Musings
I've been considering the counterintuitive proposition that you can help people too much. With the best of intentions, you can create an over-reliance on your support which hobbles rather than helps.
When someone asks you the same question repeatedly, they simply have abandoned the work of thinking in favor of leaning on you for support.
They haven't bothered to integrate your past helpful advice, and instead mindlessly ask you for aid in identical situations. Similarly, a painfully simplistic question (e.g., "What should I say to someone who is interested in my work?") indicates to me that the individual is simply not willing to think through his or her own issues, beyond looking up your phone number. (In fact, they probably ask someone else for your number, since they are used to relying on THEM for THAT.)
There have been news items about students who receive special help and are allowed lower standards to pass tests and move on to more advanced classes, which indicate that they are actually hurt in the process.
For example, minority students who receive special help or dispensation to enter and proceed through law school have a higher failure rate on bar exams (which are standard and consistent for everyone). The old bromides about "paying one's dues" or "earning your stripes" are, as most aphorisms, based on fundamental truths.
I have to admit that I become rapidly annoyed by people who ask questions they should be able to answer themselves with a nanosecond of thought because, while I prize intellectual curiosity, I despise intellectual sloth. And, let's face it, there are such things as stupid questions. ("There is no such thing as a stupid question," is not a bromide, but a transparent device used by teachers to make first-graders comfortable in posing an inquiry.) In fact, more organizations and relationships would be in better shape if someone occasionally said, "I'm not responding to that because you should be able to figure it out yourself."
Mentors and coaches don't help people by providing answers. They help people by forcing them to come up with answers. The therapeutic intervention, "Well, what do you think about that?" is in place for a reason.
External answers may gain compliance and temporary adaptive action, but internal answers are the source for commitment and long-term corrective action.
Let's face it: some things are obviousities. When you get a flat tire, you don't wander around wondering what to do or call a friend and say, "I have a flat tire, what's your advice?" You have it replaced and repaired.
So what's so different when someone says, "Your price is too high!"? Surely, you've heard that before. Why wander around, circling like a dog trying to prepare a site for a nap, or call someone to ask, "What can I say?" You reply with common sense: "Why do you feel that way?" "As compared to what?"
"Doesn't the value represent a huge return on the investment?" Why are you focusing on price instead of benefit?" Or, my personal favorite, "You're kidding, right?"
Sometimes the best way to help people is to stop helping them. Call it tough love; or preserving your own time; or preserving your own sanity. An answer is simply a reply, but a solution is a sign of true high regard. And that solution, more likely than not, is within the ability of the inquirer.
The best way to empower may just be to refuse to be the solution yourself.
ORTIYKMWOYBNT-O Department
ONLY READ THIS IF YOU KNOW ME WELL OR YOU'LL BE NEEDLESSSLY TICKED-OFF DEPARTMENT
I've been patronizing the same Shell station in my town for 20 years, and they've seen all of my exotic cars (a Ferrari, for example, can pass anything on the road except a gas station). Last week, I drove the Bentley GT over, and as usual, customers stopped what they were doing to take a gander at this very rare automobile.
As I pulled in with the pumps on my left, the attendant was leaning against one or them and didn't move. "Your tank's on the other side," he pointed out, "and the hose won't reach across your trunk."
"No problem," I said, "I'll make a U-turn to the other side," and adroitly maneuvered the beast into a semi-graceful sort of half-moon, Q/K-turn. The attendant hadn't moved. "You still have your left side against the pumps," he explained, "and your gas tank is still on the wrong side." In making the U-turn, I had not changed anything about the car's relative position to the gas tanks!
"Oh," I said sheepishly, with a group of workers and customers continuing to watch the proceedings, "I'll pull it forward and back up to the other side."
When I finally accomplished that arabesque, the attendant moved to begin pumping gas, but with a huge smile on his face.
"What?" I asked.
"Well," he grinned, "it's a good thing you don't have to pass any sort of test to purchase one of these, eh?"