Thank God for Books

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who read voraciously, necessarily, constantly—and those who do not. I am one of the former. Books are a huge comfort to me, a light in my life, an inspiration, and a reliable way to see the world in fresh perspective. When I am low, I can often climb back out of the sinkhole by picking up a good book.

I observed the recent gadget frenzy over the release of the iPad with curiosity. The idea of reading books via electronic medium is not new, but the iPad is said to reach a new level of elegance and ease-of-use, and to make the act of reading a book a new and better experience than the old-fashioned way with the pages that must be turned by hand, the well-worn covers from rough backpack rides, the used book experience of occasional encounters with strangers’ opinions scribbled in margins usually with no added value, the teetering piles of books on the nightstand and on the floor next to the nightstand, the Tom and Jerry battle between you and your purge-happy spouse who (although also a voracious reader) dislikes clutter and periodically spirits off boxes of what he considers to be “junk fiction.”

After the initial hubbub subsided last week I ventured into the Apple store to see the iPad. I am not an Apple user normally so it took me a little while to figure out the user interface (you press the on button to go back to the main desktop). The one I looked at did not have a book on it to “page” through, which was my primary interest. I look at computer screens all day long—do I want to associate this latest gadget with the pleasure of reading? When I read a book, I like to focus on it, and it alone.  (I know not everybody reads this way but I once almost missed a flight out of Chicago to Paris because I was so engrossed in the book I was reading.)   Do I want my book-reading experience to include the constant option for yet another distraction--the option to be instantly lured away to this or that website whenever I have the urge? My God, have I become a neo-Luddite? Nevertheless, at this point, my thinking is: “Hell no, I won’t go.” But one day, I may well feel differently.

One of my favorite writers, Anna Quindlen, had a great column in Newsweek recently called “Turning the Page,” which was in part about the question of whether iPads and other devices like it foretell the end of books as we know them. She reminds us that some said radio would end when television arrived on the scene, but NPR begs to differ. Her conclusion rings true to me:

“Reading is not simply an intellectual pursuit but an emotional and spiritual one. It lights the candle in the hurricane lamp of self; that’s why it survives. There are still millions of people who like the paper version, at least for now. And if that changes, well, what is a book really? Is it its body, or its soul? Would Dickens have recognized a paperback of “A Christmas Carol,” or, for that matter, a Braille version? Even on a cell phone screen, Tiny Tim can God-bless us, every one.”

Earth Day 1970

White tents and booths with information on compost piles and solar panels have sprung up in Boulder’s Civic Park for Earthfest on this partly sunny spring day. I remember the very first Earth Day, in 1970. I was a member (I might actually have been president, I can’t recall for sure) of the Edgewood High School Ecology Club. One of our main projects was to build a large brightly painted wooden box with a hinged lid which we placed just outside the entrance to the grocery store in Ellettsville, Indiana. Here, ecology-minded citizens could deposit their newspapers and cardboard for recycling (back then, this was pretty much the full range of our ability to recycle materials, at least in Ellettsville). Periodically when the box was overflowing and the grocery store manager’s annoyance had reached its peak, we would borrow a truck, load all the newspapers into the back, and drive to the west side of Bloomington where there was a place we could unload the papers for recycling.

Today in Boulder we have three separate containers right outside our house, one for paper, cardboard, glass and plastic, one for compost material (vegetables, egg shells, coffee grounds) and one for the irredeemably unrecyclable remaining crap, which we try through good buying habits to keep to a minimum. The contents of each of these are conveniently hauled off on a regular basis as part of our trash service. We have a little white ceramic compost collector by the sink lined with a pale green compostable bag and I always feel a tiny sense of accomplishment when I carry one of these full bags of vegetable discard out to the larger compost container. We are lightweights, however, as there are other people right in our neighborhood with their own compost piles and large vegetable gardens on which they spread the compost they generate. Even so, we continue to make small strides to better honor Mother Earth and hope that the larger initiatives for renewable energy will take hold.

Another thing my Ecology Club did back in 1970 was create and perform a short save-the-earth skit at various schools in the area, and at the end of the skit as the finale we paraded into the audience singing a song, me leading the way with my trusty guitar. Our teacher and sponsor was Mrs. Wilt, a tiny bespectacled woman with long black hair whose quietly radical teaching style somehow slipped under the radar of our rabidly conservative school administration back then. She selected and helped us learn a song for our traveling ecology road show; peculiarly enough in retrospect, the song was “Suicide is Painless,” the theme from Mash:

Through early morning fog I see
Visions of the things to be
The things that are withheld for me
I realize and I can see
That suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I could take or leave it if I please…

So, “WTF?” you might well ask, children (because only my children could possibly still be reading this, and I can’t be certain of that). I think the song was meant in this context to evoke the same concept as the image of the unaware frog in the bath being slowly brought to a boil. And thus ends another strange tale of long ago and far away in Ellettsville, Indiana, US of A.

