Shipulski On Design

Archive for the ‘Level 5 Courage’ Category

When you start something, by definition, you will end it.

All good things come to an end.  So do all bad things. That’s how it goes with things.

All new things start with the end of old things. That’s how things are.

What does it say when a phase of your life comes to an end?

Doesn’t the start of a new phase demand the end of an existing one?

When something ends, do you curse it or celebrate it, do both, or neither?  And how do you decide?

If you stay with the old thing too long, what does that say?  And how do you know it was too long?

Can you know it will be too long before you stay too long?

If you leave too soon, can you know that before you leave?

The follow-on results of a decision do not determine the quality of a decision.

There is no right decision to make.

Make the decision and then make it right.

Image credit — Karissa Burnett

What’s the rule?  Are you sure?

Where did the rule come from?  And how do you know?

When the rule was created, was there also a rule that it could not be changed?

Show me the rule book!

Is the rule always applicable, even after hours?

If the rule is limited to a certain location, work from home.

Is it a rule or a ritual?  It’s easier to abstain from rituals.

Is it a rule or a rut?  Ruts aren’t rules; they’re just how we’ve done it.

Is it a rule or a guideline? Squinting can easily transform a rule into a guideline.

If there’s a disagreement about what the rule is, take a position that’s advantageous to you.

If you don’t know it’s a rule, there’s no need to break it.

If one knows who broke the rule, was it really broken?

If the rules are unknown, don’t follow them.

If the context changed around the rule, the rule is no longer applicable.

If no one remembers why the rule exists, it’s no longer a rule.

If you don’t like a rule, run an experiment to show its shortcomings.

If a rule blocks progress, make progress.

If no one knows a rule was broken, it wasn’t broken.

Image credit — nirak68

Don’t tell me what I can do; tell me what I cannot do, so everything else is available to me.

It’s faster if you give me smart, hardworking people with little experience.  I won’t have to re-teach them, and we can get started right away.

Tell me what you want done, but not how to do it.  Choose someone else because I won’t listen.

Don’t ask me to do something that’s been done before. That work is for someone else, and I will teach them how to do it.

I won’t have an answer to your question if it’s not yet time to know the answer.  I know you’ll likely be uncomfortable with that.

With administrative requests, I’ll be minimally compliant.  I want to conserve my energy for work that everyone else is afraid to try.

Tell me what cannot change so I can constrain that out of the approach.  There’s nothing worse than trying to change the unchangeable.

Don’t give me a destination or an idealized future state.  I’ll define our location, and we’ll discuss several directions of travel we can investigate in parallel.

Give me an unreasonable time constraint.  I’ll have no other choice but to be immensely productive right now.

If at the time of your question, there’s no way I can know the answer, I will tell you.  I’m sure you’ll be displeased with me.

Don’t judge me on efficiency because I’m all about effectiveness.  Solving the wrong problem efficiently is highly ineffective, and I don’t like that.

When I say no to your request, I always have a reason. But I’m not always aware of the reason.

When I see things differently, I’ll tell you.  I’m not being disagreeable. My cynicism is a sign that I care.

When you’re doing new work, it’s okay to be misunderstood.  More strongly – if you’re not misunderstood, you’re not trying hard enough.

May you find work that demands you’re misunderstood.

Image credit — Marian Kloon

I’ve written a blog post every Wednesday for the last sixteen years.

The first years were difficult because I was unsure if my writing was worth reading.  Writing became easier when I realized it wasn’t about what others thought of my writing.  For the next ten years, I let go and wrote about things I wanted to write about.  I transitioned from describing things to others to writing to understand things for myself.  I learned that writing about a topic helped me understand it better.

By writing every week, my writing skills improved.  I learned to eliminate words and write densely.  Early on, I wanted to sound smart and, over time, I became comfortable using plain language and everyday words.  My improved writing skills have helped my career.

Over the last several years, writing has become difficult for me.  After 800 blog posts, it became difficult to come up with new topics, and I started putting pressure on myself by trying to live up to an imaginary standard.  I blocked my own flow, everything tightened, and the words came reluctantly.

