12. Walk a Mile in Their Shoes

—Isisara Bey (Sony BMG Music Entertainment)

It's probably one of the oldest proverbs around, and it's so true: Walking a mile in someone else's shoes—being empathetic—is important for a happy and successful life. That's right. Empathy isn't just some nice frosting on the cake; it's a very powerful trait—in your career and in the workplace. I'm convinced of this after speaking with Isisara Bey about her 20-plus-year career in the media and entertainment industry. She found that seeing other people's points of view—whether it's her boss, her colleagues, or members of Congress—earned her respect and the powerful position of vice president of corporate affairs at Sony BMG Music Entertainment.

Now, we usually think of empathy as a soft, squishy, intangible trait that makes for good friendships, but not exactly a great career mover. Wrong, says Isisara. For one thing, if you tend to see other people's points of view and respond to their concerns, they will "follow you to the ends of the earth," Isisara says. This might all sound pie in the sky, except Isisara is realistic and notes that you don't have to convince the whole company to see your point of view. "All you really need is one person who trusts you enough to say, 'Go ahead and do it.'"

For example, at a key moment in her career, Isisara's boss gave her 10 months to prove that she could handle a promotion. That's rough. She could have felt hurt and angry at her boss's lack of confidence, but Isisara's empathy helped her see it through her boss's eyes: She was young, less experienced than the person she was replacing, and the post was extremely important. She realized that her boss was just voicing his fear of what could happen to the company if she failed. So instead of getting bogged down in hurt feelings, Isisara came up with a plan to prove his fears were wrong.

In a three-step process, Isisara got busy. First, she asked her boss to assign her an executive coach to help her adjust to the promotion. Second, she asked for help from one person in the company whose respect she'd earned—he was in a different department, but he was powerful and used his influence to help her get nominated as a member of an important board. Third, she brainstormed, came up with some great new ideas to make her mark, and carried it all off—within the 10-month trial period. When her boss acknowledged she was off probation, it was a huge boost for her ego and her career.

Isisara doesn't just use empathy in her own career; she's made it part of her job to educate executives at Sony BMG about how to use empathy as a leadership tool. For instance, if executives empathize with employees, they see that many workers are ruled by fear—of losing their jobs, losing promotions, or losing prestige. And fear isn't a great way to manage people. Instead, she works to encourage a more empathic corporate culture where executives communicate goals with employees—who are then more efficient and focused. "Employees will take budget cuts and cutbacks in resources if they know they are part of a team," Isisara says. "If executives don't communicate, don't hang out in the cafeteria, don't call folks together, what they get are fearful, disgruntled employees."

Seeing the world through different perspectives came naturally to Isisara, maybe because she saw the world through two different cultures. She was born in New York, but her parents were immigrants from Guyana, and they took her to South America several times during her childhood. But even if we don't have her multicultural experience, we can all learn to have some empathy, Isisara believes, and a little can go a long way. Her story shows us how learning to walk a mile in someone else's shoes can be a powerful thing that fuels the corporate bottom line—and your own career.

Starting from Scratch

During college, Isisara had a few false starts. She was grieving over her mother's death, and part of her wanted to skip college and run back to Guyana to find a sense of security. But realistically, she saw that in a struggling, young country like Guyana, an unskilled young person wasn't going to get very far or be much help. So she stayed in the U.S. and majored in theatre, her first love. At graduation, she didn't think she had what it took to be an actress. Instead, she went to graduate school for a master's degree in media communications; as part of her studies at Antioch University, she ended up working at the Morgan University public radio station. The station was a National Public Radio affiliate in Baltimore, so her job as a morning drive radio personality was prestigious (and low-paying). She was finding her groove.

Her radio job brought back memories of Guyana and how important radio was to that developing nation when she visited as a child. "They didn't always have newspapers or televisions; the radio provided everything," Isisara recalls. One of her childhood memories is of walking with her mother through the streets of Georgetown, the capital of Guyana, rushing home to hear that night's radio show. "We didn't miss anything," Isisara says. "Because from block to block everyone was listening to the same thing. The radio shows had news, sports, class instruction, and death announcements for Guyanese anywhere in the world. I really began to love radio and how it would impact the imagination and connect people."

