Wincing at Work Teams

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… This morning, before I even grabbed a coffee, I read two lengthy New York Times business articles—one on work-teams, one on work-meetings.” I winced, I grimaced. Partly because the journalist writing the “meetings” article was a fellow I don’t like: He talks like a sophisticated snob, and he gets stuff wrong, most glaringly, in his article, when he claims my favorite American web essayist, Paul Graham, is British. (Paul immigrated here when he was a boy) Mainly though, I was pained at what I read: “Everyone” hates meetings; “everyone” in the business world doesn’t consciously know how to have a good team “culture.”

They don’t understand, explains the NY Times. From what I have read elsewhere on the web, it would seem hoping for good teams and meetings to happen via everyone’s unconscious autopilot won’t work. Too many grownup businessmen lack common sense. Hence outside facilitators have been to known start a group session by setting up a flip chart and asking the grownups to list meeting behaviors that are “appropriate.”

Researcher findings, reported by the NY Times: For the mammoth company Google, which has many teams whose work can be compared, the most productive teams had workers who each talked an equal amount (averaged out) and a culture of psychological safety… I can’t resist saying, “Duh!” And as for new exciting meeting techniques, where the new things include having everyone do a “check in” to state his or her well-being at the start… I’ll try not to say “duh,” but I will note that meetings of feminists did that way back in the early 70’s.

In fairness, Google is staffed by computer nerds. And speaking of feminists, let’s face it: If a nerd won’t believe in equal rights for women—Gamer-gate scandal, anyone? —then he won’t believe in allowing equal dignity for every man and woman on his Google team, or at his meeting. Never mind whether this feels fair. As someone said in the NY Times article, some guys become computer engineers in order to avoid being aware of feelings, both their own and of others. Still, what’s the excuse for “everybody” being innocent in the business world of, say, marketing and sales, where one would think people would be highly aware? I don’t know, except to say, “Human nature is very prevalent.”

Human nature has to be coped with. Back near the beginning of feminism, near the years the TV business show Mad Men takes place, (The men have good meetings) a successful CEO, Robert Townsend, had strong opinions on how a business should run. In his book for business executives, Up The Organization, he said if your people “don’t get it,” (my words) if they waste time during their meetings, then you can help them learn by holding your meetings with everyone standing up: They’ll become efficient. Today in the computer world we would call such a trick a “hack.” Maybe Townsend was joking, but—I have a friend downtown in a software firm, he says they have their daily morning meetings that way.

For me, now in my late middle age, tricks and concepts of how to be highly functional at work are not “new exciting” novelties, but concepts old and worn. If while reading this morning’s Times I feel so pained and disgusted, it’s because I’m so old—and besides, I still haven’t had my morning coffee.

I’m spoiled because I’ve spent my working years surrounded by people who “get it,” as in the sort of workers who, back before we had the new positive word “gay,” would cope well on a team that included a homosexual. I’ve rubbed elbows with liberal arts graduates who once took a social work class, who know it is important to have a nice strong ego, yet who also take pride in managing their ego while on a team in order to get the work done. And yes, if an individual, unfortunately, acts oblivious to the effects of his ego, then these same workers know the word “confront.”

My own work-place philosophy is simple: people wish to have a team culture of fun and pride—like how a 1950’s respectable, conformist, “man in the grey flannel suit” on Madison Avenue feels glee in calling himself and his peers “Mad Men.” …The unhealthy opposite is to say, “This team is rubbish, I give up—every man for himself!”

At work, if I’m not here for fun and excellence, then what am I doing here?

In my life, having been spoiled—blessed—with excellent coaches, I have observed the best: In ice hockey, a good team player may need to sacrifice by lowering his number of goals per season in order to strengthen the team; in basketball, a player “busting a gut” playing good defense is maybe not as gratified, not as noticeable as he would be when swishing hoops, but still, that player may learn to have silent pride in doing the right thing.

To me, being a good coach or manager means being alert to what’s appropriate. If the letter “I” is for indulgence, then as the saying goes, “There is no I in Team.” Indulging my ego would be like running around scoring while my team loses. Which, as evident in today’s New York Times articles, happens all too often.

I’m fortunate, I know. Born in the 1950’s, during my mid-20’s I was privileged to take a for-credit college course in “meetings”; I learned that before I was even born there were proven technologies for effective meetings. My textbook drew from the University of Chicago 1940’s human training laboratory work of Professor Herbert Thelen …such a long time ago.

