The Art of Thoughtfulness

Most of the time, most people treat others only according to what is expected.

We are polite, but we're not caring. We're not rude, but we're not kind, either. We say "please" and "thank you" (maybe), but we don't show people how much we truly appreciate them.

And that's fine. We're not being rude, after all. No one expects anything more of us.

But in a world where avoiding rudeness is all that is required, a little thoughtfulness goes a long way.

• The college professor who remembers the name and one interesting fact about every student he meets - so that when they meet again, he can say, "Hello, Elizabeth! How's your little brother's baseball season going?" - is thoughtful.


• The woman who makes sure there are gluten-free foods available at her party when she invites her friend who has a gluten allergy, is thoughtful.


• The man who brings back a well-chosen souvenir from his Hawaiian vacation for his coworker who has always dreamed of going to Hawaii but has never been, is thoughtful.


• The girl who knows that her friend doesn't really care for birthday cake, and bakes her a birthday pie instead, is thoughtful.

Such acts of thoughtfulness are not required, or even expected. But they are very meaningful to the recipients.

Thoughtfulness requires a bit of extra work, and a bit of extra thinking. In particular, thoughtfulness requires that we think about the other person - what they like and dislike and need, rather than what is socially normal. It requires that we take time to listen, and to learn the people around us, and to look for ways to make their days brighter. It requires intentionality.

What would happen if marketers took the time to be thoughtful?

If we thought about what our customers need (or what we would need if we were in their shoes)? If we took time to listen to our customers and to find out their likes and dislikes? If we learned their wants, both on a collective level and on an individual level?

• Would we provide umbrella-drying racks inside our doors for rainy days?


• Would we provide hand lotion, in addition to soap, in our public restrooms, for the dry, chapped winter hands?


• Would we remember that Customer Tom's favorite band is Journey, and send him two tickets for a Journey concert near him to thank him for being a valued customer?


• Would we take note that Customer Julie tends to purchase a lot of Product X from us, and send her a coupon for a free unit of Product X on her birthday? (And a coupon for Product Y to Customer Bill, and a coupon for Product Z to Customer Myra?)

Again, these acts of thoughtfulness are not required. They are not even expected. And they require extra work, extra listening, extra thinking.

But who says that we should only do the expected? And who says that a little extra thoughtfulness isn't good for us?

We're on the Same Team

Sometimes an organization can become fragmented. Not by a corporate restructuring or a division into geographic territories or the divestment of some strategic business units. Sometimes an organization becomes fragmented by the mindsets of its employees.

Perhaps you've seen it happen. Perhaps you've been a part of it. Members of different departments (or even of different functions within the same department) begin to see themselves as being on opposing teams. Life within the organization becomes a clash of "the marketing team" versus "the finance team" versus "the technology team" versus "the R&D team" versus "the legal team."

Naturally, these departmental "teams" must have completely opposite goals and completely opposite points of view. Working with anybody from another "team" will inevitably be a hassle and a struggle. A necessary evil.

Members of the "marketing team" enter a meeting with members of the "legal team," dreading the roadblocks that these legal guys will put in the way of the marketers' terrific ideas. Members of the "finance team" walk into a meeting with the "R&D team," ready for a fight over how many budget dollars are reasonable to spend on mere "research." The meeting room is no longer a meeting room, but a battleground. A boxing match.

We forget that everyone within the organization is on the same team.

Hard as it may be to accept, or even to comprehend, our jobs were not created for the success of the marketing team, or the success of the finance team, or the success of the technology team, or the success of the R&D team, or the success of the legal team. Our jobs were created for the success of the organization. We happen to be placed within these departments according to our strengths and to the needs of the entire organization.

We are all working together for the success of the organization. (And, by the way, the organization is successful when it sustainably serves its customers best.)

If we enter a meeting with the realization that everyone in that meeting is on the same team - the "team" of the organization - how does that change the way we approach the meeting? The meeting no longer becomes a contest to see whose opinion can win out, or who can convince "the other side" to give her what she needs, or who can persuade whom to cooperate with his idea. It becomes a discovery of how WE can work together to best serve the organization and our customers.

In that process, we consider what "that department" needs from "this department" in order to do "that department's" job best, and what "this department" needs from "that department" in order to do "this department's" job best. How can each of us do his job best and serve the others in order to achieve the goals of the organization together?

And when we set our sights on achieving the goals of the organization together, the goals of our own respective departments should fall naturally into place.

Your Neighbor vs. The World

Sometimes we're so busy saving the world that we forget to help the guy next door.

This fact was brought to my mind on Saturday as I tried to do some research for this blog. I intended to gather information so that I could write my final post for last week. (I try to post every weekday; last week I had missed Friday, and needed to catch up.) And so, on two separate occasions on Saturday, I took my laptop to a quiet, studious place in order to write my belated post and start thinking about some posts for this week.

On both occasions, as I headed to my quiet spot, I encountered friends who needed my assistance - one with moving into her new apartment; one with talking through a difficult situation. This posed an interesting dilemma: do I act responsibly and complete my over-due research so that I may be faithful to my readers? or do I help my friends with their needs?

I chose to help my friends. A few years ago, I would not have done so. I hope that my readers will forgive me.

It's the old Good Samaritan story. We aspire to act like the Samaritan, who stopped to help a stranger in need. But how often are we more like the priest and the Levite who went before the Samaritan? Both of these men were so busy serving in the temple that they could not find time to serve a person who was truly in need.

Do we do this in our companies? Do we donate a large percentage of our profits to charity, but refuse to support fundraisers for the local Boy Scout troop or football boosters? Do we send volunteers to help dig wells in Africa, but forget to give time to help clean up the community park? Do we brag about how our products improve the lives of our customers, but treat our own employees with lack of respect and appreciation?

Continue to change the world. But start in your own backyard.