Micromanagement vs Emotional Intelligence

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If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of a micromanager (mM), then you probably know just how frustrating and demotivating it can be. The mM blithely delegates tasks and then follows up on them in painstaking detail, seemingly never quite satisfied with the outcomes. Indeed, their responses imply regret at having delegated the tasks in the first place.

The perceived lack of trust that piggybacks on this style of management invariably results in loss of productivity and generalised workplace dissatisfaction. Oddly enough, as often as not, the mM seems not to realise what they’re doing – or the impact they’re having.

This is where I confess that I’m something of a control freak (!). I like having things around me organised, straightforward and on track – and preferably done my way. I don’t enjoy having things random and disorganised – at home or in the work place. It’s a thing.

On the upside, my EQ has developed sufficiently with time for me to self-manage this personality ‘feature’ reasonably well. I’ve come to accept that even if I have a preferred way for a task to be accomplished, once I’ve allocated the task to someone else, whether at home or at work, then I need to step away from the process and let things take their course.

Sometimes things don’t pan out the way I’d hoped – but, in general, most things work out most times. Tasks are conquered, the responsible parties achieve job satisfaction and I haven’t had to do whatever it was that needed doing. Communication and pragmatism are key elements.

An example of this was when I suggested handing the catering arrangements for Christmas lunch over to DaughterDearest, BoyChilde and their partners a couple of years ago. To my surprise they agreed with a fair amount of enthusiasm. Time passed… Then, about a month before Christmas, just when I was starting to have some doubts, they let me know they’d scheduled a get together to plan the menu and to allocate tasks.

In due course I was presented with a shopping list (my agreed contribution to the process) and informed that everything was on track and that I should just sit back and let it happen. So I did.

On Xmas Day, I armed myself with a good book, settled down in a hammock next to the pool and left them to it. I admit that at some level I was itching to get in there and be involved, but it was their gig – so I kept out of it. Their collaboration produced a fabulous spread for 20 people – and they’re now officially in the catering chair for Christmas events. A win all round.

In a work situation, things are sometimes less straightforward. Perhaps it’s the lack of hammocks, but micromanagement is ubiquitous in the work place and can wreak havoc. Poor communication results in task lists getting longer rather than shorter, promoting a perception of worker incompetence. The mM often exacerbates this by stonewalling, subtly or overtly withholding resources and information to a degree that can make workdays frustrating for individual staff members and for the team as a whole. Overall it hampers productivity and increases staff stress levels as people fell unable to do their job effectively. These frustrations often mount when micromanagement escalates to loosely disguised bullying.

It occurs to me that this style of management may be based on fear. Perhaps the manager fears a loss of control and associated status?

From the subordinate’s point of view it really doesn’t matter. Finding any sort of rationale for the negative behaviour is well nigh impossible, reminiscent of trying to wade through marshmallow – messy and unsatisfying.

Industry advice suggests prioritising tasks, devising request lists, scheduling meetings and setting limits on direct contact hours. And all these work-arounds can help to off set the impact of the micromanager to some degree. But they can also result in an escalation in all the existing passive-aggressive behaviours, along with a few new ones for good measure. To stay ‘in control’ the micromanager may well start to actively interfere, send prescriptive text messages and introduce delaying tactics of various sorts.

The quandary for the micromanaged often comes down to trying to figure out how to resolve the situation with the least damage to all concerned. As it seldom self corrects, grievance complaints, mediation and even staff losses are not uncommon.

Perhaps management training should include a greater emphasis on the difference between ‘managing’ and ‘micromanaging.’ Or perhaps some sessions on how to improve your EQ might do the trick.

Forgetting to remember

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What is it that makes us who we are?

It’s often argued that the self is socially constructed, developed through the interconnectedness of the various aspects of the society in which we function. More specifically, the self could be seen as a complicated jigsaw puzzle of how we’re parented, our schooling, our social interaction with family and friends, and all our other life experiences.

But what happens if pieces of the puzzle that’s been created start to disappear? Are we still ourselves if we forget some of the bits that make us who we are?

What’s brought this to mind is my dear friend Mil. For a while she’s been getting more and more forgetful. But until fairly recently she just found it an inconvenience, something that could be considered an inevitable consequence of ageing. It was mostly variations on a theme of oh-dear-where-have-I put-xxx and not a cause for undue concern, she thought, considering that we all do that sort of thing sometimes.

Then suddenly great big gaps in her memory started to appear, seemingly overnight. The gaps seem random – her birthday party a couple of months ago, visitors from overseas last year, a tragic death in the family a few years before that, her youngest son and his family coming to stay last Xmas and a number of short-term gaps as well. Most worrying is that, despite visits to the hospital, consulting a neurologist and all manner of tests and scans, there appears to be no specific or discernible reason for it.  So there’s no clear diagnosis, just a great deal of confusion and worry.

Talking to her, I’ve realised that Mil feels as though she could wake up on any given morning and another little chunk of what makes her herself might be gone. Another memory – big or small – could have disappeared and, until told otherwise by family or friends, it will be as though the event never happened.