Then I became tired of paragraphs. I wrote in topic sentences, bulletized lists, and a sequence of questions.  Each topic sentence could have been the topic of a blog post; the individual bullets were standalone thoughts; and the questions ganged up to build the skeleton of a big theme.  For some reason, it was easier to come up with a collection of big thoughts than to write in detail about a single topic.

I’m not sure what the future will bring, but thanks for reading,

Mike

Image credit — chuddlesworth

Give me fewer people than I need.  That will force me to come up with a better way.

Tell me what to do, but not how to do it.  If you know how to do it, I’m not your person.

Give me far less time than I need – months not years, weeks not months, days not weeks.  I will have no choice but to focus on the most important elements, and I will make decisions quickly because there is no time for indecision.  And I will have fun.

Tell me you don’t know.  That builds trust.

Give me bad tools, slow computers, and crappy infrastructure.  That will require me to make magic.

Tell me the truth.  That builds trust, too.

Give me a challenging task and tell me what I can’t do.  That will allow me to do anything else.

Tell me why you want the problem solved and get out of the way.  Everything will go better that way.

Give me a micro problem – move one atom, spin off one electron, make one photon, deliver one amp, limit me to one volt, give me a single gram.  I won’t be intimidated, and I will be able to see the physics.  Then, once solved, I will expand the solution to a size that fits our customers.

Tell me you need help, and I will help you.

Image credit — JD Hancock (Bizarro Superman)

I started writing because I had no mentor to help me.  I thought I could help myself grow.  I thought I could write to better understand my ideas.  I thought I could use writing to mentor myself.  I tried it.  It was difficult.  It was scary.  But I started.

You will see the title, but you won’t see my scrap paper scribblings that emerge as I struggle to converge on a topic.  Prismatic shapes, zig-zags, arrows pointing toward nothing, nested triangles, cross-hatched circles, words that don’t go together, random words.  And when a topic finds me, I move to the laptop, but you won’t see that either.

You will see the sentences and paragraphs that hang together.  You won’t see the clustered fragments of almost sentences, the disjointed paragraphs, the out-of-sequence logic, the inconsistency of tense, and the wrong words.  You won’t see my head pressed to the kitchen table as I struggle to unshuffle the deck.

You will see the density of my writing.  You won’t see the preening.

You will see a curated image and a shout out to the owner.  You won’t see me spend 30 minutes searching for an image that supports the blog post obliquely.

You will see the research underpinning the main points, but you won’t see me doing it.  Books on and off the shelf, books on the floor, technical papers in my backpack, old presentations in forgotten folders, YouTube, blogs, and podcasts.  Far too many podcasts.

You will see this week’s blog post on Wednesday night, Thursday morning, or Thursday afternoon, depending on your time zone.  You won’t see the 750+ blog posts from 15 years of Wednesdays.

When it was time to send out my first blog post, I was afraid.  I questioned whether the content was worthy, whether I was right, and whether it made sense. I struggled to push the button.  I hesitated, hesitated again, and pushed the button.  And nothing bad happened.

When it was time to send out this blog post, I was confident the content was worthy, confident I was right, and confident that it made sense.   I put myself out there, and when it was time to hit the button, I did not hesitate because I wrote it for me.

Image credit — Charlie Marshall

Plans are good, until they’re not.  The key is knowing when to stay the course and when to adjust the plan.

The time horizons for strategic plans or corporate initiatives can range from two to five years.  To ensure we create the best plans, we assign the work to our best people, we provide them with the best information, and we ask them to use their best judgment.  As input, we assess market fundamentals, technology trends, customer segments, our internal talent, our partners, our infrastructure, and our processes.  We then set revenue targets and create project plans and resource allocation plans to realize the revenue goals.  And then it’s go time.

We initiate the projects, work the plans, and report regularly on the progress.  If the progress meets the monthly goal, we keep going.  And if the progress doesn’t meet the monthly goal, we keep going.  We invested significant time and effort into the plan, and it can be politically difficult, if not bad for your career, to change the plan.  It takes confidence and courage to call for a change to a strategic plan or a corporate initiative.  But two to five years is a long time, and things can (and do) change over the life of a plan.

A plan is created with the best knowledge available at the time.  We assess the environment and use the knowledge to set the financial requirements for the plan.  When the environment and requirements change, the plan should change.

