Lessons From Job Number 7: The Honesty Paradox
Shelly Palmer
Professor of Advanced Media in Residence at S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications at Syracuse University
Everyone was tweeting their #firstsevenjobs the other day. As I thought back on my job number 7, I remembered a traumatic lesson in the power of trust and truth. I named it “The Honesty Paradox.”
Job number 7 was my dream job. I was hired as a composer/producer by a legendary jazz musician who owned a prominent commercial music production company. He was famous, his company was famous and I was in heaven. He had a recording studio at his suburban estate and we would spend a few days each week working from there.
One weekend, we were in the control room doing a mix when his wife walked in and announced, “They’re here.” I looked up at my boss and wondered what that meant. Clearly annoyed by the imposition on our time, he told me to go into the studio, put a few chairs around a guitar amplifier and “set the kid up.” I entered the studio to find a young teenager (maybe 14 years old) carrying a guitar case. His tiger mom and tiger dad were gleefully looking at all the equipment and cables. This was going to be interesting.
When everything was ready, my boss and his wife walked in. Tiger Dad reached out to shake my boss’s hand and thanked him profusely for agreeing to evaluate his son’s musical ability.
As far as the kid’s parents were concerned, my boss was going to validate their belief that their son was on his way to a stellar musical career. My boss was famous. He was an award-winning musician, singer, composer, and producer, and he could pick up the phone and put this kid on the map.
What happened next has haunted me since. My boss said, “Whenever you’re ready” and sat down. After fidgeting for a few seconds, the kid started to play “Stairway to Heaven.”
It was an unfortunate performance.
About 10 seconds later, my boss said, “Wow. Thanks for that” and politely asked him to stop.
The parents smiled broadly, expecting to hear what they were longing to hear from one of the most plugged-in producers in the world. Their smiles turned to expressions of astonishment, then horror, then anger as my boss quietly said, “Well, I tell you what. Your son has absolutely no musical talent. None at all. If he wants to play for his own enjoyment, I would highly encourage him to do so. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that he will never be able to play professionally and has no chance at making a living in the music business.” There was excruciating silence as the words hit their mark. Then came the screams, the crying, the begging to let him try again, the insults toward my boss, screams of “How could you!” from my boss’s wife, more screaming from Tiger Mom, curses from Tiger Dad, and then they were gone.
When it was all over, we went back to the control room to finish the mix we had been working on. I was almost too afraid to ask what had just happened, but I really needed to understand it. So I timidly asked him, “Why did you do that?”
He stopped what he was doing, gave me his full attention, and asked, “How long did it take you to realize this kid had no talent?” “I knew before he started,” I said, “while he was tuning his guitar.” “Right,” said my boss. “I didn’t hear him tune up, but if I had, I would not have wasted the time to let him play.”
But I was still confused because I didn’t see the reason for my boss’s behavior toward the hopeful boy and his proud parents. So I asked him, “What possible reason could you have had to destroy this kid’s dreams, instigate the ire of his parents, embarrass your wife and generally act like a jerk?”
His answer was resolute. In his opinion he had done the kid and the family a gigantic favor. I can still clearly hear his voice: “Shelly, this kid has absolutely no musical talent. You know it, I know it and now they know it. Can you imagine what would happen to this kid if I smiled, politely applauded and offered words of praise and encouragement? He would waste the next 10 years of his life taking music lessons and dreaming of an impossible future. What if this kid is the next Jonas Salk or some other great doctor, but he never concentrates on that because he thinks he’s going to be a professional musician? I saved this kid. I really did.”
I understood what he was saying, but I still thought there was no reason for him to have been that harsh. I asked why he didn’t deliver his judgment in a politer way. He looked me straight in the eye and calmly said, “I was honest with them. I was direct. I stated the opinion I was asked to state. I did the right thing, the right way.” His words haunt me to this day.
So, my questions to you is, how would you handle the “Honesty Paradox?” Would you be brutally honest? Would you try to be polite and just thank them for coming? Would you lie with the sin of omission while offering platitudes? Or would you simply lie?
These are choices we all face every day. Save ourselves, save our jobs, save our friendships, tell people what they want to hear. Or respect the trust placed in your experience and knowledge and say what you absolutely believe. The choices are never as simple as I am presenting them – or are they?
Have you dealt with the honesty paradox? If so, I’d love to hear about it.
