I thought it time to be clear about something – when we talk over Zoom, or Teams, or Skype, or GoToMeeting, or whatever online tool you prefer, I won’t be on video.
Throughout the last year of virtual teaming and remote client work, I haven’t been on video.
As a coach and consultant, I both coach and consult better when I’m not on video.
And I generally encourage my clients to do the same – if they want to be on video, they can, though I prefer if not. When I make that offer, I often hear a sigh of relief
[note to managers out there; consider that your embrace of video for team calls may be a significant stressor for a good chunk of your team – some will adore it, but some are filled with dread every time the reminder comes up.]
Here’s why…
Like it or not, screens have become the norm of much of our interaction with the world. This isn’t just a COVID thing, it was happening long before that – ask any touring musician how many in the crowd are experiencing the concert by looking at the video they’re capturing on their phones.
And screens have also become the main route to selling us stuff – stuff we often don’t need; stuff that is framed and presented to us within the horrible societal norm of the “perfection myth”.
Like editorial photography did in the past, our use of screens as a self-presentation mechanism has fueled our search for a perfect, superficial, false persona to present to the world.
[tell me you haven’t moved a book or decoration around in the background of wherever you video-chat, tell me you don’t keep glancing at the self-view window when you’re on a call…]
For influencers on Tik-Tok, Instagram, YouTube et al, maintaining that persona is a daily pursuit, and anyone active online does it. In our video-chats, though, that pursuit is taken up to 11
[Tufnell reference, my peeps get it]
Our video-chats have become performance art, with each of us playing a role for the camera; stars in our very own drama of one.
With friends and family, I video chat all the time, because we are very playful and that play is enhanced by camera silliness and shenanigans. Having moved from UK to US in the early 2000s, video-chats have kept us close despite the miles.
But when it comes to work, where I’m helping people with real-world problems, and digging for insights that are often buried deep within scripted behavioral pathways, the superficial video persona often gets in the way and, in the worst cases, actually becomes a route to enhanced denial and avoidance
[“me on the camera really, really gets it but that’s a different me than the me who walks away from the call”]
Classical communication insight tells us that messaging is 10% words, 20% how they’re said, and 70% non-verbal. And face-to-face, those proportions absolutely make sense.
On video-chat, however, my sense is that the 70% non-verbal communication is largely, maybe even totally now, the play-acting persona, which is then compounded by our own tendency to play-act and self-monitor in the medium; we do, after all, have our own play-acting persona.
By turning off the camera, I listen harder, I hear deeper and I focus tighter – video is a distraction to my ability to contribute in each moment.
By having my clients turn off the camera, they gain the chance to react and respond more honestly to insights, challenges and feedback than they do when there’s the added pressure of “making it work for the camera”.
Bottom line: if we are chatting online, the camera will remain off for both of our sakes!