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Let’s define “partner” broadly. It could be a spouse, a business associate, a legal partnership, an informal collaboration, a co-worker, or something else. In short, it’s a joint venture of some sort. You get to define it the way that best suits you.

My first partnerships were likely being a sibling to my sister who is 6 years older. We may have been too far apart in age to be a real partnership, but aren’t all kids with brothers and sisters partners in some sense? I watch my grandkids and it seems not much has changed. As children, we had to learn to get along, work together, protect, and support each other. Okay, maybe there were some fights along the way, too.

Once I got into school I’d often be teamed up with other students for projects. Mostly, I remember doing bulletin boards or something creative. The teacher would assign one or more people to me to produce something. It was my first real experience with frustration in a creative endeavor. I’ve thought about it often – how early on I should have known I needed to be more discriminating in the ideal partner. Or to consider whether or not I even need or want one.

Through the years one phrase has captured my biggest challenge: being like-minded.

That doesn’t mean seeing everything identically. Nor does it mean coming to the same conclusion. I’ve wrestled with this notion all my life, attempting to distill the meaning of “being like-minded.” Maybe there’s a better way to figure it out, but my approach was to identify the source of my frustrations. What is driving me crazy and why? It always comes down to, “Is it me, or is it them?” That leads to wrestling with whether or not it’s going to require compromise to lower quality. To lower the expectation. To accept good enough. To avoid reaching for something better.

By the time I reached junior high, I knew I was cursed. There would never be a way out. So I started looking for some way forward. It didn’t often happen so I learned to pursue things by myself if the thing was important to me. Think school projects.

I had close friends. I had many more friendly acquaintances. I enjoyed being amongst friends. Humor and sarcasm were constant common denominators. But when it came to getting things accomplished, I was sober-minded. Serious. Maybe to a fault. A few people who didn’t know me misinterrupted my introversion and seriousness for conceit. But that was never the issue because I never esteemed myself better than anybody else, albeit I did frequently think, “I wouldn’t do that” when watching somebody make a foolish choice. I was compliant listening to teachers and parents. Mostly doing what I was told, behaving and always mindful of the situation. I was a noticer which made it easier to avoid problems, easier to read people, but impossible to avoid noticing. As a result, my inner signal-to-noise ratio has never been great. When you notice everything you learn to discriminate between the two, but it’s important to distinguish between what you think you’re noticing and true evidence. As a young adult, I began to seriously learn what I termed evidence-based intuition. Gut feel is terrific when you notice everything, but it’s not error-free, even if it is mostly accurate. Pile on some questions that force you to consider what you know to be true, and the accuracy gets closer to perfect. I’ve now practiced that for over 40 years and I’m still working on it.

The context matters lest you think I’m just a wild contrarian. I’m not. But I’m driven by accomplishment, not ambition. They can look similar, but the difference is selfishness. Credit. Glory. Honor. I don’t much care about any of those. I care about the final product. I care about the conquest. Today, I often use the metaphor of “taking the hill.” I’m driven to take the hill in the best method possible. The challenge, struggle and adversity provide the juice. Otherwise, everybody would be taking the hill. But not everybody does. And that excites me.

Enter the problem. Those who say they too would like to take the hill, but don’t seem to display the stuff required to achieve it. Or to achieve it as efficiently. Or to be dragged along by the momentum of others so they can also experience the hill top. I’ve never had patience with such people.

Two things erupted early in childhood about such people (again, think school projects). I remember so many classroom bulletin boards or door decorations that drove me nuts. I’m assigned, with two other students, to decorate the classroom door for the holidays. We brainstorm some ideas and immediately it’s evident my cohorts just want to get past this assignment. Me? I want the output to be awesome – the best in the building. So right off the bat I now know I’ve got two passengers willing to never put their oars in the water as we paddle hard toward producing a great door decoration. But I’m stuck. Never mind that I often would ask – and be granted permission – to just do it by myself. It had nothing to do with not wanting to work alongside others. It had everything to do with wanting to avoid lowering the standard of creating a dynamite door decoration.

Listen, I wasn’t some nose-to-the-grindstone kid. I slacked off as much as anybody looking for shortcuts while procrastinating all along the way. But when it came to producing something creative, my brain entered a difference gear. It was completely unintentional. It’s like some auto-pilot feature kicked in that said, “Let’s make this as good as it can be.” And rarely was I tethered to anybody who felt the same way. It was true then. It’s been true ever since.

