My first real job after college was in human resources for an established but still humble retail company. I was drawn to the culture more than the job itself. The organization had a team-based environment championing employee excellence, self-determination, and leadership over management. Having started as a local “mom and pop” business, it had a history of anti-corporate sentiment. The problem was the company was now becoming one of those large corporations the founders detested.
This growth did not mean managers had to abandon our values, but it did require us to reevaluate many of our systems. Over almost a decade, my job functions and the overall structure of my department morphed dramatically. The bigger we got, the more liability we had, and the more I was expected to protect the corporation and reduce risks. I was still accountable to my direct boss on site, but I also now reported to and was expected to comply with directives from Regional Human Resources (HR). This shift was particularly daunting as my direct boss was of the lingering anti-corporate mindset.
To reduce corporate liability, Human Resources dictated new protocols and standards for managing personnel. For example, my boss and I no longer had the authority to hire or terminate employees without HR approval.
About a week after this policy was handed down, my boss, whom I’ll call Eric, walked into my office and declared, “We’ve got to let Michael (fictitious name) go.”
Knowing this lackluster employee was still in his probationary period but had no documentable major infractions, I told my boss, “I’ll be happy to present your concerns to Regional HR, but I don’t expect them to approve termination. There just isn’t enough on paper to justify it.”
Later that day, Eric called me into his office to say, “I’m going to terminate Michael. Would you get the paperwork ready?”
Somewhat in shock and still processing, I asked, “Have you spoken to Regional about this?”
“No, this was my call.”
Figuring we were already in hot water, I attempted to salvage the situation. “They’re going to see it on my reports, plus they’ll be notified if there’s an unemployment claim, and I’m sure there will be. Should I alert them now?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with it.”
Eric’s body language indicated he was done with this discussion, so, internal warning bells ringing loudly, I returned to my office. But I found myself distracted as I prepared the requested documentation. This went against our directive. My inner voice continued to nag at me as I contemplated my potential next move.
Should I email Regional anyway? my internal conversation went. Would that be considered insubordination in the eyes of my direct boss? Will he retaliate by denying me future promotions or salary increases if I go above his head? If I stay out of it, will Regional reprimand or fire me when they find out? What will happen if the company gets sued over this and I didn’t alert the appropriate people when they still had the potential to intervene?
My internal inquisition was interrupted only by my occasional attempts to explain Eric’s behavior to myself: He’s just doing what he wants and doesn’t care about repercussions to the company or anyone else. He doesn’t respect my opinion or judgment.
In the end, I did as I was told without contacting Regional, following Eric’s instructions to let him shoulder any blame. Shortly afterward, I transferred to a different department. I cited professional opportunity as the reason, but the truth was that I felt burned out. In hindsight, much of my frustration and exhaustion was from the energy I spent navigating the evolving corporate structure and expectations. It was not the changes per se causing the stress, but how I chose to respond to them. I never confronted Eric about the situation with Michael and will likely never know the truth behind his decision. Nor did I ever hear anything about Regional’s reaction to his disobedience.
Six years later, having learned of the importance of testing negative assumptions, I reflect on the turmoil I felt and wonder how I might have handled it differently. Looking back, I realize I had only negative assumptions about Eric, feeling caught in a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don’t situation.
Fortunately, I knew better than to march into his office and say that to his face. Still, I was stuck. His actions triggered my emotions, and in that state, I could only imagine the worst. My range of imagined choices was limited. I couldn’t see a way out.
Suppose I had known to test my negative assumptions by using the Generating Three Hypotheses Method, as described in Reframing Change? What might I have done? Well, I’ll put myself back in that time and pretend I knew then what I know now . . .
My underlying negative hypothesis in this instance was that Eric deliberately violated protocol to get what he wanted when he wanted it, without considering consequences for the company, his career, or my career.
Maybe there were circumstances beyond my knowledge leading Eric to conclude he was justified in making the termination decision unilaterally, disregarding the new procedure. This didn’t seem likely, but I’m determined to remain in inquiry and hold the space for having possibly missed something.