More frightening than the actual memory loss, she says, is the randomness of it all. For someone accustomed to being in control of her life, to planning events and taking an active interest in the world around her, who values logic very highly, this is a very scary place for Mil to find herself.

No matter how much I think about the situation or read up on memory loss, I find that I end up with more questions than answers. What does one do when events, days and years start to fizzle and disappear?

Standard advice seems to be to plan ahead once a diagnosis is obtained. This includes legal, financial and health planning. But the path to diagnosis, to discovering choices and to possible treatment seems to take so very long.

Starting to keep a journal seems to have helped. Mil’s found that simply making a note of things as they happen or writing down how she’s feeling on any given day provides her with reference points. When she pages back, even if she’s forgotten the events, she feels she can trust the words on the pages. She can see that she’s written them, even if she can’t remember having done so, and that distinction makes a big difference to her.

I find that this puts my years of intermittent journaling into a new perspective for me. Perhaps I’ve always been writing for a future me, providing myself with trustworthy breadcrumbs back to a past I’ll very possibly forget one day.

Perhaps it’s something we could all consider doing. That, and making sure that every year we have is as good a year as we can make it.

Finding my think

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Being super busy wasn’t the plan. It just sort of evolved that way, sneaking up on me with each new commitment I’ve added to the existing glom. But trying to fit all the things and all the people in all the time has gradually resulted in days being largely indistinguishable from one another in the flurry of work / life / dog-wrangling, etc.

In the past, periods of self-inflicted busyness of this sort ended up with my best creative work being done in the wee smalls… those times when the rest of household is generally asleep. But this has fallen by the wayside over the past months, largely because I’ve simply been too knackered for many 4am gigs. Those I have managed haven’t been unduly successful, since one or both pups usually decides they’re sooo lonely (aka needing attention) and hunt down some quality lap-time. At my desk. In front of my computer. Cute, but not productive.

Lately this means creativity’s been reduced to what I make for dinner and/or how much (practical) productive activity I can manage to magically squeeze into my complicated work/life arrangements. Not ideal, but – eh – life.

Then, this week, I spent a day doing data entry down the coast. Although it’s not my usual day job, the morning started off pretty much the same as any other: puppy chaos, a wild scramble to be ready on time and a hasty goodbye kiss at the door. Then I headed  out to brave the back-to-school early morning traffic.

When I reached the first set of traffic lights, I leaned over to press play on my audio book. Shock-horror-gasp! I’d managed to leave my beloved travel companion behind. Rats! And I was so ready for next chapters in The Rivers of London saga by Ben Aaronovitch. Without Kobna Holbrook-Smith to keep me company on my drive, the day suddenly felt drab.

Even so, I prefer silence to morning radio and I resigned myself to letting the parts of my brain that would otherwise be listening to the adventures of Police Constable Peter Grant do as they wished. And what they did was notice things.

I found I was looking around, observing, categorising… and ideas were popping up. This was familiar ground. A few years ago this was my standard route to work. I’d drive to the coast in early morning traffic contemplating something I’d seen or heard, putting it together with other mental notes and turning them into new puzzle pieces to niggle at. In point of fact, I used to do this whenever I drove anywhere on my own. More often than not,  the puzzle pieces would shape themselves into blogposts, writing projects, outings and social events, craft craziness and so on.

This brought Murdoch University’s new Free Your Think advertising campaign to mind. The catch phrase in the ad (free  your think) shapes think as a noun, rather than a verb, and it occurred to me that my (creative) think has actually been, if not imprisoned, at least hibernating somewhere for far too long – and definitely needed freeing.

No wonder I’ve felt as though I’m flailing around in a fog… my think was trying to find its way out into the light of day!

By the time I reached my destination, we (my think and I) were well on the way to getting reacquainted. We’d given each other the once over, received tentative nods of recognition, spent some time reminiscing and even elicited promises to to get together again soon.

So: hello Think – I didn’t know it, but I missed you. You’re formally invited back and your place at the table is assured. Turn up whenever you’re ready. I’ll be here.

Winter warmer

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With Himself off in foreign climes for the past few weeks, life has been interesting in a number of ways. It’s also been random and chaotic, so cooking just for myself has seemed like an unnecessary add-on to already overly busy days. To ensure I do actually eat, I came up with a cunning plan: pressure cooker soup. Each weekend I’ve cobbled together some or other variety of soupy-goodness, popped it in the fridge and then consumed it over the following week. I’ve had chicken and barley, mixed vegetable and, last week, pumpkin. All quick, easy, nutritious and very satisfying to come home to. Win all round.

So when I saw that Chef Dale Sniffen was running a pressure cooker workshop last week, I immediately signed up in the hopes of some inspiration for other quick and easy options. As it turned out, the vehicle he chose to showcase pressure cookers was… pumpkin soup, which was quite amusing.

Admittedly there’s not a whole lot of technique to pumpkin soup. It’s one of those things that pretty much anyone can make. But we were treated to an entertaining couple of hours of his company and a wealth of cooking tips while Dale first made pure bone chicken stock, then used that to make his soup. Although the soup itself only took six minutes in the pressure cooker, the process of getting it to that point was all high theatre.

