I had several cups of coffee today. I really like coffee, so it wasn’t a burden.

The reapostson for all the coffee was back-to-back in-person networking meetings; meeting people in person over a coffee to discuss life, the universe, and work opportunities. There’s no doubt that humans need to meet in person to make connections.

It made me wonder, though, what we did in the 1990s, before there was a café at the lobby of every building. Networking and business development still happened, but in a different way. And so, perhaps 30 years from now, it will be different again.

I’ve been reviewing a stack of reports for the past week. They detail the outcomes of a series of risk management workshops held recently.

What I’m dealing with now is the tedium of reviewing the output documents. These are the artefacts left behind: the record of the outcomes.

Reviewing line after line of similar - but not the same – information is tedious. But this can’t be automated: it needs to be done by a person who was at the workshop, and who knows what to look for. It’s tedious, but this is one of many things that engineers do well.

I vaguely remember my ‘introduction to electrical engineering’ course in first year university. I remember there were imaginary numbers involved, and I remember the importance of knowing if a circuit needed to be in series or could be in parallel. In the first case: one thing at a time. In the second: multiple processes could occur at the same time.

There’s a piece of advice out there that says, “slow down, accomplish more”. That might be true. The one I like better, though, is “Do one thing at a time”. For humans, working in series is better than in parallel.

“Sometimes you’re the windshield, and sometimes you’re the bug.”

That’s a line from a 1991 Dire Straits song (covered, better I think, by Mary Chapin Carpenter in 1992).

It’s a good metaphor for the days when we’re kicking goals (or smashing bugs), compared to the days that we feel like a smashed bug ourselves.

Fortunately, we do get a chance to be both (while the actual non-metaphorical bug, well, doesn’t).

So when you feel like the bug smashed on a windshield, there’s a very good chance you can come back at 100% or better. Remember that this too shall pass.

Don’t listen too closely to what you say in conversation. Or maybe, do, but don’t be surprised by some of the inane things that are uttered.

I’ve become aware that I say “interesting!” all the time. To everything. “My dog’s going to the vet today.” “Oh, interesting!”. No, not really, but I say it anyway.

The other overused one I hear is “…and that kind of thing”. Trailing off the conversation with “…and that kind of thing” is extraneous, and a little lazy.

Like writing, speaking succinctly has its advantages. But do make it interesting, and that kind of thing.

The symbolism of the ‘spinning plates’ is appropriate. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen the action live, though. Maybe at a Cirque du Soleil show.

The analogy is good: we feel like the circus performer who has to keep all those plates in the air, on those tiny poles, way up there in the air. And when one slows down, we have to spin it again so that it doesn’t fall off its perch.

Too many tasks, too many priorities, too many expectations – these can have the same effect. The thing is, we’re really not performing in the circus.

I had a call today from an ex-colleague. We worked together ten years ago on a construction project in western Queensland. Early starts, long days, 28 days on/9 days off work cycle. You know the type of project: it had challenges and some great teamwork and many tough days, and there were good connections made.

That’s in my past now; but that phone call reminded me of those times, and how it all shapes and makes us. The projects, opportunities, successes, and failures: it’s all part of life.

The things you are doing today will become part of your past.

Similar to the project management triad (cost, schedule, quality), there’s a theory of human behaviour, which is also a ‘pick two’ triad.

Warren Thorngate stated it’s ‘impossible for a theory of social behaviour to be simultaneously simple, general, and accurate’.

Simple theories usually can’t be generalised into different situations or contexts. Or if you have a general theory, it tends to be very complex with lots of different pieces to it so that it can be applied generally.

This makes for a complicated truth. The more general a simple theory, the less accurate it will be in predicting specifics (Gergen).

This is an open letter to the talkers out there.

I’ve noticed I’ve been interrupting lately. Please accept my general apology for that.

I started timing your side of the conversation because I wondered if I was imagining it. But no, I’m not: you’re talking for a very long time, without pause.

The thing is, your stream-of-consciousness talking at me covers many, many interesting points I’d love to converse with you about. But those fleeting thoughts become old news as you randomly move onto something else.

So, I’m sorry when I do jump in… I’m really just trying to participate.

I’m working with a group of engineers who are trying to define when a Standards requirement has been met.

The first debate is whether it is “conformance” or “compliance”. That question, to me, is fairly straightforward: we conform to the Standard; comply with legislation. If the Standard is named in the legislation, we comply with the legislation when we conform to the Standard. Clear as mud.

The next debate is trickier: how to demonstrate that compliance/conformance. We’ve established four methods so far: spreadsheets, judgement, validation/verification, or utilisation of an internal technical authority.

Expectations differ, and there are many solutions available.