A Cup of Tea

Yesterday I observed someone I work closely with demonstrate the same kind of egoless approach to work that I strongly support. One technical group was suggesting that another group’s plan and architecture were very risky and questionable. Since the level of dependency on this component was high for the project, there were concerns. The leader of the questioning group stepped in to say, essentially, that both groups should mind their own business and trust that the other group was doing the right thing. But the leader of the group under question responded that we were all fortunate to have access to many bright minds in our company, and that his group would welcome whatever further review and refinement of their plans might be needed.

Instead of taking offense, or going on the attack, he responded with an open mind, ready to hear what he and his group might not already know.

This is the kind of approach I believe in and try to practice myself, that is, setting aside ego to make progress. Some might view it as passivity and weakness—but to me it represents confidence and strength, and my admiration for the individual who took this approach rose considerably. I’ve found that this is ultimately the better course and one of the ways of maintaining high integrity and a clear sense of my true north. Seeing it in another person at work made me feel downright happy and almost as though I fit in, although not quite.

At home and at work I strive with varying degrees of success to really listen to people. I find that I am least productive when I am only half listening to what somebody is saying, assuming I already know what they’re explaining. This happens more often when I’m multi-tasking, a nefariously unproductive habit that rarely ends well.

An oft-told Zen story comes to mind, about the university professor who goes to see the Zen master to learn the meaning of life. After a lengthy and not necessarily productive exchange, the master pauses to pour a cup of tea, and continues pouring as the tea overflows the cup. Finally his visitor says, “Stop. Stop. It is already full!” And the Zen master says, “Like this cup, you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”

Clowns

If we couldn't laugh, we'd all go insane."  - Jimmy Buffett

I still read a newspaper each morning (one that is printed on actual paper). This morning the Boulder Daily Camera had an article about how many states are in such dire straits financially that they’re looking at creative new ways to collect revenue, like collecting taxes on services rather than just merchandise. They’re considering taxes on, among other things, helicopter rides, bowling, funerals and accounting services. And of course they are also considering (I am not making this up), taxes on clowns. I know what you’re thinking. Are mimes next?

I’m sure everyone is well aware of the increasing prominence of clowns in our lives, with impacts as yet unmeasured. Clowns are showing up more and more often at everything from children’s birthday parties to circuses, from horror films to bachelorette parties, from the House to the Senate.

You could tax them extra for the red noses (especially the ones in the Senate). You could tax the people who hire the clowns also (oh, wait, that would be we the taxpayers).

The more I think about it, laughter being at a premium, it seems excessive to tax clowns. Please, God – anything but the clowns. As Emily Litella used to say, “never mind.”

Up in the Air

Since none of my family members have the remotest interest in seeing a film about people getting laid off or business travel, it was ironic that I finally was able to see the film “Up in the Air” in my hotel room while on the road last week. George Clooney plays the part of Ryan Bingham, whose job takes him on the road 340 days each year meeting with employees to tell them their jobs have ended, relieving their spineless managers from the task. Ryan loves his job, has traveling down to a fine science (there’s an amusing series of scenes demonstrating all his tricks for getting through an airport efficiently), and strives toward his goal of earning 10 million miles on his airline loyalty account. He is a pro, in that he possesses a rare talent: the ability to look a person in the eye and with fairly consistent (although regrettably not 100% consistent) success convince that person that losing their means of support and sustenance is after all not a great misfortune and catastrophe but in fact represents a brand new day filled with fresh opportunity and hope.

The title “Up in the Air” describes not only where the main character spends most of this time, but also where he leaves people after his visits with them, as well as his own state as the movie progresses.

Ryan Bingham has spent most of his life thinking mainly about himself and how to get what he wants rather than connecting with people he really cares about. But as events unfold he shows some signs of change when he starts to actually fall for a kindred soul who is just as seasoned a business traveler as he is. He also decides at the last minute to attend a niece’s wedding where his one skill, see above, comes in handy to save the day.

But ultimately Bingham ends up facing the same kind of loss he’s been imposing on others – a huge change in his job that will result in no more travel as the company experiments with conducting exit interviews via teleconference. He can talk the talk – but can he walk the walk and find the pony hiding in the pile of manure?

See for yourself – let me know if you liked the movie.

I've Been Represented

I heard an interesting segment on NPR’s “All Things Considered” yesterday about China’s growth and the accompanying rapid changes in the Chinese language. The latest is the emergence of a special meaning for the word “bei” (pronounced bay), which when used in front of a verb makes the tense passive. Bei and passive tense are used by the Chinese these days to convey the idea of the people’s misrepresentation by authorities, part of a widespread rebellion against China’s heavy-handed leadership and slowly dwindling authority – “bei” is used to communicate in the “passive subversive” tense.

Thus, in China if you’ve been beaten to death in prison and the authorities are claiming it was suicide, then you’ve been “suicided.” If they shut down your subversive blog, you’ve been “harmonized.” And, if they gather together a group of people you’ve never heard of before and have them vote on matters you care about, you’ve been “represented.”

