Discipline is knowing what you want

I learned yesterday that knowing what you want is more than just wanting what you know to be true.

If you want something, truly want it, it doesn’t matter what stories you tell yourself about that want. Say you want something that you’re convinced isn’t ok–like a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Say you want something that you’re convinced is simply your lot in life–like want your boss to stop forcing you to do the work you dislike. There are many things that I want–but those desires are outside what I consider to be “good behavior.”

But I still want it. Then there are four things that will happen:

  1. I deny what I want
  2. I act out what I want
  3. I project what I want onto others
  4. I acknowledge what I want

Denying what I want is my default. I look at it and say “nope, this thing ain’t ok. Therefore I must not want it!” and I move on. That doesn’t feel very good, because even if my prefrontal cortex thinks something, my emotions aren’t actually convinced.

Sometimes I act out what I want, and when I look back on my actions and I’m surprised. How could I have been so impulsive? Who was in charge when I did that? In a silly way, this is what happens with nachos when I’m trying to eat healthy–it’s like the plate suddenly appears in my hand, even though I’ve made solemn vows of healthy living.

Sometimes I project my desires onto others and judge them for it. I think “Look at that fool, spending his money on a brand new car when he could be saving so much money!” when really I would like nothing more than to be driving around in a brand-new Tesla Model 3.

And much more rarely, I acknowledge what I want. I say “Yes, I want that.” and allow myself to be the type of flawed human being that wants something that isn’t ok. And with that acknowledgment comes the strength to compare that desire to the other desires in my life. You can’t weigh one thing against another if you deny that one of them exists!

So often my desires are not only distasteful, or wrong in some way, but they conflict with other things that I want simultaneously. I want to have met my obligations at work; I also want to spend quality time with my family, and I want to leave both work and family behind and go snowboarding with my buddies. Those three desires are real. Those three desires are in direct conflict. Those three desires must be managed and acknowledged. I can’t look at snowboarding and say “Nah, that would be foolish, and I’m not a foolish person, so I must not even want that.” I have to instead say “Hey, I do want that.” Then, perhaps, I can weigh the conflicts against each other and possibly make sense of them. Perhaps I can work out time on a weekend to go snowboarding, and perhaps I can find time after the kids go to bed to get caught up on work. Or perhaps by acknowledging that I want it, I can be given the strength to say “I want it, but I can’t have that now.”

This gets so much more complicated the deeper and more complex your life becomes. How can you tease out what you want when you fall in love? How do you know what you want when somebody you love is sick? How do you know really acknowledge something when you feel it’s wrong? I don’t know of any reliable way of knowing what I want except by talking it out with people I trust and respect and exploring my own feelings. But denial, projecting and acting things out uncontrollably has hurt, and I know I don’t want that. Truly, I want to acknowledge my desires.

Tapestry

We are all just a slender thread in the rich tapestry of life; a slender fragile thread pushing thru the weave in pursuit of a yet unfolded future. We join with others in this weave, braid ourselves together in marriages, in friendships, in working relationships, in mentorships, and in countless other ways. And it is only via this joining that our weave begins to mean anything.

All the various colors call to us at different times, and colors will join to make shapes and designs at various times and places. Look around you–look at those threads that depend most upon you. Are they children? Co-workers? Friends? Find those you are responsible for and lend yourself to that weave first. A wise man once said “Do what is meaningful, not what is expediant.” And it must be that way, even when, especially when life is complicated.

And the weave of life carries on its way, regardless, it feels, of the obstacles in our way.

I bequeath to this post the name “Naming”

There are only two hard things in Computer Science: cache invalidation and naming things.

— Phil Karlton

When you’re doing something important and creative, you end up trying to find a name for the thing you’re working on. And then you realize that naming is hard. A name is a pointer to something, a thing that is begging to be elevated above the ordinary. It’s a word that has emerged from the swamp of language to mean something on its own; a word that requires far less context than ordinary words to adequately point to something of meaning in our lives.

