap for me – I had seen very little constructive conflict resolution in a professional context. At the conglomerate it often felt like there was the assumption that if everyone was smart and well intentioned their would be no conflict, so when conflict arose it felt like you were expected to just be smarter and have better intentions. And then of course the “best” intentions win out, where “best” is often what best re-enforces this collective self image of smart, well intentioned people.

    The thing is, the intellect and intentions of people around you have nothing to do with whether or not there will be conflict. Conflict arises when people disagree. So when people think and want different things, there’s conflict. When not everyone can have an outcome that works for them, that conflict can be particularly vicious. Regardless of how smart they are. Regardless of their intentions.

    The thing about intentions is that they are the start of conflict resolution, but we often talk like they are the end of conflict resolution. This is completely wrong. Believing that someone means well might get you to the table to talk to them, but it does not get you to agree with them.

    We see some very circular arguments on the internet sometimes, and often one person is talking about intent and the other is talking about action and outcomes. The person talking about intent often responds very badly to this, but the thing is their intent is either irrelevant or accepted – and that is why they are getting a response at all.

    I still don’t know much about conflict resolution, but one thing I’ve realised is that you have to get people to start talking about the same thing. The intentions of two (or more!) different people are never going to be the same thing.

    In the talk I gave (twice now) about burnout one story I tell is about an awful manager who – amongst other things – told me that he thought by never giving me positive feedback he was training me not to need any. I quip “this did not work, by the way” and a room full of people laugh because it’s so obviously stupid, so obviously wouldn’t work.

    But here’s the thing: he told me that with this ernest expression on his face. He truly believed it. He truly thought that he was helping me be a better developer, a better human being.

    But his intentions are worthless next to the harm that management technique (and non-techniques) and countless others did not just to my emotional well being, and my career, and (I think to a lesser extent) the careers of other women (and men) who reported to him. That manager did more than anyone else to drive me to want to leave tech.

    So do I care about his intentions? For a while maybe, they got me to keep showing up to work, to 1:1s and trying to deal with him. But that only went so far. There came a point when – No. Having some distance – No. His actions outweighed his intentions by a factor of 100:1. His intentions don’t make me feel like I should forgive him; I don’t think we are obliged to forgive everyone who harms us. Accept, because accepting the past is how we move on. But forgive – No.

    We state our intentions – I have done, do this too – because we want to be seen as “good”. Because it matters to us that people know that whatever disconnect arose was not deliberate, on our part. Okay. But if you want to resolve a conflict – or right a wrong – you can’t end there. You haven’t even started. It’s just the beginning.

  • The Day I Leave The Tech Industry

    The Day I Leave The Tech Industry

    red curtain
    Credit: Flickr / Fred Seibert

    I know that this will happen, that one day I will have had enough, and I will leave. It’s something I think about on a regular basis, and wonder, what will I do after? Will I move to a cheaper city and make things, consult, and hope to make ends meet? Will I retreat still further, live up a mountain, never speak to a nerdy boy again? Make pronouncements on the tech industry from afar, if I feel so inclined. I ask myself, if I travel enough now, will I one day feel like I’ve seen enough of the world, be content with a smaller life?

    I wonder, what it will look like. Will I leave my laptop in a unisex bathroom, with a note that says “this is a men’s bathroom“? Will I carefully print a letter on headed notepaper and leave it on my desk with a postit that says “mansplain this“? Will it just be the slow fade to the day that one of the bars on my gilded cage is loosened, when I decide that whatever amount of money that is there is finally enough, and that I can finally break out?

    We joke about it, other women and I, what we will finally do when we leave. Become a barista. Go back to school. “Pull a disappearing act“, one friend says, leaving it to me to explain the chaos she left behind. “Not if I get there first“, I reply. We talk about our escape funds. A feminist hacker commune in Berlin.

    Remember that April Fools joke from a woman that she was quitting the industry? The thing about humour, is that there needs to be the element of the unexpected. Nothing unexpected there. Today it is you, tomorrow it could be me. We are careful about who we trust to vent to, sometimes we’ve made mistakes and learned the hard way who cannot be trusted. Look for those who can, who we know will let it go no further, because today it is me, tomorrow it could be you.

    We talk to each other about the grey areas, where something happened to make us uncomfortable. Maybe there was an element of truth to it, but it seems disproportionate. We agonise about how to be fair. Well yes, he did say that, but he means well, and to be fair... I’m so tired of people – men – who mean well, and their casual undermining.

    I wonder, do we leave because of the big events? Maybe not, fuelled by righteous anger, pure straightforward knowledge that what he said, or did was so far out of line that nothing you did could have merited it. That guy, that guy, we won’t let him win.

    Maybe the people we need to, will even take our side in that one. Maybe we will actually be protected.

    Of course, that guy will be too. He, his career, will be just fine.

    That guy, he probably won’t get me. The system, that might. I wonder, if it’s the grey area that is more likely to drive us away. That will make us feel more crazy, more alone. The thousand tiny cuts that make up life as a woman in this industry. Which are so hard to talk about, because these become conversations about their intentions, rather than my feelings of alienation and insecurity.

    Someone, a man actually, once told me that the effect of a communication is more important than it’s intent.

    The day that I leave the tech industry, the last thing that drives me away… I expect the intent will be helpful, perhaps benevolently paternalistic. The effect, the effect will be the last straw, the handing in of the security badge, and the new adventure to find a new way to fill my days and pay the bills.

    Some people say that women leave the tech industry because babies. I don’t believe it for a minute, and the external data disproves it too. But if it wasn’t safe to be honest, what a great excuse. What else would one say, “it was one mansplain too far“?

    One day, I will leave the industry. There’s this red curtain in my future, and I don’t know what is on the other side. Some days it looms close, scarily imminent, other days it is nicely, abstractly, further away.

    A certainty, like death, taxes. One day I will leave. I don’t know what will be the last straw, although I might tell you, if I was sure I could trust you, what weighs down the balance. I don’t know what I will do after, or when it will be.

    I just know that it will happen.