Before considering any changes, if we learn that the assumptions used to create the plan are invalid, the plan should change.  For example, if the resource allocation is insufficient, the timelines should be extended, resources should be added, or the scope of the work should be reduced. I think changing the plan is responsible management, and I think it’s irresponsible management to stay the course.

The environment can change in many ways.  Here are five categories of change: tariffs, competition, internal talent (key people move on), new customer learning, and new technical learning (e.g., more technical risk than anticipated).  Significant changes in any of these categories should trigger an assessment of the plan’s viability.  This is not a sign of weakness.  This is responsible management.  And if the change in the environment invalidates the plan’s assumptions, the plan should change.

The specification (revenue targets) for the plans can change.  There are at least two flavors of change: an increase in revenue goals or a shorter timeline to achieve revenue goals, which are usually caused by changes to the environment.  And when there’s a need for more revenue or to deliver it sooner, the plans should be assessed and changed.  Again, I think this is good management practice and not a sign of failure or weakness.  When we realize the plan won’t meet the new specification, we should modify the plan.

When we learn the assumptions are wrong, we should change the plan.  When the environment changes, we should change the plan.  And when the specification changes, we should change the plan.

Image credit — Charlie Day 

With new product development projects, there is no partial credit.  If you’re less than 100% done, there are zero sales.  90% done, zero sales.  95% done, zero sales. We all understand the concept, but our behavior often contradicts our understanding.  You have too many projects, and our focus on efficiency is to blame.

Under the banner of efficiency, we run too many projects in parallel, and our limited resources become spread too thinly over too many projects.  Project timelines grow, launch dates are pushed out, and revenue generation is delayed.  And because there’s a shortfall in revenue, we start more projects to close the gap.  That’s funny.

In short, we’ve morphed Start, Stop, Continue into Start, Start, Start.

Here’s a process to help you stop starting and start finishing.

Open a spreadsheet and list all your projects for the year.  At the top of the column, list the projects you’ve completed.  Below the completed projects, list your active projects, and below them, list your future (not yet started) projects.  Highlight the completed projects and the active projects, and set the print area.  Then, select “print on both sides of the page.”  When you print the file, the future projects will be printed on the back of the page.  This will help you focus on the completed and active projects and block you from trying to start a project before finishing one.

Now, go back to the top of the spreadsheet and select the completed projects and change the font to “strike through.”  This will allow you to read the project names and remind yourself of the projects you completed.  You can use this list to justify a strong performance rating at your upcoming performance review.

Skip down to the active projects and categorize them as fully staffed or partially staffed.  Change the font color to red for the partially staffed projects and move them to the second page with the future projects.  Print out the spreadsheet.

The completed projects will be at the top of the page in strike-through font, and the short list of fully staffed projects is listed below them in normal font.  On the back of the page, the partially staffed projects are listed in red, and the future projects are listed below them. And now you’re ready to realize the power of the two-sided printout.

Step 1. Ignore the projects on the back of the page (under-staffed and yet to be started projects).  They’re still on the do-do list, but they’ll wait patiently on the back of the page until resources are freed up and allocated.

Step 2. Finish the fully staffed projects on the front page.

Step 3. When you finish a project, change the font to “strike-through” and create a list of the freed-up resources.

Step 4. Flip to the back of the page, allocate the freed-up resources to one of the projects, and move the fully staffed project to the front of the page.

Step 5. Proceed to Step 2.

This is a straightforward process, but it requires great discipline.

Here’s a mantra to repeat daily –  I will finish a project before I start the next one.

Image credit — iggyshoot

To be more effective at a meeting, take the time to dissect the meeting agenda and details.

Who called the meeting?  If the CEO calls the meeting, you know your role. And you know your role if a team member calls the meeting.  Knowledge of the organizer helps you understand your role in the meeting.

Who is invited to the meeting?  If you are the only one invited, it’s a one-on-one meeting.  You know there will be dialogue and back-and-forth discussion.  If there are fifty people invited, you know it will be a listening meeting. And if all the company leaders are invited, maybe you should dress up a bit.

What is the sequence of the invitees? Who is first on the invite list?

Who is not invited to the meeting?  This says a lot, but takes a little thought to figure out what it says.

