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Monday, July 9, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Going Postal
I'm old enough to remember when faxes seemed like magic and when "electronic mail" was an exotic and heady concept. Yup. Those days seem so long ago.
Yesterday a friend and I tried to figure out how to get her handwritten notes to me by next Monday for a project. Her scanner was broken. She didn't want to type all her notes on a new electronic file. What to do? What to do?
"Well, you could, um, mail it to me."
Stunned silence.
"That just might work."
Yesterday a friend and I tried to figure out how to get her handwritten notes to me by next Monday for a project. Her scanner was broken. She didn't want to type all her notes on a new electronic file. What to do? What to do?
"Well, you could, um, mail it to me."
Stunned silence.
"That just might work."
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Angry Words
Have you noticed that apps like Angry Birds can seduce even the most "old school" among us to try their hand? And not just once or twice, but in-depth sessions where they hone their skills. I've seen former Luddites re-run the same level ten times to get that elusive high score.
It speaks to the brilliance of the game, as well as its potential to suck away your productive hours. But I also it also speak to our perception of fun.
Most people I know don't think Word or Excel are fun. In fact, many say they hate these tools more than Brussel sprouts, ice storms, or Jar-Jar Binks. And when they bring that intense hatred to the task, invariably "it" won't do what they want it to do.
Interestingly, I look at Excel and Word, and similar applications, as puzzles and fun challenges. If I see that someone else can do something I can't, I search and read and experiment until I can do it too. It's my Angry Words, if you will.
Am I a freak? Perhaps. But the next time you are cursing Word because your headers disappeared or you can't unravel the circular logic error in Excel, think about Angry Birds (or your favorite game) and how you react to setbacks in that arena. Access that part of your brain that is curious and hands-on. Stop thinking it should work the way you want it to, and start learning how it works.
There's no high score in Excel or Word, but you'll find your way to the leaderboard if you can harness that creative side when frustrated.
It speaks to the brilliance of the game, as well as its potential to suck away your productive hours. But I also it also speak to our perception of fun.
Most people I know don't think Word or Excel are fun. In fact, many say they hate these tools more than Brussel sprouts, ice storms, or Jar-Jar Binks. And when they bring that intense hatred to the task, invariably "it" won't do what they want it to do.
Interestingly, I look at Excel and Word, and similar applications, as puzzles and fun challenges. If I see that someone else can do something I can't, I search and read and experiment until I can do it too. It's my Angry Words, if you will.
Am I a freak? Perhaps. But the next time you are cursing Word because your headers disappeared or you can't unravel the circular logic error in Excel, think about Angry Birds (or your favorite game) and how you react to setbacks in that arena. Access that part of your brain that is curious and hands-on. Stop thinking it should work the way you want it to, and start learning how it works.
There's no high score in Excel or Word, but you'll find your way to the leaderboard if you can harness that creative side when frustrated.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Do You Book Your Own Travel?
A recent acquaintance mentioned in passing that she books her own travel because she does not want to "burden" her administrative staff.
My initial reaction to that was grudging respect...(Wow, what a team player)...
...and then a little guilt... (am I "burdening" the folks who I expect to book my travel?)...
...and then counter-argumentation... (hang on - is that a smart choice?)
You may think I'm rationalizing - and I'd love to hear from you if you do (in polite discourse, of course). But I don't think it is a wise choice to book travel oneself because it flies in the face of what I consider a key law of successful business:
Give a task to the lowest paid employee who can successfully complete it.
I entered the workplace on the cusp of the professional DIY revolution. That right whippersnappers, way back in the late 1980's. When I started, there were no laptops or desktop PCs (we had mainframes), no small printers (they took up entire rooms on different floors), no email, not even a floppy disk.
Things really have evolved pretty quickly in only a few decades. Now all but the most celebrated executives can type their own memos (make that emails), print 5 copies rather than having their assistant make copies, etc.
But there is an opportunity cost to some of the DIY tasks at the office. Things that work in the background - like those 5 copies - take no time. But some things detract from the work you should be doing. There is an opportunity cost, and I think it's important to periodically assess the tasks that nibble away at your day, and make sure you:
There are several reasons I believe this is a sound strategy:
1. Economics
It's just more profitable to have the higher paid employees doing things only THEY can do. If the CEO takes 5 minutes to go to the copier and make a copy - not only did that copy cost 10-100 times more than it would have if the most junior intern had done it, it ALSO had an opportunity cost for those (expensive) 5 minutes not spent doing things only a CEO can do.
