Shipulski On Design

Archive for the ‘Uncertainty’ Category

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 find my way.

I sometimes get caught in other people’s expectations.  Aren’t their wants important too?

I can judge myself negatively even when good things happen.  Wasn’t greatness possible?

I get angry when my expectations don’t control what the Universe does.  Am I alone in this?

But I find my way.

I sometimes prioritize my feelings over others’.  Is that good, bad, neither, or both?

I judge myself positively when good things happen. Maybe I had nothing to do with it?

I am happy when I have no expectations. But shouldn’t I expect that?

And I find my way.

I want what I don’t have.  Who decides when enough is truly enough?

I get what I want, and then I worry about losing it.  But doesn’t everything go away?

I sometimes don’t know what I want.  Maybe I don’t want anything but don’t know it?

And I still find my way.

I love helping people. It’s like helping myself twice.

I love my family.  I get meaning from them.

I love myself even when some parts of me don’t.

I find my way.

Image credit — Jan Mosimann

X: We need a strategic plan.

Me:  Why do you need one of those?

X: Everybody needs a strategic plan.

Me: Okay.  That didn’t work. Let me try it another way.  What makes a plan strategic?

X: You start with a strategy and you create a plan to make it happen over the next three years.

Me: So, you plan out the next three years?

X: Yes. Or four.

Me: Doesn’t the plan assume you know how the Universe will behave over the next three years?

X: We know our market, we know our customers, we know our technology, and we make a three-year plan.

Me: And what if something changes, like COVID, tariffs, or a new competitor brings to market something that obsoletes your best product?

X: You can’t plan for that.

Me: Exactly.

X: You’re talking in circles! What do you mean?

Me: If your three-year plan can’t plan for unplanned things, what kind of plan is that?

X: I told you.  It’s a strategic plan.

Me: Hmm.  Let me try that again.  What happens when something unexpected arises and your plan needs to change?

X: It’s a strategic plan.  Those don’t change.

Me: Arrg.  Do you mean the plan should change, but you don’t make the change? Or strategic plans never change?

X: Strategic plans don’t change because they’re strategic.  We put a lot of time into creating them.

Me: They don’t change because they take a lot of time and effort to create?

X: Well, yes.  We have long planning meetings, and our best people spend a lot of time creating it.

Me: Do you think the Universe cares how long it took you to create your plan?

X:  There you go again with the Universe thing.

Me: What I mean by that is there are many factors outside your control.  It’s a big world out there. And you can’t plan for everything.

X: What do you mean? We put everything in the strategic plan.

Me: That’s not the type of everything I’m talking about.  I’m talking about things outside your control that you cannot possibly know.

X: Are you saying we don’t know what we’re doing?

Me: No, I’m saying you know everything you’re going to do over the next three years.  And that’s the problem.

X: You are frustrating.  First you tell me it’s impossible to plan for everything, then you tell me we have a problem because we plan for everything.  What’s wrong with you?

Me: That’s the right question.  There’s a lot wrong with me. I have a good idea that turns out to be wrong, so I change my plan. I think I understand what’s going on, but I learn that I’m wrong, so I change my plan. I have a plan, but something unexpected happens and turns my plan from good to wrong, so I change it, even if the plan is strategic, whatever that means.

Image credit — Geoff Henson

Tariffs.  Economic uncertainty.  Geopolitical turmoil.  There’s no time for elegance.  It’s time for the art of the possible.

Give your sales team a reason to talk to customers.  Create something that your salespeople can talk about with customers.  A mildly modified product offering, a new bundling of existing products, a brochure for an upcoming new product, a price reduction, a program to keep prices as they are even though tariffs are hitting you.  Give them a chance to talk about something new so the customers can buy something (old or new).

Think Least Launchable Unit (LLU). Instead of a platform launch that can take years to develop and commercialize, go the other way.  What’s the minimum novelty you can launch? What will take the least work to launch the smallest chunk of new value?  Whatever that is, launch it now.

Take a Frankensteinian approach. Frankenstein’s monster was a mix and match of what the good doctor had scattered about his lab.  The head was too big, but it was the head he had.  And he stitched onto the neck most crudely with the tools he had at his disposal.  The head was too big, but no one could argue that the monster didn’t have a head.  And, yes, the stitching was ugly, but the head remained firmly attached to the neck.  Not many were fans of the monster, but everyone knew he was novel.  And he was certainly something a sales team could talk about with customers.  How can you combine the head from product A with the body of product B?  How can you quickly stitch them together and sell your new monster?

Less-With-Far-Less. You’ve already exhausted the more-with-more design space.  And there’s no time for the technical work to add more.  It’s time for less.  Pull out some functionality and lots of cost.  Make your machines do less and reduce the price.  Simplify your offering and make things easier for your customers.  Removing, eliminating, and simplifying usually comes with little technical risk.  Turning things down is far easier than turning them up.  You’ll be pleasantly surprised how excited your customers will be when you offer them slightly less functionality for far less money.

