The 2016 Hugo Awards are over, winners and non-winners alike are enjoying celebrations of fantastic fiction and fandom, and we all have a lot to be proud of!
Make no mistake though, over the next hours and days, the bad actors that have been struggling to ruin something beautiful for several years now will be revising history to show how much they’ve won, how much they’ve been vindicated, how much the Hugos have been diminished, and how much they really don’t care. Yes, all of these at the same time! Don’t be fooled. For all of their attempts, this year we have done exactly what we must continue to do: nominate works that we love, vote for those we think deserve the honor of a Hugo, and place those that we feel do not below ‘No Award.’
Doing exactly that resulted in an amazing set of wins this year that reflect superb works of fiction. This should be what it is all about, everything else is mere distraction.
The thing that we can do in the immediate future, though, is avoid those very distractions. The narcissists that have been gnashing their teeth and plotting their schemes are currently flailing their way through an extinction-level event…let them. Don’t get sucked in to their lies about the genre, the awards, or any of the rest. My mute button is getting a workout, yours might need one too.
In the meantime, congratulations to winners, nominees, voters, and readers of great fiction. This is truly a great day for all of us!
It’s quarter after nine in the morning and you’re just getting into the morning groove when it happens. In the very moment that you become aware of how eerily quiet and still the room has become your manager is standing next to you with a look you’ve come to know all too well–wide eyes, knuckles white around the handle of his coffee mug, flushed skin–his voice is just slightly higher pitched than normal as he starts to speak. He conveys to you today’s first emergency.
Just like that, your day is shot.
I call them Panic Monkeys, and if you haven’t had a Panic Monkey manager then you almost certainly have witnessed from the sidelines the devastation they bring with them as they swing from critical-issue vine to critical-issue vine leaving terror and stress in their wake.
Panic Monkeys have made the decision to use the energy that is generated by a catastrophe to spur them and others into working. Unfortunately, the economy of disasters rapidly catches up to them. As I’m fond of telling them, if everything is an emergency, nothing is an emergency. It does not take long for one of several issues to catch up with them.
If they’re lucky, the fact that they are constantly crying wolf about pressing issues leads the team around them to ignore the manufactured urgency. If they are less fortunate, the team around them burns out through prolonged exposure to the sort of stresses that emergencies create. I have witnessed teams flame out to the point of mass quitting over the stresses created by a Panic Monkey.
If you are having difficulty motivating a team without artificial conflict, consider talking to successful managers around you to help you de-escalate the situation. Learning how to earn the effort of your team in an organic, productive, and healthy manner will go a long way toward lowering turnover, maintaining a constructive work environment, and having energy available for handling work’s real emergencies when they arise.
The question of organizational integrity is one that I wrestle with frequently. I’ve written about it directly or indirectly several times already, and I’m sure I’ll write about it considerably more.
In the same way that Seth describes the slippery slope of institutional lying to its customers and to the public, managers must be wary of choosing to start glibly lying to his or her charges.
And it’s terribly easy to start lying.
Sometimes being honest as a manager means conveying extremely unwelcome news honestly and with candor, and that is profoundly challenging. It is always infinitely more rewarding than the alternative, though. Recently for me it meant stepping down from a managerial role because maintaining the role would have meant forgoing integrity to a degree that I simply couldn’t live with. Even in the messy aftermath of that decision, I’ve never felt that I made the wrong call.
Give some thought to what things might be like if you made being honest with your team your highest priority—somewhere above maintaining your role, somewhere above looking good to your boss. I suspect you’ll find your approach to management to be profoundly more satisfying, and I know that your team will find it refreshingly so.
I will begin with a one sentence summary of paddling down the Au Sable River: I will absolutely be going back for longer trips, probably even this season.
Needless to say, I enjoyed the trip.
Carlisle Canoe Livery is absolutely fantastic. They have a program where you drive up, drop your gear, then follow them in your pickup vehicle to your end point so they can shuttle you back. What this means is that, at the end of your trip, you can throw your gear into your own vehicle and take off. No waiting for shuttle service, no double-loading gear. I’ve never seen that setup before, but I adore it.