2. Visibility
For things like air travel, sure, we all have the Internet and click-click-click, we know how to book travel. BUT, there is a benefit to have some central control and visibility of the amount of travel being booked. If 100 road warriors are booking their own flights, it can very hard to get a handle on the gestalt of your travel.
3. Support
If you always book your own travel (or make your own copies, etc), there will come a day when you flat-out don't have time. In the middle of that crisis, you turn to a junior employee and say "would you..." You may face some confusion, resistance, martyrdom, or even mutiny. If you have NEVER ask for assistance, they may not know how to do it, they will have questions about your preferences, etc and all of that will come up mid-crisis. On the other hand, if you normally use an admin for travel, you get into a routine where he or she knows what you like and can quickly complete new requests...but you need a flight to Bangkok at 2am, you can book it yourself as the exception rather than the rule.
4. Hierarchy
It's politically correct these days to talk about teams, stakeholders, and collaboration - but let's be honest, we are not an autonomous collective of equally skilled and compensated partners. There is a pecking order, there are differences in skills, talents, and productivity. Doing what a junior person can/should be doing is not being a good team player, it's devaluing the team. And in some cases, it's denying the junior person the chance to try, fail, and learn at the tasks they need to master. You might say "booking travel is just admin work" - but there is a mastery there: learn to interact with different internal clients, balance priorities, keep good records, identify opportunities, etc. Seen in this light, it's a stepping stone to managing larger projects in a career. So why are you doing it?
Agree or Disagree? I'd love to know.
My initial reaction to that was grudging respect...(Wow, what a team player)...
...and then a little guilt... (am I "burdening" the folks who I expect to book my travel?)...
...and then counter-argumentation... (hang on - is that a smart choice?)
You may think I'm rationalizing - and I'd love to hear from you if you do (in polite discourse, of course). But I don't think it is a wise choice to book travel oneself because it flies in the face of what I consider a key law of successful business:
Give a task to the lowest paid employee who can successfully complete it.
I entered the workplace on the cusp of the professional DIY revolution. That right whippersnappers, way back in the late 1980's. When I started, there were no laptops or desktop PCs (we had mainframes), no small printers (they took up entire rooms on different floors), no email, not even a floppy disk.
Things really have evolved pretty quickly in only a few decades. Now all but the most celebrated executives can type their own memos (make that emails), print 5 copies rather than having their assistant make copies, etc.
But there is an opportunity cost to some of the DIY tasks at the office. Things that work in the background - like those 5 copies - take no time. But some things detract from the work you should be doing. There is an opportunity cost, and I think it's important to periodically assess the tasks that nibble away at your day, and make sure you:
Give a task to the lowest paid employee who can successfully complete it.
There are several reasons I believe this is a sound strategy:
1. Economics
It's just more profitable to have the higher paid employees doing things only THEY can do. If the CEO takes 5 minutes to go to the copier and make a copy - not only did that copy cost 10-100 times more than it would have if the most junior intern had done it, it ALSO had an opportunity cost for those (expensive) 5 minutes not spent doing things only a CEO can do.
2. Visibility
For things like air travel, sure, we all have the Internet and click-click-click, we know how to book travel. BUT, there is a benefit to have some central control and visibility of the amount of travel being booked. If 100 road warriors are booking their own flights, it can very hard to get a handle on the gestalt of your travel.
3. Support
If you always book your own travel (or make your own copies, etc), there will come a day when you flat-out don't have time. In the middle of that crisis, you turn to a junior employee and say "would you..." You may face some confusion, resistance, martyrdom, or even mutiny. If you have NEVER ask for assistance, they may not know how to do it, they will have questions about your preferences, etc and all of that will come up mid-crisis. On the other hand, if you normally use an admin for travel, you get into a routine where he or she knows what you like and can quickly complete new requests...but you need a flight to Bangkok at 2am, you can book it yourself as the exception rather than the rule.
4. Hierarchy
It's politically correct these days to talk about teams, stakeholders, and collaboration - but let's be honest, we are not an autonomous collective of equally skilled and compensated partners. There is a pecking order, there are differences in skills, talents, and productivity. Doing what a junior person can/should be doing is not being a good team player, it's devaluing the team. And in some cases, it's denying the junior person the chance to try, fail, and learn at the tasks they need to master. You might say "booking travel is just admin work" - but there is a mastery there: learn to interact with different internal clients, balance priorities, keep good records, identify opportunities, etc. Seen in this light, it's a stepping stone to managing larger projects in a career. So why are you doing it?
Agree or Disagree? I'd love to know.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Memories of 9/11
As we approach the ten year anniversary of 9/11, I've been thinking about my memories of that day.
