One chapter explains why
“it’s better to receive than give.” Such surprising rules make Matthews’ book a
classic. “Contrary to what many people assume,” he writes, “the most effective
way to gain a person’s loyalty is not to do him or her a favor, but to let that
person do one for you.”
Take for example a college
graduate’s job search. The typical approach is well-described in another
classic, What Color Is Your Parachute?
by Richard Bolles (Ten Speed Press, 1972). The young adult makes a list of
potential employers (probably using the Internet) and sends each a confidence-flavored
resume and an assertive cover letter lightly peppered with exclamation marks. A
few more preliminary research hours and a more supplicating approach are
probably more effective. Is there someone in the young adult’s circles who
might have a weak-link connection to the prospective employer? Might your
research uncover that your dentist with whom admittedly your link is weak or maybe
the neighborhood funeral director have some connection to a board member of the
bank or hospital where you seek employment? Ask a favor of your dentist. Maybe
she feels too remote from the bank officer to comply, but she is now invested
in your search. The circle of weak-link contacts is growing.
Candidates for office often
make the rounds of social clubs, churches, union halls and the like. They tell
the citizens what they the candidate will do for them. Matthews describes a
famous candidate who avoided the normal circuit. Instead, he and his many
family members walked around asking for favors: Can you put John Kennedy’s sign
in your window; can you host a house meeting on Kennedy’s behalf? This smart
politician, Matthews says, “is not so much demanding a gift or service.” He or
she understands that to make a friend, you ask a favor. The successful public
person offers “the one thing he [or she also] wants: the opportunity to get
involved.”
Matthews has an advantage
in compiling his adages and examples. He travels in story-telling circles—in
legislative halls, in reporters’ hangouts and more. Those circles are fewer
these days. Instead, there is a fair amount of texting and social media
exchange about superficialities—what I
had for breakfast or where I am going
this weekend with no moral or lesson included. Yet public savvy comes through
sharing and reflecting on stories.
There’s a clerical
grapevine in Chicago. It is, I suspect, withering or is mostly given to gossip.
But at its best the clerical grapevine is another example of a story-telling
culture that contains lessons for public life.
There’s the old story about
a newly minted monsignor who gives a scheduled talk at a conference attended by
the then cardinal. The monsignor mentions the desirability of ordaining women.
Of course, he had to appear on the chancery carpet, but walks from the
cardinal’s office out into the sunshine. This story yields the adage all
Chicago priests know: It is better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission.
There’s the one about the newly
ordained priests awaiting their assignments. All knew to dread one far away
parish and its SOB pastor. The chancery bureaucracy announces the placements
over the course of a week—six on Monday, a couple more each day thereafter. The
dread increases down the alphabetical line, until on Friday Fr. Zimmer gets the
news. He initially balks, but he goes to meet Fr. Tyrannical. After a week the
pastor comes to him and says: “I’m not feeling great. OK with you if I go to
Florida for a few months?” Sure enough, the pastor dies in Florida and the
newly ordained, who handled matters superbly, is made pastor of that terrific parish
with many leaders shedding few tears for the departed predecessor. The grapevine
adage: The last shall be first. Or, take your lumps early; there’s a plum
waiting.
To be continued….
Droel edits INITIATIVES (PO
291102, Chicago, IL 60629), a print newsletter about faith and work.
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