Ten days ago, I received some pretty harsh criticism. I took it on the chin, and accepted that my performance had been sloppy, substandard and was storing up trouble for the future.

As a result, I have made some big changes: I am more focused and pay greater attention to detail than before. I am grateful to the person for telling me just how badly I was doing and am optimistic that my new behaviour will eventually yield results.

Re-reading the above paragraph, I'd like to make one small correction. I didn't actually take the criticism on the chin. I took it in the mouth, as that is where it was aimed.

The criticism was delivered by my dental hygienist and followed a long poke-about in and around my gum margins. She declared that in some areas my flossing and work with the interdental brushes was so incompetently executed that unless I reformed, I could lose my back teeth. Every day since then, I have been hard at it with six different pieces of kit. It is a major undertaking but one to which I am sincerely committed.

This business of learning from criticism is a new thing for me. So new, in fact, that I don't think I can remember a single occasion in my working life when I have listened to an account of my failings with such good grace and wholeheartedly tried to change.

Mostly, when I'm criticised, one of two things happens. Either I slip down into a well of self-doubt from which no action is possible, or I feel an instant surge of resentment and, when that dies down, an attempt to justify myself or to denigrate my critic takes its place. At this point, I may enlist others to help me assemble an alternative reality in which the critic is in the wrong and I am splendidly, undeniably in the right.

Usually the process stops there. Very occasionally, a few days later I start to wonder if maybe they could have a point after all. Yet even then, the following step – a corresponding change in behaviour – seems always to elude me.

I know I'm not alone in this. I have been asking people for the past week to tell me about times when they have accepted criticism and changed. They all claimed to welcome negative feedback, even when painful. But when pressed, few could name any change made as a result – or, if they could, it turned out to be something piffling such as no longer splitting infinitives after having been told off for doing so.

So what was it about my session in the dentist's chair that was so different? I have thought about this in the fallow hours spent attending to my gums last week and come up with six conditions that explain why the criticism brought change.

First, my hygienist presented me with a causal chain that was hard to dispute. Bad brushing leads to loss of teeth. The only way out is to brush better.

Second, she had no hidden agenda. Her goal was the same as mine – for my teeth to remain in situ for as long as possible.

Third, I recognised her as an authority on the subject, as she has spent two decades scraping around in people's mouths.

Fourth (and this is really important) I do not equate myself with my flossing methodology. To attack the latter is not to imply I am a terrible employee or horrid person.

Fifth, she showed me exactly how to do better and offered hints as I amateurishly tried it myself.

Ten days ago, I received some pretty harsh criticism. I took it on the chin, and accepted that my performance had been sloppy, substandard and was storing up trouble for the future.

As a result, I have made some big changes: I am more focused and pay greater attention to detail than before. I am grateful to the person for telling me just how badly I was doing and am optimistic that my new behaviour will eventually yield results.

Re-reading the above paragraph, I'd like to make one small correction. I didn't actually take the criticism on the chin. I took it in the mouth, as that is where it was aimed.

The criticism was delivered by my dental hygienist and followed a long poke-about in and around my gum margins. She declared that in some areas my flossing and work with the interdental brushes was so incompetently executed that unless I reformed, I could lose my back teeth. Every day since then, I have been hard at it with six different pieces of kit. It is a major undertaking but one to which I am sincerely committed.

This business of learning from criticism is a new thing for me. So new, in fact, that I don't think I can remember a single occasion in my working life when I have listened to an account of my failings with such good grace and wholeheartedly tried to change.

Mostly, when I'm criticised, one of two things happens. Either I slip down into a well of self-doubt from which no action is possible, or I feel an instant surge of resentment and, when that dies down, an attempt to justify myself or to denigrate my critic takes its place. At this point, I may enlist others to help me assemble an alternative reality in which the critic is in the wrong and I am splendidly, undeniably in the right.

Usually the process stops there. Very occasionally, a few days later I start to wonder if maybe they could have a point after all. Yet even then, the following step – a corresponding change in behaviour – seems always to elude me.

I know I'm not alone in this. I have been asking people for the past week to tell me about times when they have accepted criticism and changed. They all claimed to welcome negative feedback, even when painful. But when pressed, few could name any change made as a result – or, if they could, it turned out to be something piffling such as no longer splitting infinitives after having been told off for doing so.

So what was it about my session in the dentist's chair that was so different? I have thought about this in the fallow hours spent attending to my gums last week and come up with six conditions that explain why the criticism brought change.

First, my hygienist presented me with a causal chain that was hard to dispute. Bad brushing leads to loss of teeth. The only way out is to brush better.

Second, she had no hidden agenda. Her goal was the same as mine – for my teeth to remain in situ for as long as possible.

Third, I recognised her as an authority on the subject, as she has spent two decades scraping around in people's mouths.

Fourth (and this is really important) I do not equate myself with my flossing methodology. To attack the latter is not to imply I am a terrible employee or horrid person.

This fails on all of the above scores. I don't know the man. I doubt if his aims are the same as mine. He is attacking something too close to me, he has no remedy in mind and no evidence of causal links.

The only change that I am inclined to make as a result of this criticism is to cry. And the only reason that I'm not going to do that is because I get quite a few of these attacks so my skin is more leathery than it used to be.

In hope of further tips on how to take criticism I have scanned the web. “Feedback is the breakfast of champions,” say the self-help sites.

Only it isn't. It is the breakfast of weirdos, of ambitious freaks.

I know this because I have spent many hours watching reality TV shows such as The Apprentice and America's Next Top Model. Every week the judges hand out savage criticism to the contestants. Every week, their faces barely flinch. The following week the same contestants return with new accents, new jaw lines, new walks and new attitudes just to please their critics.