I've also recently been reading about memories and mistakes and how often the memories we defend most strongly are those that have drifted from actual events. Our brains fill in blanks, get the sequence of event wrong and are generally not that dependable. This is why even mere moments after a hit-and-run, the bystanders often cannot agree on the make and color of the car.
So it is likely that my memories are not completely accurate to actual events, and yet they feel very real and true to me. For this essay, I checked the timeline on the key elements of the day against an excellent BBC story: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-14681384. I invite my friends and colleagues to add color commentary to my version of these events.
For me, the events of that day began in my office near DC with call from my friend and co-worker Dawn, who was in Minneapolis on a client visit. She was getting dressed in her hotel and watching the morning shows. She called to say they had reported a plane had run into the World Trade Center.
I envisioned a small prop plane crumpling into the giant building, and asked how could the pilot have made that kind of error. It's not like you can't see the Twin Towers from miles away. She corrected my bad assumption and explained it was a big plane ...and the Tower was on fire.
I distinctly remember saying "I'm sure it will be OK; it's not like it's World War III." Dawn quietly replied, "I think maybe it is."
Hearing the fear in her normally confident and optimistic voice, I walked down to the hall to our CIO, explained what was going on, and asked if he could hook up the television. He did. And I think we were gathered in the conference room when the second plane hit. That is a portion of the memory I am not fully certain of. I have seen that image so many times in the last ten years, on video and in my mind, that I could have the timeline wrong.
I remember watching the fire billowing from the Towers and the group in our office wondering how the firemen could ever reach those high floors. We talked about fire fighting techniques for skyscrapers and whether helicopters could help. We wondered how many people were actually in the Towers and if they could get out. We tried to manage our fear and shock with academic discussions of rescues and evacuations.
Then the third plane hit the Pentagon. Our Northern Virginia office was about 10 miles from DC. We were not in any danger, but the mood changed. Suddenly our stance as compassionate, horrified witnesses was at risk of shifting into potential victims in this tragedy.
The TV news split the screen into two in order to show the events in both NYC and DC. In that moment I had an incredibly clear and terrifying vision of the screen split into three, then six, then nine, like the Brady Bunch, with burning buildings and collapsed bridges in cities across the country.
Then the South Tower collapsed. I remember someone saying, "Something is happening; the building is shaking." But it wasn't shaking, it was dropping... at heart stopping speed. The dust cloud went up and we realized how many lives had just been snuffed out. Like other observers, we marveled that individual sheets of paper survived, floating gently to the ground in the cloud of tons of pulverized concrete and metal and glass and bone.
Like a roller coaster that jerks you into the next turn before you have fully recovered from the last, that day just kept throwing one incomprehensible event after another. We didn't know where to look, how to feel, or where the next danger would come from.
Moments later Flight 93 crashed into the ground, and as horrible as that loss was it somehow strengthening to realize it meant someone had taken action against the tide of these events.
A short while later, the North Tower collapsed. Almost the polar opposite of the first collapse - where the South Tower collapse seemed impossible, the North Tower seemed inevitable.
In my memory the closing of US airspace happened right after Flight 93 crashed; however it actually happened a few hours later. Regardless, that act remains an incredible shining moment in a bleak, black day. I don't know if this was one person's decision or the act of a committee, but it was a powerful decision. When they announced all planes were grounded, I was certain the evil Brady Bunch grid was no longer a threat.
Our office closed around 1 or 2pm and let everyone go home. It took a while. It always took a while to drive home in North Virginia, and it was exacerbated that day. I vividly remember being aware of the lack of plane noises overhead as I got closer to home, which was about 5 miles from Dulles Airport. I sat at a light in Herndon, and a military jet flew overhead....I put my head out the window and stared up, as did many of my vehicular neighbors. I wondered how long it would be before planes could fly again. I wondered if we would stop using planes....would I someday explain what "flying" meant to youngsters who had never been allowed to do it?
Dawn couldn't fly home, so she rented a car and checked in every few hours over the next two days. Back at the office, we made a map of her journey and posted a little picture showing her current position on "DAWNTREK 2001."
It was a small relief of the pressure of that week to focus on getting her home safely, as well as the other office "road warriors" who made their way back in. We celebrated their return as proof that life continued, even in the face of monumental tragedy...something we would try to keep in mind during the anthrax scare and the sniper attacks.
Like Pearl Harbor, the horror 9/11 attack was magnified by the element of surprise. In a way, the fact that we, Americans, could be surprised is a kind of blessing: unlike so many around the world, we are not inured to bombs. We have the luxury of knowing "war" is something that happens far, far away. Usually.
