What are experts up to these days?
I’ve spent most of my career working in the business of expertise. And 2020 has dramatically shaken things up. Stages are empty. There are no “events.” The way we share our ideas has been democratized. We’re all just working from our bedrooms and kitchen tables, presenting our ideas on Zoom.
Last week, I interviewed a CEO who gave me the imagery I was looking for to describe the phenomenon we feel when we look around at our once-shiny colleagues, leaders, and mentors and see them grounded, just like us.
He was describing how his personal work routine has changed. Pre-COVID, he commuted 90 minutes each way every day. And he told me that now, he realizes that his commute was a chance to put on his “armor” for the work day. He somehow transformed from who he was at home with his family, and turned into a harder, more polished, Teflon-ed version of himself. He put on his armor.
But when his commute suddenly vanished and he set up his laptop on his dining room table, the armor came off. He described a new, deeper, more emotional and transparent approach to work and leadership. He shared conversations he’d had with employees that he admitted he never would have had before. He was reflective and solemn and present. He went deep even in a short conversation with me, a stranger.
That conversation was fascinating and fulfilling, and it wasn’t unique. I’ve had almost daily experiences just like that one. I’ll go into a call with someone important and respected — a verified expert — and almost every single call ends up feeling more like a chat between friends. The pretense is just…gone.
Even when their PR teams have prepped them (and me!) with the approved talking points and takeaways, all the rehearsed lines and bulletproof polish end up going out the window. Even the most buttoned-up PR teams can’t stop this move toward radical authenticity. People are ready to be real. Maybe it’s because we don’t really have any other option.
I cannot underscore how different things are right now from where I sit. I have worked on the behind-the-scenes machines of thought leaders. I’ve spent a huge chunk of my time interviewing experts and looking for big-time leaders’ quotable takeaways. And it continues to amaze me how different these conversations have been in 2020.
The people are the same, but their armor is off.
We all put on armor to present ourselves, our ideas, our personalities, to other people. And when we strip it all away, other people can immediately see the difference. Our coworkers can see it. And the people who look to us for advice see us in a new way.
There’s so much to be upset about right now. There’s so much to tank your mood and spoil your outlook about what’s coming next. But this new, radical honesty — this removal of the armor — is a very bright silver lining that is making my work more interesting, and I’m certain it’s going to slowly change all of our work for the better.
When people take off their armor, they see the world from a more generous perspective. And they have better, more useful ideas to share.
Have you shed your armor? What would happen if you did?
