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I used to try hard to be nice, but I’m over that now \u2014 and I want others to get over it, too. Because at work, “being nice” is a trap.<\/p>\n
This first came into focus early in my executive career before I became a chief people officer. I was working on a merger, and a junior team member was eager to take on a critical role. Deep down, I knew she wasn’t ready. But I wanted to be a nice <\/i>leader. So, I ignored my instinct and engaged in what author Kim Scott has called “ruinous empathy.”<\/a> In my desire to give that teammate what she wanted, I set her up for failure during hardcore negotiations. Result: anxiety attacks for her and a huge headache for the team.<\/p>\n I’m not alone in wanting to be liked at work. And I believe for many women, this can be especially challenging. Women are being told to smile and are being conditioned to be people pleasers<\/a>. It’s no coincidence that we use more smiley faces<\/a> in our communication. Not to mention, one study indicates<\/a> stereotypes of middle-aged women as being “less nice” can hold them back in their careers.<\/p>\n Throughout my career in human resources, though, I’ve noticed that niceness has come to dominate much of our work lives \u2014 and that’s a mistake.<\/p>\n Here’s why and what you can do instead:<\/p>\n Conflict<\/a> is inevitable for any productive team<\/a>. And yet, our desire to be liked \u2014 to not ruffle feathers and to create “artificial harmony” \u2014 is constant. Telling someone “no” or “we need to do better” doesn’t earn you many smiles. So, we avoid it and double down on being liked. But in choosing niceness over authentic engagement, we lose a chance to inspire improvement. “Nice” has a chilling effect on growth.<\/p>\n Ultimately, this bias toward nice is about you<\/i>, not the person you’re “being nice” to. It’s about wanting to be liked at the cost of being honest. There’s a selfishness about prioritizing “nice” that isn’t so far from the selfishness of a workplace bully. The nice co-worker and the mean one both emphasize their own interests. And both attitudes have the same effect: they keep the team from growing. Nice people (just like mean people) don’t actually care about the group’s outcomes.<\/p>\n So, what’s the alternative? Kindness.<\/p>\n I know \u2014 being kind sounds pretty close to being nice, but the distinction is crucial. Being nice is about making yourself feel like a “good guy.” Being kind is about what you can do for others. Put another way: niceness is about telling people what they want<\/i> to hear, and kindness is about telling them what they need<\/i> to hear.<\/p>\n Related: Conflict Is Inevitable But Necessary. Here’s How to Stay Calm During an Argument and Rebuild Afterward.<\/a><\/b><\/p>\n When I fall into the “nice trap,” I pull myself out by admitting that I’ve made things about myself. By contrast, if my motivation is to help others or help the larger company, then I know I’m headed in the right direction \u2014 toward kindness.<\/p>\n Once I know that my goal is rooted in kindness, I have a few key tactics that help me achieve it. These are especially useful for first-line managers and those on an executive leadership team<\/a>, but building a culture of kindness is everybody’s job.<\/p>\n The kindest feedback in the world will be dead on arrival if nobody trusts your intentions. Research shows<\/a> that workplaces where people trust each other have higher levels of productivity<\/a>. And why is that? It’s because when I trust you, I’m able to hear you. I stop thinking that we’re adversaries and start believing that we’re on the same team. Consequently, I can take action and improve.<\/p>\n Calling out a missed deadline or inquiring about an angry client is ultimately a kind action because it makes the team better. Being self-accountable<\/a> \u2013 asking what roadblocks you’ve produced, too<\/a> \u2013 will prove that your motivations aren’t punitive. By contrast, the nice leader who lets everything slide only makes it more likely that the team’s personal growth will stagnate.<\/p>\n Covert critiques<\/a> are more common than we like to admit. But, once accountability<\/a> has become a given at the office, it’s fair to expect more direct forms of feedback. If you have a problem with someone’s performance (or their attitude), you may be inclined to speak to their superior, but kindness dictates that we first tell them to their face and give them a chance to respond. This can be stressful, I know. Kindness often takes more courage than niceness.<\/p>\n In my role as head of people at Pantheon, I set aside times when conflict is encouraged \u2014 moments when we hash out different perspectives in a safe space. I’ll tell the team, “It’s rumble time.<\/a>” It’s a surprising form of kindness because, by giving conflict an official arena, people feel free to drop their defensive postures and passive-aggressive tones. They know it’s safe to argue. Breakthroughs and creative new ideas often pop up during the rumble.<\/p>\n The culture shift from niceness to kindness creates space for honesty, accountability and fear-free conflict. The results are profound for the bottom line \u2014 productivity and excellence soar<\/a> when our worry about “being nice” is finally cleared away.<\/p>\nThe problem with being nice<\/b><\/h2>\n
A path toward kindness<\/b><\/h2>\n
1. First, develop trust<\/b><\/h2>\n
2. <\/i>Embrace radical accountability<\/h2>\n
3. Talk to \u2014 not about<\/h2>\n
4. Get ready to “rumble.”<\/h2>\n
Kindness ROI<\/b><\/h2>\n