I’m Different Than You. Except When I’m Not

As I returned to my seat at the restaurant, I saw him. Really, what I saw was his jacket. Then I saw the man. An older man. Older than me, anyway. Sitting by himself. Looking like any other old man sitting at a restaurant for lunch. The jacket? Not just any jacket. A Boston Marathon jacket. Without a thought, I redirected my path to go talk to a stranger. I never do that. Yet I recognized that we shared something in common--I was Boston 2005--and the jacket was all the invitation I needed. 

I greeted him like an old friend, asking him first if that was this year’s jacket (to which he said it was) and then about the race weather (to which he responded, “Perfect”). We chatted for only a moment more and from that I learned he was running the Detroit marathon in two days, it was his first time in Detroit, and he was from South Africa.  

How odd. This guy from another part of the world was in town for just a few days and yet we were the same, in one small but significant way. He is part of my group; and I of his. We shared a common experience and perspective. Maybe only just this one. But we shared it nonetheless.

More than a few years ago I visited Shanghai, China. It was my first trip to our company’s newly opened China office. My first trip to China, in fact. As I sat for dinner with our office director, Chao, and newly hired analyst, Hui, our conversation stumbled through their halting, yet competent English and my non-existent Chinese. I grimaced when the waiter brought our fish to inspect for dinner (head and tail and all) and I spoke slowly and without American euphemisms as best I could. Still the conversation was clumsy at best; undecipherable at worst. At one point, as the awkward chat transitioned in and out of silence, Chao mentioned that Hui was getting married soon. I gave a cautious smile; Hui the same. Sensing an opportunity, but not knowing anything about Chinese wedding planning, I asked her the simplest question I could. “Oh,” I said. “How is the wedding planning?” 

Hui rolled her eyes, and replied, without pause, “Oh… my mother-in-law.”

And there you had it. Two cultures, two counties, and the expectation of widely different perspectives—on everything. And yet I heard the common refrain from the daughter-in-law, bride-to-be. It was as recognizable as the Boston jacket in Detroit. We can be different yet the same in so many ways.

It is often easier to point out differences, isn’t it? Differences of opinion, culture, gender. Experience and research has taught us that understanding different perspectives--respecting that we are different people--is a key to empathy and a means to building honest relationships. Yet when focusing only on what makes us different, we miss an opportunity to acknowledge what makes us common: our shared cause(s). 

We are all part of a tribe. Many tribes, in fact. I’m a runner, a Spartan, a father. Different in many ways from you; the same in some that we don’t even know. And this is why understanding what we share--our purpose; our missions; our goals—should be central to any relationship.

What we have in common can be a powerful, path-setting antidote for dysfunctional teams and relationships. A known common purpose can be the North Star that pushes a group toward success--or at least sets a pathway guided by the familiar. Maybe something as simple as a jacket. 

Notes:

Congrats to all the Detroit Free Press Marathon starters and finishers

Find more insights on the Forty-Two Consulting “Thinking Out Loud” blog