Computer systems are the digital application that we often think of first, when considering a ‘system’. There are many analogue systems too, in life, work, and projects.

Systems are things working together, or, an organised scheme or methods. Much of our day is governed by systems: the transport network, smartphone connectivity, elevators.

Other examples of systems include document control, air traffic control, and the school system. They are everywhere, and they are essential to the functioning of society.

They are also useful in our workday, to help get things done. A good system helps to prevent the costs of rework.

Borrowing some ideas from Sam Harris’s recent podcast with Michele Gelfand, culture is like a computer operating system. It’s there in the background, running the show, even though we don’t see the details or the moving parts. It’s there, but it’s entirely invisible.

Cultural norms exist in nations, in households, and in organisations. Cultural strength is differentiated by how closely rules are followed. A tight culture is often co-identified with a collective threat level, such as chronic natural disasters. There’s an interesting link between threat level and rule-following: higher threat levels result in more consistent rule-following as the cultural norm.

David Graeber published a book in 2018 with the catchy title: “BS Jobs – the rise of pointless work and what we can do about it”. It is a compelling philosophy.

Summarising it is fraught, but the overarching accusation is that there are a lot of senior jobs that are extraneous.

I postulated quietly in April 2020 that perhaps the working from home phenomenon would expose the BS jobs – because in this environment, extraneous roles would be more obvious.

Alas, it seems that has not been the case. Some are ‘busier than ever’. And there are still BS roles in place.

Books (non-fiction), or work documents (reports, emails) can be categorised as either practical or theoretical.

A practical book depends on action for solutions. “Do X, and Y will happen”.

A theoretical book presents solutions through explanations. “In the past, X was done, and the observers realised that ‘Y’ was happening. This is something to be known about”.

Practical documents don’t solve a problem, but doing the action described in them, should. Practical documents contain rules, prescriptions, maxims, or directions.

Theoretical documents describe something to be known, or, solves problems with words.

Beware of theoretical documents when they should be practical.

Meetings are not communities in the defined sense. But recognising the good parts of communities will make meetings better.

Communities of interest, action or practise are three kinds of communities that exist in the professional landscape. They have a camaraderie, connection, and a shared sense of purpose.

Communities have ‘meetings’, but they might not feel like meetings because of the community vibe.

Running a business meeting could tap into those same aspects. Take the opportunity to develop a sense of community, if only for that short moment in time.

The better the rapport in a meeting, the better the meeting.

“What’s in it for me” (WIIFM, pronounced “wifim”) is a key ingredient in projects, committees, or, setting up a purpose-community (such as a community of practise, a wiki, or a support group).

Why join a community? You can build the best community space, but it’s not a community if you’ve not thought enough of the members and what’s in it for them.

The hard part can be answering that: what’s in it for them; figuring out what they want. I’m currently involved in a couple of purpose-community initiatives, and it’s not as easy as “surely everyone will want this, right?”

Being part of community allows us the opportunity to connect. While it’s a positive that technology allows online connection with people from around the world, humans mostly still prefer in-person connections.

While this is more limited in the current times, it will not always be this way. Humans will default to connecting in person again, when the time is right.

Connection is one thing; the ability to have deep conversation is another. I think we’ll find, after this is over, that online connections, while essential now, will fall away in favour of in person conversations as soon as we can.

[ Gathering ]

The idea of a ‘gathering’ feels somewhat informal. It builds a picture of milling around, some small groups forming, but no coherence or structure.

Any group, community, or meeting is, by definition, a gathering. Maybe some should have structure. Those gatherings are for a purpose, to achieve a goal.

There’s an art to managing a gathering for an outcome. There’s even a book about it by Priya Parker. In it, she recognises the importance of a skilled host at a gathering. Also, the need for structure, purpose, and the right number at a goal-based gathering (i.e., your next work meeting).

If ever there was a time that community is important, now is the time.

Our social structures have been somewhat decimated in the past twelve months. I hadn’t realised how important it is to have the informal yet regular contact – in person – with members of my various communities.

Communities form when people share something in common. A community might be based on industry or employer, or it might be based on similar interests, outlooks, goals, geographic location, or circumstances.

We haven’t changed in tens of thousands of years. We still need to belong to a community in order to survive.

Habits define the sum of our lives.

I’ve learned that restarting a past habit is both easier, and harder, than starting a new habit.

Resurrecting a habit from the past already has some built in ‘muscle memory’. This makes it easier than starting a new one: we have a history, we have evidence, we have (past) results.

A habit from our past, that we’ve stopped, then exposes us to life without that habit. And sometimes, maybe, life is easier without it.

But sometimes, we miss the routine of that habit, and the satisfaction (or relief) when the task is done.