Situational: Looking back, it was possible he’d been in touch with Regional and they granted him some sort of exemption, or perhaps he had found a loophole in the policy. If either of these occurred, he chose not to fill me in. That might be why Regional never contacted me about my role in the situation.
Even with many years of hindsight and acquisition of better tools and practices, developing a good intent motive for this exchange was still a challenge. I have often noticed, though, the harder the motive is to construct, the more impactful and liberating the resulting shift in my perspective (and energy) regarding the situation.
Good Intent: Maybe Eric was taking a stand for our area’s sovereignty. What I considered as unilateral decision making could have been viewed by him as a stand for empowerment and self-determination for those of us who remembered the old days at the company. He might have been willing to go to the wall for us.
Was this too much of a stretch to consider? I still have a pragmatic tendency to quickly dismiss potential alternatives. Yet I have learned that unlikely hypotheses, even those which seem next to impossible, serve to stretch my thinking. I often remind myself that the desired outcome in considering alternatives is not to determine the best answer or solve the mystery, but to create the space and willingness to be wrong. I don’t know what I don’t know.
Constructing my reframed hypothesis was a learning process. It took several iterations, along with some guidance and feedback, to arrive at an ideal approach.
First Attempt at Reframing: “I thought maybe you were just doing what you wanted, how you wanted . . .”
In this initial attempt, my negative assumptions were still present and would likely have been counterproductive. It would only have made Eric mad.
Second Attempt at Reframing: Maybe he did in fact follow protocol and went to Regional himself as a favor to me, to spare me the arduous task of building and defending our case for termination.
Hmmmm. This stretches credibility and doesn’t really test my negative assumption. To truly reframe the negative hypothesis, I needed to voice it in a way that would be palatable to Eric yet also getting to the core of the negative assumption I was testing.
Third Attempt at Reframing: Maybe he was taking a stand on behalf of us all.
With this, I was acknowledging that while Eric was deliberately breaking protocol and putting us both at risk, it might have seemed justifiable from his vantage point. If I were to have approached him from this genuinely inquisitive space, it would likely have resulted in productive dialogue. Perhaps I would have obtained the information I felt was missing.
I might have made this statement to Eric: “I’m curious about how you arrived at your decision and was hoping you could help me understand. First, I thought maybe Regional had granted you some kind of exception making it okay for you to fire Michael. Then I thought maybe you’d found a loophole so you could get around the new regulations. Finally, I thought maybe you were just taking a stand against what you thought was unworkable red tape and were willing to go to bat for it even if you and I paid a price. Is there something else I’m missing?”
Would that have worked? Maybe.
The key is whether I was willing to open my mind to the possibility of a good intent or situational hypothesis driving Eric’s behavior. If I couldn’t, my inauthenticity would have made the whole exercise backfire. Maybe he really was just carelessly violating protocol, regardless of consequences to himself or me. Maybe there was an even more beneficent explanation than I could imagine. Regardless, I do believe I missed an opportunity to expand my understanding and possibly strengthen our working relationship.
Equipped with the wisdom and tools presently at my disposal, I certainly could have navigated the situation with less wasted cognitive and emotional energy. My confidence in the effectiveness of the Three Hypotheses Method to shift my perspective on emotionally provocative scenarios has increased significantly since that interaction with my old boss. I am now more aware of situations where I can leverage these tools and be more adept in their application. Rather than avoiding conflict, I now find myself welcoming these emotionally rich encounters as opportunities for education and exploration.
Eli Davis received a Master of Social Work from the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work. After a circuitous career track through a few different helping professions, he found his passion in social justice advocacy and policy work. An avid lover of animals, nature, science, and the human experience, he can often be found wandering the woods with his latest four-legged rescue.
He first learned the Conscious Change skills in a course taught by Dr. Latting in the Graduate College of Social Work at the University of Houston, then later worked with her as a graduate assistant.