After placing my Jeep near Parmalee Bridge, I was transported back to Grayling by one of the owners of Carlisle…who happens to have my dream retirement gig in running a livery on the river. Along the way he shared several great points of interest along my trail, some tips about the river, information about the upcoming Au Sable Canoe Marathon, and the correct pronunciation of Au Sable (awe-si-bull). Back at the livery, it was a dock launch onto cool, clean water and away I went.
All along my route, folks that I passed—both on the river and along the bank—had just one question:
“Do you think you’ll beat the storm,” they asked.
It seems that a storm that I was anticipating that evening had pulled itself up a little bit and was looking to hit sometime during the early part of my trip. My new goal became hitting my first break point at Barton’s Landing before the storm hit—especially now that it was upgraded to a severe storm warning with lightning and high winds. It would be ideal, though, if the storm were to be so kind as to miss me entirely.
It didn’t miss, and I didn’t make it.
Because my waypoints along the river were rough estimates at best (oh, you’d better believe that I took the opportunity to improve them on this trip), I really wasn’t sure how far from safety I was when the sky suddenly darkened. Moments later, as the lightning started flashing around me and the rain was coming down in earnest, my goal became simply getting to the first available pull-out point. Fortunately, that just ended up being my planned break point just 5 or so very tense minutes up the river.
Once I was out of immediate danger, I was able to relax and enjoy the weather. The rain was warm, the wind felt nice on such a muggy day, and the lightning itself stayed several miles away according to the space between the light and the sound…and it was awfully pretty.
While I watched the groups I had passed along my morning route come in, Team Alaska, out training for the upcoming marathon, rocketed around the bend seconds after a chest-rumbling peal of thunder accompanied three blindingly bright lightning flashes in rapid succession. As they beached, they pointed out that they didn’t have thunder and lightning like that and we chatted briefly about the prospects for the weather (for once, not mere small talk) before they ducked into their chase Jeep to wait out the storm. For my part, I enjoyed a nice rain that I suspect would probably have been the thing my wife would have enjoyed the most on my adventure so far.
Three-quarters of an hour or so later, the lightning had stopped and the wind had slowed, and I was back on the water under a gentle shower that ended as the sun beat back the clouds.
It might not sound like it, but it was a pretty perfect start to my trip.
* * *
The sun was shining and warm for the remainder of the day. One nifty feature of the Au Sable River its effect on the temperature around it. The river itself is spring fed, so the water is much cooler than what I’ve been used to on the Huron; it couldn’t have been more than mid-70s. The net result was that weather in the mid-90s felt easily 10 or so degrees cooler around me, perfect weather for paddling.
I hit my camp site, Whitepine Canoe Camp, considerably earlier than I’d expected, which was my first indication that I was likely to not have planned enough river for my trip to run two nights. My 6-8 hours of paddling were done in under 5 even after my unscheduled break. I spent my bonus sunny hours setting up camp, drying my rain-soaked gear, and relaxing in the shade.
Whitepine is a tent-only canoe camp that charges $13 for up to 6 people to spend a night on a first-come, first-served basis. The sites are all immediately alongside the river, and each have shade, a fire pit, a picnic table, and a gorgeous view. The campgrounds also have pit-type toilets and a pump for clean drinking water.
Every single time I camp, I forget at least 1 or 2 moderately important things. When I got ready to crash for the night, I found what I had forgotten: a blanket. Of all of the lucky, low-impact misses, a blanket is pretty much as good as it gets. With overnight lows in the 70s and a cooling breeze coming in off the river overnight, I was still comfortable sleeping with no rain fly in a sleeveless hoodie and sweat pants.
It was a pretty perfect night.
* * *
The morning began with an odd alarm clock shortly after daybreak. From way down river I could hear a harsh honking noise followed by its dwindling echo. Moments later, the sound repeated, this time closer and more loudly. By the fourth repetition, I could make out that what I was hearing was a duck emitting a single, loud, clear HONK followed by a chorus line of tiny ducks trailing behind trying with varying degrees of success to emulate the noise. The net result was a 5 minute long train of ducks paddling their way upstream, honking merrily away from one end of the range of my hearing to the other.
My only regret was that I didn’t get any video of this; trust me when I say it was ridiculously cute.
After I woke the real drama started; I found the other thing I’d forgotten. Somehow in my packing and preparing I had managed to mis-pack. I had thrown a bag of what I thought was camping coffee into my sack, and it turned out to be hot chocolate.
