Stepping into deviations

The most dangerous thing about a deviation may be how quickly we think we understand it.

You are walking through a warehouse when you see John driving a forklift too fast. Clearly faster than the stipulated walking speed limit. No one is in immediate danger. But there are pedestrians nearby, and customers move through the warehouse as well occasionally. The forklift is loaded. John knows the speed limit. So do you. You know John. You’ve worked together for years.

What do you do?

In a workshop I ran recently, people didn't hesitate when I gave them this scenario.

"Ask him who his supervisor is."

"Give him a final written warning."

"He needs a good telling off."

The speed with which we reach for a solution is interesting. Because we have barely established what happened, yet we already know what John needs to do. We've moved from observation to explanation to solution in a matter of seconds.

Such premature closure is something all of us are capable of when we want certainty quickly. I think it’s very human. And I think it’s worth slowing things down and looking at what’s happening.

We encounter a deviation. We experience something: disbelief, anger, worry, discomfort. Something isn't as it should be, and we don't know why. That uncertainty is uncomfortable. So we grab the first immediate and convenient explanation, and we act on it. The certainty feels good. We feel useful and important. Righteous even. The good thing about it is that it makes the discomfort go away. The problem is that we may have changed little beyond our own emotional state.

A deviation is information. It tells us that something happened differently from what was expected. But it doesn't tell us why. And that distinction is worth considering before deciding what to do next. 

So the workshop participants and I slowed it down, and looked at what else was possible.

Stepping into the deviation

What if, instead of closing the gap, we stepped into it?

“Hey John, this makes no sense to me whatsoever. To see you driving at that speed, what's going on?”

The same moment. The same deviation. But a different question.

It’s not letting John off the hook. The concern has been named clearly. The behaviour has been called out. But the conversation hasn't closed before it's had a chance to open.

What John says next matters. It might confirm that John needs to change his behaviour. It might reveal something about the work that nobody had noticed. It might do both.

The point is to learn enough to make a better decision about what actually needs to change. You have noticed something you don't understand. And instead of closing the gap between what happened and what should have happened with a judgement, you try to open the gap and make sense of it. So you step into it. 

Not like an arbiter scoring and rating from the outside, but as someone who cares about the operation, the people in it, and about John. As someone who wants to understand what happened and make the work better, with John.

Perhaps John was under pressure to clear a backlog. Perhaps the loading area was blocked. Perhaps the forklift behaves differently when loaded and he miscalculated. Perhaps he's seen others drive at that speed without consequence. Perhaps the speed limit doesn't make sense in that part of the warehouse. Perhaps his mind was at home with his troubled teenage kind. Perhaps.. something else.

We don't know. And yet we are very quick to turn what we have observed into an explanation.

John was careless. John doesn't care about safety. John needs to be held accountable.

Maybe. But those are conclusions, not observations.

The alternative move resists that jump. It treats the gap between what happened and what should have happened as an invitation to understand. And you can be absolutely clear that something is unacceptable while remaining genuinely curious about why it happened.

"I am concerned about what I just saw. And I don't yet understand why it happened."

Those two things can coexist. In fact, I think holding both at the same time is one of the more important conversational capabilities a safety leader can develop. It may be the more courageous move. Because it asks us to tolerate not knowing a bit longer. 

What we learn might mean John needs to change. It might mean the control needs to change. It might mean the way the work is organised needs to change. Perhaps all three. You can't know which until you ask.

And this is why staying a bit longer with the gap can produce so much more value for relatively little effort. The first move closes the gap you can see. The second gives you access to what sits inside it.

So what do you do?

When facing a non-conformance like a missing guard, a skipped step, a non-approved tool, or a forklift travelling too fast, we have a choice. We can move to close the gap between what happened and what should have happened. Or we can move to understand it.

The first move gives you an answer. The second gives you a chance to find out whether it's the right answer.

When something doesn't make sense, don't rush to make the person fit the explanation. Step into the gap. Find out what's going on. With people. 

/Daniel