First came the caramelizing of the onions, with appropriate audience appreciation of colour and aroma. Then the adding of tomato paste and the slow simmer to bring out the intense tomato flavour in that before adding the ginger, nutmeg and bay leaf. More audience participation. Dale then deglazed the pan with the ‘richly aromatic and flavourful’ pure bone chicken stock. This achieved it was – finally – time to add the coarsely chopped pumpkin and potato, bring it all to the boil, attach the lid and wait for it to get up to pressure.

Six minutes later Dale ran cold water over the pressure cooker to achieve a fast pressure release, blitzed contents with a stick blender, stirred in some chopped butter, salt and (white) pepper – and we finally got to taste the result. He plated up his creation, garnished it with sour cream and sesame seeds, then served it with pieces freshly made flat bread – which was exceptionally good: soft yet crunchy, slightly salty and a perfect accompaniment to the soup.

I’ll definitely make the flat bread next time I make pumpkin soup, but I think I’ll stick to my tried-and-tested version, adapted from a recipe I found in 2008 (according to the notes I’ve scribbbled on it). Like Dale’s it can be made in a pressure cooker or in a conventional saucepan (which just takes longer). But it’s significantly simpler – which works for me. Let me know if you try either/both of the recipes – I’d be interested in some feedback.

Nik’s Thai Style Pumpkin Soup


What you need: 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
, 2 medium brown onions (peeled and coarsely chopped
), 2 cloves of garlic (diced), 
2cm fresh ginger (peeled and sliced), 2 tablespoons red Thai curry paste (I’ve used green, but prefer the red)
, 1 large butternut pumpkin (washed, de-seeded and roughly chopped – don’t bother to peel it), 2 litres of chicken or vegetable stock (pure bone stock probably is best, but a couple of stock cubes and some water works fine), 1 packet dried coconut milk, reconstituted with water (or a 400ml can, if you prefer – but the dried stuff is a terrific pantry standby), juice of 1 lime (use lemon if you don’t have a lime to hand).

To make the soup: Heat a tablespoon of oil in your pressure cooker, then add the onions, garlic, ginger and curry paste. Cook, stirring gently over a low heat for about five minutes to release the flavours. 
Add the pumpkin chunks. Stir well, then add up to 2 litres of the stock – depending on pumpkin size (You want your pressure cooker at least 1/3 full and no more than 2/3 full). 
Stir well and bring the mix to the boil, then put the lid on the pressure cooker and let it come up to full pressure. At this point it’s important to reduce the temperature to low, then leave the pot at pressure for about six minutes.
 I usually just turn the heat off after this and leave the pressure to come down all by itself, but you can release the pressure more rapidly if you’re in a hurry by placing the pressure cooker in the kitchen sink and running cold water over the top of it. Once the lid’s off, blitz the soup to smooth paste, then return pot to the stove (no lid) and add the coconut milk and lime juice.
 Garnish with chopped fresh coriander when you serve it, along with a dollop of plain yoghurt, but as often as not I don’t actually bother. The soup is tasty as is.

Dale’s (delicious) Plain Flour Flatbreads

What you need: 500g (strong) plain flour (i.e. high in protein), 310ml water (weird amount, I know, but there you go), 7g active dry yeast, 2 teaspoons sugar, 1 teaspoon salt, 4 tablespoons olive oil, black peppercorns & some fresh rosemary leaves.

To make the bread: Place everything except the spices in the bowl of your electric mixer and, using the dough hook on low speed, mix for about 30 minutes. The dough should be soft but not too sticky. Cover and leave to rise overnight then turn the dough out, add the spices and knead until smooth. Divide into 6 equal portions and roll these each of these out into a (more or less) 15cm square shape, then pull and turn each one with your – shaping each one into something that resembles a (small) pizza base, less than 1cm thick. Melt about 100g of chopped butter and set this aside. Pop your frying pan on the stove and heat enough olive oil to just coast the bottom, then add your first flat bread. Cook for about 1- 2 minutes, until it starts to bubble up, then flip over to cook the other side – this doesn’t take very long. While side two is cooking, brush melted butter on side one (the cooked side) and sprinkle that liberally with freshly ground sea salt. Stack the cooked flatbreads until they’re all done, then slice into triangles and serve with your hot pumpkin soup.

NOTE 1: If you’re cooking for one, just cook one of the flatbreads and pop the other five rounds in the fridge or freezer for another day. Or cook them all, eat as many as make you happy and save the rest for the next time 🙂

NOTE 2: You can actually use any (unpeeled) pumpkin you like – butternut happens to be my preference.

NOTE 2: To make Naan, simply replace the water in the bread recipe with plain yoghurt.

Pen Pal Post

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Since I’ve rather cleverly managed to end up with several part-time jobs (all at the same time), pups that need vets, walking and endless cuddling, and in-laws to keep an (active) eye on, normal things like grocery shopping, visits to the GPO for stamps, going to the gym, cooking and socialising have all taken a back seat for the moment. Pretty lame excuses, I know, dear Pen Pal, but there it is. So, until I have a little more free time, a quick-fix postcard to keep you going. Enjoy. Perhaps I’ll make the next one a recipe card – that’s almost like cooking, right?