Even starting my day sans coffee couldn’t put a damper on a gorgeous, relaxing morning. My duck-enforced early start allowed me to eat breakfast, break camp, and load up the boat all well before 9 am to start 5-7 hours of paddling.
It became fairly apparent that I was going to have a timing problem when I hit the mid-point of my trip ninety minutes later. I took a brief break and made a decision—if I reached the end of my second day’s travels before noon, I would just paddle to my car and head home instead.
I reached the campsites just before 11:30am.
All in, it was a great 35 miles of travel along a beautiful river. Next time, I think that I’m going to plan on going all the way to Parmalee on day 1 and travel to Mio dam on day 2. Alternately, I have discussed with my wife doing a trip and staying in the cabins located along the way. I can’t wait to get back up there.
One of the lessons that I find to be simultaneously essential to learn and incredibly difficult to teach is an idea that I refer to by the shorthand “being a consultant”–the notion of saving the customer from themselves.
Paul Sherman’s amazing presentation “The UX Unicorn is Dead” (if you haven’t read it, stop reading this and go read that) highlights an excellent opportunity to save the customer from themselves: customers asking to forgo UX or QA work (or, in some horrifying instances UX and QA work) in exchange for a lower price or faster timeline.
You get what you pay for.
As a veteran developer, I can tell you with absolute certainty that it is exceedingly rare to find a developer of quality that can do testing adequately. It is similarly rare to find a developer of quality that has the ability and the training to perform UX tasks.
During the planning phases of a feature, it is the UX practitioner that I turn to for expertise in creating a unified experience for the user that remains consistent and engaging. Prototyping can certainly aid in this area, but it is in no way a replacement for the skill and knowledge that my UX team brings to the table.
Likewise, speaking with an expert tester (and if you don’t believe testing is a skill that requires expertise, you don’t really deserve a seat at the decision-making table here) is how features end up with sufficient testing coverage–automated and otherwise. If you’ve ever sat in a room where engineers are discussing the feature they’ve puzzled out how to build without a member of the QA team, you’ve almost assuredly gotten to watch that glorious moment when the QA practitioner rattles off a series of “what happens in this case” questions, deflating the room. It’s fun to watch, and it’s entirely avoidable.
So as consultants, it is our job to convince our clients that the decisions they are making out of sensitivity to cost or timeline are going to be infinitely more expensive or time consuming in the future. We have to convince them that they’re getting what they pay for, and that cuts both ways. We have to save them from themselves.
Day 3 (Saturday, July 23) will be breaking camp, pulling out at the Parmalee launch, loading up the vehicle, grabbing some breakfast, and coming back down to SE Michigan.
All of this, of course, presumes that the weather is going to play ball, but at this time, it certainly looks that way!
If this sounds like the sort of thing you’d find fun (and you have nothing going on very last minute next week), the total cost is going to be south of $50 plus food and whatever gear you’re missing. Carlisle rents boats, so if you don’t have a boat, I believe it costs $70 to rent one for the trip.
In the interim, I’m going to take lots of pictures and post about the trip, as I’ve never done the Au Sable before!
This post was originally going to be posted once the formal announcement of the change it describes was announced at work. Having been laid off mid-month, that announcement will never come, but I consider the concepts to be important enough to post anyway.
I resigned from my managerial role today.
Actually, it is more accurate to say that at the beginning of this month, I gave notice that I would be stepping down from my managerial role by month’s end. Today, that resignation simply became official. [Edit: Plus or minus a little…]
The fact of the matter is that I’m not especially well disposed to being a ‘manager’, at least in the fashion my job required. I have a particular set of skills1, and I took on management of my team because I saw an opportunity where my specific skill-set could be beneficial for my company, for my team, and for me.
In taking authority over my team, I was able to work with everyone individually to ensure that they were happy, productive, and capable of doing their best work. It was my responsibility to build a safe space, and I had the authority to do it. Our team flourished, and as a result our projects flourished.
In taking authority over our projects, I was able to mentor teams to listen actively to our customers, to learn to be consultants, and to deliver accurate, quality solutions rather than to hastily respond to customer queries. It was a delight watching my team improve while seeing how strong the client reaction became; to the extent that they would lament the loss of our leadership when we were done with their projects. My crowning achievement is in coaching our teams to make our customers miss us.
