“What kind of people are the hardest for you to get along with?”

I’ve asked that question to perhaps a hundred job applicants during final interviews at my companies. Applicants vary widely in their personalities and basic motivations, but their answers to this question don’t vary much at all. I think that’s interesting.

The top answer, by far, is “people who don’t listen to me”. If you want to be hard to get along with, let the people around you feel unheard.

The angry NetJets Pilot’s union set the stage for the most important lesson I learned at this year’s Berkshire-Hathaway Shareholder’s meeting.

NetJets is a Berkshire-owned company, and the pilots union has been in difficult negotiations with the CEO of NetJets for some time. The union coordinated efforts to display their messages to attendees at the shareholder events this year.

They hired an LED billboard truck to drive around and around the giant outdoor shareholder cocktail party. The billboard alternated messages criticizing the NetJets CEO with a cartoon depicting him as a jockey riding the company and whipping it. I was there in the crowd of shareholders, and I found it uncomfortable.

The next day at the main shareholder event, the NetJets pilots picketed along the sidewalk. Union representatives handed red bags to the guests in line, using the guests as couriers to bring their messages, printed on the bags, into the meeting. The union even rented an inflatable blimp to float their combative messages above the crowds. Twitter was flooded with union messages addressed to members of the media, hijacking the official hashtag for the shareholder event. It seemed to me they went out of their way to embarrass Warren Buffett at his own 50th anniversary shareholder celebration.

My emotions went from uncomfortable, to defensive, to concerned about what powerful response Warren Buffett might have to being embarrassed in this way. They were picking a fight with one of the richest and most influential people in the world.

During the meeting an analyst did ask about the NetJet’s union situation. Warren’s answer surprised me.

He heaped praise on the NetJets pilots. He complimented their unwavering professionalism and their high level of skill as pilots. With a lighthearted tone, he talked about how friendly they are, and how he’s always had a safe and positive experience every time he has flown with them.

He acknowledged that the company and the union have a difference of opinion over pay and benefits. He expressed relaxed optimism that the difference of opinion would be resolved soon enough. He cited a couple of facts about the pay and working conditions the pilots currently have. And that was it.

Praise. Acknowledgement. Optimism. Information.

He didn’t mirror the combative tone of the union messages. He didn’t descend to their level of personal attacks and mocking images. He simultaneously put the crowd at ease, and by taking the high road, made the pilot’s union look childish and their tactics look dirty. His relaxed optimism undermined the union’s extensive efforts to make the issue a big ugly deal. By leaving his ego out of it, Warren won the round without a single attacking maneuver.

Well played, and a lesson I won’t forget.

This is an excerpt from “Lean Into the Hard Work”, a chapter in my forthcoming book.

Some projects worth doing require physically difficult work, or long tiring hours of mentally demanding work. I admire people who embrace those kinds of work when they’re needed.

There’s another kind of hard work that scares more people than those two, I think. Emotionally difficult work stops a lot of people who are undaunted by a long day of exertion.

A songwriter putting her vulnerable heart into her music is doing emotionally difficult work. A scientist who dares to believe the groundbreaking solution can be found, doesn’t know how yet, and still shows up to the lab every day, is doing emotionally difficult work. The leader who takes responsibility and personally promotes a vision for the organization is doing emotionally difficult work.

Fear is an invisible filter that screens out many smart and talented people. I imagine a bold red line painted in front of us all, stretching as far to the left and to the right as we can see. This side of the line is crowded, and it feels safer. The other side is sparsely populated. It feels conspicuous and dangerous.

When an entrepreneur moves from talking about a new business, to starting that new business, she steps over the red line. The crowd on the safe side gasps, shrinks back a little from the line, and a rumble of envious comments drifts through them. “Look what she’s doing. I couldn’t do that. I wonder if she’ll make it, or fall flat.”

The line has no guards, no fence, no barbed wire making it hard to cross. There’s no requirement to be smarter, better looking, or wealthier in order to cross it. It’s just red paint on the ground. The few who cross it often reap big rewards, and see the futures they intended for their lives unfold in exciting ways. Back on the safe side people point, envy, analyze, even say it’s unfair. But that powerless red line keeps them safely, invisibly, restrained.

Give yourself an advantage. Cross the line.

As promised, a week or two after my in-flight engine failure, I got back on the horse.

My view from the pilot seat before my “re-do” flight.

I expected to feel anxiety during the flight, but I really didn’t. Yes, my ear was highly tuned to any unusual sound from the engine. I was extra alert on my first few takeoffs, but overall I felt fine.

I attribute this lack of long-term effect to good processing with supportive friends following the scary incident. If we deal effectively with an emotionally significant event at the time, it doesn’t have to become a long-term problem. If I had brushed it off, I bet I would have felt a lot more anxiety on that first flight back.

During this flight, my instructor demonstrated and had me practice the power-off turning and power-off landing techniques I would have needed to handle the engine failure situation on my own. This was the coolest thing. When I put the plane down on the runway a few times, after a turn without power, I felt an incredible sense confidence. It was actually much easier than I expected. Knowing I was now prepared to handle the emergency I had encountered was huge.

I think this is how confidence works in the aftermath of a significant event. We can never convince ourselves the odds of it happening again are too small to worry about. Our brains don’t understand a 0.0001% chance of dying. They just hear “chance of dying”. Our brains do understand ability to handle a situation. “If that happens, I can deal with it safely.”

I am really glad I got back on the horse. In hindsight I can tell my confidence would have been permanently dented if I hadn’t.

Empowerment is a popular term in my circles. It comes up in business coaching, and in poverty alleviation. I think the term gets misused sometimes. Powerful people doing things for people they perceive as less powerful is not empowerment.

In a recent workshop exercise my group came up with this definition:

Empowerment is interacting with an individual or group in a way that increases their awareness of their own power, extends an invitation to them to use their gifts to meet other’s needs, and gives them courage to realize their untapped potential.

The is one of your jobs as a leader.