Recently, my office embarked on the mother of all performance reviews - 360-degree feedback.

Some section editors were selected for this pilot project. We were assessed by not just our bosses - as at the traditional year-end appraisal review - but by our peers and subordinates too.

Each of us was rated by five bosses/peers and eight subordinates whose identities were kept a secret. They scored us on qualities such as decisiveness, fairness, integrity, teamwork and composure.

They also had to write down things about us that we should 'continue doing', 'start doing' and 'stop doing'.

A score was tallied for each quality, and we could compare it with the overall average scores of the others. We then had a session with a consultant who walked us through our results.

The aim was for us to become more aware of our shortcomings, work to improve them and hopefully emerge better managers.

I don't know about you but I've always been apprehensive about hearing feedback about myself.

In school, I'd cringe at my teachers' remarks in my report cards, even if they tended to be positive ones such as 'pleasant', 'polite', 'quiet'. (I was a trouble-free child.)

At work, I approach the year-end appraisal season with a heavy heart.

I take positive comments about myself with a pinch of salt because, inside, I know I'm not that great a person or worker. Yet I react to negative comments with some umbrage because I know I'm not that bad a person or worker, either.

In any case, the 360-degree project provided some interesting feedback.

Unlike the year-end appraisal, we were judged on not just our performance but also as a person.

I received some generous comments but also some of the other variety which made me reflect on myself and my working style (the exercise worked, I guess).

Will I be a better manager for it? I don't know, but at least I'm trying to, among other things, curb my apparent appetite to 'micro-manage', learn to 'delegate more and relinquish control occasionally', and 'start talking to more people in the newsroom'.

The 360-degree exercise threw up other home truths: It is hard to please everyone, and not everyone is going to like you even if you try to win them over.

It works the other way round too: I don't necessarily like everyone, even people whom others like.

So much of human interaction, whether at work, at home or in a social setting, has to do with chemistry.

You either have chemistry with a person or you don't, and you will know it the instant you meet.

Chemistry is hard to manufacture even if you try. It can be a passing thing and need not lead to a friendship. If it does, it can also die when the relationship ends. Chemistry is no guarantee that ties between two people will last forever.

It is also a different animal from love, or lust, at first sight. You can fall head over heels for someone yet realise later there's no chemistry between you.

A few weeks ago in the course of work, I met two men from the same organisation.

One I couldn't click with, I don't know why. We were polite to each other and braced for the sort of small talk one must engage in, in these business situations. But we had nothing to say after the introductory pleasantries were over. Conversation frayed. My mind raced to patch the silence but I drew a blank.

I took to the other person much better. Maybe it was the way he laughed and how he reminded me of the sort of guys I knew from school, I can't put my finger on it.

But I felt comfortable with him and though we had been strangers a minute before, the small talk was effortless and in no time we even got to talking about his son.

Blood ties don't guarantee chemistry either. There are relatives you click with and those you don't. Even parents are known to have better chemistry with certain children.

This social ease, or unease, you have with others manifests from a young age. Kindergarten pupils form alliances with some and not others. It carries through school to the workplace.

There are colleagues whom I click with even though they might be 10 or 20 years older or younger, and others I can't even if we are close in age.

There are those I can share a joke or sarcastic comment and know they will get where I am coming from, and me them. Others you feel awkward with and even if there's nothing unpleasant between you, you avoid going into a lift with them.

I suppose the kind of people we get along with says a lot about ourselves. Whether we're conscious of it or not, we measure people against our own interests and values. Those who seem to have a similar outlook - even if it is a gut feel on your part that they do - you connect with.

Psychologist Daniel Goleman writes about human rapport in his 2006 book Social Intelligence: The New Science Of Human Relationships.

'Rapport exists only between people; we recognise it whenever a connection feels pleasant, engaged and smooth,' he says.

'But rapport matters far beyond those fleeting, pleasant moments. When people are in rapport, they can be more creative together and more efficient in making decisions - whether it is a couple planning a vacation itinerary, or top management mapping a business strategy.

'Rapport feels good, generating the harmonious glow of being simpatico, a sense of friendliness where each person feels the other's warmth, understanding, and genuineness. These mutual feelings of liking strengthen the bonds between them, no matter how temporary.'

It does hurt when you realise someone doesn't like you, but should it really matter? Should you care what others think of you?

I suppose you should in a work situation where the reason you're there is to get things done, and it's hard to do so without teamwork.

If you don't get along with your colleagues, you won't get their full co-operation to see a task through, and it is unlikely they will show the enthusiasm and commitment needed to see the task through well.

But outside of work, I frankly couldn't care less.

I start from the belief that I should be nice to everyone. But if it is not reciprocated or if I can't connect with the other person even if there are no bad vibes between us, so be it. I'll move on and not look back.

I can't control how others think or act. What I can control is how I think and behave, and to me, life is too short to be marred by unpleasantness.

We can't be indifferent to human interaction, but to keep sane, I want to surround myself - yes, all 360 degrees - with those I can click with, and keep those I can't at bay.

This article was first published in The Sunday Times on 13 July 2008.