The Case of Incompetence
We often use the words “competent” and “incompetent” in our evaluation of a person’s ability to do something, so often that many of us forget: competence is a spectrum, not an essential quality of a person. It refers to how well, not if able, a person engages in a certain task or activity. It is current, and it can change. And there is a myriad of factors contributing to it, such as the understanding of the task, the clarity of the standards, the ability to reflect on and evaluate one’s own work, the knowledge of how to learn and practice. We can be practicing something incorrectly, resulting in no improvement if we know not where we have gone wrong. It can also be intimidating receiving feedback impersonally. Much goes into learning and becoming competent at something, and some of us are more competent at learning and practicing to be competent than others.
We may not always be fortunate to meet people who will point out our mistakes and guide us toward a higher standard. Conversely, we may not always be fortunate to meet people who will push us toward cultivating ourselves beyond our work. And even when either circumstance happens, we might turn a blind eye to it because we choose to believe in our own limiting view of competence and what it takes to grow.
How do we measure competence? Is it really true that the other is incompetent because they were not able to meet our standards? How can we be certain it’s true? Can we ascertain the cause of a person’s inability to produce excellent work? Competence is a range, each of us is on that spectrum, constantly shifting. How big is this chasm between us and the other? Is it truly big or are we making it bigger than it really is? Is the other really incompetent or simply less competent than us? Incompetence has become a convenient excuse for many, and I too have been guilty of using it back in my years of working in creative agencies. How else to explain my inability to delegate tasks or trust another to do the job up to my standards? Time-crunch, resource-crunch, I cannot afford a mistake. I have to take on this task because no one else is as competent. Really? Or simply no one else can do it the way I want it done? I’ve merely shut down possibilities. Possibility for me to do less work and breathe easier; to be truly masterful at what I do; for both of us to learn and grow, and develop a connection beyond colleagues (two instruments of the company), and more.
Old and recent memories of my father taking over the dishes are floating up. He deems me incompetent at doing the dishes so he’d rather be the one washing them. Can anyone be incompetent at that? Well, in my case, or in his case, yes. He believes the dishes I clean remain oily based on old event(s) I cannot remember. It was neither up to his standards nor following his quite particular method of washing. Honestly, till today, his standards remain obscure. He continues to indulge in his preference to do the dishes all by himself, instead of guiding me toward that. Hold on, allow me to be precise in my account. He generously shares his process of washing. He is proud and happy with how well he performs the task but less inclined to give me a chance. It seems too big a risk for him to take: to wash the dishes again if I were to fail. That would mean double the time and effort for him. Over time, for me who has failed to earn his trust, much less an ounce of faith, I began to tune out, adopting a hands-off attitude. It hurts, too, to be rejected when I offered help, with the chance of redemption denied indefinitely. I could only get out of his way and let him do the job.
Do you relate to this story? It’s a pity I can only present it from my view as the incompetent one. I would have definitely wanted to give as fair an account as I possibly could. I have wondered, what if he had taken the chance, stated his expectations, demonstrated, held me to his standards, made me redo if I fumbled. He has not the patience yet, and he probably holds the belief too that I will not listen (which was true when I was a teenager.) In not taking the risk, in not relinquishing control, he was not able to assume his personal power. I wish he believed in timing and the possibility of change. I wish he had extended grace to me.
Learning never ceases. We need teachers in our lives, and they may appear in various situations wearing various hats. Teaching takes time and effort. Be grateful with a willing teacher; be gracious with a willing student; be curious and forgiving with the space in between, the relationship and dance between the changing and varying competences. How will we choose to be? Will we lead or follow or dance hard for both of us?
When we are too quick in labeling another incompetent, we march ourselves into a stalemate. No room for either and the relationship to grow. There is, of course, a benefit in taking more of the load, we become better and faster at what we do with the repeated practice, but to the point where we exhaust both our time and selves. There is only so much more we can do, so much faster we can do, since time and energy are both limited. In our pursuit of excellence in our work, we may sometimes forget about the excellence in ourselves as human beings. What if we also pursue excellence in ourselves and others? Believing in the ever-growing human spirit, nurturing the seed that has, by accident or divine intervention, fallen on our soil. What will it take to believe in this?
Adamantly perceiving the other as incompetent is to constantly see them as a weed in our garden, something we wish begone because we believe it will consume the nutrients in our soil for nothing, sucking up our time and attention. As a result, more time and effort are needed to ensure the beauty of our garden, we feel frustrated and bitter till our breaking point, and we give up our entire garden because that specific seed just couldn’t sit well in our soil and grow in the way it should (to our liking). We chose to believe in the impossibility of growth over the malleability and potential of the human seed. How vexing this must be.
My invitation: Will you be a gardener, and how will you garden? What is in the way of giving yourself and the other a chance?