Especially for the younger people in China there’s an increasing thirst for freedom of speech and other liberties many of us take for granted in the United States. On the other hand, I can say I’ve seen something like the same type of scenario play out right here in the U.S. on occasion. Suppose your corporation conducts an employee survey which reveals that a number of employees believe poor performers are not being dealt with properly. So, the company decides that the best way to handle this challenge is to impose a strict curve on the performance review ratings each year, wherein managers must assign the highest rating of 1 to no more than 15% of employees, the next highest rating of 2 to 50%, the “average” rating of 3 to 30%, and the “not meeting expectations” rating to 5%, regardless of the actual distribution of productivity or growth for said employees. If you happen to be a skillful manager who works with the lowest performing 5% to either help them improve or move them out of the company, well then you get to identify the new 5% of losers next year from your remaining employee pool.

And suppose further that when managers and employees protest that this is not very fair all in all, they are told that the company is merely responding to the employee survey and giving the employees what they themselves requested.

It looks like this is a case where employees have been “represented.”

Real management would involve something much more difficult – senior managers identifying and taking a look at each of the poor managers in the company who are not truly differentiating when they assess the performance of their employees and who are lazily giving too many of them high ratings, and dealing appropriately and individually with each of these managers. But instead a “one-size-fits-all” approach with an easy-to-measure curve is applied. And everybody--the good, the bad and the ugly--can equally claim that they have been “managed.”

How I Stay Sane, Part IV: Awake at Work

Recently I’ve seen a lot of change at work.

“What else is new?” you might ask. “Haven’t you learned by now in your lengthy career that change is the only constant?” Well, these particular changes are larger than usual, resulting in my managing totally different people and product groups, and with a new angle focusing on quality assurance rather than product development.

The opportunity for learning and growth is huge. And I have much to learn, which can be very stressful.

To stay sane and strong, I’m using a number of tried and true coping mechanisms, one of which is to re-read a marvelous book by Michael Carroll, “Awake at Work: 35 Practical Buddhist Principles for Discovering Clarity and Balance in the Midst of Work’s Chaos.”

You don’t have to be a practicing Buddhist (I am not--I am more of a dabbler) for these principles to be useful. The main point is that clarity can be gained by slowing down just long enough to become present and mindful of what’s going on in the present moment—by being “who we are, where we are right now,” as Carroll puts it.

This mindfulness allows curiosity to replace fear and hope (both of which can cause painful and futile resistance to the reality of the present moment). A calm curiosity can bring unexpected insights about what’s really going on at work and how to better deal with it.

Here are three principles that particularly ring true for me in my reading of the book this time around--although there are many others I find just as helpful:

“Work is a mess.”

“Power is unnerving.”

“First to pacify, last to destroy.”

First, “work is a mess.” Accept that unpredictable surprises and messes are inevitable. Instead of panicing, blaming, or regretting, seize these opportunities to find creative solutions. As Sun Tzu said, victory is achieved not through the execution of previously laid out plans but by being relaxed, open and awake at that moment when surprise strikes—and then trusting your natural intelligence and instincts to know what to do in these crazy moments.

Secondly, “power is unnerving.” As I become accustomed to working with new figures of authority, many of whom seem absolutely certain at all times that they are correct, and at the same time become the new boss for other people who are meeting me for the first time, it is good to remember that authority, either ours or someone else’s, can cause great stress and discomfort. But these very sensations are a signal to be ever more mindful, alert, precise--and to focus on the moment, allowing it to be okay if we’re uncertain, heeding that very uncertainty as a signal to remain fully mindful. (Another principle related to this one is to “welcome the tyrant. ” A bully at work may be just the thing to wake you up and focus you on being right here, right now—allowing revelations you never would have had otherwise).

“First to pacify, last to destroy” is the third concept. Four methods for dealing with conflict are presented, and I find that these are so much a part of my natural instincts that is it great to see them written down and validated. The first is to begin by “pacifying”—being curious rather than resistant to the conflict and listening to discover the other person’s viewpoint. The second is “enriching”-- looking for ways to support another person rather than focusing more narrowly on our own objectives alone--looking for the win/win, the higher level common goal. The third approach Carroll calls “magnetizing”—focusing on compromise, gaining agreement and support, which can only be done by having first addressed the previous two concepts and understanding where the other person is coming from and how you can support that other person’s goals as part of the solution.

The final method for dealing with conflict is “destroying.” This is the hardest one for me—the ability to say no during conflict and walk away if necessary. The point here is that by exercising the previous methods first (pacifying, enriching, magnetizing), there’s a foundation for finding the strength to walk away—not in anger or hate, but as a last resort after all else has failed, knowing you did your best. And, as I’ve always believed, this measure should only be taken as the last resort. Not all people in business believe this; some hold the view that “tough” management can only be demonstrated with an easy willingness to destroy first. But I agree with the idea that being “first to pacify, last to destroy” is the true hallmark of wisdom and courage. Even so, you’ve got to be ready to confidently take this measure when the situation calls for it.

If you are seeking new ways to look at work, get this book--and let me know what you think.