Creativity would often be wasted were its product not given an appropriate name. I recently saw an abstract painting called “Darkest before Dawn” and it struck me—a painting of blues and blacks and a large widening strip of white. The painting itself could be disparaged as simply colors thrown on the canvas, but with the name, it came alive in my imagination: in those colors, I saw myself in my most anxious moments lying in bed wishing the day hadn’t yet come.

Starting a business, a creative endeavor with a popular byproduct named “profit,” requires those embarking on the voyage to craft a fitting name for the firm. This is often a soul-searching affair, with family and friends consulted; a half-sketched dream is laid out in confidence to those we trust such that those few could find a Proper Noun that is somehow fitting. These Namers peer closely at the fragile life-form, holding back derision, doubt and disdain to look into the fog of the future to find something, anything, in that dream that will hold up for years to come. Sometimes the name comes in a flash of insight, other times in a hopeless resignation to the fact that nothing else seems to work. Sometimes the name is found searching available .com domains and state registries in the vain and glorious hope to find something truly unique; sometimes the name is simply the last name of the proprietor.

And names seem to stick in the collective memory. Americans in 2019 know the names Jesus, Caesar, Muhammad, Shakespeare, and Washington. Many have heard of the Gordian Knot and the Sword of Damocles and Occam’s Razor. Names like Waterloo, Hiroshima, Titanic, Hindenburg, and Katrina mean something; names like Nobel, Penicillin, the Pill, Democracy, and Internet mean something else again. These are words that resonate in our minds, that when spoken somehow ring louder than the words that surround them. They have more weight than the humble filler word, they have more depth than the oceans of prose that hold them up. A name will remain when civilizations fail when flesh that carried that name so proudly has long since returned to the earth.

And out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof.

–Genesis 2:19, KJV Bible

In the beginning, God breathed into the nostrils of man, and man became a living soul. Some say that is when man achieved consciousness, some say that we were then given a spark of the divine. He did this after creating Heaven and Earth and the Seas; and God named some things, including man. But then God did something strange—instead of instructing Adam on what everything had been named, He instead brought the animals and presented them to Adam, and Adam named them. God presented; man named. God, who had so recently created Everything and saw that it was good, asked his youngest creation to give names to the older creations, using the strength and wisdom that that breath had bestowed.

There seems to be something universally divine in the naming of children. Culture, that intangible repository of actions in the collective, holds so firm a grip that the unconscious thousands name their children similarly: Anastasia in Russia, Wang Fang in China, Gabriella in Brazil, Olivia in America. Family history and familial recognition play their part in the larger cultural picture as well. Of my six children, five have middle names honoring aunts or uncles, and the sixth middle name is for a cousin. Disputes over names have led to court cases and divorces. Long nights have been spent poring over baby name books, and many tentative conversations between expectant spouses have started with “Whaddya think of…” and ended quickly with a disapproving eyebrow wiggle. Finding the name that fits all the requirements can be exhausting.

And as the child grows, the name of a child takes the meaning we bestow upon the child itself. I love the names of my children in part because I love my children, and the names have a valence that encapsulates all the care and struggle and joy and peace and frustration and enjoyment they have brought me. The emotional response to their names cannot be disentangled from the names themselves.

Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts. There are seven words that will make a person love you. There are ten words that will break a strong man’s will. But a word is nothing but a painting of a fire. A name is the fire itself.

–Elodin in Patrick Rothfuss’ The Wise Man’s Fear

Merriam-Webster defines a name as “a word or phrase that constitutes the distinctive designation of a person or thing.” It’s important to note the use of the word phrase in the sentence above because a name is more than just a single word. The “Assistant Secretary of State” is the name of a position in the American government and breaking it into its component words simply changes the name. Nouns, those words that identify people, places and things are words without enough meaning to capitalize, while proper nouns, which identify particular people, places and things, are words that have finally come into their own. Thus, not all words, not even all nouns, are names. A name is a phrase that connotates meaning upon an object, and the deeper that meaning, the more real the name.

