What If You’re Both Right

Renee

There are few things more frustrating than being completely certain you're right and realizing the person you're married to is equally certain that they're right.

After more than 26 years together, Mark and I have had plenty of opportunities to experience this.

And here's the really annoying part: sometimes we actually are both right.

I know. It would be much easier if I could simply tell you that after 26 years of marriage, I've finally trained Mark to see things my way. Apparently, that's not how this works.

Take something as simple as making plans. I am a planner. If we're going somewhere, I'd like to know where we're going, when we're leaving, what we're doing when we get there, and ideally anything else that might prevent unnecessary chaos.

Mark doesn't require nearly as much information.

He is perfectly comfortable figuring things out as we go, changing plans because something interesting came up, or leaving room for possibilities we didn't know existed when we started.

To me, a plan creates freedom because I can stop thinking about the logistics and enjoy myself. To Mark, too much of a plan can eliminate freedom because what if something better comes along?

Same word. Freedom. Completely different ways of creating it. And yes, this has made for some interesting moments over the years.

Mark

Years ago, I learned something from Cloé Madanes and Tony Robbins that helped me understand why two people can experience the same situation so differently.

They teach a framework called the Six Human Needs: certainty, variety, significance, love and connection, growth, and contribution. We all have all six, but we value them differently and find different ways to meet them.

Suddenly, Renee's desire to have a plan and my willingness to figure things out along the way weren't simply personality quirks.

She gets freedom partly through certainty.

I get freedom partly through possibility.

Neither of us is wrong.

Although I'm sure Renee would like the record to reflect that this doesn't mean I'm always right either.

Renee

And this would probably be easier if our differences only mattered when we were deciding what to do on a Saturday, but we're also business partners.

So now take two people who can have completely different definitions of freedom and ask them to make decisions together about money, clients, events, investments, schedules, opportunities, and the future of multiple businesses.

What could possibly go wrong?

The funny thing is that entrepreneurship itself is full of these contradictions.

We became entrepreneurs because we wanted freedom, flexibility, creativity, and control over our time. Then we built businesses and immediately wanted predictable revenue, reliable systems, consistent leads, dependable people, and preferably no unexpected problems before we had coffee.

We want certainty and variety, we want to build something meaningful and have time to enjoy the life we're building it for, we want growth, but sometimes we'd also really appreciate it if everything would just work exactly as it is for a minute.

Maybe we're not contradictory at all. Maybe we're just human.

Mark

And that's where this gets useful for us.

There are times in our business when one of us sees an opportunity and gets excited about what it could become while the other immediately starts thinking about what it will require.

One sees possibility.

The other sees logistics.

One is thinking, Imagine what we could do with this.

The other is thinking, Do you have any idea how much work that is going to be?

Both are valuable.

In fact, we probably need both.

A business with nothing but possibility might have 47 exciting ideas and none of them finished. A business with nothing but certainty might run beautifully but never evolve.

Part of our job as partners has been learning to recognize that the thing occasionally driving us crazy about the other person may also be exactly what the partnership needs.

Renee

That one has taken me a minute.

Because when you disagree with someone, especially someone you've known for more than half your life, curiosity isn't necessarily your first instinct.

Your first instinct might be to explain your position again, possibly with more detail.Because clearly the problem is that they didn't understand you the first time. And when that doesn't work, there's always the option of explaining it louder.

We've discovered that strategy has limited effectiveness.

What has become more useful is asking a different question:

What am I actually needing here?

Sometimes what looks like a disagreement about a decision is really me wanting certainty. Sometimes one of us wants to feel heard. Sometimes what sounds like frustration about work is actually a desire for more connection. Sometimes Mark sees growth and possibility while I'm calculating the time, money, and energy required to make it happen.

Understanding that doesn't mean I suddenly say, "Ohhhhh, you need variety! Of course! Let's do it your way."

That's not how this works either, it simply changes the conversation.

Mark

And sometimes it changes how we see each other.

If I interpret Renee's questions as resistance, I may miss the fact that she's identifying something important that I haven't considered.

If she interprets my excitement as another idea she's eventually going to have to figure out how to execute, I may need to acknowledge that there could be some historical evidence supporting that concern.

But that's the point.

Our differences aren't necessarily obstacles to the partnership. Often, they're part of its strength.

Renee sees things I don't see. I see possibilities she may not immediately see. She has strengths I don't have, and I bring strengths she doesn't have.

That doesn't mean those differences always feel wonderful while we're experiencing them.

It means we've learned to respect them more.

Renee

I think that's one of the more interesting things about being together this long. You know each other incredibly well, but that familiarity can also make you lazy. You stop asking what the other person means because you're pretty sure you already know. You anticipate their reaction before they've had it. You fill in the rest of their sentence in your head.

And sometimes you're responding to what you think they're saying rather than what they're actually saying.

Curiosity interrupts that.

Maybe I don't know exactly what Mark is thinking, maybe his reaction isn't about what I assume it's about, and maybe there is something in his perspective that I'm not seeing.

Mark & Renee

After more than 26 years together, we certainly haven't figured out how to agree about everything.

Two people building a life together shouldn't have to become the same person. We can have different needs, different strengths, different ways of processing decisions, and completely different reactions to the same situation.

Sometimes one of us will be right. Sometimes one of us will change our mind. Sometimes we'll compromise, and sometimes we'll still walk away thinking our idea was better.

We are married, after all.

But we're getting better at remembering that different doesn't automatically mean wrong.

So the next time you're completely certain that someone you love is looking at something the wrong way, maybe before you work even harder to convince them, ask what they're seeing that you aren't.

You may discover that the real question isn't who's right.

What if you both are?