In taking authority over our process, I was able to help our offering improve and grow. Migrating us from waterfall toward Scrum was an exercise in steady, measurable, reliable progress. After the initial changes, the time I spent coaching dozens of teams to work cooperatively to deliver better was transformative—I can only hope as much for them as it was for me.
Following our company’s acquisition, my role shifted—subtly at first, but with each passing month it changed with increasing rapidity. Gradually, the skills that I excelled in bringing to bear became less important than my ability to deliver bad news and shuffle paper. I became, in a very real and very unfortunate sense of the term, a middle manager.
Years ago, I swore off from management because I refused to be one of those do-nothing, useless appendages whose sole addition to the organization was a layer of bureaucracy. I naively thought that was what management was. In the years since, I’ve had better leaders than that, and I’d like to say that I’ve become a better leader than that. Once I recognized that my role was no longer that of leader—that I was a mere manager—the right thing for me to do became obvious. I stepped down.
Does this mean that I won’t take on a leadership role in the future? Absolutely not! The past couple of years have been among the most rewarding and enjoyable of my career. This has simply cast into sharp relief the attributes of the role that would allow me to be successful. Given the right role with the right organization, I would be delighted to manage another team.
No, this means the opposite of that: I look forward to taking all that I’ve learned during the time that I was allowed to be a leader to my next opportunity to help a team grow. I learned a great deal in the last few years, both good and bad. All of this has contributed to the leader I wish to become.
This was yet another step along the way…
1 I can no longer hear/see/type that phrase without hearing it in Liam Neeson’s voice
It appears that the sort of folks that always have to find a way to make everything about them (AllLivesMatter, anyone? NotAllMen right a bell?) have gotten #HeterosexualPrideDay trending on social media. At this point, it’s hard to muster anything more severe than disappointment in such a predictable set of actions.
Rather than get upset, since my upset is going to accomplish nothing productive, I’m choosing to observe Heterosexual Pride Day in my own way. I invite you to join me.
I choose to recognize that while there are zero states in which I can be fired for being heterosexual, you can still be fired for not being heterosexual in more than half of the states in our country. I take pride that it isn’t 100%, while continuing to do what I can to make it 0%.
I choose to take pride in the fact that while heterosexual people can assume that they will get joint custody of their children when they separate, it is only now becoming a possibility in some states. I recognize that we have a long way to go in order to resolve that disconnect.
I choose to be proud of the fact that there are increasing numbers of non-heterosexual people in the media that are not stereotypes, while still remembering to call it out when I hear someone referred to as “gay” or “faggy” for being different or for enjoying hobbies traditionally associated with the opposite gender.
I choose to recognize the fact that, while I can take pride in the fact that we have come a long way in terms of gay marriage, there are still states in which it is not legal.
This is how I choose to celebrate Heterosexual Pride Day; to take pride in how far things have come while recognizing how terribly far we have to go. #heterosexualprideday
Let’s begin with a basic concept with which we should all be able to agree: time has inherent value. Nobody seriously questions this fact, what we argue is what that value is.
I was thinking about this while I was doing some yard cleanup this week and the lawn folks came by to mow. As the two of them swept in and back out in about 10 or 15 minutes, I found myself pondering the cost of that fraction of an hour in a very intellectual fashion…
“Are you fucking shitting me, that’s $100/hour to mow my lawn!” I thought, intellectually.
And that is certainly one way to apply a value to time; from the perspective of how much you are outlaying in exchange for the difficulty of the job. “Those people are doing such a trivial task for so much money.” You can see that line of thought being applied to all manner of things in politics today: “How dare fast food workers demand so much money for flipping burgers” or “how dare retail clerks demand the same salary as EMTs” for example.
There is another, more accurate way to assign value to time; from the perspective of what it costs to the recipient in exchange for NOT having to do that job. If I were to mow my own lawn at the same level of quality I currently get for $25 per week, I would need to:
Obtain a lawn mower and weed whip
Supply fuel to said devices
Provide maintenance for said devices
Actually move those devices around the yard in a meaningful way reliably
Having formerly done this task on this very yard, I can tell you that it takes me close to an hour to do the job; and that ignores the beginning and end of year maintenance and other miscellaneous chores that go along with the job. Is my hour worth $25? Absolutely. As it turns out, this was why my family opted to spend the money rather than do the chore ourselves. As it turns out, once you factor in the costs ownership, maintenance, and the time spent actually doing the mowing job, we were investing considerably more than that $25 in doing a job that we hated.