About Shelly Palmer
Named one of LinkedIn’s Top 10 Voices in Technology, Shelly Palmer is President & CEO of Palmer Advanced Media, a strategic advisory and business development practice focused at the nexus of technology, media and marketing with a special emphasis on data science and data-driven decision making. He is Fox 5 New York's on-air tech and digital media expert and a regular commentator on CNBC and CNN. Follow @shellypalmer or visit shellypalmer.com or subscribe to our daily email http://ow.ly/WsHcb
Musician at ELEMENT25 Studio
7yA fantastic article! Your boss was 100% correct in his approach, and here is why (hopefully you have time to make it through my modest assessment): First of all, let's consider the profession itself - let's start with 1,000 aspiring musicians. Like the metal balls in a Pachinko machine, you can dump that box out, and a certain number is likely to fall into various slots. I could go into excruciating detail about this, but that's a lot more than most people would want to read in a Comments section - suffice it to say that of those 1,000 Pachinko balls, only one is going to end up in the most-coveted slot of success. That's a lot of competition for anyone to throw their child into, and for this reason alone, an honest evaluation is essential, despite Tiger Mom and Tiger Dad's hurt feelings. Granted, we have not been "treated" to this child's performance, so we have to trust the judgment of the studio assistant and his boss. I've had similar experiences, where someone with more ambition than ability would tell me, "I could probably teach you a thing or two," before launching into a Godawful attempt as - yes - "Stairway to Heaven". After a few false starts, I was looking for any plausible excuse to get me out of that room: a family emergency, a phone call from the President, perhaps a voice mail message telling me about a bridge I could jump off - anything to make it stop! I have listened to a lot of auditions over the years, and you can tell who the exceptional players are right away - they're the ones who play amazing runs while they're tuning up! By the time you're ready to listen to them, you're already blown away with what they showed you during their preparation. Sure, Tiger Mom and Dad's feelings were going to be hurt by this news, but what would be gained by lying about it? This is what they wanted to know, and now they know it. Sugar-coating the evaluation could be worse: this could lead the parents to badger the boss into allowing the kid to hang around the studio to gain some experience, and then what does the boss say? It's either tell the truth and be thought of as a jerk now, or tell a white lie and forestall the inevitable. And yes, history is loaded with many examples of artists who have defied the odds - The Beatles were turned down twice; the second time was because "guitar groups are on the way out." This kid could likewise defy the odds - but is it the boss' place to make that judgment call? That's a 50/50 proposition - this kid could be the next Yo-yo Ma, or the next Yo' Mama. Better to call it as it is, and let the kid put in the effort to prove the world wrong - I was booed off of stages a lot in the beginning, and it could've gone one of two ways - I would either show myself to be too thin-skilled for this business, or (the option I chose) go back and figure out what was wrong, and then fix it. And if the kid happens to be reading this, one helpful bit of advice: don't EVER go to an audition playing "Stairway to Heaven" unless you know not only all of the guitar parts, but also all of the words, and can sing it extremely well - and then, play something else anyway.
Legal Assistant Office Manager at The Law Office of C. Zan Pritchard, PLLC
7yWow, that is an amazing story. So many aspects to consider...As a former professional musician, who started an amateur and finished with an advanced degree from a great music school and a real world professional career I would like to jump into the discussion. Problem number one: Tiger mom and Dad. Aptly described and their reactions appropriate to their inflated and uninformed expectations. Poor kid. If he wants to do music he will do it, if they will just let him be him, and go ahead and spring for lessons and a good instrument. The rest is up to him alone. Get out of the way. The "expert"...oh boy. Had a middle school band director discourage me too. "Don't enter the upcoming band contest".."look at my golden boy here, who will be competing against you...save yourself the heartbreak and embarrassment. " I told my dad. He got me lessons with a local percussion grad student. I won a chair in the contest band. Golden boy was an alternate. Important lesson learned about believing in yourself and WORKING HARD to achieve your goal. Point is, maybe the superstar was right, but what a blowhard asshole. Not superstar material and I have met some superstars. They would never hate on a kid like that. Made my blood boil to hear of it. The self aggrandizing explanation of what a great favor he did everyone made me sick. Narcissism at its worst. I don't care how famous he is. Really give truth the old adage huh? "Opinions are like......." Thanks for the post!
Creator of Value
7yHonesty and tact are not mutually exclusive. A little time spent laying the groundwork for a respectful presentation of the same insights costs only the one inconvenienced to be the teacher, and may help without hurt. Of course, it's just as possible that the emergency trauma surgery was called for. Doctor's call on that one. But given a choice, do the kind thing ...and consider using some anesthesia.
GMAT coach
7yIt’s truly a paradox, as the sharply divided opinions show. My personal stand on this case is to repeat my favourite 2 words of wisdom: “It depends.”
Senior Vice President, Public Affairs, SKDK/Sloane & Company
7yWwapaQ