Paradoxically, despite our unease in receiving appreciation, most of us yearn to be genuinely recognized and appreciated. During a surprise party for me, a twelve-year-old friend of mine suggested a party game to help introduce the guests to each other. We were to write down a question, drop it in a box, and then take turns, each person drawing out a question and responding to it out loud.
Having recently consulted with various social service agencies and industrial organizations, I was feeling struck by how often people expressed a hunger for appreciation on the job. “No matter how hard you work,” they would sigh, “you never hear a good word from anyone. But make one mistake and there’s always someone jumping all over you.” So for the game, I wrote this question: “What appreciation might someone give you that would leave you jumping for joy?”
A woman drew that question out of the box, read it, and started to cry. As director of a shelter for battered women, she would put considerable energy each month into creating a schedule to please as many people as possible. Yet each time the schedule was presented, at least a couple of individuals would complain. She couldn’t remember ever receiving appreciation for her efforts to design a fair schedule. All this had flashed through her mind as she read my question, and the hunger for appreciation brought tears to her eyes.
Upon hearing the woman’s story, another friend of mine said that he, too, would like to answer the question. Everyone else then requested a turn; as they responded to the question, several people wept.
While the craving for appreciation—as opposed to manipulative “strokes”—is particularly evident in the workplace, it affects family life as well. One evening when I pointed out his failure to perform a house chore, my son Brett retorted, “Dad, are you aware how often you bring up what’s gone wrong but almost never bring up what’s gone right?” His observation stayed with me. I realized how I was continually searching for improvements, while barely stopping to celebrate things that were going well. I had just completed a workshop with more than a hundred participants, all of whom had evaluated it very highly, with the exception of one person. However, what lingered in my mind was that one person’s dissatisfaction.
That evening I wrote a song that began like this:
If I’m ninety-eight percent perfect
in anything I do,
it’s the two percent I’ve messed up
I’ll remember when I’m through.
It occurred to me that I had a choice to adopt instead the outlook of a teacher I knew. One of her students, having neglected to study for an exam, had resigned himself to turning in a blank piece of paper with his name at the top. He was surprised when she later returned the test to him with a grade of 14 percent. “What did I get 14 percent for?” he asked incredulously. “Neatness,” she replied. Ever since hearing my son Brett’s wake-up call, I’ve tried to be more aware of what others around me are doing that enriches my life, and to hone my skills in expressing this appreciation.