So this is the real secret to taking criticism. What you need is not the humility and level-headedness to listen to another's point of view. Instead, you need to be so focused on succeeding at something that you swallow your pride and do whatever you are told.

Which leads me to an unlooked-for parallel between me and the young catwalk wannabes on America's Next Top Model. They desperately want to be a cover girl; I desperately want to keep my teeth. And if that means spending 15 minutes a day juggling four interdental brushes, then so be it.

十天前，我受到了一些颇为严厉的批评。我对此心悦诚服，承认自己的表现一直非常马虎、很没水准，而且为日后积累了麻烦。

结果，我做出了一些重大改变：我比以前更加关注细节问题了。我要感谢那个说我做得很糟糕的人，而且，我乐观地认为，我的新做法将最终取得成效。

重读上面的段落，我想做个小更正。事实上，对于那些批评，我并非“心悦诚服”，而是“口悦诚服”，因为受到批评的，正是我的口腔。

那些批评来自我的牙医。她里里外外仔细检查了我的牙龈，最后对我说，在我牙龈的某些地方，牙线和牙间刷的工作实在没有做到家，除非我有所改进，否则我就可能失去自己的大牙。自此之后，每天我都用6种不同的器具，努力地清洁牙齿牙龈。这是一项繁重的任务，但我一点也没有马虎。

从批评中吸取教训，对我而言是个新鲜事物。实际上，这几乎是一个全新事物，我不记得在自己的工作生涯中是否也曾出现过这种情况——听到别人评价我失误的原因时，我还会如此彬彬有礼，而且全心全意地尝试改变。

绝大多数情况下，当我遭到批评时，只会发生两种情况。要么我会陷入自我怀疑，然后什么也不做；要么我会觉得一股怨恨之情顿时油然而生，当怨恨消失之后，我就会想方设法证明自己是对的，或者诋毁批评我的那个人。为此，我可能召集其他人帮助我创造另一种现实，在这个现实之中，那个批评者处在错误的位置，而我则会辉煌的、毋庸置疑的处于正确的立场。

通常情况下，这个过程会在这里停止。在极偶然的情况下，我会在几天后开始考虑批评者是否也有道理。然而，即便那时，我也极少采取后续步骤，即：在行为上作出相应的改变。

我知道，像我这样的人并不少。在过去的一周中，我调查了一些人，询问他们自己接受批评并做出改变的次数。他们都声称，欢迎负面的反馈，即便有时候这会很痛苦。但当我刨根问底时，很少有人能够说出自己最后作了什么改变——即使有，也是些微不足道的事，比如在听到别人劝告之后，不再分裂动词不定式。

那么，当我躺在牙医诊疗椅上时，情况为什么会如此不同呢？上周，在我检查牙龈的几小时空闲时间里，我考虑了这个问题，并想出了6个理由，来解释这些批评为什么能带来改变。

首先，我的牙医提出了一套无可辩驳的因果链。不好好刷牙，就会导致牙齿坏掉。唯一的解决方法，就是好好刷牙。

第二，她没有秘密企图。她的目标和我一样——让我的牙齿尽量长时间地留在原处。

第三，我认可她在这方面的权威地位，因为她已经将20年的时间花在人们的嘴里了。

第四（这一点非常重要），我不把自己和牙线使用方法划等号。抨击我使用牙线的方法，并不意味着我就是个糟糕的雇员，或是个令人讨厌的人。

第五，当我不熟练地示范自己怎么使用牙线时，她准确地向我展示了更好的方法，并给出了提示。

最后，她懂得怎么才能让人听起来觉得舒服。的确，当她告诉我事情有多糟糕时，她看起来非常沮丧，以致我在希望纠正错误的目的，一定程度上只是为了下次能让她高兴一点儿。

办公室批评的麻烦在于，几乎所有这些情形都碰不到。看看上周我邮箱里收到的那封电子邮件吧。“亲爱的凯拉韦夫人，我认为，你专栏的水准远远低于你的能力，而且它们基本上就是垃圾。抱歉我这么刻薄地形容它，但我认为这个词囊括了我对于你专栏的全部想法。虽然我很欣赏你的照片，但我建议你把它撤掉。它有点儿太轻浮了……”

这和上面那几点完全不符。我不认识这个男人。我怀疑他的目的是否与我相同。他攻击的东西和我关系太密切了，他没有提出任何补救方法，也没有提出表明因果关系的证据。

对于这种批评，我能做出的唯一改变就是：哭！而我不这么做的唯一原因是，我受到太多这样的攻击了，导致我的脸皮比以前厚了许多。

为了寻找更多建议，以便自己学会如何接受批评，我浏览了很多网站。有的自助网站说：“反馈是冠军的早餐。”

但它不是。它是古怪人士的早餐，是野心勃勃的狂热分子的早餐。

我知道这一点，是因为我花了许多时间观看电视真人秀节目，比如《学徒》(The Apprentice)和《全美超级模特儿新秀大赛》(America's Next Top Model)。每周，裁判都对选手进行残忍的批评。每周，他们的脸上都显出畏惧的神情。下一周，同样的选手再次回到舞台，展示新的腔调、新的外形、新的台步和新的态度，为的只是取悦他们的批评者。

这就是接受批评的真正秘密。你需要的，并不是以谦卑和冷静之心去聆听他人的观点。相反，你需要成功地做到这样的事：放下自尊，按照别人的指令去做。

我和《全美超级模特儿新秀大赛》中那些年轻的猫步女郎之间，意外地有了一个共同点。她们拼命地想成为封面女郎；我拼命地想保住我的牙齿。对我而言，如果这仅仅意味着每天花15分钟倒腾4个牙间刷，倒也无妨。

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