Those lawn guys aren’t asking ENOUGH. They could probably get $5 or $10 more out of me if that was the only option.
I use this line of thinking when I price my services as well; it matters what I want to pay for the service, but it matters even more what the service is worth to the recipient. When I started factoring that in, I started charging a much higher rate and found myself enjoying the work that I was doing considerably more.
So the next time you find yourself pricing out a job, ask yourself “what would it cost them to do it themselves” and surprise yourself with the actual in-house cost of such thing. And the next time you find yourself cursing under your breath at a drive-through at how much money these “lazy takers” are wanting, ask yourself it is worth the extra $0.50 you might have to pay not to have to obtain ingredients, cook and serve ingredients, and clean up afterward. If it’s not, go make yourself some food.
Today the majority of my team and I were let go from work. Laid off. Reduced. RIFed. Whatever the right term for that is. This being the third round of layoffs it isn’t entirely surprising anymore, although the degree of commitment represented by the depth of the cuts does take one aback.
This is not the end of the world for me. Truth be told, I’ve been sitting on a blog post describing why I—at the start of the month—stepped down from my position. This is the logical consequence of resigning. I am, however, tremendously concerned for several members of my team, and I’ll be reaching out to many of you in the coming weeks to see if I can find homes for developers and a PM.
For me, I’m going to take some time to figure out what the right next step is. I initially took a managerial role with my current organization not because I desired a managerial role, but because it was the right fit for me at that particular time with that particular organization. That was no longer true post-acquisition, so I would hate to step right into another management role simply because it’s what I last did.
Honestly, lately, I’ve been thinking that the role of Agile Coach is more up my alley. I love doing it, it contains most of the things that I loved in my role as manager, and I am given to understand that I’m pretty good at it. In the year and change that I’ve spent coaching agile teams directly, I have felt like it dovetailed my love of process, my ability to deliver quality, my enjoyment of teaching, and my skill in mentoring teams all together nicely.
As it stands, I have some time to make a decision, and I fully expect to make a fully reasoned, calculated one. This is going to be a good thing, I think.
That or I’ll be posting here in a month or so saying “holy fucking shit, I’m broke, I need a job, someone please help me!!”. One or the other.
I know, I know, you’re already shaking your head and clucking your tongue at how mean it is to call these simpletons morons, but bear with me here, because I’m not the only one that must think that the sort of folk likely to share this are not blessed with an over-abundance of brains—the people who MADE the document knew it too. Here’s how I know:
They inflated the 2016 list by adding more than 20 items to the list that aren’t vaccinations or aren’t a part of the vaccination schedule . They aren’t routine vaccinations. (Fucking VITAMIN K is on the list)
They deflated the 1960 list by leaving off at least two vaccinations that I noticed at a glance (smallpox and polio).
Here’s my favorite: they then put the number 70 next to a list that contains less than 60 items knowing that their constituency would run out of fingers and toes before they got anywhere near high enough to call them on it. (for those keeping score, that means the list is actually closer to 10 vs 35ish…but who’s counting)
My second favorite: they included 18 years worth of vaccinations knowing that their core audience’s attention span would only last through about a third of the list before they hit “share” in a blind rage.
The real crime in all of this, though, is the stupidity that underlies the core message…the real message here actually translates to “we knew everything we needed to know about medicine 55 years ago, why change now?” Should we exclude all medications since 1960? Let’s assume that I agree with the wrongheaded notions implied by this empty-headed list; that means we need to lobby to rid ourselves of: heart transplants, Lyme disease treatments, HIV treatments, ultrasounds, cochlear implants, MRIs, CAT scans, PET scans, the entire concept of antivirals, insulin pumps (sorry diabetics), not to mention hundreds or thousands of medicines that are used commonly to both prolong life and improve the quality of that lengthened life.
Let’s remove the decade of life expectancy we’ve gained since 1960, while we’re “fixing” progress.