Already, Isisara's empathy made her love her work for the benefits it brought to people. And that's an important thing in corporate America—it will keep you fired up about your career. After all, most of the day-to-day work in corporations isn't flashy and fun; there are always some boring daily tasks. But if you love the benefits your work brings to the world, it'll keep you sharp. For instance, I may not always love each and every task or five-hour meeting that is required of me to be a successful financial planner, but I can love the results it brings to people: financial and emotional security. You can do this with almost any job, and it will help keep you working at your best.

For instance, in Isisara's job as radio personality, she was on air from 6 a.m. to 10:00 a.m., playing records, switching on the newscasts, and reading local announcements; the next 4 hours were taken up with recording voiceovers and other off-air tasks. It could have become routine, but believing in the benefits she brought her listeners, Isisara started to go the extra mile. Each day, after her regular duties were over, she produced a 15-minute "mini show" of African history that included daily affirmations and meditations. Gradually she created a weekly variety show on topics she was interested in, adding artistic touches such as special sound effects to make the show "a little more captivating for the imagination," as she puts it. Her ratings were respectable, and the station's program director got involved in Baltimore politics and eventually became congressional representative and president of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. Life at the radio station was exciting. "We had a lot going on," Isisara recalls. "We felt we were the eyes and ears of the community in ways that commercial stations could not be."

This isn't to say that Isisara had anything against commercial media. For one thing, more people tune in to commercial radio and TV stations—and the pay is better. So after 5 years in public radio, Isisara started to think it was time to switch to the for-profit world. But as it turned out, making that switch wasn't as easy as she thought it would be.

Underestimating Obstacles

At first, Isisara figured she would get her foot in the door by volunteering at the local NBC television affiliate. "But they said no, they could only take college interns," Isisara recalls. So she did something very simple: She got around the system. She asked one of her former professors, who she kept in touch with, to sign her up for one of his college courses. That way she could qualify as a student intern and could apply for the intern position, which she easily got with her radio credentials.

With that hurdle passed, she had another: a hugely hectic schedule. Each morning Isisara would go to work at her radio station job and then rush to the TV station to do menial jobs, such as make copies and get coffee while the staff rushed around hurriedly putting together the evening newscast. It didn't feel worth it. Luckily, she impressed one of the TV anchors, Dorothy West, who did a morning show at the station. Who knows what it was that made West take Isisara under her wing and let her work as her intern, but Isisara's empathic, likable personality probably helped. Although the overnight hours were still hectic, with Isisara working all night to put together the morning show and then going to her own job with no break, now she felt like she was learning the ropes.

West taught her to listen to the police scanners for breaking news, how to write copy for television, and how to log film clips that went with the copy. "It was great for me," Isisara says. After working with West for 2 weeks, Isisara felt confident enough to apply for an entry-level position at the station as a production assistant. She interviewed for the job and got it.

In the high-stress atmosphere of a TV newsroom, people sometimes make mistakes. One memorable mistake happened when Isisara was news producer and had a new writer working for her. She'd given the writer several stories to complete, and the leads were done. However, Isisara didn't realize the woman was still writing the stories even as the newscast began. Then the teleprompter got to a story that hadn't been written yet, and the anchors had to ad-lib as best they could. "We all learned something that afternoon," Isisara says. She took it as a learning experience for the writer, to learn to communicate when she was in over her head and for Isisara to keep more in touch with staffers. The writer went on to be a very good worker, and Isisara earned respect for being cool-headed and not placing blame. Once again, Isisara's empathy was an asset.

Once Isisara reached the level of news producer, an unlikely obstacle came her way: her husband died. It was a tough period. "By the time my husband died, I had buried every member of my immediate family," Isisara recalls. "I had two choices: I could keep living, or I could die myself. After a lot of soul searching, I decided while I'm still living it's my job to keep moving forward." And so she did.

