The Listenary

Tom came in to the print shop that morning with a suggestion for a minor repositioning of workstations for better paper flow. He said the idea presented itself to him on waking after having left work and gone to bed the day before somewhat frustrated with his job.


Susan was at the folder when Tom came in, working on some fine adjustments. She remembered how Tom had seemed distant when he left last evening, and she didn’t want any confrontations today with a big job due out the door tomorrow morning. When Tom approached her, she told him she was too busy to listen right now and she used a tone of voice to let him know she meant it.


Tom went to his workstation, adjusted equipment, and began his top priority jobs. His stomach twisted itself into a knot and stopped digesting his donut. The muscles in his back tightened up so that, as he walked about lifting boxes of paper, he was a back injury waiting to happen. He found the note he had made to himself to mention to Susan the couple hundred copies of that corporate annual report that had a blemish on the CEO’s picture. Then he remembered she’d been out to training two days last week and when she’d come back she didn’t have time to hear about his noted items. Tom made excuses for her. She was brilliant and worked very hard, he told himself. He would try to make do. He did decide to send her an E-mail memo about the blemishes on the CEO’s picture.


About 11:00, Susan walked up to Tom furious at not knowing about the blemishes before that job was delivered. She was also furious at the tone of his E-mail which she labeled “testy.”


Tom tried to explain why it happened that way. He was quite frustrated, and his voice wouldn’t keep its usual even tone.

Susan began to accuse Tom of sloppy work, and being too proud to admit mistakes, and not caring at all about the other persons of the team.


Tom finally gave up trying to explain. He settled into his workstation as if he had reached up and drawn a curtain around his space. Susan huffed away.


Co-workers came by and glanced at Tom and knew not to speak. They whispered to each other over their lunches. That afternoon and the next day people lined up their sympathies, some for Tom, some on Susan’s side. Jokes carried barbs. Job instructions felt like threats.


Then Susan called a meeting. “We will have better teamwork,” she said. “You must learn to communicate,” she said. “I will not put up with this atmosphere of hostility,” she announced.


A week later she was in my office. Her stress level had skyrocketed. She wasn’t sleeping well or eating well. Her children and husband said she was acting “bitchy.”


What’s wrong with this picture?