Like any proper language, English has many words that mean nearly the same thing, surely so that poets must ne’er lay down their pens. Labels are names that classify something, monikers seem to be names with a slightly lighter meaning, tags are names that give additional information, aliases are names used in place of other names, handles are names used online, brands are names used by businesses, and pseudonyms are fictitious names. But names, under any name, are everywhere, and important.

It seems names came into being sometime in the primordial past when our ancestors began to realize that pointing no longer worked to pull the best out of the future. The act of pointing, by itself, seems to be a precursor to language and cooperation and to demonstrate a level of intentionality that simple hand-waving does not. Jaggers, that great Dickensian lawyer of Great Expectations, would throw his finger to pull the truth out of the less capable than he. My father would point at the dinner table, a point backed with that particular look in his eye, at the misbehaving child that needed correcting. Names seem to have been layered onto this pointing mechanism, and once our tongues got ahold of them, they were given the depth and nuance that we treat them with today. But at their basic they remain that simple index finger, intentionally identifying something such that it is elevated in the mind of all those around in order that it may be better thought about and examined.

Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.

Exodus 20:7, KJV Bible

And then there are names that society demands you not use! Naming a product or service a swear word is likely to spell the end of that product unless you get lucky and hit just the right edgy tone for your audience. A friend of mine is named Fawn—a nice name in English—but that same word gets children in trouble in Sweden. Many jurisdictions disallow names that are too long, and of course, there are names that would cause mayhem everywhere were they used.

Names can be, have been, a terrible tragedy. Gypsy, jew, Dalit, nigger, commie, homo and jap are just a few of the names applied in wide swathes to denigrate, belittle and kill people in the last 100 years. Identity politics of the 21st century attempt to name broad groups in order to determine a person’s intersectionality and thus their meaning to the broader culture, often at great pain to individuals. Names have long identified the “us” we belong to while ensuring that “they” don’t belong, keeping our tribe pure and clean. We cling to names such as Republican or Democrat at the expense of our very intellect.

By the simple act of naming something, the other things fade into relative obscurity. Thus it is possible to name a bellyache “indigestion” instead of “colon cancer” or a cough as a “common cold” instead of “pneumonia” with tragic results. Raising a person, place or thing on a pedestal by necessity requires that it has now attained an elevated status in some sort of hierarchy. What, then, remains unnamed? Were they more important? Why were those ideas, those concepts, those objects passed over? What damage will result in them laying in the void, victims of lingering Type II errors, forever forgotten and unexamined?

Each [name in Mathematica] encapsulates some idea, some creative concept—frozen in a tiny clump of words. Like little poems. Thousands of them.

–Stephen Wolfram, The Poetry of Function Naming (https://writings.stephenwolfram.com/2010/10/the-poetry-of-function-naming/)

Scientific and technical discovery seems to come in a familiar pattern—the insight comes first, the name comes second, and the proof or prototype comes third. The insight, the eureka moment, is a fragile shower-thought, a vague hunch. Once the discoverer takes the time to name it—in the form of a hypothesis, or a patent, or a theorem—the rigorous scholarship and engineering must take place to protect the validity of the hunch. Tesla, that mighty inventor, could envision the moving parts of his AC motor in his head. But Edison, Tesla’s rival, could name things–Edison named 1093 patents to Tesla’s 300. Edison could elevate the lightbulb and the motion picture to the consciousness of the average American, while the Serbo-Croatian Tesla struggled to even make his inventions relevant to his immediate acquaintances.

Similarly, variable- and function-naming are notoriously difficult tasks. Any programmer that has been asked to refactor a piece of code knows has seen terribly-named variables, even if that code was written by himself! Programming, described by Fred Brooks as “pure thought-stuff” requires the art of naming to be honed to a level that is rarely seen elsewhere, simply because a good variable name must, at the moment of its naming, take into account all the various contexts in which it may possibly be used, and all its various meaning. Since software, unlike the tangible world, can be modified long after its initial creation this task is impossible–a variable which began by describing all types of a single entity may later morph into describing only a subtype of that same entity.

