Often, we want to ask for expert advice. We pay for that expertise when we are confident that we can’t, for example, do a better job of replacing a TPMS sensor than the folks down at Discount Tire. And no one would blame us.
But let’s admit it. There are times when we ask for “expert” advice simply to surrender the burden of making a decision ourselves.
I don’t want to suggest that the best plan of action is to charge through life seeking no counsel outside our own innate genius. That, when specific technical and certainly medical situations arise, would be an absolute disaster. But there are some times when asking, “What would you do?” or “What should I do?” is unhelpful and possibly counter-productive.
Wait, you might be thinking. I am surrounded by kind, intelligent people. How could asking them what they would do in my situation possibly make things worse? Are they going to give me bad advice?
I’m not saying that. Quite the contrary. They will be trying their sincere best to help. And that might be the problem, because in my experience it is hard to underestimate the harm a kind, intelligent, well-intentioned person can do simply by doing (or saying) what seems right based on the information they have. This isn’t because of malice or incompetence at all, but simply because they don’t always have all the information they need.
For example, imagine that someone suffering from cardiac chest pain approaches you and asks if they should take their prescribed nitroglycerin. Hey, you might think, they’ve got a prescription, and cardiac chest pain is an indication for nitro. What could go wrong? Well, if they were already hypotensive the nitroglycerin’s vasodilation could drop their blood pressure even further, putting them at serious risk (which is why hypotension is a contraindication for nitroglycerin administration). I get that depending on your career choice you won’t often face this precise problem in your daily life, but I think you get my point: without having all the data—and we rarely have all the details we need to make an informed judgment—telling someone what they should do can go very badly just because we don’t know all the pertinent information.
Complicating matters, asking someone’s advice may make you feel obligated to do what they suggest—after all, they are smart/respected—even if you feel it’s not in your best interest. Or, if you have a different interpersonal dynamic, it might push you in the opposite direction, doing something different just so you can say you made your own decision.
This is why I have deep inner regret when someone asks me either, “What should I do?” or “What would you do?” particularly when I am acting in my Ombuds capacity, because there are several important things that I—or anyone else—do not know, and possibly cannot know. Four big hurdles to giving truly helpful advice jump out at me:
- The whole story. I often say that when I talk to people I get about 25 percent of the story, because 1) I am only hearing their side of it and 2) I usually just hear the parts that are favorable to them. Even when someone commits to complete candor, there are invariably small details that, while important, don’t surface in the conversation. With only a limited perspective, it is difficult to suggest anything more than a semi-educated guess.
- The technical details. Interpersonal conflicts often arise from workplace or academic disputes about processes or work products that are highly specialized and exact. It may be difficult for those outside the field to understand all of the complexities, which means that they can vastly over- or underestimate the amount of effort that goes into a task or the significance of a request for help. What looks simple from the outside might actually be quite onerous, so glibly suggesting that someone “just deal with it” could be asking them to take on a real hardship. Dunning-Kruger advice can be deadly.
- The risk tolerance. When people ask me, “What would you do?” I like to note that I am not them. Seems obvious, but any two people have different comfort levels when it comes to taking on risk. What might be invigorating to one person may be anxiety-inducing to another. Someone’s appetite for risk might also change over time. For example, telling an instructor just how inept you think they are the day before the final exam is graded could be seen as riskier than doing the same thing after grades are safely in. I don’t think it is fair to assume that everyone’s circumstances or risk tolerance will match your own, and ignoring this very real factor can lead to poor advice-giving.
- The personal values. Let’s say you are in a dispute with someone. Maybe you value harmony over everything else, so you would seek reconciliation rather than “justice.” Maybe fairness is important to you, so you would be willing to accept an adverse outcome if it contributes to greater equity. Maybe the intellectual satisfaction of proving your point drives you, so you don’t mind “winning the argument and losing the customer.” My point is, we all have different values and motivations, so asking someone else what they would do ignores your own and superimposes theirs—not a winning formula for an approach you can feel good about.
You may be feeling a little dispirited if I have been as effective as explaining the futility of telling someone what they should do. Can we ask anyone at all for help, or are we just fated to stumble along our own path with no outside aid?
No, we aren’t. The key is repurposing all of the weaknesses of advice-giving listed above (and any others that you can imagine) into strengths. Please don’t roll your eyes, because I hope this isn’t as cliché as I think it might sound. Talking to someone who doesn’t know the whole story, the technical details, the risk tolerance, and the personal values can help us think critically about all four. Rather than tell someone what they should do, I have found the better approach is to ask them to seriously and thoughtfully answer four questions:
- How did this start? Where is it going? (Yes, that’s two questions, but however you get at it, you are asking for the story)
- What could it take to make it right?
- What are the risks and benefits of your options?
- What feels right to you?
Just asking those questions can help someone helpfully frame their conflict in a way that minimizes “I would” and “You should” language. It’s less giving advice, more offering a space for them to work it out with you.
So until next time, expect the unexpected, stay informed, and I’ll stay informal.
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