I mourn for the loss of life on 9/11, and for the irreversible loss of our breezy confidence that we could remain unscathed by modern conflict. The conflict came to us, but I am grateful it was not World War III and pray it never will be.
I've also recently been reading about memories and mistakes and how often the memories we defend most strongly are those that have drifted from actual events. Our brains fill in blanks, get the sequence of event wrong and are generally not that dependable. This is why even mere moments after a hit-and-run, the bystanders often cannot agree on the make and color of the car.
So it is likely that my memories are not completely accurate to actual events, and yet they feel very real and true to me. For this essay, I checked the timeline on the key elements of the day against an excellent BBC story: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-14681384. I invite my friends and colleagues to add color commentary to my version of these events.
For me, the events of that day began in my office near DC with call from my friend and co-worker Dawn, who was in Minneapolis on a client visit. She was getting dressed in her hotel and watching the morning shows. She called to say they had reported a plane had run into the World Trade Center.
I envisioned a small prop plane crumpling into the giant building, and asked how could the pilot have made that kind of error. It's not like you can't see the Twin Towers from miles away. She corrected my bad assumption and explained it was a big plane ...and the Tower was on fire.
I distinctly remember saying "I'm sure it will be OK; it's not like it's World War III." Dawn quietly replied, "I think maybe it is."
Hearing the fear in her normally confident and optimistic voice, I walked down to the hall to our CIO, explained what was going on, and asked if he could hook up the television. He did. And I think we were gathered in the conference room when the second plane hit. That is a portion of the memory I am not fully certain of. I have seen that image so many times in the last ten years, on video and in my mind, that I could have the timeline wrong.
I remember watching the fire billowing from the Towers and the group in our office wondering how the firemen could ever reach those high floors. We talked about fire fighting techniques for skyscrapers and whether helicopters could help. We wondered how many people were actually in the Towers and if they could get out. We tried to manage our fear and shock with academic discussions of rescues and evacuations.
Then the third plane hit the Pentagon. Our Northern Virginia office was about 10 miles from DC. We were not in any danger, but the mood changed. Suddenly our stance as compassionate, horrified witnesses was at risk of shifting into potential victims in this tragedy.
The TV news split the screen into two in order to show the events in both NYC and DC. In that moment I had an incredibly clear and terrifying vision of the screen split into three, then six, then nine, like the Brady Bunch, with burning buildings and collapsed bridges in cities across the country.
Then the South Tower collapsed. I remember someone saying, "Something is happening; the building is shaking." But it wasn't shaking, it was dropping... at heart stopping speed. The dust cloud went up and we realized how many lives had just been snuffed out. Like other observers, we marveled that individual sheets of paper survived, floating gently to the ground in the cloud of tons of pulverized concrete and metal and glass and bone.
Like a roller coaster that jerks you into the next turn before you have fully recovered from the last, that day just kept throwing one incomprehensible event after another. We didn't know where to look, how to feel, or where the next danger would come from.
Moments later Flight 93 crashed into the ground, and as horrible as that loss was it somehow strengthening to realize it meant someone had taken action against the tide of these events.
A short while later, the North Tower collapsed. Almost the polar opposite of the first collapse - where the South Tower collapse seemed impossible, the North Tower seemed inevitable.
In my memory the closing of US airspace happened right after Flight 93 crashed; however it actually happened a few hours later. Regardless, that act remains an incredible shining moment in a bleak, black day. I don't know if this was one person's decision or the act of a committee, but it was a powerful decision. When they announced all planes were grounded, I was certain the evil Brady Bunch grid was no longer a threat.
Our office closed around 1 or 2pm and let everyone go home. It took a while. It always took a while to drive home in North Virginia, and it was exacerbated that day. I vividly remember being aware of the lack of plane noises overhead as I got closer to home, which was about 5 miles from Dulles Airport. I sat at a light in Herndon, and a military jet flew overhead....I put my head out the window and stared up, as did many of my vehicular neighbors. I wondered how long it would be before planes could fly again. I wondered if we would stop using planes....would I someday explain what "flying" meant to youngsters who had never been allowed to do it?
Dawn couldn't fly home, so she rented a car and checked in every few hours over the next two days. Back at the office, we made a map of her journey and posted a little picture showing her current position on "DAWNTREK 2001."
It was a small relief of the pressure of that week to focus on getting her home safely, as well as the other office "road warriors" who made their way back in. We celebrated their return as proof that life continued, even in the face of monumental tragedy...something we would try to keep in mind during the anthrax scare and the sniper attacks.