These are trying times, but they’re not to be wasted. The pressure we’re all under can open us up to do new work in new ways.  Push the envelope. Propose new offerings that are inelegant but take advantage of the new sense of urgency forced.

Be bold and be fast.

Image credit — Geoff Henson

Here are the questions I ask myself when I’m asked to take on new work….

 

Do I know what the work is all about?

Is it well-defined?

Would it make a big difference if the work is completed successfully?

Would it make a big difference if it’s not?

Is it clear how to judge if the work is completed successfully?

Is the work important and how do I know?

Is it urgent? (The previous question is far more important to me.)

Is there more important work?

Who would benefit from the work and how do I feel about it?

Would I benefit and how do I feel about it?

Am I uniquely qualified or can others do the work?

Am I interested in the work?

Would I grow from the work?

Who would I work for?

Who would I work with?

Would my career progress?

Would I get a raise?

Would I spend more time with my family?

Would I spend more time in meetings?

Would I travel more?

What does my Trust Network think?

Would I have fun? (I think this is a powerful question.)

 

These aren’t the questions you should ask yourself, but I hope the list helps you develop your own.

Image credit — broombesoom

You know the space is new when you don’t have the right words to describe the phenomenon.

When there are two opposite sequences of events and you think both are right, you know the space is new.

You know you’re thinking about new things when the harder you try to figure it out the less you know.

You know the space is outside your experience but within your knowledge when you know what to do but you don’t know why.

When you can see the concept in your head but can’t drag it to the whiteboard, you’re swimming in new soup.

When you come back from a walk with a solution to a problem you haven’t yet met, you’re circling new space.

And it’s the same when know what should be but it isn’t – circling new space.

When your old tricks are irrelevant, you’re digging in a new sandbox.

When you come up with a new trick but the audience doesn’t care – new space.

When you know how an experiment will turn out and it turns out you ran an irrational experiment – new space.

When everyone disagrees, the disagreement is a surrogate for the new space.

It’s vital to recognize when you’re swimming in a new space.  There is design freedom, new solutions to new problems, growth potential, learning, and excitement.  There’s acknowledgment that the old ways won’t cut it.  There’s permission to try.

And it’s vital to recognize when you’re squatting in an old space because there’s an acknowledgment that the old ways haven’t cut it.  And there’s permission to wander toward a new space.

Image credit — Tambaco The Jaguar

X: When will you be done with the project?

Me: This work has never been done before, so I don’t know.

 

X: But the Leadership Team just asked me when the project will be done. So, what should I say?

Me: Since nothing has changed since the last time you asked me, I still don’t know. Tell them I don’t know.

 

X: They won’t like that answer.

Me: They may not like the answer, but it’s the truth.  And I like telling the truth.

 

X: Well, what are the steps you’ll take to complete the project?

Me: All I can tell you is what we’re trying to learn right now.

 

X: So all you can tell me is the work you’re doing right now?

Me: Yes.

 

X: It seems like you don’t know what you’re doing.

Me: I know what we’re doing right now.

 

X: But you don’t know what’s next?

Me: How could I?  If this current experiment goes up in smoke, the next thing we’ll do is start a different project.  And if the experiment works, we’ll do the next right thing.

 

X: So the project could end tomorrow?

Me: That’s right.

 

X: Or it could go on for a long time?

Me: That’s right too.

 

X: Are you always like this?

Me: Yes, I am always truthful.

 

X: I don’t like your answers. Maybe we should find someone else to run the project.

Me: That’s up to you.  But if the new person tells you they know when the project will be done, they’re the wrong person to run the project.  Any date they give you will be a guess.  And I would not want to be the one to deliver a date like that to the Leadership Team.

 

X: We planned for the project to be done by the end of the year with incremental revenue starting in the first quarter of next year.

Me: Well, the project work is not bound by the revenue plan.  It’s the other way around.

 

X: So, you don’t care about the profitability of the company?

Me: Of course I care.  That’s why we chose this project – to provide novel customer value and sell more products.

 

X: So the project is intended to deliver new value to our customers?

Me: Yes, that’s how the project was justified.  We started with an important problem that, if solved, would make them more profitable.

 

X: So you’re not just playing around in the lab.

Me: No, we’re trying to solve a customer problem as fast as we can.  It only looks like we’re playing around.

 

X: If it works, would our company be more profitable?

Me: Absolutely.

 

X: Well, how can I help?

Me: Please meet with the Leadership Team and thank them for trusting us with this important project.  And tell them we’re working as fast as we can.

Image credit – Florida Fish and Wildlife

X:  Me:  format stolen from Simon Wardley (@swardley).  Thank you, Simon.

When you demo something new, you make the technology real.  No longer can they say – that’s not possible.

When you demo something new, you help people see what it is and what it isn’t.  And that brings clarity.

When you demo something new, people take sides. And that says a lot about them.

When you demo something new, be prepared to demo it again. It takes time for people to internalize new concepts.