Naming positions in a company can cause similar dilemmas. You know a person has a good title when those who work with them can look at it and nod; and a person has a terrible title when those who work with them snort at the email signature line. When you’re hiring, you attract applicants first by the name of the position, and once the hook is set, by the perks of the job. When you’re promoting or reorganizing within a company, perception of the tasks, responsibilities, and authority will rest primarily in the name given to each position.

Again she fled, but swift he came.
Tinuviel! Tinuviel!
He called her by her elvish name;
And there she halted listening.
One moment stood she, and a spell
His voice laid on her: Beren came,
And doom fell on Tinuviel
That in his arms lay glistening.

–Luthien Tinuviel, J.R.R. Tolkien

Not everybody is creative, and not everybody is doing important work. It must be so; but perhaps there are a significant number of you that are doing that creative, difficult work but have simply not yet taken the time to name that which God has presented.

So I beseech you: name your creation! The world awaits your discovery, and it can’t see it unless you point at it with a name that fits it so well that all must pause and say “Yes, yes! That was worth looking at!” Because until you name it, it will linger in the void, unarticulated, and all but uncreated, and certainly not “good.” Draw out that which you’ve done with a Name, and present that Name to a critical world.

Warm Coffee Cheese

(or: how to steal enough ideas that people think you came up with them on your own)

In northern Sweden and Finland, there’s this thing called “kaffeost” or “juustoleipä” which means “coffee cheese” or “cheese bread.” This cheese, very similar to cheese curds, gets dropped into a warm cup of coffee to both flavor the coffee and to flavor the cheese. It’s a culinary delight, with brown melty-cheese to eat at the end of a slightly-salty, poignantly-oily cup of otherwise-black coffee.

Recently, Starbucks has been pushing the Ember mug, and I, in a fit of indulgence, bought one for me and one for my business partner John. Ember mugs have a battery, a Bluetooth connection, and a requisite app so that you can program your mug to be the perfect temperature. I’ve found that 135° to be the best. A side benefit is that I get notifications when my coffee cup is empty, a rare event.

Wisconsin is famous for its cheese. Particularly, they’re famous for their cheese curds, which are served deep-fried at nearly every non-franchised restaurant in the state. One of our employees lives in northern Wisconsin and brought back a bag of Wisconsin goodness to the headquarters in the Northwest for all to enjoy.

So then I walked around the office with my perfect cup of 135° coffee cheese curds.


I didn’t come up with these ideas, nor did I do anything particularly innovative. Things were presented to me and I used them in combination and I talked about them to others. It seems that this happens to me a fair amount–I read books, follow Hacker News, listen to customers, look at new software releases, attend formal school–and every now and then an idea will form around multiple of these otherwise-independent thoughts. Steven Johnson wrote about this in his book Where Good Ideas Come From many years ago. What’s interesting is how much credit I get for putting these things together, credit that I truly don’t deserve! If I deserve any accolades, it is for my successful attempts to be at the places where ideas are shared.

And now I’m going back to drinking and eating coffee and cheese.

Atlas Obscura and Wikipedia have nice articles about Coffee Cheese too, if you want to read further.

Lawbook or Lawman?

Lucille tootled along I5, radio tuned to 91.5, the soothing voice of Terry Gross washing over her like honey on a warm buttered piece of bread. Her left hand held the steering wheel in a gentle grasp at the 6 o’clock position, right hand draped casually over the gearshift of her 2012 maroon Toyota Camry. It was a Saturday morning, a Saturday that made her want to giggle with delight–the leaves just turning color and occasionally drifting casually in the whirling eddies behind the semi-trucks, the midday sun just barely warming the crisp mornings beyond comfort when wearing sweatshirt, and loose clouds that spoke to her of hot-air balloons and the future. Her boyfriend was back to visit her and his parents, and she was looking forward to it; she had gotten a 93 on her first Macro Economics test; she had gotten paid; life was just fine.

Lucille was also going 86 miles per hour. And Officer Newman knew it.