Like Pearl Harbor, the horror 9/11 attack was magnified by the element of surprise. In a way, the fact that we, Americans, could be surprised is a kind of blessing: unlike so many around the world, we are not inured to bombs. We have the luxury of knowing "war" is something that happens far, far away. Usually.
I mourn for the loss of life on 9/11, and for the irreversible loss of our breezy confidence that we could remain unscathed by modern conflict. The conflict came to us, but I am grateful it was not World War III and pray it never will be.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
The Power of the Professional Nag
I am a professional nag. I admit it. I am sure it annoys those around me.
There are more like me. I've seen them, and I've seen those nearby roll their eyes at them. I've also seen that a team with a nag is more likely to deliver results on time and on budget. I certainly don't claim that nagging generates more creative or interesting results! In fact the opposite may be true. But unbound creativity can spin in interesting circles until the budget has exploded and the client has started a new RFP process.
So, how do you find the right balance? How to you bring enough nag to the process that you keep things on track but not so much nag that you kill the spirit and energy of the team?
I have been admonished that my nagging (which includes things like schedules, task plans, reminders, detailed goals) means that I don't trust my team. That if I trusted them I would let them run and be thrilled with the results. Interestingly, I have found that if I pull back and force myself NOT to nag, the output is rarely complete or on time. And when the milestone has passed, the players tend to ask "why didn't you remind me?" or "I didn't know that was my responsibility."
I think everyone believes they should be allowed to problem-solve in their own way, in their own time. And maybe in a different world, we could all be painters and sculptors who wait for our muses to inspire us to cross into new creative territories. But, folks, if we need a spreadsheet completed by Thursday, do you really need space to finger paint?
I guess I wish the professional nag was more valued. It is a skillset, and it does serve a purpose. What if, rather than being annoyed, the team could recognize the value AND the potential for pain..then set boundaries.? What if we harnessed the power if the professional nag for good?
There are more like me. I've seen them, and I've seen those nearby roll their eyes at them. I've also seen that a team with a nag is more likely to deliver results on time and on budget. I certainly don't claim that nagging generates more creative or interesting results! In fact the opposite may be true. But unbound creativity can spin in interesting circles until the budget has exploded and the client has started a new RFP process.
So, how do you find the right balance? How to you bring enough nag to the process that you keep things on track but not so much nag that you kill the spirit and energy of the team?
I have been admonished that my nagging (which includes things like schedules, task plans, reminders, detailed goals) means that I don't trust my team. That if I trusted them I would let them run and be thrilled with the results. Interestingly, I have found that if I pull back and force myself NOT to nag, the output is rarely complete or on time. And when the milestone has passed, the players tend to ask "why didn't you remind me?" or "I didn't know that was my responsibility."
I think everyone believes they should be allowed to problem-solve in their own way, in their own time. And maybe in a different world, we could all be painters and sculptors who wait for our muses to inspire us to cross into new creative territories. But, folks, if we need a spreadsheet completed by Thursday, do you really need space to finger paint?
I guess I wish the professional nag was more valued. It is a skillset, and it does serve a purpose. What if, rather than being annoyed, the team could recognize the value AND the potential for pain..then set boundaries.? What if we harnessed the power if the professional nag for good?
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Dropped Call Etiquette
I miss the drone of a dial tone.
At least you knew when someone had hung-up on you.
With cell phones, you can be smack in the middle of explaining the most brilliant idea since t-shirts with built-in deodorant...and realize that you've been pitching your breakthrough concept to an empty line.
But worse than realizing the other party is no longer a witness to your discourse, sometimes you find yourself in post-drop limbo...unable to reconnect because either (a) both of you are furiously redialing or (b) each of you assumes that the other schmuck will call back any minute.
Here's a simple tip: the person who initiated the first call should reinitated in the event of a dropped call.
It doesn't matter if you think the other guy's phone is the culprit. It doesn't matter if you're on a landline and he or she is driving through the Everglades.
If you dialed, redial.
At least you knew when someone had hung-up on you.
With cell phones, you can be smack in the middle of explaining the most brilliant idea since t-shirts with built-in deodorant...and realize that you've been pitching your breakthrough concept to an empty line.
But worse than realizing the other party is no longer a witness to your discourse, sometimes you find yourself in post-drop limbo...unable to reconnect because either (a) both of you are furiously redialing or (b) each of you assumes that the other schmuck will call back any minute.
Here's a simple tip: the person who initiated the first call should reinitated in the event of a dropped call.
It doesn't matter if you think the other guy's phone is the culprit. It doesn't matter if you're on a landline and he or she is driving through the Everglades.
If you dialed, redial.
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