Solving Problems vs. Making a Difference

I recently had the chance to interview the physician of the year at our hospital. His interview came after talking to several colleagues and team members. Their comments featured consistent praise of his expertise, work ethic and leadership. They said things to the effect of "I don't know when he sleeps. He does all his work at a high level and still finds time to personally connect with everyone else and help them with what they need."

Talk about an inspirational leader. When we had the award recipient in the interview chair it seemed only natural to delve into this legendary drive and work ethic. After getting through the bulk of my interview questions I finally felt like it was appropriate to ask a self-indulgent question.

"How do manage to do everything you do?"

The answer started out in the gracious and magnanimous way you would expect from a high achiever. There was reference to family inspiration and a genetic disposition to working hard. He also acknowledged that his work/life balance might not match the average worker's ideal. But it was a little comment at the end that stuck with me.

"I think early in my career I focused a lot on trying to heal people, turn sickness to heath, and was frustrated. Now I focus more on creating positive interactions and view those experiences as successes."

As someone nearly void of any ability to heal a patient my overactive mind raced to understand what I had just heard. Hours later the best analogy I've been able to come with is the idea that this physician has stopped measuring success and fulfillment by problems solved and now focuses on positive experiences and interactions. 

Talk about terms I can relate to! It seems like everything about my job is problem solving. People come to me because they need to make groups of people do something they won't do unless I tell them. In this business these are called "calls to action," and they're generally presented to me with very specific (and often time or budget intensive) delivery tactics. As a creative, this is agony. On my worst attitude days it reduces me to a functionary. I try to give people exactly what they want as quickly as possible so they'll leave me alone and I can go back to my personal priorities and passions for our organization. The problem with this strategy is there's a line around the block of other people with other problems that can only be solved with my excruciatingly specific actions.

Another way of comparing the difference is task vs. purpose. Tasks are the actual things you do and functions you perform. Purpose is the big picture goal, philosophy or experience you advocate for.

In my own work I've recently started to shift the needle this direction. I've started to push back more, to ask questions to better understand how requested tasks relate to big picture strategies. I recently went to work on my email inbox and responded to over 50 long unread messages (I mark messages as unread if I haven't followed up on them yet). In many cases my responses were more about what I couldn't do with relation to specific tasks. It was a lightbulb moment for me when I realized that a timely "no" is more valuable than a delayed "no" or no response at all. No is not a failure. It's an opportunity to try something different.

But there's still one part I don't understand. The problems don't just go away. Is being liked more important than being good? Is making people feel good more important than giving them what they want or need? Does making people happy magically make all their problems go away?

Maybe it's like the world-renowned tagline from the cinematic epic Bad Golf Made Easier. "I don't play golf to feel bad. I feel bad golf, but I feel good." The difference is, the PGA doesn't hand out checks based on who had the most fun each week, and the most manic worker will still get a pink slip if they don't perform.

So where does the balance come? Task and purpose don't (and shouldn't) be mutually exclusive. But how do positive interactions correlate to the bottom line?

Sometimes a lack of wisdom is frustrating. It feels like I'm just supposed to happily fail or flounder long enough and that will somehow transform into success eventually.