As her car crested the rise, she saw the police cruiser sitting almost out of sight near the overpass, and she automatically took her foot off the pedal and glanced down to see her speed. “Blathering boisterous blisters!” she swore softly. Officer Newman turned on his lights.

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Not for the first time, Justin felt like punching the machine he had just fed his money into. The indicator light said that he would be “tasting the feeling” of a fizzy Cherry Coke soon after feeding his crinkled 1-dollar bill into the black maw of the vending machine. But Cherry Coke was out. As was the standard Coke. And the Coke Life, though he only selected it out of desperation, since he hated the fact that his little sister drank Coke Life because she thought it would make her skinny, despite his repeated attempts to get her to read the ingredient list. 

He briefly considered shaking the vending machine, before punching the “return my money you stupid machine” button beside the black dollar-feeder.

His dollar didn’t come out; instead, coins dropped into the tray. Justin shook his head and reached down to take his money, but before he could, the machine spit out more coins, then more. Quarters filled the cup, and a few even spilled out onto the floor.

In astonishment, Justin straightened up, looking down at the small pile of money. It had to be 25 dollars sitting there in coins, only one of which was his. He looked around–nobody was in sight in the brightly-lit hallway, nobody had seen. He could take the money and go. But there, just under the coin tray, was a little sign that said: “For problems With this vending Machine, please call Vinney’s Vending Machine Service At 1-800-222-7654.” The odd capitalization bugged him almost as much as the fact that the machine was out of Cherry Coke, but he knew there was a way to get the money back to Vinney (or his lackeys), so he couldn’t just take it. He wondered briefly what Vinney looked like, and what he would do if Vinney were standing beside the machine.

His iPhone buzzed in his pocket, reminding him that he had 10 minutes to get to the client’s office, which was conveniently 15 minutes away. Justin grabbed four quarters and walked away quickly.

Just before he turned the corner, he saw a tall red-haired man stop in front of the machine and pocket the money.

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Zozo laughed again at the look on the case officer’s face at the Vancouver office of the Department of Revenue. She glanced over her shoulder at the flat-pack boxes neatly stacked in the back of her Subaru, a stack that had cost 254.22 at IKEA in Portland. Oregon, of course, has no sales tax, but Washington, the dear ol’ state Zozo calls home, does. And by the arcane laws that she’s privy to because of her job at a local CPA’s office, she knows she’s required to pay use tax on any purchases made in Oregon that are intended for use in her home in Washington. It doesn’t seem, however, that many people take the time to do this.

She managed to pay $21.35 after an hour in the office, and it was worth every penny to watch them turn in circles. But she might not stop there next time she runs to IKEA–especially if she gets that big sofa she’s been eyeing.

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Rachael clicked “I acknowledge that I have read and understood the above Terms and Conditions.” Without reading it. Without batting an eyelash.

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What about you, my dear reader?

  • When you know the rules, do you always obey them?
  • Do you only obey the rules when somebody is watching?
  • Perhaps you obey the rules occasionally when the risk outweighs the reward?
  • Or you interpret the rules your way and decide, according to your personal ethics, which need to be followed and which do not?
  • Do you obey the rules? or do you obey the person who made the rules? or perhaps you obey the perceived intent of the person who made the rules?

Conscientiousness

Johan woke up early, that day, that spring day in 2017. He crept downstairs in the dark house, after feeding himself his regular cup of coffee (small) and eating his breakfast (knäckebröd & ost). Silently, he picked up the shoes lying by his door, two pair shoes slightly larger than his feet, shoes left there by the surprise visitors sleeping further down in the guest bedrooms. He could hear them softly breathing further away, dreaming, no doubt, of the families they had left to come looking for work. Johan picked up the first shoe–size 12–and hefted it. It was a black shoe, a shoe worn to fancy dinner parties or to weddings or to church, a shoe used when the outcome matters, when you know people will be watching you. Upstairs he returned, upstairs to the kitchen table, neatly spread with yesterday’s newspaper. There, waiting in an organized black case, with gleaming gold clasps, was the Kiwi Premium Black Shoe Polish Paste, 1-1/8 oz, lying along side the brush, mink oil, and the Waterproof High-gloss Aftereffect (also Kiwi brand). He applied the polish with small, quick, circular strokes–dip in the can, rub lightly across the shoe, spread out as far as it will go. A quick glance was enough to satisfy him that the shoe was covered sufficiently, which he left to dry as he made his way down to the door to pick up the next shoe and repeat the earlier step. Four shoes were quickly, efficiently anointed, and Johan could now wait the remainder of the 10 minutes prescribed by Kiwi with his second cup of coffee (small) and his second knäckebröd (with ost).

