Last week, I made my first-ever podcast guest appearance. It was raining hard enough in New York City that Manhattan seemed to have stopped functioning—and so had my umbrella. It broke precisely when I needed it.
I arrived late and a bit drenched.
The host was Raj Shamani. His team’s chief of staff was waiting downstairs. I apologized, showed him my broken umbrella, and joked that I needed to throw it away before Raj started interviewing me.
I left it outside the door and went into the studio. We recorded for about three hours.
When we finished, I went to grab my things. Next to my backpack was a note.
“Sorry, your umbrella broke. I hope you can use this one.”
Beside it was a brand-new umbrella.
Someone on the team had gone out in the rain and bought it for me.
I’d mentioned the umbrella in passing, as an icebreaker. I hadn’t asked anyone to do anything about it. But someone had paid attention and gone out of their way to do something about it.
That small act stayed with me. And it got me thinking about attention.
ONE INSIGHT
We spend so much of our lives trying to get it. We want our coworkers to recognize our input, our boss to acknowledge our effort, our life partner to appreciate our love.
The entire world of social media is driven by the desire to have someone pay attention.
Are we all just becoming photographers curating our lives for faceless spectators who scroll past our feeds in a hurry?
People are desperate to be seen at the exact moment the world is making them easier to forget.
But that umbrella reminded me how much we can do if we simply invert that desire.
When I was CEO, I had a small habit I learned from one of my mentors. Whenever someone walked into my office, I closed my laptop, turned toward them, and said, “How are you?”
Years later, former colleagues still bring it up when we meet. They don’t necessarily remember what we discussed. They remember feeling seen.
You can’t be half-present and fully connected.
I know what being noticed can do for someone. When I was a teenager, I was lost. I ran away from home, failed in school, and spent time in a monastery training as a monk.
When you keep failing year after year, you start believing that’s who you are. That it’s all you’re good for.
But then someone came along who believed in me way more than I believed in myself. They paid attention. They gave me their time. They said I was okay. That I could be loved when I wasn’t sure I had much to offer.
That generosity changed the course of my life.
You can be struggling and feel overlooked yourself. Who among us hasn’t felt that? But even then, you can help another person feel seen.
That doesn’t mean ignoring your own need for care. But when you have some attention to spare, you have something valuable to give.
ONE TOOL
Now, I'm not talking about attention to detail in your work. We’ll get to it another time. I’m talking about paying attention to the person in front of you. What's the best way to wear the attention hat?
In any interaction, I look for three opportunities: Help, Appreciation, Time.
I call it the HAT principle. Give at least one: