I thought it would be easy.
It was a simple challenge to a small group I’m part of: “Can you go a whole day without lying?”
Piece of cake, I thought. I’m sure I don’t lie. Once I’ve made it through the day, I can give a good report to the group and they’ll think well of me.
The next morning, I was on the phone with a client who was concerned about a particular issue. I wanted my company to deal with that issue, so I reported it: “I’ve had several clients who’ve been concerned about this issue.”
It wasn’t several clients. It was one.
But if I said “several,” the chances of my company responding would be higher.
Technically, I didn’t lie. I exaggerated. But still, I purposefully tweaked the truth, and I knew it. I misrepresented reality in order to manipulate the outcome.
That was eye-opening. But it got worse:
I caught myself ready to exaggerate six more times that day. Exaggerating had become my default setting, and I didn’t even know it. Telling the exact truth took intentional effort.
Sound familiar?
- Have you ever told someone you appreciated their input, but you really didn’t?
- Have you ever told someone you couldn’t meet with them because you already had something planned – but you just didn’t feel like meeting with them?
- Have you forgotten your spouse’s birthday, but told them you were planning to surprise them with dinner tonight? (But you just made it up)
- Have you told someone most of the truth, but omitted a key point or two that might make you look bad?
- Have you ever lied to yourself? (“I’m not addicted – I can stop anytime.”)
Exaggeration had become such a default setting for me that I didn’t even recognize it.
I wondered how long it had been going on, and I thought back to the beginning of my seminar career 30+ years ago. I’ve always told a ton of stories in my sessions because people identify with stories.
After a few years, I noticed that the more times I had been telling the same story, the better it got over time. I’d see how an audience responded, and begin tweaking the details slightly to get a better response. Suddenly, my stories had grown into something so much better than the original that they were no longer true.
But I actually came to believe that the new versions were true. I had deceived myself.
At that point, I went back and cleaned up my stories. I knew that if I wasn’t teaching with integrity, I was heading into dangerous life territory.
In the movie, Something’s Gotta Give, Diane Keaton’s character storms out of a restaurant after finding her man (played by Jack Nicholson) having dinner with another woman. He chases after her to explain, and a heated argument follows. At one point he says, “I have never lied to you. I have always told you some version of the truth.”
Keaton responds: “The truth doesn’t have versions, OK?”
Here’s the point: Integrity is the foundation of every healthy relationship.
If it’s missing, it doesn’t matter how many books we read or what advice we follow or what seminars we attend. It doesn’t matter if we buy flowers or chocolate or say all the right things. If our integrity suffers, the relationship will never thrive long-term. It will decay like termite-infested lumber – looking great on the outside but becoming more and more at risk on the inside.
That’s where we’re headed over the next few weeks. Instead of just covering tips and techniques for making our relationships better, let’s explore those relationships from the inside-out . . . which means we start with integrity.
Do you think you could go a whole day without lying?
Before next week’s post, pick a day and try it. Don’t avoid lying – just notice how often you’re tempted — to lie, exaggerate, omit information or tweak the truth. Whatever you discover, share in the comments below.
Next week, we’ll talk about what to do with those observations.
In the old Dallas TV series, the unscrupulous J.R. Ewing was asked how to be successful. He responded, “Just give up your integrity. Then the rest is easy.”
There’s gotta be a better way. Want to explore it together?