The shining went as efficiently. Quickly, the brush was set to the shoes, one after the other, and in the same order the polish had been applied. The lamp above the kitchen table gleamed in the reflection of the shoe as he turned them just so. Stirring sounds were heard from the floor below, and the sun peaked in through the windows, its red sleepy gaze brightening up the workspace. Johan moved purposefully, without hurry, to return the shoes to their spot near the door, near to where the guests had left them, but laid straight and tucked more appropriately under the bench.

Johan is conscientious.

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From Wikipedia:

Conscientiousness is the personality trait of being careful, or vigilant. Conscientiousness implies a desire to do a task well, and to take obligations to others seriously. Conscientious people tend to be efficient and organized as opposed to easy-going and disorderly. They exhibit a tendency to show self-discipline, act dutifully, and aim for achievement; they display planned rather than spontaneous behavior; and they are generally dependable.

See, conscientiousness is critical to a lot of things, but it is especially important in an organization where you are entrusted to deal with the financial and sensitive personal information of others–in other words, every accounting organization everywhere.

But our little company, Silvertrek, had a problem. I tend more toward the easy-going and disorderly side of the spectrum, not toward the efficient and organized side. We, self-described as Construction Accounting for the 21st Century, have a lot of stuff that’s just gotta be done right and just gotta be done on time. While I can’t change my core nature, I can change how our customers are interacted with, so when we recruit, hire, reward, and train employees, we stress the need for conscientiousness. We stress the need that we need to be dependable, we need to be organized. For us to be successful, in other words, we need suppress the spontaneity.

But this goes beyond accounting. Conscientiousness exists in all successful companies, and in any social structure that lasts.

Atul Gawande, in his ground-breaking book The Checklist Manifesto, describes the transition of highly trained doctors from arrogant, slip-shod behavior while performing surgery to precise, careful conduct. The surgery itself wasn’t done any differently, neither was the diagnosis or the recovery. No, Mr. Gawande merely introduced a humble checklist that asked the surgeon to stop, think, and communicate during procedures. Without the checklist, nobody questioned the surgeon, and no one person was in charge of critical steps. With the checklist, everybody was asked for help and opinions, and critical steps were taken by the full team. Without the checklist, the results of surgeries ranged from brilliant to mediocre to disasters; with the checklist, the disasters were averted while still allowing for the brilliancy. Surgeons, with all their training, with all their experience, must still be conscientious, and Mr. Gawande’s checklist forced conscientiousness upon them.

I am not, nor ever will be a conscientious person by nature. I am disorderly and tend to be easy-going when relaxed. However, Silvertrek cannot be disorderly, nor can we be easy-going when it comes to paying the IRS the appropriate amount of money. Thus compensation must be made so that where it matters, in the Silvertrek surgery room, Michael Kelley can be as conscientious as the next guy.

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Johan’s story is a true story, although the details were invented by yours truly, with names changed to protect the innocent. See, I was one of the two surprise guests snoring in the basement. I had a business trip pop upon me that took me near to old friends and I asked if I and a coworker could bunk with them to spare the monotony of a hotel room. They were happy to have us, and imagine my delight at having my shoes polished for a Big Important Meeting! And my shirt ironed, and breakfast made.

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In your business, where is there disorder where there needs to be order? Where is the unreliability where there needs to be dependability?