That’s why I started aiming at only helping high-performers some years ago. After serving people who had that “it’s good enough” mentality I quit. I quit trying to help them. It was too frustrating. Besides, they didn’t accept the challenge to be better.

Try to help a business owner improve his marketing and pricing, things that will drop to the bottom line quickly. Demonstrate that his pricing is more than 25% lower than he can easily get if he’ll only ask. Do that by making sales at the higher rate. Do it again. And again. And fight him every inch of the way to elevate his customer service so he can continue to raise his prices. Battle him so long you’re exhausted pushing water up a hill (my metaphor for futility) and you’ll have some idea of my frustration.

Work with a business owner on reaching new heights of success by challenging how things have always been done. Challenge to think about what might be possible. Not guaranteed, but maybe (just maybe) possible. Then fight to help her see what could be only to realize she won’t, or can’t.

For me, there’s always a bigger hill worth taking. And ways to take it better. The excitement, fun and exhilaration come in pushing to see if we can’t do this better. And not just better than anybody else, but far better! I remember challenging grade school classmates that somebody is going to produce the best-decorated door in school (maybe there was a contest, I don’t remember because that didn’t much matter to me – my success was never reliant on somebody else’s approval)…it may as well be US.

I’m not a good partner for very many. Not when it comes to getting something done. I know that about myself. I’ve always known that. This has nothing to do with teamwork. Teamwork excites me. Challenging willing people to achieve something together that none of us could alone is a magical experience. However, the driftwood (low performers) on a team frustrates me because I know the damage inflicted on the rest of us. That drove me to pursue leadership in business where I could better serve those of us driven to do our best. I craved being the boss for that very reason. Thankfully, early in my career I got the chance and was able to prove to myself that putting a focus on helping high-performers worked. It always worked. And getting low-performers off the roster as quickly as possible, that always worked. Always.

That context isn’t the same as being tied to a person, or maybe two, who just don’t care as much as you do. Or being tied to people who aren’t as capable. Two major factors bubbled up over time: capability and caring. Sometimes I found myself shackled to some idiot who just couldn’t do it. Worse yet, was being tied to somebody who could do it, but didn’t care enough to. Either way, the outcome was awful. As a boss with employees, I was constantly working to determine which is it? If it’s capacity, can I do something to improve that? If YES, then what can I do and how much am I’m willing to do? If NO, then the game is over. If they don’t care, I used to spend time attempting to persuade people to care, but I soon gave up that pursuit because I was never able to figure out how I could do that. I respected everybody’s ability to decide for themselves, but it didn’t mean I had to have them on my roster. So I hit the eject button hoping they might find a team where they could care. Where they could perform better.

Partnerships are different animals. They’re more mutual. More equal. Even if there’s some authority hierarchy they just feel and behave differently because they’re more intimate. A marriage partnership is the most intimate of them. A business partnership is a different kind of intimacy, but for some (I don’t condone this) it’s even more important than a marriage.

I’ve been married to one girl since 1978. We first dated when we were 18 and since then there’s never been anybody else. For either of us. I’m not a perfect husband. She’s not a perfect wife. We’re good for each other though. Sometimes we even have brief moments of being great for one another. There are many mistakes we can make as mates to ruin or wreck our marriage partnerships. Most of us married folk could make more than a handful before lunch!

Here are five mistakes that have made – and currently make – people bad partners for me and ways to avoid them. Hint: the best way to avoid them is to avoid people prone to making these mistakes, but sometimes we don’t know that until we experience it. An ounce of prevention and all that!

First, thinking only or mostly about yourself is a mistake. 

Don’t consider the other person. Be wrapped up in what you most want. Take square aim at getting only what you need from the partnership. All the other mistakes are some form of this first big mistake.

Focus on what the others in the partnership can do for you. Impose on them. Don’t be considerate of their time or effort. And never, ever think about yourself as any of those things – imposing or inconsiderate.

Avoiding this “mistake” isn’t easy because self-centered people mostly aren’t able (or willing) to think about others. Selfishness is their way of life, but to them, it’s not selfishness. Many of them think they’re quite compassionate and altruistic. Perhaps our first mistake should be delusion, not self-centeredness. 😉

Second, being a poor listener is a partnership mistake.

My lengthy preamble demonstrates a fundamental weakness I have. Paying attention isn’t tough for me. Don’t get me wrong – I can be distracted. Mostly, I can be preoccupied, which causes me to not be as present sometimes. When I’m in a conversation 1:1 in a partnership setting though…I mostly am able to be in the moment and pay close attention. Tone. Words. Body language. Meaning. I’m watching closely so I can understand. If I’m not sure about my understanding, I’m going to ask questions until I do.

