I could start with the usual stuff: assertive communication… learning to say no… setting boundaries… But that’s already been done, right? So I propose we look at this from a different angle. Let’s watch a movie!
Office. Midday. Pablo knocks on his boss’s door. He enters without waiting for a reply.
- PABLO: Hey, sorry to bother you, do you have a moment?
- MARTA: (without looking up from her computer) Shoot, go ahead.
- PABLO: It’s just… I can’t take it anymore. Seriously. I’ve been sleeping terribly for three weeks, this is overwhelming, I don’t even know where to start. This morning I spent half an hour staring at the screen and not getting a thing done. We need to do something, because I can’t keep going like this.
- MARTA: (sighs, now looks at him) Pablo, we’re all stretched. We’re in a tough moment. Try to organize better, make an Excel spreadsheet with priorities, and if by Friday you’re still in the same place we’ll talk. Okay?
- PABLO: (swallows hard) Okay.
Pablo leaves, closes the door, and stops in the hallway.
What just happened?!
Pablo has spent three days turning this conversation over in his head and ends up worse than when he started. Not only did he accomplish nothing, but it also seems like his boss is blaming him.
Let me tell you a few things. When an actor analyzes a scene, they work with three levels at once: Text, what I say; Subtext: what I mean but keep to myself; Unconscious: what I have no idea is there, but it leaks out everywhere.
What Pablo said (the text), we’ve seen. What he didn’t say (the subtext) would likely be loaded with blame toward his boss: “You’re piling work on me, you change things from one day to the next, you’re not organized and it’s landing on me…” That’s likely what Marta could have perceived. And the unconscious layer could be even weightier, but for now we have enough with Text and Subtext.
Here’s the thing. The conversation wasn’t derailed by what Pablo said; it was derailed by what his boss heard underneath it. We mustn’t forget that, deep down, we’re animals. Rational, but animals. And a large part of how we understand each other happens beneath the words. When someone unloads emotion without saying what they want from you, the human brain goes to the easiest conclusion: “this person is here to complain.” End of story.
So what do we do about this? Align my text with my subtext! So that it doesn’t come across as “Hi Marta, I came by for five minutes if you have a moment” and instead is understood as “Hi Marta, I came to vent and blow off steam because I’m fed up with you.”
So we’re going to align text and subtext. How? By doing, before entering the office, the three questions an actor asks themselves before stepping on stage:
- What am I going to say?
- What do I really want to achieve?
- What’s underneath all this that I haven’t even dared to look at?
The first two have quick answers; the third one, not so much. The third one stays for another day, but at least it’s acknowledged. Imagine Pablo sits down for five minutes with a coffee, asks himself these questions, and then goes back in.
Office. Same day. Pablo calls again. This time he’s expecting a response. He enters with a sheet of paper in hand.
- PABLO: Hi Marta, thanks for giving me these five minutes. Can I tell you?
- MARTA: (closes the laptop) Sure. Tell me.
- PABLO: I’ve brought you the schedule for the three projects I’m handling. As it is, I won’t make it. This isn’t a feeling; it’s mathematics: there are 180 hours of work in the next four weeks and I’ve got 160. We need to decide together what we do with those 20 hours. I’ve got three options in mind. Shall we go through them?
- MARTA: (takes the paper, steps closer) Okay, lay them on me.
Do you see the difference? The overload hasn’t changed. The workload is the same. The boss hasn’t changed. There’s no new communication technique. What changed then? Pablo did three things, all in those five minutes alone with the coffee.
- He decided exactly what he truly wanted to achieve. Not “please listen to me,” not “recognize me,” not “tell me I’m good.” Something concrete: that together they decide what stays out of the next month.
- He brought something to the table. A schedule. A data point. A sheet. Something that both of them can look at at the same time instead of just staring at each other. (This, by the way, is pure stagecraft: when two people look at a sheet, they stop being across from each other and start being side by side.)
- He changed his subtext. In the first scene, Pablo’s subtext was disguised blame: “this is your fault.” In the second, the subtext is respect: “I value your time, I trust your judgment, I own my part.” Marta hasn’t read it consciously. But she felt it. And she responded to that, not to the words.
Because in the end, that’s what this is about. When you align your text with a healthy subtext, the other person notices even if they don’t know why. And the conversation shifts completely. And that work—aligning—doesn’t happen in the boss’s office; it happens beforehand, in the dressing room. With yourself. Over a coffee.
Coté Soler, CEO of BeLiquid.
