Almost exactly a year ago I setup a public webform asking anyone and everyone to provide me with personal feedback and advice. The point of this blog is to share that experience and what I learnt from it.
Why am I writing this post?
I am definitely not writing this post for myself, and I think the reason it’s taken me so long to actually publish this post is a signal that I really didn’t want to write this. I have no idea if it will actually help anyone. But several people asked me to write about my feedback-loop experience, to share what I learnt from it, and how it impacted me. So for those of you, here goes.
Why I setup the feedback loop
About 18 months ago I very consciously decided to focus on my personal self-development — something that I’ve now come to learn from others as “radical self-inquiry”.
My interest in radical self-inquiry came after I recognised a common trait amongst most of the people that I highly respect (who are all high achievers): they are typically very self-aware with high EQ. But more importantly, I noticed they consciously invest a lot of time into deliberate personal development. And by personal development, I don’t mean they read self-help books, or go to meditation retreats. Rather, they constantly inquire into their own psychology, thoughts, emotions, and actions (and of those around them), to understand themselves on an incredibly deep level, in order to better push their own boundaries for self-improvement.
The specific concept of setting up the feedback form came after I heard Joel Pobar talk about the 360-degree feedback loops they have internally at Facebook, and the concept of data-driven human performance.
And so I decided to try and implement something similar for myself.
What I did
In July 2016 I created a basic Typeform which I then pushed out via direct emails and social media. The first version of the form had the following questions for respondents:
After looking at the responses, and taking some suggestions from others, I changed the form after about 6 months, to make the name field mandatory, and to remove the hearsay question about what others say about me. Plus I added two new questions, specifically:
What the responses said about me
I’ve had a total of 40 completed written responses in 12 months, 75% from people who’ve known me in some sort of work context (coworkers, employees, customers, clients, event participants, investees, mentees, etc), and the rest are from family and friends. The average time they had known me at the time of their response was 4.4 years. One person had never met me, but followed me online (my own personal cyber-stalker apparently).
The list of my weaknesses, in order of frequency of feedback, included:
All of these pieces of feedback on my weaknesses were things that I am conscious of, but it was interesting to see that other people referred to them.
The best feedback
The single response that impacted me the most was this one: “Be more personable, vulnerable and sharing what you are like as a human (outside of a role)”.
This was the one comment I thought the most about — and I mean I thought about it a lot. A lot! Why? Partly because of who said it, but also because it was specific, and more-so, it hit on something I had always consciously and deliberately avoided in a work or public environment, so unlike most of the other feedback, it challenged me.
As background, for most of my life I considered the highest compliment anyone could ever give me was to call me a machine. That’s because I have always believed that an unstoppable force will defeat any immovable object. A machine works 24/7 regardless of the size of the challenge ahead, and regardless of how it feels. Therefore, my view of achieving whatever you want is to never stop, never give up, and never ring the bell. Just give whatever it takes in order to get the job done.
“Be more human. Make yourself vulnerable.” Those concepts were something that I had often used in 1-on-1 mentoring over the last 6 years, and are concepts that I very consciously practise with my kids through my parenting style. So I agreed with them in terms of my core values. But prior to receiving that feedback, I had never before wanted to make myself vulnerable in a public environment or to work colleagues, because I’ve never wanted to appear weak.
But increasingly I have made myself more human and vulnerable to more people. I remember the cathartic moment 2 years ago when I presented at Jack Ferguson’s “Fuckups and Failures” night in Brisbane and talked about how I royally fucked up a business exit and how it impacted my family, my confidence, and my own sense of self-worth. That event required me to publicly reveal my flaws, my mistakes, my emotions, and my self-doubt. But it turned out the event translated into people having more respect for me, not less (at least that is what they told me).
Similarly with my recent experience on the Venturer Mission when I deliberately chose to have vulnerable conversations with others, and in return I received significantly more personal value back than I would have otherwise.
So now I understand a new dimension of why being human and demonstrating vulnerability both delivers and generates significant value, and perpetuates personal growth.
But more than that: being vulnerable, and living your truth, actually helps others. In the startup community we tend to celebrate success often without recognising the painful reality of the journey. If more of us share our human vulnerability then we can help others to normalise their own self-doubt, and unlock more self-realisations in others.
So now, I completely subscribe to that advice: Be more human; make yourself vulnerable, and add to that a more recent influence for me, “live your truth”.
What else I learnt from the feedback process:
How has this process changed me?
I think the main outcome of the process has been that I’m now not afraid of seeking and getting brutally honest feedback. I still struggle with accepting compliments — really struggle — but I now actively seek advice and feedback as often as I can remember to ask for it.
With that in mind, I’d love to receive your advice, as specific and vulnerably honest as possible. Just go here and tell me what I could do better.