The Poetry of Programming

“The programmer, like the poet, works only slightly removed from pure thought-stuff. He builds his castles in the air, from air, creating by exertion of the imagination. Few media of creation are so flexible, so easy to polish and rework, so readily capable of realizing grand conceptual structures… Yet the program construct, unlike the poet’s words, is real in the sense that it moves and works, producing visible outputs separate from the construct itself. […] The magic of myth and legend has come true in our time. One types the correct incantation on a keyboard, and a display screen comes to life, showing things that never were nor could be.” –Fred Brookes

Active Communication

So, in all of our dealings with customers, our active communication should fall into three camps:

1) Relationship-building

2) Strategic thinking

3) Exceptions & Problems

There’s another kind of communication that happens all the time, that we want to avoid:

4) Information transfer

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Let’s think about these in detail:

1) Relationship-building: This ranges from the “how’s-it-going-nice-day-isn’t-it-yes-I’m-fine-too” stuff to the hugs and shared tears when a grandma dies. This, done right, makes everything easier. Spend time here, make it genuine, and if you can’t be genuine, pretend until after lunch.

2) Strategic thinking: This is all sorts of conversations, and it’s the kind that corporate boards and project managers and foreman chewing their lunch have all the time. It is the brainstorming, the improving, the criticizing, the making-things-better, the this-is-where-we-should-be-going conversations. This can’t be automated, and we need to take specific times to do this. This includes persuasion and sales when done correctly.

3) Exceptions & Problems: This will likely take up the bulk of our time communicating, and I believe that’s appropriate. As things come up that we’ve never dealt with before, we need to deal with them. We need to think about them, identify the real issue, and solve it as best as we can. If we have problems come up over and over and over again, it’s likely that we’re not solving the issue, but merely communicating information about the issue.

4) Information transfer: Wake up and smell the Starbucks app! It’s 2015–there’s no reason to verbally express information when it could be at your fingertips with a little organization and dedication. We have tools, freely available, that could make all the information that you generate and consume available right now. If you’re spending time talking to people to transfer information, you’re doing it wrong.

So, like most things, it’s simple–create systems to automate information transfer, and communicate about the rest!

Perfection is the Enemy of the Good: Hiring

We have four core values at Silvertrek:

  • The desire and ability to learn
  • The ability to do something without waiting for it to be perfect
  • The desire to take ownership in what you do
  • The ability to be upbeat and positive, even in the face of adversity

We hold ourselves accountable to these core values, and we rank each other on our progression or regression in these things. But we also look for them in the people we hire. We recently hired Owen Granger, and the conversation prior to his getting hired was much more about our perception of these items than it was about his knowledge, schooling, or experience.

In a perfect hiring situation, you first weed out the people that don’t fit your core values, and then you begin to look at their abilities. Say you’re a small manufacturing company, hiring to replace the procurement manager that’s retiring after lo these many years. Somebody in this position needs to understand the domain (electronics, engines, brake pads, whatever you’re making), they need to understand the importance of purchase agreements and their relationship of cash flow, they need to understand the rules surrounding the accounting and taxing of inventory, and they need to understand whatever obscure and/or obsolete MRP system you’re using (95% of the time this is Excel). However, most people seeking employment have relatively plastic brains, and most people can learn those things. Whats harder to “learn” is the drive you’re looking for, the work ethic you’re looking for, the intelligence you’re looking for, the attitudeyou’re looking for. It’s harder to teach a new hire to be less sarcastic then it is to teach them to lower inventory right before fiscal year end. It’s harder to teach a new hire how to go about exploring all the options for a new robotic inventory system then it is to teach them to fill down on tab x84 of the spreadsheet named “Parts-version 4(joe).xlsx” It’s harder to teach somebody the nuanced difference between argument and debate than it is to teach them how to fill in a timecard.

Obviously, you need to know what your core values are. Also obviously, you have core values. It would actually be downright astonishing if you could articulate them–Silvertrek’s core values were years in the making, and only emerged after serious effort.

You don’t need the perfect employee, in terms of job ability. You need an employee that fits your core values, and is good enough at the job put in front of them. Don’t ruin your team by hiring a perfect ass.