When someone asks you to repeat the demo so others can see it, it’s a sign there’s something interesting about the demo.  Repeat it.

When someone calls out fault with a minor element of the demo, they also reinforce the strength of the main elements.

When you demo something new and it works perfectly, you should have demo’d it sooner.

When the demo works perfectly, you’re not trying hard enough.

When you demo something new, there is no way to predict the action items spawned by the demo.  In fact, the reason to do the demo is to learn the next action items.

When you demo something new, make the demo short so the conversation can be long.

When you demo something new, shut your mouth and let the demo do the talking.

When you demo something new, keep track of the questions that arise.  Those questions will inform the next demo.

When you demo something new and it’s misunderstood, congratulations. You’ve helped the audience loosen their thinking.

If you want to change people’s thinking, do a demo.

Image credit – Ralf Steinberger

When you don’t know what to do, what do you do?  This is a difficult question.

Here are some thoughts that may help you figure out what to do when you really don’t know.

Don’t confuse activity with progress.

Gather your two best friends, go off-site, and define the system as it is.

Don’t ask everyone what they think because the Collective’s thoughts will be diffuse, bland, and tired.

Get outside.

Draw a picture of how things work today.

Get a good meal.

Make a graph of goodness over time.  If it’s still increasing, do more of what you did last time.  If it’s flat, do something else.

Get some exercise.

Don’t judge yourself negatively.  This is difficult work.

Get some sleep.

Help someone with their problem.  The distraction will keep you out of the way as your mind works on it for you.

Spend time with friends.

Try a new idea at the smallest scale. It will likely lead to a better one. Repeat.

Use your best judgment.

Image credit – Andrew Gustar

Next year will be different, but we don’t know how it will be different. All we know is that it will be different.

Some things will be the same and some will be different.  The trouble is that we won’t know which is which until we do.  We can speculate on how it will be different, but the Universe doesn’t care about our speculation.  Sure, it can be helpful to think about how things may go, but as long as we hold on to the may-ness of our speculations.  And we don’t know when we’ll know. We’ll know when we know, but no sooner. Even when the Operating Plan declares the hardest of hard dates, the Universe sets the learning schedule on its own terms, and it doesn’t care about our arbitrary timelines.

What to do?

Step 1. Try three new things. Choose things that are interesting and try them.  Try to try them in parallel as they may interact and inform each other. Before you start, define what success looks like and what you’ll do if they’re successful and if they’re not.  Defining the follow-on actions will help you keep the scope small.  For things that work out, you’ll struggle to allocate resources for the next stages, so start small.  And if things don’t work out, you’ll want to say that the projects consumed little resources and learned a lot.  Keep things small.  And if that doesn’t work, keep them smaller.

Step 2. Rinse and repeat.

I wish you a happy and safe New Year.  And thanks for reading.

Mike

“three” by Travelways.com is licensed under CC BY 2.0

Your core business, the long-standing business that has made you what you are, is both your greatest strength and your greatest weakness.

The Core generates the revenue, but it also starves fledgling businesses so they never make it off the ground.

There’s a certainty with the Core because it builds on success, but its success sets the certainty threshold too high for new businesses.  And due to the relatively high level of uncertainty of the new business (as compared to the Core) the company can’t find the gumption to make the critical investments needed to reach orbit.

The Core has generated profits over the decades and those profits have been used to create the critical infrastructure that makes its success easier to achieve.  The internal startup can’t use the Core’s infrastructure because the Core doesn’t share.  And the Core has the power to block all others from taking advantage of the infrastructure it created.

The Core has grown revenue year-on-year and has used that revenue to build out specialized support teams that keep the flywheel moving.  And because the Core paid for and shaped the teams, their support fits the Core like a glove.  A new offering with a new value proposition and new business model cannot use the specialized support teams effectively because the new offering needs otherly-specialized support and because the Core doesn’t share.

The Core pays the bills, and new ventures create bills that the Core doesn’t like to pay.

If the internal startup has to compete with the Core for funding, the internal startup will fail.

If the new venture has to generate profits similar to the Core, the venture will be a misadventure.

If the new offering has to compete with the Core for sales and marketing support, don’t bother.

If the fledgling business’s metrics are assessed like the Core’s metrics, it won’t fly, it will flounder.

If you try to run a new business from within the Core, the Core will eat it.

To work effectively with the Core, borrow its resources, forget how it does the work, and run away.

To protect your new ventures from the Core, physically separate them from the Core.

To protect your new businesses from the Core, create a separate budget that the Core cannot reach.

To protect your internal startup from the Core, make sure it needs nothing from the Core.

To accelerate the growth of the fledgling business, make it safe to violate the Core’s first principles.

To bolster the capability of your new business, move resources from the Core to the new business.

To de-risk the internal startup, move functional support resources from the Core to the startup.

To fund your new ventures, tax the Core.  It’s the only way.

“Core Memory” by JD Hancock is licensed under CC BY 2.0