How long is the meeting? A fifteen-minute daily standup meeting is informal but usually requires a detailed update on yesterday’s progress.  An all-day meeting means you’ve got to pace yourself and bring your coffee.

Is lunch served?  The better the lunch, the more important the meeting.  And it’s the same for snacks.

Is the meeting in-person or remote?  In-person meetings are more important and more impactful.

If pre-read material is sent out two days before the meeting, the organizer is on their game.  If the pre-read material is sent out three minutes before the meeting, it’s a different story.

If there’s no agenda, it means the organizer isn’t all that organized.  Skip these meetings if you can.  But if you can’t, bring your laptop and be ready to present your best stuff.  If no one asks you to talk, keep quiet and listen.  If you’re asked to present, present something if you can.  And if you can’t, say you’re not ready because the topic was not included in the agenda.

The best agendas define the topics, the leader of each topic, and the time blocks.

All these details paint a picture of the upcoming meeting and help you know what to expect.  When you know what to expect will enable you to hear the things that aren’t said and the discussions that don’t happen.

When the group avoids talking about the charged topic or the uncomfortable situation, you’ll recognize it.  And because you know who called the meeting, the attendees, and the meeting context, you’ll help the group discuss what needs to be discussed.  You’ll know when to ask a seemingly innocent question to help the group migrate to the right discussion.  And you’ll know when it’s okay to put your hand up and tell the group they’re avoiding an important topic that should be discussed.

Anyone can follow the agenda, but it takes preparation, insight, awareness, and courage to help the group address the important but uncomfortable things not on the agenda.

Image credit — Joachim Dobler

Anyone can create a presentation with thirty slides, but it takes a rare bird to present for thirty minutes with a single slide.

With thirty slides you can fully describe the system.  With one slide you must know what’s important and leave the rest.  With thirty slides you can hide your lack of knowledge.  With one slide it’s clear to all that you know your stuff, or you don’t.

With one slide you’ve got to know all facets of the topic so you can explain the interactions and subtleties on demand.  With thirty slides you can jump to the slide with the answer to the question. That’s one of the main reasons to have thirty slides.

It’s faster to create a presentation with thirty slides than a one-slide presentation.  The thirty slides might take ten hours to create, but it takes decades of experience and study to create a one-slide presentation.

If you can create a hand sketch of the concept and explain it for thirty minutes, you will deliver a dissertation.  With a one-slide-per-minute presentation, that half hour will be no more than a regurgitation.

Thirty slides are a crutch.  One slide is a masterclass.

Thirty slides – diluted.  One slide – distilled.

Thirty slides – tortuous.  One slide – tight.

Thirty slides – clogged.  One slide – clean.

Thirty slides – convoluted.  One slide – clear.

Thirty slides – sheet music.  One slide – a symphony.

With fewer slides, you get more power points.

With fewer slides, you get more discussion.

With fewer slides, you show your stuff more.

With fewer slides, you get to tell more stories.

With fewer slides, you deliver more understanding.

If you delete half your slides your presentation will be more effective.

If you delete half your slides you’ll stand out.

If you delete half your slides people will remember.

If you delete half your slides the worst outcome is your presentation is shorter and tighter.

Why not reduce your slides by half and see what happens?

And if that goes well, why not try it with a single slide?

I have never met a presentation with too few slides.

Image credit — NASA Goddard

Before you can make improvements, you must identify improvement opportunities.

Before you can identify improvement opportunities, you must look for them.

Before you can look for improvement opportunities, you must believe improvement is possible.

Before believing improvement is possible, you must admit there’s a need for improvement.

Before you can admit the need for improvement, you must recognize the need for improvement.

Before you can recognize the need for improvement, you must feel dissatisfied with how things are.

Before you can feel dissatisfied with how things are, you must compare how things are for you relative to how things are for others (e.g., competitors, coworkers).

Before you can compare things for yourself relative to others, you must be aware of how things are for others and how they are for you.

Before you can be aware of how things are, you must be calm, curious, and mindful.

Before you can be calm, curious, and mindful, you must be well-rested and well-fed.  And you must feel safe.

What choices do you make to be well-rested? How do you feel about that?

What choices do you make to be well-fed? How do you feel about that?

What choices do you make to feel safe? How do you feel about that?

Image credit — Philip McErlean