A DEEPLY INGRAINED HABIT

Darius stared at his computer screen and pressed his forehead in frustration. Once again, it was Tuesday afternoon, and he was arguing through email with one of his colleagues who worked at TM Tower in Kuala Lumpur. It was Sarah. They disagreed on the key message for the new marketing campaign for their next software release. Darius wanted to emphasise how easy and intuitive the software was and how it had technical features and complex functionalities. Sarah, who had a technical background, wanted to emphasise the technical functionalities and complex features of the software.

As he read Sarah's latest email, Darius felt a pang of annoyance. She had written that his approach was too simple and didn't show off the software's true power. He sighed, unsure of how to respond. He could have fired back with a harsh reply, pointing out all the flaws in her argument and how outdated her ideas were. But he knew that wouldn't solve anything. It would just make things worse and dig them both deeper into their opposing viewpoints.

Darius knew that Sarah was very smart and was a great asset to their team. He respected her ideas, even when he disagreed, and he just wished that she could understand his perspective so they could talk about it like adults. But every conversation felt like a fight, neither of them willing to budge.

This was not the first time Darius had encountered something like this at work—people unable to disagree without taking everything personally. It happened everywhere, from the water cooler to the boardroom. People seemed to have forgotten that you could have different opinions and that the world would not come to an end.

Darius took a breath. He exhaled. He needed to think. He couldn’t let his anger get the best of him. He had to find a way to reach Sarah. He had to find a way to make her see things his way. 

Within a couple of minutes, though, Darius has worked out what he wants to say. He phrased it so as to make Sarah change her mind, not through having her defensive barriers lowered but through her being able to look at things in a new way.

By the time he wrote back, his words were measured, his tone polite, and he explained his rationale for why he thought his method was better: He opened with a recognition of Sarah’s passion for the project and her contributions before moving into a clear and concise case for his approach, addressing her concerns in a considerate way.

He closed by asking for a productive conversation, a chance to work together and find a solution that would satisfy both of their visions for the campaign.

Darius wasn’t holding his breath. He knew that Sarah’s defensiveness was a deeply ingrained habit, a reflex that she might not even be aware of. But he was still going to give it a try. Maintaining an open dialogue and a willingness to listen were part and parcel of a strong and productive team. 

For a while, his email went unanswered. Darius tried to work but couldn’t concentrate. He pictured how Sarah would respond—a volley of rebuttals and recriminations, a devaluation of his half-hearted attempt at dialogue.

And then—finally—his inbox pinged. Relief flooded over him as he saw Sarah's reply. He opened it, heart racing.

The email was short, but it was different. There was no instant counterpunch, no defensiveness—just calm reflection. Sarah admitted she hadn't fully considered his perspective before and suggested meeting later that afternoon to discuss the campaign further.

Darius had a big grin on his face. This wasn’t a victory, but it was a victory of sorts. A crack had appeared in the wall of resistance, and a glimmer of hope peeked through. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Meeting Sarah didn’t magically solve all their problems, but it was a good conversation. He could see her point of view, and she could see his; the campaign they ultimately devised was a mix of both their approaches, a compromise that nevertheless felt like a real collaboration. 

That day, Darius learnt something about himself. It was not just about being right. It was about understanding other people’s perspectives, addressing disagreements with kindness and empathy, and looking for commonality. It was about learning to agree to disagree in a nice way. 

If this sounds like a bittersweet ending, it is. Darius left the TM Tower that evening as the KL sunset cast a magnificent gradient over the city. He was not unhappy. He knew this road would not always be smooth; he would likely face similar situations in the future. He would continue to try and walk it, to open the space for dialogue, to show his colleagues how a respectful disagreement can be constructive. Disagreement was not a bad thing. It could lead to better things.