How feeling and intellect affect job satisfaction

As I was listening to an episode of "This American Life" today, my ears perked up to a story about a couple falling apart because the husband missed social cues, didn't listen well and in general acted very much like a stereotypical man. It seemed to be an extreme case and the wife just couldn't stand it and it was driving them apart.

Then the wife, Kristen, read a questionnaire that tested for Asperger's syndrome and noticed how closely the questions related to her husband, Dave. She had him take the test and turns out he did in fact have Asperger's and wasn't just being an insensitive man (a lot of wives are now testing their husbands with the same questionnaire). While I find the idea of women thinking their husbands have Asperger's because they follow socially accepted stereotypes that probably attracted them in the first place a bit odd, the story comes to a really interesting point.

Close to the end, after Dave has described his revelation of being diagnosed as a blessing in disguise, he starts to describe the changes he's made as a result as not truly being real. Since teaching himself the right social cues and the ability to listen, Kristen and his relationship has improved dramatically, but when asked if he really "feels" like he's doing the right thing at the right time or is truly listening, he says, "no".

He describes it less as an emotional response and more as an intellectual reaction. After studying his syndrome and understanding to cope with it, he mentally knows what to do and practices to become better at it. But, he doesn't "feel" in his gut that it's right. In a way, he's fighting his initial response and correcting for it.

Rather than get into what "normal" means in this situation and what "disorder" may imply, I want to delve into what this means in terms of our work lives.

When I got to this point of the story, I immediately thought of all the people I know who are happy doing the work they do and those that aren't. Comparing the two, I realized the ones that are happy are doing the work they "feel". What comes to them naturally. Their instinctual response towards math, history, engineering, economics, art, design, even management, gives them the ability to do the right thing at the right time (or at least what we judge to be "right" by current societal memes).

Not only do they "feel" it innately, they have also worked their intellect to understand the things they may have missed and in general to boost their knowledge of their chosen domain. They're not only "street" smart about it, they also took the time to become "book" smart.

The ones who aren't happy, or the ones who are searching for work that will make them happy, seem to be working at their jobs out of intellect, not necessarily feeling. They know how to do a job and like Dave in the story, they can react appropriately as the situation requires, but they don't necessarily "feel" that it's what they should do.

In a strict corporate atmosphere, for example, a phone call or meeting may have a very formal tone to it, with idioms and a general workflow that everyone's silently agreed upon. To some, this just comes naturally, whether through their upbringing or education or their general emotional reaction, they think this is how business should be done and do it. They're "naturals" (at a human-made game).

Others, having assimilated and studied corporate atmospheres, learn to fit in. They may not be doing this consciously, but whether it's survival instinct, peer pressure, or they haven't been introduced to any other type of work, they adapt. They sharpen their intellect to assess and understand the situation, but they don't necessarily "feel" like what they're doing is what they want to do.

That rift, between what they want and what they feel they should do, is what I believe makes them unhappy. This isn't to say they aren't good at what they do. In fact, some may be better than the "naturals". But, if they've taught themselves to react against their instinct, the charade can only go on so long before they crash under the subconscious pressure.

"Feeling" something's right and intellectually understanding its right may not matter in terms of job effectiveness, but it may in terms of job satisfaction.

Why philosophy is so hard

Ideas, especially philosophical ones, cannot exist in a vacuum. If we talked of existentialism in the 1500s, very few would understand us, and we may even be persecuted or at least set apart from society because of them. Or more simply, if someone explained gravity or electricity to someone in the 16th century, they would consider it magic and have no way of comprehending it.

Similarly, there are moments when philosophical ideas are ripe. And the explanation of those ideas cannot be clear unless the moment is also right for the one explaining the philosophy and the one listening to it. The setting is important.

This is why reading philosophy or spiritual texts seems so difficult to understand. And even when you do understand it, seems even more difficult to practice. The light bulb has to go off in the way a young math student "gets" the concept of subtraction and can then always subtract numbers from then on. In medical school, the training motto for exams and procedures is "Learn one. Do one. Teach one." In the same light, understanding Christian theology or Zen Buddhism or Nietzche's philosophy has to truly "click" before one reaches full understanding and can even remotely explain it to someone else.

The mastery of abstract concepts requires the right situation. Lots of people take philosophy, religion and theology courses so they can train that muscle in their brain that helps them understand such abstract concepts and relate them to daily life. In my opinion, the lecture setting is a terrible way to teach philosophy, but it has its strong points in using routine and constant exposure to drill (as the military does) certain muscles needed to think a certain way. These learn-ed philosophers get to that point where understanding philosophical concepts is easier for them than for others simply because they've practiced more. Like a piano player who can read the bass clef much faster than a trumpet player. They can both read music, but one has simply practiced reading the bass clef much more.

Just because you're good at reading the bass clef or doing subtraction or learning philosophy doesn't mean you're good at teaching others to do the same. When you write or talk about it, it comes from a practiced perspective and you're explaining it to someone who hasn't practiced as much as you have. They haven't made the mental connections to "get" what you're saying.

There's really only two ways of explaining it. One, you have to unravel your learning process and find the key points when that light bulb went off and summarize your learning in a way that helps others get to each of those light bulbs. The speed of getting there doesn't matter, everyone has their own pace. Your ability to convey the path of getting to those light bulbs is the only thing that matters.

The other way of explaining something, philosophy, math, music, whatever, is to create the right setting. This is essentially what we do in life. Create the right settings for people to understand us. Language is just the start. We have to be able to talk to each other. But how often does that let us truly communicate? So we have to find the right mediums; some use music, some use art, some write, some lecture, some build, and so on. Even when we have the right mediums, we have to find the right people at the right time to really get the idea across.

Let's use music as an example. I'm Beethoven and I write a beautiful piece of music that moves people from emotions of sadness to glee to brooding and explains the way I, as Beethoven, feel about love perhaps. I'm a musician so I can't talk about it, I can really only explain it through music. In a sense, if someone knew how to read music like a composer they wouldn't even have to hear it. They could read the music and feel the emotion being conveyed and understand it.

But we don't all have that experience, so the music is written for a symphony orchestra of clarinets, flutes, trumpets, violins, cellos, and a wide variety of instruments that help bring the music to life to such a point that gets the message across. Then I have to find the right theater. Some music can be explained in the open air, but that can sometimes change the message, so I can't just place my orchestra in a park and have people come listen to it. I choose a lecture hall and then realize the acoustics will echo so I have to buffer the room so sound doesn't bounce off the walls and again change the message. Then I realize the front row will have a different experience than the back row or mezzanine, so I change the angles and situate the orchestra and the speakers so the music is evenly distributed. I'm getting there!

Now I need to pick the right people. I, Beethoven, have had classical music as part of my life since childhood. To be correctly attuned to receive my message, the people who will understand the best will also have had classical music as some part of their upbringing. These probably indicates a certain level of affluence and education, so I price my tickets appropriately to narrow into the right crowd.

I want people to be attentive throughout so I require a formal dress code (which coincidentally works out with the rich crowd I've attracted). People view it as a solemn affair and are even more primed to listen for the full 2 hours. Just to make sure, I have an intermission to give them a breather and serve a little refreshment and snacks to keep them in just that mental spot for them to receive the message. Finally, I can begin to tell them how I feel!

This kind of production seems over the top, but we all do it, at dinner parties, at book clubs, at sports events, at weddings, and so on. We are constantly working on creating the right setting to explain what we really mean. Even outside of special occasions, we express the sentiment of trying to explain ourselves daily in our lives. The right food helps, drinks help, the choice of drinks help, background music helps, the right art on the wall helps, the book covers on the bookshelf help, the furniture helps, the setting of the furniture helps, the flowers in the vase help, the dishes and silverware help, the kind of clothes you wear helps. It all comes together to represent you.

As an author of this blog post, I have to write the post in a way to get you to this point where, hoping you've read and felt what I'm trying to get at, I can finally explain what I really mean. Which is...

You can't read or listen to philosophy and expect to understand it right away. It's hard to explain and it's hard to absorb simply because the setting matters so much. You have to be in the right place at the right time to "get" what's being said. It's why we watch movies and read books and go to concerts and listen to lectures. We're setting ourselves up for receiving the message and the person delivering the message is setting the table, so to say, for you to digest what they're telling you.

It's what makes us sometimes storytellers and sometimes a rapt audience. It's what life is. A production that helps us understand one another.

Believing in humanity

I always enjoy reading John Halamka's writing, from the most technical to the most personal. Below is a snippet slipped into one of his posts describing the journey him and his wife have been on since she was diagnosed with cancer. They're informative, beautiful posts that illuminate the complexity of the healthcare process.

This is an empathetic story that restores faith in the golden rule of humanity:

"When Kathy pursued the issue, noting that the 19 year old with the poor driving record was lying, the insurance company told her that without a photograph of the accident or an independent witness who was willing to verify the events, they would have to believe the 19 year old because Kathy was exiting a parking lot and that makes her at least 51% responsible. Despite Kathy's over 30 year good driving record, the insurance company representative literally ended the conversation with the statement "Life isn't fair".

That episode temporarily caused Kathy to lose her faith in humanity and gave her a sense of helplessness in a hostile world.

As with any conflict or issue, for everything there is a process.

Kathy appealed the ruling to the Massachusetts Board of Insurance and wrote an eloquent letter stating the facts.

Today the Board of Insurance ruled she was not at fault, rescinded the point on her license, and demanded that the insurance company refund/rescind the surcharge. She cried when she opened the letter. The nice guy can still finish first."

Right brains at work

Designers think differently. I'm finding that out firsthand watching people take notes at a designer conference.

Most people in the audience are using blank sketch pads with no grid lines to draw, chart and sometimes write notes. Some have their laptops open to Paint-like programs that let them digest visually.

My favorite is a brilliant sketch artist next to me drawing the face of each lecturer so well that it looks like a photo. And these are 10-minute short lectures. Underneath she includes a small snippet summarizing the core message. I'll remember the last three lectures better because of her rendering.

Having mainly been to business and healthcare operations conferences before, this is really eye-opening and also comforting.