I get it, many of you grew up in a generation that was told that nobody was smarter than you, nobody was better than you, and you were just as intelligent, athletic, and useful as anybody else in the world. You have a participant trophy from your 10th grade tee-ball team hanging next to your 20th runner up spelling bee ribbon to back it up. Understand, though, that there are people smarter than you, and there are certainly people more educated than you—especially on this topic.
There are people that have studied for years to learn about this shit, and your 8 minutes researching at Google University doesn’t mean shit compared to that. I don’t care how smart you think you are; you’re not…and you’re dooming your already-hamstrung-by-having-a-stupid-fucking-parent offspring to the risk of death due to polio, measles, mumps, etc. You endanger the lives of people with compromised immune systems that can’t get vaccines because your parents were assholes that told you that whatever clever idea you get in your empty head is just as good as a degree.
But sure, continue to spray your ignorance of mercury, aluminum, formaldehyde, and statistics…nothing will show the rest of us just how right your mommies and daddies were like your broadcast ignorance over the sound of your kid’s whooping cough.
Anyway, if your family or friends are posting that piece of ignorance, my apologies that they’re so stupid. Here’s hoping you don’t have to do holidays with them!
In the pantheon of my least favorite software questions, this ranks near the top.
“When it is done.”
This response has to rank near the top of management’s least favorite answers.
The problem above isn’t a simple battle between the management team and the development team about estimates. The problem shown above is a catastrophic misunderstanding of the difference between an estimate and a commitment and a needlessly flippant response to that misunderstanding. The question “when will it be released” is not a request for an estimate of any sort—not of time, of complexity, or of effort. It is a request for a commitment. A commitment that cannot in good faith be made.
Let me repeat that last bit for you one more time: the commitment that is being asked above cannot be made in its current form. The closest thing to an accurate answer to a commitment like that above would have to take the following maddening form:
“Assuming the team is structured like this ______, nobody has a sick day or a family emergency, no responses are needed from the client or from vendors, management doesn’t reallocate teammates for an emergency project, no new information is found, the team runs into no difficulties, and our current understanding of the problem accurately represents what the client expects, it is likely to be done by _______. Release can follow that.”
Look at that pile of caveats—and make no mistake, given more time I’m sure that we could come up with several more that aren’t listed here—for now, let’s assume that this is a fairly complete list. Look at the items that are outside of the team’s control: sick days and family emergencies, client response times, vendor response times, and management reallocation of teammates; a formidable list. Given that, how could anybody accurately assess when something will be delivered?
Simply put, they cannot. We learn this lesson time and again in organization after organization but the lesson never sticks.
Estimates are not commitments. Estimates are meant to be used for the singular purpose of making informed decisions, but none of those informed decisions should include delivery date. Some decisions that estimates can be helpful for do include determining what to charge, determining how to staff the project, coordinating multiple parts of a delivery, or even approximating when the work is likely to be done. Note that important difference: when work is likely to be done is very specifically NOT the delivery date. If you are using estimates to create a delivery date, you are taking on a tremendous risk.
I’ve made no pains to hide my general disdain for estimates. I typically refer to them as “polite fictions we share with one another”, “random guesses supported by lies”, and “suppositions with numbers attached”, and these are just the most polite terms. I loathe estimates because they are so often used poorly, but they can be a highly effective tool. It is up to you to ensure that your estimates stay estimates rather than sliding into the delivery-destructive bomb that is known as committment.
Teaching your entire delivery team and management structure the important difference between and estimate and a committment might be the single most loving act you can commit on behalf of your clients.
Ger and I spent the morning paddling the Huron River water trail, at least the northern part of it from just below Proud Lake to just before Kent Lake.
It’s one of our favorite stretches to paddle; it’s nearby, easy to get into and out of, it’s a relatively easy paddle with only one portage that is at a good break point, and it takes only about 2-3 hours even on a slow day.
During today’s trip, we saw several blue herons, a few turtles, one giant reddish-brown bird that looked and sounded a lot like a demon heron, and several swan and goose families. Plus a ton of drunk river partiers.
In all…a relaxing trip, but I’m exhausted and ready for a lengthy nap.