When I struggle to listen:

a. The conversation is unimportant (small talk)
b. The person is uninteresting
c. The person is verbose, filled with extraneous details
d. The person is evasive, not open and putting on a front
e. When I don’t care

The partnership can be important, but the conversation may not be. That’s hard for me.

Cues matter. Avoid cues by neglecting to listen and it’ll demonstrate you don’t care about your partner.

The best way to avoid this is to care about your partner and the partnership. Care enough to pay attention.

Third, ignore your partner’s frustrations (or preferences). That’s a mistake.

We all express displeasure. Sometimes we do it with precision, but mostly we do it more subtly. I’m direct. Not blunt (usually), but direct. I view communication as a relay racer carrying the baton. I want to make sure when I hand off the baton that it’s securely in possession of the person with whom I’m communicating. It’s my responsibility to make sure they get it.

Recently I outlined a three-step process to fix a problem a “partner” and I were experiencing. We discussed it. I wrote it down and shared it. It was acknowledged, but ignored. Frustration ensued. Honestly, it’s a result of the other mistakes I’ve listed, too. And if it weren’t for some other positives that outweigh the behavior that drives me crazy, I’d split. But I stick with it hoping I can influence some growth and improvement. I’m hard-headed like that.

Remedy: acknowledge your partner’s preferences or frustrations. But more importantly, demonstrate that you care enough to do something about them, to whatever degree you can.

For example, after almost 47 years of marriage, my wife and I have a pretty good idea about what frustrates us and our preferences. I love fried catfish and fried okra. She doesn’t much care for either one. I’m mindful of that and seldom suggest dining at a place that offers no alternatives. I don’t want her to choke down something she doesn’t enjoy. A better solution is to find someplace where we can both be satisfied.

We could consider numerous behaviors that wreck partnerships. There are likely hundreds of nuanced behaviors, but it seems to me they all stem from one issue, pride. Self.

During his recruitment of the men who became His Apostles, the Lord admonished them, “Deny yourself. Take up your cross (of self-denial) and follow me.”

Stand up for yourself in partnerships or you’ll get completely run over. People will take over your idea, lower or change your standards, and make your life miserable if you let them. Not because they’re bad people, but because they care more about themselves than you. And while you certainly must care about yourself and your goals, you can still consider and defer to others in the process. Acquiescing to others isn’t a 100% of the time thing.

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It starts with an innocuous request, but you notice it’s not a request as much as information — or a subtle command. The person on the other end of the phone is telling you what they’re going to do. The problem is that it involves having you do something for them. Something you never agreed to, and something that is an imposition. Worse yet, it’s not a close family member. We’re mostly ready, willing, and sometimes able to serve our immediate family members with requests that seem otherwise loaded with gall. 😉

Not so this time. This is a friend. I use that term very loosely. The friend is just calling to inform you of what you’ll be doing for them because they need it and expect it. No questions are asked. No consent is offered on your part because it’s just not necessary. This “friend” has called with 100% expectation that you’ll meet their need.

There’s not the obligatory, “Would you…?” or “Could you…?” They don’t even ask how you’re doing, or if you’re up to your ears in your issues. The tone in their voice tells you that they know you have nothing going on nearly as important as what they’ve got going on.

Or, it’s the person who invariably calls you with instant ramblings of something only within seconds (or a few minutes at most) of telling you they need to go because they’ve: a) got another incoming call, b) got another call they need to make or c) got something pressing they must do. Translation: I called you because it was important for me to tell you this thing (which is NEVER important at all, or even substantial)…but now that I’ve told you, I have no further need for you.

In recent months several close friends lament how often they get such calls. I listen intently to these stories, growing increasingly shocked at the audacity people display toward “friends.” Each time I’ve repeated one story that happened to me over 20 years ago when a “toxic” friend asked me to do something professionally for him. I was home nursing fever and nausea at the time, but I got out of bed, dressed up, and attended a business meeting to help him out. I’ll spare you the details except to tell you it was the last time I ever did anything for him. Instead, a few months later I made up my mind to rid myself of as many of the toxic people in my life as possible. He was first on the list.

All take, no give – that’s the best phrase I know of to describe toxic people who are always imposing on you without any regard for what may be happening in your life. And while I’m happily telling you that you should learn to say, “NO!” to them so you can say “Yes!” to better people – that’s not the point of today’s show. But it could be. People matter. Good people matter to help us. Bad people matter because they damage us. That makes it urgent for us to figure out when to say no so we can say yes.

