People tell you what they care about all the time, if you know what to watch for. A look at how Steven Reiss's 16 basic desires can sharpen the way you observe, and the way you communicate.

When I was young, I learned that when we were planning for guests to visit, we needed to clean the house. I had to tidy my stuffed animals and put my Legos away. The living room needed vacuuming and the countertops needed to be clear. That’s how I understood hospitality at the time. A little later, I began to notice another version of hospitality when we visited my grandparents. My grandmother was usually in the kitchen, preparing food. She focused on what she was making, how

When I was in college, I watched the TV series The West Wing . Characters would get into intense, sometimes heated disagreements about high-stakes issues. Voices were raised. They’d argue over fundamental principles. And then, often in the very next scene, those same people would work together civilly, almost as if nothing relational had been damaged. At the time, I was skeptical. I wondered whether that kind of behavior actually happened in real workplaces, or whether it was

Open and honest questions create space for people to think, feel, and make sense of their own experience. I learned the value of this approach at home before I ever applied it in a professional setting. For many years, when my wife started to describe a problem, my instinct was to solve it. My attention focused on diagnosing the issue and responding with suggestions, based on the belief that helping meant offering answers. Over time, I realized that much of the time my wife w

Earlier in my career, I worked with someone who responded to feedback with silence. After I finished sharing my thoughts, there was no visible reaction. No nod. No follow-up question. No verbal acknowledgment. We would simply move on. Over time, I noticed how my mind began assigning meaning to that silence. I had a judgment: This feedback clearly is not valued. I formed an opinion: This person probably does not want coaching at all. I even thoughts to myself: Do you want this

I regularly hear people say, “There’s no such thing as a stupid question.” I hear it in classrooms and conference rooms, at the start of presentations and the end of meetings. The people who say it usually mean well. They want to lower the barrier, signal safety, and invite participation. I appreciate the intent. But, if you’ve ever hesitated before raising your hand, or typed and deleted a question in a chat window, you know some people don’t really mean it. Most of us carry