I Say No Because I Care
We all report to someone. For most, it’s a boss. Others it’s a board, an investor, or a stakeholder. And for some it could be simply a customer. All, in one way or another, are bosses. And each has their own flavor. There’s the overzealous or the clueless bosses. Ones with superiority complexes or personality disorders. Some are vocal and controlling. Some are quiet. Some are crazy. Others are crazier. And some are normal, helpful bosses. Regardless of what style this person comes in, they command authority. And maybe this is a healthy relationship. But in spite of all the details surrounding this relationship, you have a responsibility sometimes to say no.
I’m a Product Designer. And my job is to do just that, design products (iOS apps and web interfaces, in my case). A successful product is the result of a smart process. A process that sorts, explores, and builds ideas. But at the end of the day, you have that boss. That person you report to. And that person has their own ideas. Sometimes lots. It’s here where you have an important choice to make: acquiesce (yes I’ll build that, yes I’ll change that, yes I’ll do that) or say no.
I’ve had the privilege of working for great people. And my first job was no exception. So saying no to a new feature or product would have been crazy. Why would I? I trusted that person. Instead I did everything asked of me. My work was good, on time, and respected. My reward was a pat on the back and a steady paycheck from a happy boss.
But what about the results? What about the product? Was it doing well? Could it be doing better? Why was I here and what value did I serve? Through the years and across various companies, I started to ask these questions with increasing interest. Why? Because I cared. I cared about the company and product. I had a vested interest in seeing what I was doing and where I worked succeed.
It wasn’t easy saying no. It made some bosses frustrated. Others became impatient. I saw them go to others to build their ideas. And I’m sure some bosses, ones I never had, would have exploded. But what saved me was my persistence to get them to understand the why. Why was I saying no. That required a variety of techniques, but the there were three that helped most.
1. Show don’t tell
I built prototypes to demonstrate where their ideas missed the mark, how they could be improved, or how other ideas might yield better results. These prototypes weren’t used to prove anyone wrong, but to prove that there were in fact alternatives worth exploring or a process worth following.
2. Understand the business
I pored over data and tried to learn everything about the products I was building. Who was using them, how, where the successes were, the failures, and how this all impacted metrics like conversion, engagement, retention, and revenue. Establishing an educated point of view allowed me to make stronger arguments.
3. Build empathy
I used our products frequently, sat and spoke with users, shared their frustrations, listened to their opinions, and, again, was able to make stronger, more respected arguments.
With all of this, slowly my bosses would come around. They started to see that my arguments weren’t naive, but instead something to be valued. We’d debate and the collaboration that followed was extremely healthy. They saw my commitment (to whatever we were working on) and instilled a level of trust in me I had never seen before. They respected my opinion and we were able to have a more thoughtful, considered discussion. And more importantly the product benefited.