The Hidden Power of Exceptions

Every solution-focused conversation explores three things: what the client wants, what the client has, and what’s next. Exceptions, moments when the problem doesn’t happen or doesn’t happen as badly, often show up in the second part. But they may not be obvious because clients often mention them without noticing: “I only walked the dog because no one else was home.”

It’s tempting to treat the exception as a strategy to repeat, by asking, “How could you do that again?” But then the conversation becomes about repeating that one behavior, rather than getting curious about what the client did, how they did it, and what they know about themselves because they were able to do it.

So instead of chasing strategies, get curious about what the client did and ask questions that let them discover what about them and the kind of person they are that made it possible. That’s the value of an exception: it gives the client information about themselves that can become useful as they think about what they want and would do next.

In the next week, keep an ear open for those small exceptions that can have big impact.

Every solution-focused conversation features three parts: what the client wants, what the client has, and what’s next.

The second part, what the client has, explores what’s already working and exceptions to the problem.

Why exceptions?

A key principle of the solution-focused approach is that no problem happens all the time. As Steve de Shazer said, “No one is perfect. No one even does their problems perfectly.”

There are moments when the problem doesn’t happen, doesn’t happen as badly, or something the client wants is already happening in some small way.

But those moments may not be obvious because clients often mention them without noticing:

Exceptions are easy to miss. Clients may minimize them or explain them away: “It just happened.” “I only did it because I had to.”

But the client still did something.

That’s worth getting curious about.

It’s tempting to treat the exception as a strategy to repeat, by asking, “How could you do that again?”

But then the conversation becomes about repeating that one behavior, rather than getting curious about what the client did, how they did it, and what they know about themselves because they were able to do it.

So instead of chasing strategies, stay close to what happened.

What did the client do? How did they do it? What did they know about themselves that helped make it possible?

The client who walked the dog may discover that when something matters enough, they can act even when they’re tired. Or they may realize that their sense of responsibility got them moving, that they didn’t want to let the dog down, or that knowing they could take a hot bath afterward helped.

The client who left work on time may notice that friendships matter enough to them to set a boundary on some Fridays. Or they may discover something completely different.

That’s the point.

We don’t decide what the exception means for the client. We ask questions that let the client discover what about them and the kind of person they are that made it possible.

And we don’t assume that because something worked once, the client should simply do it again.

A past exception is not an instruction for the future.

It gives the client information about themselves.

Maybe they would do something similar in the future. Maybe they would do it differently. Maybe what they learned from the exception leads them somewhere neither they nor the coach could have predicted.

That’s why exceptions can be so useful. They give clients a chance to notice things about themselves that may otherwise have gone unnoticed, and that information can become useful as they think about what they want and what they would do next.