I’m no business consultant, yet here’s my humble advice: First, check yourself. Are you willing to be functional? Next, if your colleagues who “hate meetings,” have never seen a functional meeting, then, I ask rhetorically, how can they role model? All of us, not just Google engineers, have trouble with abstract thought. And so you may have to create a shared experience they can all see, even if it feels embarrassing, such as showing training films or bringing in an instructor, actors or scripts—maybe I’m joking, but hey, U.S. Army soldiers humbly hold scripts in their hands to practice how to do radio traffic, as if the G.I.s were having a meeting in radio space. (By the way, comedian and patriot John Cleese offers training films on both business and meetings)

Here’s the connection between work-teams and work-meetings: Spending enough time and energy for your team to learn to achieve good team-meetings, fair and functional, could pay off by carrying over into producing functional work-teams… When it comes to team building, I’m sure this effort would be just as practical as sending everyone off to play paintball.

Sean Crawford

Calgary

March

2016

Footnotes:

~From Hacker News, on February 25, 2016 I found the two stories at NYTimes.com. The first story was called What Google Learned From Its Quest to Build the Perfect Team. The second was called Meet is Murder.

~I might have read the two articles further, to document and footnote to lengthen this essay, but alas, the old promise of reading newspapers on the web for free has not proven true: The NYT has a quota for web clicks.

~Come to think of it, if you work here in Alberta, and if you ask me to observe one of your meetings for you, then I will say yes…

My Blog is Not a Platform

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Platform, Part One

I’m an artistic writer.  For fun. Earlier this week my over-cheerful brother told me, “If you’re an artist, then you should have a platform.”

 “A platform?”

Cheerful smile. “Sure, like when Abraham Lincoln did his debates in the pasture. He and his pal Douglas stood on a platform to be heard.”

I grunted. “I thought he stood on a stump. But yes, I’ve heard of writers having a blog as a platform. In fact, I’m still laughing about Chuck Norris trying to persuade the publisher to take a chance on publishing his life story—

“—Even the dark is afraid of Chuck Norris—”

“Yes, well; he finally resorted to telling the publisher he had just won the Karate championship—and that would mean Karate fans from all over would be his market. The publisher accepted Chuck’s reasoning. I’m glad, because I really liked Chuck’s book.” (The Secret of My Inner Strength)

“However,” I shook my head “I’m still not convinced I need a blog as my platform.” (Should I take up karate?)

“But Sean,” said my brother, smiling very broadly “you believe in capitalism, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said cautiously.

“When any capitalist has lots of cash then you have to respect what he says, right? And get this—An artist made lots of cash, he was on the New York Times best-seller list, for two books explaining how every artist and writer should have a blog as a platform.

I looked cautious. “OK”

My brother enthused, “You simply tell the public, with your blog, what they want to know about something, so they keep coming back.”

My shoulders slumped. “This artist probably blogs about life in Paris, and painting along the river Seine, and life in the artist colony, and wild parties with models… I can’t do that.

I know,” he sympathized “when you’re a pasty white writer in a basement dank and lonely it’s hard to have any life to write about.”

I just made a face.

His smile got big and energetic again. “This guy, he knows all about art—and rivers and models—he shares how his art is coming along, he gives lessons in how he creates it.”

My shoulders stayed slumped. “Yes but— I guess, the only thing I know about is writing.” Then I brightened up: “I could blog on how to write! That could be my platform! … I wonder if anybody else has done that?”

My brother talked hurriedly: “Oh I’m sure they have, platforms are the latest thing, now you run along and go blog.”

… I got right on it. So here, ladies and gentlemen, I present my new platform:

SECRETS OF WRITING

Lesson One

First let me set the scene from the novel Danger in Deep Space

(page 34-35, volume two, copyright 1953 by Rockhill Radio, published by Grosset and Dunlap)

Three heroic space cadets are in their spaceship, the solar alliance cruiser Polaris, in 1953— I mean, the book is copyright 1953. From the series, “Tom Corbett, Space Cadet.” The series used to be advertised on the backs of the Hardy Boys books, remember?

The Polaris has been hurtling through the darkness of space with its crew of three cadets, and their tough commander too. Tom Corbett, earnest like the 1950’s boy next door, is on the control deck, while up on the radar deck in the nose is Roger Manning, a dark haired ladies man, and down on the power deck is the muscular Astro. No last name, just Astro. (No, he’s not Vulcan: He’s an orphan raised on Venus—so just one name) Major Connel is on the control deck with Tom. Now the Polaris is approaching a defended space station. The station is hailing them.  

QUOTE  

…Shall I answer her?” asked Roger over the intercom.

“Of course, you space-brained idiot, and make it fast!” exploded Connel. “What do you want to do? Get us blasted out of space?”

“Yes, sir!” replied Roger. “Right away, sir!”

Tom kept his eyes on the teleceiver screen above his head. The image of the space station loomed large and clear.

“Approaching a little too fast, I think, sir,” volunteered Tom. “Shall I make the adjustment?”