I have so much going on at the moment; several cool development projects to work on that I’m really excited about, numerous books on the queue, the weather is nice and the bikes and kayaks are calling, there are some recently released video games that I enjoy quite a bit, I have writing ideas that sound like fun, my foot pain seems to be improving…I’m surrounded by great shit and life is, by any real measure, great!
I’m also finding it borderline impossible to get the ambition together to do almost anything with any of it. At work, I struggle to maintain concentration while working on even the most simple task. At home, even reading a book or playing a game sounds like more effort than I have energy. Even writing this blog post feels like a herculean effort. I nap a lot, despite not feeling particularly tired (which means that I don’t sleep well at night).
I’m not sure what it is, and I don’t much like it. It feels an awful lot like what people describe depression as, but I don’t know that I feel “depressed” per se. What I do feel is a complete absence of ambition, essentially no energy, and mentally exhausted all of the time without any real reason to feel that way.
I’m sitting in the main room of Self.Conference waiting for the start of day 2 and mostly trying to figure out how I’m going to absorb another day of material. It’s a problem that is somewhat unique to Self, in my experience.
When I attend a tech conference, it’s with the inherent understanding that I’m going to be deluged with technical information, and I’ve developed a note-taking system to accommodate that; a sort of mind mapping that gives me the ability to use future research to fill in gaps.
When I attend a non-technical conference, I find myself mentally triaging information as it comes in so that the important stuff has room to perch; keep…discard….discard…discard. The information density is sufficiently light that it’s a fairly trivial task.
Self is different. The mix of soft and tech talks surely has something to do with it, as does the fact that most topics end up falling firmly in between: a discussion of algorithm development that also deals heavily with the societal ramifications of hidden assumptions, for example. The culprit is more likely the emotional energy this conference gives me. For the next few month I want to learn new languages, do bigger things, and exert whatever modest leverage I possess to make things better. I will be a better denizen of my industry for the next quarter on the back of the inspiration Self has provided.
What I think I’m saying is that I need this to happen about four times per year.
Until that happens, I’m going to settle in, absorb as much of day 2 as I can, and try to use the energy it provides for the foreseeable future in a positive way.
If you haven’t made it out to Self, I highly suggest giving it a try next year!
I’ve written and spoken on the subject of managing customers fairly extensively because I feel that it is often done incorrectly—no, not just incorrectly, but extraordinarily incorrectly, cartoonishly so. In my experience, most customer management is done from a place of complete fear. How do we avoid losing the customer, how do we avoid offending the customer, how do we avoid failing the customer.
So defensive. So reactive. So rooted in negative emotion.
There is an allure to doing what the customer asks when concerns like the above are the foundations for your mindset. How do we avoid offending the customer? We always say yes! How do we avoid failing the customer? We deliver precisely what they ask for, even if what they ask for changes or is bad for them! How do we avoid losing the customer? By being unfailingly giving and saying ‘yes’ no matter what! We act out of fear and watch in horror as customers migrate from partner to bully and then to gone over the course of a relationship.
As a rule, customers don’t become bullies because they want to be bullies. Customers become bullies because they are frustrated into the role by order-takers. They pay money to have industry experts help them, they place an order for what they think they want, they get exactly that, and they are left no better off than when they started their endeavor sans experts. Their results are similar to what they’ve always gotten under their own guidance, but now their wallets are a little lighter. They’ve paid extra money to end up back where they started. How amazingly frustrating must that be.
“No, we can’t do that, but…” is the most powerful customer service tool in your arsenal. Observing the customer’s situation, anticipating their needs rather than listening to their wants, then selling their needs to them—that is the place where real customer service is born. It’s scary and it feels dangerous, but in an industry full of order takers trading on lowest cost, there really is precious little danger in rising above by focusing on the strength of your solutions rather than the attractiveness of your rate card. If what you are selling is your competitive rates, it stands to reason that what you are not selling is your amazing services. You’re in a race to the bottom, and nobody wins down there.
Nobody pulls up to a drive-thru window looking for a culinary experience, they pull up looking for a fast and cheap solution to the dining problem.
Anybody can order-take based on a customer’s desires—and anybody will—it takes vision and skill to create and enforce boundaries on behalf of a customer’s needs. Don’t pass requests out of a window in a brown paper bag, define the expert services you offer and use that commitment to deliver excellence on an attractive plate in an elegant dining room.
