The Gratitude Diaries by Janice Kaplan

Author:Janice Kaplan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2015-07-29T16:00:00+00:00

Dear Janice,

Thank you!!!

Sometimes he elaborated to:

Thank you for all you do!!

One of the key principles taught at a Dale Carnegie course is to give honest and sincere appreciation, and while I realized that he didn’t yet have the “honest” and “sincere” parts down, at least he was trying.

Any expression of gratitude (however awkward) is better than nothing. A young litigator I know at a Washington, DC, firm works long hours—arriving by eight A.M. most days and often not leaving until near midnight. She’s paid well, enjoys the challenge, and loves feeling that she’s at the center of important cases. But she also hankers for the Conant touch—some personal appreciation.

“My managing partner never says thank you. It would mean so much if he did,” she whispered one day when we were sitting in her office.

She’d recently argued a big court case and hoped her win might inspire some grudging gratitude from her boss. But he never said a word—just telling her she’d be on his team for the next assignment. Craving some more extravagant pat on the back, she stopped by his office later and gently pressed about how she was doing. He coldly replied, “You should know I’m satisfied. If I weren’t, you’d be gone.”

“That shut me up,” the young lawyer told me.

The law partner probably thought that withholding thanks showed his strength. I think it showed his insecurity. The too-tough-to-be-grateful pose is wrongheaded, as Adam Grant pointed out, and while executives can get away with different styles of managing, gratitude by default (If I haven’t fired you, you’re doing okay) doesn’t help anyone.

Thinking about it now, I realized that one of the most gracious thank-yous I ever got at work came from Clint Eastwood—whose tough-guy credentials go unchallenged. Shortly before his movie Flags of Our Fathers premiered, we spent a whole afternoon talking in his bungalow on the Warner Bros. lot. At the start of the visit, I mistakenly pulled into his personal parking spot. In Hollywood, taking a star’s parking space is practically a capital offense, but Clint was gracious. He came over to my car window and politely introduced himself (as if I might not know) and in a soothing voice said, “If you just pull up a little, there’ll be room for both of us.”

After that, we ambled into his bungalow together like old friends. Once we sat down, the conversation ranged in all directions, from heroism and bravery and the devastation of war (themes of the movie) to his continued need to challenge himself. At one point, as the sun streamed in the window over his craggy face, he stretched his long legs across the sofa and admitted that his fame still surprised him. “Deserve’s got nothing to do with it,” he said with a wink and a wry smile, quoting a line from his movie Unforgiven.

When I finally left, I sat down on a bench in the studio lot and called my husband.

“Gotta say, honey, much as I love you, he’s the sexiest old guy I’ve ever met,” I said.

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