Building bridges over troubled water

For the first, don't get me wrong, I don't mean that in a malicious sense. I'm not that kind of gal. But I am the kind of gal who has come to see the absolute truth in the approach.

I once worked for a small firm, eventually becoming part of the furniture. Over the final months, several events catalysed my resignation. At a social function, my boss humiliated me in front of my colleagues. It completely changed my opinion of him — what I once thought was fascinating intellect became base childishness. But the straw to my camel's back was when he publicly berated me for a mistake he had made. I was furious and resigned that day. Like any old chair, I was tired of being kicked around.

In my exit interview, I controlled my anger and depersonalised my resignation, explaining that, “I need a new challenge into the next step of my career”. To be fair, that was true, though the fact that the new challenge hadn't yet materialized was irrelevant. I left without looking back or the need to get back in touch. “Good riddance”, I thought, “I don't need you, your job or your mood swings”.

A few years later, I needed a reference from him. My only option was to make the call, so I sent a tentative email asking to meet and he agreed. I travelled across town only to discover he'd double booked and couldn't make the appointment. Resisting my initial reaction of “What part of I'll see you at seven on Tuesday did you not understand?” I took a deep breath and rescheduled.

We later met for an early starter and quick drink in a local pub. It was amicable enough for me to tell him how angry and disappointed I'd been at his behaviour. He hadn't put the two events (his behaviour and my resignation) together. Anyway, he agreed to give me a reference and we parted on reasonably friendly terms.

Given the title of this article, names have been omitted to protect the innocent.

The point I'm making is: no matter how tempting, don't burn the bridge. You never know when you'll need to return. If I'd given in to instinct and thrown all my anger at him during my exit interview, I would have been up the creek without a reference when I most needed it.

Personal relationships are never straightforward. And working relationships even less so. Work is such an odd concept. We willingly (or not) spend eight or more hours a day surrounded by people with whom, in any other situation, we'd have nothing in common. So within this artificial environment, it's even more important to manage those relationships. Who knows when you'll need them again?

If you become known as someone who constantly throws their toys out of the cot, being over-emotional and irrational, you'll lose the credibility you've tried so hard to cultivate in your career. And what will you do if you need to pull in a favour? Years ago I had a client with whom I'd always got on well. We'd had dinner the last time he was in town and he'd called me shortly afterwards to thank me. I was in a rush, couldn't talk and was unnecessarily abrupt, almost rude. His subsequent radio silence over the years made me think I'd lost a friend and a valuable contact. When he got in touch again, I explained what had happened. He got it, understood and we're friends again. It was a real blast from the past, but above all, he offered help if I needed it on our return to South Africa.

And another thing. You never know when a damaged relationship might revive to the mutual benefit of both parties. I did some work for a client (let's call her Client A) who was inexperienced at supplier management. For some reason, the usual feedback loop hadn't worked properly and I wasn't aware that they weren't happy with a particular piece of work. The situation escalated and it looked like the end of what until then had been a productive relationship. Client A left her job and Client B stepped in. I knew and liked her and knew we had to do some bridge building, from both sides. So I met with her. She acknowledged that the situation could have been handled better. I felt vindicated and we've continued to work together. I recently received a positively glowing reference from her MD, as well as a referral to a new client - a much more influential player in the industry.

Now to Rule 2: Know everything, say nothing, and if you can't control yourself, walk away.

In a job interview, when you're asked “Why did you leave the job?”, it doesn't do you any favours to gleefully recount how your former boss and his secretary got friendly over the photocopier at the Christmas party and you resigned in a fit of moral indignation. The world is a small place. If you're in a specialist industry, it's even smaller. When you walk out of that interview room, you lose all control over what you've said. If New Boss contacts Old Boss for a reference, the only thing New Boss will remember is your indiscretion. They'll overlook your shining CV and golden testimonial. At best, they'll see a gossip; at worst, someone who can't be trusted with commercially sensitive information. Given the choice between someone they can trust and a loose talker, there's really no contest.

Apart from anything else, if you can't act with respect and dignity, others will respond accordingly. If you're having a bad day, keep schtum. Attacking your junior colleagues during a particularly bad bout of PMT will potentially come back to bite you when you turn to them for a job in the future. A friend applied for a job at a publishing house. The interview went badly — call it a clash of titan personalities — and he didn't get the job. A few years later, when my friend was hiring, he took great pleasure in writing a rejection letter to the same guy who'd interviewed him all those years before. Weirdly enough, they became friends through a different social network and they laugh about it now. But you see the point, I'm sure.

It's all about reputation - yours, mainly. It helps when you're furiously networking your way into your next job, that you won't be labelled as the hysterical, over-emotional, loose talker. No matter how funny the photocopier incident was.

Article courtesy of Unidas