But I’m thinking more about creative endeavors. Particularly, podcasts and content (whether it’s writing, audio or video). I’m thinking of the YES that first requires a NO. Mostly, I’m thinking about my consumption and creation. On one hand, I’m the audience. On another, I’m the creator. So what’s the difference? And how does saying NO so we can say YES play into it all?

Let’s try to figure it out.

I’m asking for a favor that I hope is NOT an imposition. Email me your feedback about this podcast to RandyCantrell [at] gmail [dot] com

I want to make Leaning Toward Wisdom more impactful – more meaningful – for YOU. I don’t quite know how to best do that, but I have a high degree of willingness. 

Mostly, I want to say NO to whatever devalues this podcast for you so I can say YES to whatever might make Leaning Toward Wisdom serve you better!

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Well, it’s not true that how you do anything is how you do everything, but still I’m rather fond of the concept because it works. For instance, do you step over things that need to be picked up? I don’t mean snotty tissues or other debris that might be a campground for all kinds of filth. Say you’re out walking on a trail and you see a discarded soda can. Do you pick it up or leave it? Some would pick it up and others wouldn’t. There’s also a 3rd group – those who don’t see it. Or don’t care.

People who notice seem to always notice.

People who pick up things seem always to pick up things.

People who don’t pick up something seem never to pick up things.

I’ve found this to be mostly — true.

I pick things up. But not every time. Some nasty-looking tissue is likely going to remain as I walk past it. The place matters, too. If I’m on a busy sidewalk I won’t pick up a gum wrapper, much less a snotty tissue. In that context, I’m not likely going to stop to pick up anything other than something valuable or something a person may have dropped. Still, how you do anything tends to be how you do everything. But that’s not as powerful a phrase.

Social media (mostly) has taught me I have a horrible deficiency. Okay, it’s taught me I have many horrible deficiencies with this one included – I don’t foster controversy. I’m not polarizing. Absolutes are powerful because they’re polarizing and that gets attention. I don’t clamor for or yearn for attention. Yes, I want the attention of some to listen to this podcast – and the other podcasts I produce. Yes, I want people to read, or at least scroll through, things I write. Yes, I want people to gain something from the sermons I preach and all the other content I produce – which means first, they have to pay some attention. For me, the context is always the message though. The thought. The question. Provoking thought in hopes our thoughts will drive us to change, grow, and improve. For the past few decades, I’ve been fixated on improving my ability to figure things out and finding ways to help others do the same.

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Bariatric surgeries have exploded (that might not be the proper verb) in recent years. Part of the reason is the improved technologies to make it “minimally invasive,” but I think it’s primarily because people want a fast, easy fix. And now add a new found popularity of drugs like Ozempic ® making weight-loss even easier.

Everybody wants fast and easy. Nobody prefers slow and hard. But there are some things where slow and hard provide a value not found in fast and easy.

After a round of NFL playoffs games as the 2023/2024 season was winding down I heard a coach say something I’ve heard before, but something I hadn’t heard in awhile. He remarked that great football teams do the hard things really well. For months I’ve thought about it even though I instantly knew he was right. There’s beauty and wisdom in the struggle. Never mind that we don’t always enjoy it. It benefits us.

There’s that old tale of a man watching a caterpillar struggle to escape its cocoon. Figuring he’d make it easier for the butterfly to emerge he got a pair of scissors and snipped parts of the cocoon. Minutes later some creature not even resembling a butterfly escaped the cocoon. Turns out by making it easy he had ruined any chance for the caterpillar to enter a phase of being a butterfly. The struggle required to wriggle out of the cocoon forced life into the wings. No struggle, no wings. No wings, no butterfly life.

It’s a good reminder of the value of our own struggles. Even if, in the moment, we can’t quite see the future benefit.

In Thy Paths

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More specifically maybe…false assumptions about my (our) retirement…

1. That you must have at least a million dollars to retire.
2. That you really need three million dollars to retire with security.
3. That you should delay collecting Social Security until at least 65, and preferably until 70.
4. That you should travel.
5. That you should do all the things you’ve always wanted to do, but never got around to.
6. That you’ll struggle with a sense of purpose.
7. That you may struggle with boredom if you’re not careful.
8. That it will cost you much more than you figured.
9. That it’s important to have (and pursue) a bucket list.
10. That you’ll have much more leisure time.

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