“What’s the range?” asked Connel.

Tom named a figure.

“Ummmmh,” mused Connel. He glanced quickly over the dials and then nodded in assent. Tom turned once more to the intercom. “Control deck to power deck,” he called. “Stand by for maneuvering, Astro, and reduce your main drive thrust to minimum space speed.”

UNQUOTE

First, notice the action words, like “nodded, glanced, turned.” Readers like action.

Then notice the verbal action tags, like “called, replied, asked.”

In other chapters, when Connel is not present, and when the cadets, on their respective decks, are talking to each other, you can practically hear the camera going “whoosh!” to move to each cadet. That’s action. My point is this: Readers of today are raised on screens and tablets, they are used to action visuals like they would see on camera. They don’t like people merely talking. They even have a contemptuous word: “talking heads.”

Hence the use above of “volunteered, exploded, mused.”

Writers beware: Certain clichés have been used so often they barely show on the reader’s radar as action; others have been so overused they don’t register at all, in fact, they might as well be dead. Such a word that cannot touch the senses of a reader is called a “dead cliche.” Charles Dickens satirized the use of dead clichés when he began A Christmas Carol with (From my mistaken memory of the condensed version) “Marley was dead. Deader than a doornail, if a doornail can be said to be dead.” His point, of course, with a wink, was no reader would be actively be visualizing a doornail. No action. The doornail cliché, truly, was dead, dead, dead.

Writers be careful: The deadest tag of all? He said. …What do you visualize for "he said?" ... Nothing! It’s a dead cliché! If you write ‘said’ then what you have is a ‘talking head,’ barely alive. Meaning: your prose is barely alive.

So here is Lesson One: Seldom say, “he said.” Use it only occasionally, for variety.

You’re welcome.

Next week, same blog, same platform, we’ll have Lesson Two—How to write a literary classical whizz bang sex scene to make tons of money but-don’t-tell-your-mother so you can afford to vacation on an island in the Pacific. (May I suggest, Vancouver Island?)

Platform, Part Two

…Meanwhile, as for the above scene with my brother, the thing to note is: He thought a platform would be a good idea for me—and not for him. I am reminded of a man in Silicon Valley, essayist and website millionaire Paul Graham, who gives advice to computer nerds, nerds who are seeking to make a fortune by creating code for new software apps (applications) such as the next Face Book.

Graham tells them (As explained in his essay How to Get Startup Ideas) that when you have an idea, and friends go, “Yes, that would be a good thing…” If they are thinking “good” for someone else, someone other than themselves … then be fearful, very fearful. Graham calls these “sitcom ideas,” meaning a character on a situation comedy could plausibly make money with this app or site, but not someone in the real world.

Graham gives an example: You could create a “social media site for pet lovers.” Sounds plausible, we all love puppies: “Awww, how cute.” So you tell your friends your new idea and they say, “Great!” But the real question is: Would they themselves go on a “pet lovers social media site?” As a fellow writer, you might advise me to make a blog platform, but would you go on it?  It’s OK if you, and my dear brother too, both say: “No.” You won’t hurt my feelings. (Hi Gordon!)

No, because I won’t use all my waking man-hours for an odyssey through an endless series of blogs on the World Wide Web. Not when I’m an avid writer and reader. Instead I have four or five blogs I check out almost daily, a dozen I get around to monthly, and a score, at most, that I always click on from one season to the next. Other “perfectly good” sites, “too good to delete,” just take up space on my bookmarks list. As for the hundreds and hundreds of eager writers with their eager platforms all over North America… No. On any given day, I’m only going to my favorite half-dozen sites.

Back when I lived in the cool rainbow part of town, the realtor’s rag would read,  “Imagine waking up on Saturday to a variety of fine coffee shops in walking distance.” There were a half-dozen such gourmet shops. I guess I had “adventurously sought variety,” had tried every coffee place—just once. Back then, you might have called me a “stick in the mud” for I confess: Every weekend, as I woke up, I already knew, never mind “variety,” I would only walk to my favorite place, the greasy spoon Lido Chinese Café… where people knew my name.

I conclude that yes, it’s a good idea for a writer to have a platform, provided the writer is a character in a sitcom.

You’re welcome.

Sean Crawford

Calgary

February 2016

Footnotes:

~By the way, successful published writers, at weekend reader-writer-publisher conventions, all say to use “he said” as much as possible… But hey, what do they know? They’ve all been “published,” which means they’ve sold out to the man. 

~I could have credited the writer of the Tom Corbett, Space Cadet series as being Carey Rockwell, but I think he’s only as real as that fellow Franklin W. Dixon who’s been writing the Hardy Boys since my father was in short pants.

~Here’s a link to a free uncondensed version of A Christmas Carol.