Nobody brags about the speed of the service or the amazing value they received at their local fast-food establishment, but they do extol the virtues of the amazing steak they had on their anniversary. It’s up to you how you want your customers to remember you.
Last week we went through a round of layoffs (or reductions in force, or whatever trivializing euphemism is currently en vogue). Over the course of two decades in the industry, I have been through numerous layoff cycles—as an employee being laid off as well as being among those that retained their employment, and later as a manager having had to lay folks off and escaping having had to do so. One thing that I have never done is escaped unscathed.
It is easy to lose track of—amidst the concerns about properly delivering a layoff message, dealing with the actual act of letting a teammate go, and severance packages—the human impact a layoff has on the rest of the team. When someone is fired for cause, justified or otherwise, there is at least a reason. There is no sense of the arbitrary. You can point to specific things and say “if I avoid that, I avoid being let go” to some degree.
With layoffs, there is a sense of randomness, of chance, of inevitability. That uncertainty can be devastating to team morale. Too often, a layoff is a signal of instability to those that remain, resulting in a wave of voluntary exits in the weeks and months that follow. When you are planning the deployment of your layoff messaging, remember that those left behind need attention, not just those with whom you are parting ways. As brutal as a layoff is to those let go, it can be profoundly traumatic to those left behind as well.
In a previous post, I discussed using decisiveness to reduce or eliminate decision debt; but how do you do that? I mean, if you haven’t made the decision yet, doesn’t that—by definition—indicate that you aren’t yet ready to make the decision?
From my perspective, there is only one useful way to categorize decisions: by their cost to revert. It’s less a taxonomy than a scale, but the basic organizational schema for decisions should be in ascending order from most costly to change to least costly. From there, logic dictates that you should only exhaust as much exploratory effort to make a decision as its cost to alter.
For a decision that is trivial to wind back, I expend almost no energy in trying to find the best route. Whenever a new decision is brought to me, I want to first drill through all of the data to find the answer to one important question: What happens if we are wrong? In most cases, you will find that precious little happens if you are wrong, you just pick a better direction.
“How should we solve this technical problem? We think that option A solves the problem and it only takes a half day to implement, but it requires a half day of validation to see if it will solve for all aspects of the issue. Option B, however, will assuredly work, but could take multiple days to solve the problem.”
Right there, after just that much data, I can make my decision. Obviously, do option A. If it works, we’re out a half day and we have a solution. If it doesn’t work, we’re out a half day that we would be out after investigating anyway and we can just do option B. As an added benefit, by performing an implementation, we’ve naturally learned more about our problem domain just by working with it.
The solution is obvious, when you think about it in terms of what happens if we make a bad choice. Cheap, bad choices can be made with impunity. The more costly a decision change becomes, the more energy I am willing to spend to plan on it.
Another common example would be determining which off-the-shelf product to use to solve a problem. The expense of the product can be very high often times; but a trial period (or even a liberal return policy) can suddenly mitigate that.
So when evaluating decisions, ask yourself what happens if you are wrong—not “what is the worst that could happen” but “what is the real result of an incorrect choice here” and spend only the effort that the cost to course correct demands. If you are like most people, you will find that many of your decisions have been getting a degree of attention that they do not deserve.
Dawn Kuczwara (@DigitalDawn) and I talked a bit about the difference between managers and leaders at Penguicon this weekend. Penguicon always pulls a different sort of talk out of us, and this is no exception. The informality of the panel-style discussion lent itself to several things…
The attendees of the panel helped pull us in a much different direction than we had expected to take, so we never really did hit all of the topics we had intended. This resulted in, from my perspective, a much better and much more interesting panel.
The lack of formality resulted in a much more obscenity-laden talk that is usual for either of us. We get pretty obscene for a 10am panel. If you have an aversion to the word ‘fuck’, you are going to want to skip this one.
We answered a LOT of questions. I would love to do this exact same panel as a 2-hour long session. We really had to stop with a significant number of questions outstanding. Tons of people came up to us to ask followups afterward (which is always welcome), but I think most of those questions would have been well served by having taken place in the broader group.
All of that said, here is the audio. Enjoy. Or don’t. I’m not the boss of you.