Building Momentum—Empathetically

At this point in her career, when she was in her late 20s, Isisara's empathy and superb work ethic had earned her a great network. Hearing about her husband's death, one of her college mentors referred her for a new executive training program at Columbia Pictures. When she was invited to the program, she jumped at the chance to make a fresh start in a new city.

When Isisara was chosen for the program, she moved to New York City and began a series of 6-month rotations in different parts of Columbia's business. At the end of each rotation, she had to make a presentation to various executives at the company. "It was very nerve-wracking," Isisara remembers. On top of that, Columbia Pictures was sold to Sony while she was going through the leadership program. Her future at the new company felt unsure.

It was during her last rotation, in corporate affairs in Los Angeles, where she found her niche at the company. Corporate affairs, to Isisara, was how the company "presented its face to the world." With her background in radio and television news—and her natural way of being able to see other points of view—Isisara caught on quickly. One of the challenges for Sony at the time was to expand Columbia's facility in Culver City, a small community nearly surrounded by Los Angeles. Those expansion plans weren't always popular with local residents, Isisara saw, and part of the problem was that residents feared losing their historic architecture.

"Part of my job is to find ways to make nice with the local community," Isisara says. So she put herself in the shoes of residents, asked herself what would be a good-faith way to earn the trust and respect of the community. That's how she came up with her idea to sponsor a program where the corporation's executives and employees would volunteer to spruce up the city's schools. She convinced executives to suit up in overalls and go plant trees and paint school buildings. After all, just having lower-level employees do the work wasn't authentic, she saw. "It had to come from the heart of the company," Isisara says. It was a challenge to organize, but she pulled it together.

Isisara also saw that the entertainment industry was the face of America for much of the world, and often what the movies present are stereotypes that don't portray Americans in their best light. So she set out to expose Sony's workforce to broader ideas through something she dubbed the "Celebration of Culture." She brought in authors and performers from all parts of American culture. During the racial unrest in Los Angeles after the Rodney King verdict, Isisara brought in African entertainers. Her line of thinking was that if people could connect through music and art, they would see other people's humanity. Besides, it was fun.

Then the big earthquake of 1994 hit, and Isisara felt like it was time to move on. She started not to feel secure in L.A. and began looking for a way to move back to the East Coast.

Taking the Next Leap

Isisara found a job in Sony Music's New York offices, working in government affairs. Her boss knew about her corporate affairs work at Sony Pictures on the West Coast, and he was impressed. He told her he was grooming her to be his replacement when he eventually retired, but before he could retire he died abruptly without a clear succession plan. Isisara stepped forward and said she could fill his shoes, but senior management wasn't sure that she was ready.

That's when Isisara got her 10-month trial period as head of government affairs. Her triumph was something called the Tri-Caucus Retreat, a gathering attended by members of the U.S. Congressional Black, Hispanic, and Asian Caucuses.

The way she came up with the idea for the Tri-Caucus Retreat is such a great example of the benefits of walking in another person's shoes. While she was looking for a project to wow the people at Sony, Isisara attended a retreat for the Black Congressional Caucus Foundation board, of which she was a member. She met with the chairman and asked him what was the most important thing she could help him achieve. Notice she didn't ask him how he could help her. Instead she asked what he needed. His answer: better communication with other minority caucuses in Congress.

"I knew this was something I could do," Isisara remembers. With her background using entertainment to build bridges, she set up the Tri-Caucus Retreat as a way of having the three congressional caucuses meet on neutral territory and form personal connections. "It was the first time these members of Congress would be talking," Isisara says. "They work together in committees, but they're not necessarily communicating."

At the retreat, between the multicultural poetry readings and stage performances, there was time for sharing personal stories of why they got into public service. As the personal stories came out, connections were made. A California congresswoman who was the daughter of migrant workers could relate to an African-American congressman who was the son of a sharecropper. "It was so moving," Isisara says. "It was in that moment that I knew that these retreats were a success."

Isisara isn't sure what her next step is, but she knows it will be about building bridges. "The theme of my work is using art and culture to get people to see themselves and each other differently," Isisara says. "Then people treat each other differently, empathize with other people's point of view, and find common ground."

Walking in someone else's shoes is a powerful secret; try it and see where it takes you.