You're Going to Need a Plate with That by Doug McVadon

"You’re going to need a plate with that."

He never would’ve said that, never gotten that far, if I hadn’t decided to turn things around. It was at the Qdoba Mexican food place in the Newark Airport food court. Not a garden spot by any means, just the place Nancy and I were stuck last Wednesday night.

We weren’t stuck yet, didn’t know our flight would be cancelled and we’d end up driving 35 miles to Princeton at one a.m. to the nearest hotel room, didn’t know our rental car would be a red Toyota Corolla whose trunk smelled like dead fish.

So I was spry and observant and I saw the whole thing. The woman at the front of the line took a while to make up her mind, and then while her taco was being constructed, it happened. A piece of meat touched the counter and the one making the taco put it back into the taco.

You put it in there.
What?
A piece of meat. It touched the counter and you put it in there.
The server looked incredulous, her face denying it.
But the young dark haired woman in shorts and flip-flops was pointing at the dirty taco, and everyone in line behind her could see.

So the server picked out the offending meat and put it back on the counter.
Could you just make me a whole new one?
Begrudgingly and without comment, she did.
And then she deliberately took off her plastic gloves and motioned to the guy at the register that she was leaving, going in back, as though to the restroom.
More like, that’s it; I am not dealing with any more of these f---ing people.
I don’t have to take it, she was saying with her feet.

So now this guy was slamming containers around, obviously displeased.

I ordered a burrito.
Chicken or steak? Steak.
Slam, slam…. grumble, grumble.
Was that steak or chicken?
[He’s not listening to me; he is pissed off, been left high & dry.]

We had just come off a consulting engagement with our pharmaceutical clients, where we had done a whole bit on how you can create reality, that it is all created in conversation; we don’t have a predetermined reality; you can change it based on what you say AND (more importantly) how you listen to others. We had talked about our natural human tendency to treat other people as objects to be manipulated or overcome, dealt with in some way so that we can get them to do what we want, or get out of the way. We are not naturally collaborative and partnering, we are more naturally defensive or competitive—get ahead at all costs, or else they will!

So here it was, my chance to practice what I preach.
I have to admit; I don’t always act gracious or understanding in those situations.
If my family were writers, there would be stories about my mistreatment of serving people or anyone behind a little glass window with a speaker in it. I have been merciless in my intentionality, destroying morale and goodwill in my wake as I relentlessly make things happen for me.

But in spite of my obnoxious track record, I do believe in what we say: that you can shape the conversation, shift who people are being, build a bridge where none exists, ALL through speaking and listening. So this Mexican food counter at the airport was my integrity challenge: walk it, or just talk it?

Okay, here goes: I’ll try it, to see if it works, even here in New Jersey where the f-word is barely cussing.
“Looks like you’ve been left on your own!” I venture.
He smiles sarcastically, “Yeah!”
“But I’m glad you’re making MY dinner, ‘cause I’m hungry!” I offer.
His face changes, now he’s making my dinner and I care about that.
I pile on: “You can obviously handle it.”
“Been here a year. I know what I’m doing.”
I nod vigorously.
“See!” he says, folding up the fat burrito, “Perfect!”
“Yes, too bad I’ll have to destroy it!”
We both laugh.
The other guy who has come out to run the register laughs, too. “You’re gonna destroy his masterpiece!”
“Yeah, but it’s just my job. I gotta do it!”
Now we are having fun.

As I gather the food and drinks to go tell Nancy, he says, “Hey, you’re gonna need a plate with that,” and hands me an extra plate for my foil-wrapped burrito in the bag.
He never would’ve been thinking about what I needed to have a nice dinner if I hadn’t have spoken up.

It was our technology at work in the real world.

I say, looks like you’ve been left on your own!
[That’s re-creation – saying what is so for another, in their world, their experience.]

You’re making MY dinner (and I care about that) – That’s creating a shared commitment, the first step up the tower of accomplishment, stating my commitment and eliciting his.

You obviously can handle it: generating an acknowledgment (even in the face of noticing mostly what is wrong)

Been here a year. I know what I’m doing. (Now he has expressed a commitment to quality of work, showing his pride, his skill, that he wants to do a good job.)

“Destroy it” and we laughed. (Building the background of relatedness, we are on the same page about life, now something could be possible, we could move to a conversation for possibility.)

You’re going to need a plate with that. (The possibility shows up: being interested in my experience of eating dinner, generating service, being in my world.)

It was an everyday thing – mostly we don’t think to generate a sourceful communication in this tiny moment of making a burrito, not a big dispute between a boss and an employee, just a little everyday moment.

It was all based on a decision to intervene, to listen to make a difference, NOT to treat the servers like servants, ordering them to pick up a piece of meat, humiliating them in public just because you can.