Somebody I coach was recently told by his boss, “You need to be more strategic.” What a juicy rebuke. Here are some of my thoughts about the topic.
First of all, as far as I know, strategy is one of those notions that people have ideas about, but haven’t fully figured out. For example, academics still go back and forth over how to come up with a best possible strategy for any given mission. And, on the corporate marketing front, there are still arguments about what generic strategies are available and smart (strategies like being the low cost provider, or dedicating resources to strengthen unique value to customers, or focusing energies on a specific market segment).
The fact that folks don’t know what makes the ideal strategy, or what makes someone optimally strategic, reveals that strategy is not something one looks up in the dictionary in order to get to the essence. It’s one of those unending explorables. Even the world’s best strategist could think a little further out in time, could see a slightly bigger picture, could have slightly better judgment, and could produce a better strategy.
One thing for sure, a strategy answers the big question, how will success be achieved? It only takes a few juicy bullets to describe a strategy. A strategy assumes a goal and describes the best levers to pull in order to get there and in order to protect against vulnerabilities.
Here’s something I find particularly interesting. I first learned of it through the work of the McGill University professor, Henry Mintzberg. When you ask a person his or her formulated strategy, the answer will almost always be different from the strategy he or she has been executing. This is because, in addition to being something one can think through in advance (and it’s always good to do so), a strategy emerges through rational responses to day-to-day events. So we’re all engaged in strategies but we only see them when we look back in time.
Thus, “being strategic” refers to the disposition to clearly define a goal; to put your finger on activities that get you most quickly and efficiently to that goal; and to anticipate what might go wrong so that you can either pre-empt or effectively respond to it.
Okay, so how does one become “more strategic”? What would that look like if you were a salesperson, for example; or a race horse jockey, or a blog writer, or a leader of thousands?
My answer to that has two parts. First is the list of questions to ask yourself, and things to keep in mind, in order to formulate a strategy. Next there is the list of mental skills that are brought to bear on those questions and considerations.
Here are the questions and considerations; needless to say, we are assuming you have a certain mission for which you are building a strategy.
1) You need to have your values top of mind (e.g., your stance on integrity, compassion, and social responsibility). You need to make sure the strategy you end up with is congruent with these values.
2) Know the variables that are relevant to your mission. For example, is your success a function of what’s happening socially, legally, politically, technologically, competitively, economically, and personally?
3) What are the opportunities and threats you face in your situation? Try to think “big picture”, like you’re taking a snapshot (pretend you’re in a helicopter flying over your mission landscape).
4) Extend your snapshot of how things look today into the future—what’s likely to happen?
5) Define your current strengths, and figure out how to leverage them in order to usurp opportunities, overcome weaknesses, and pre-empt or deal with threats.
6) Assuming you’re mid-stream on the mission, determine your apparent strategy to date (the one that has emerged based on real world events) so you can ask yourself if it has been working for you and what limitations it imposes. Address those limitations and plan to utilize the types of decisions that have been working for you.
Now, how well you do in the above process partly depends on the personal thinking skills you bring to the planning table. My experience is you can put a group of people together with the same mission, offer them all the same questions and considerations, and some folks will come up with a better strategy than others.
Here are what I think are the relevant mental factors: pattern recognition skills (so you can label themes that you come across); creativity (so you can generate new ideas for achieving results through unorthodox means), span of horizon (how far out in time a person thinks), systems orientation (remember the bird’s eye view?—you need to see the landscape you’re playing in as a single snapshot), intuition about people (so you know whose buttons are most easily pressed and whether it’s worth pressing them), ratio insight (in the sense of intuiting “bang for the buck”—where you’ll get the best return on the time you might invest); and, analytical skills.
So, could you be more strategic? Yes. Is it easy? No. Is anybody perfect at it? Nope. But, at least if your boss said you SHOULD be more strategic, now you could build a strategy to improve!
Monday, February 23, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
The Is/Ought Question and Others of its Ilk
I frequently go back and forth in my own head between realistically accepting what "is", versus idealistically striving for better. One part of me is genuinely inclined to embrace my reality, while some other part has an equally genuine inclination to do better. Which way is right? The question applies to myself and to how I operate with others.
Here's an example: let's say one of your kids has always shown a certain tendency towards sloppiness. On some days you say to yourself, "Well, it's just the way he is, I shouldn't come down too hard on him." On other days, you find yourself saying, "But he can't continue this way, he has to get better!"
Stuff like this happens on the job all the time. Do we accept an employee's incessant tardiness, knowing that she has an extraordinarily complex life, or do we keep at her, demanding that she fulfill her duties? Do we put up with someone's habit of not fulfilling their commitments because they never seem to change, or do we keep pushing? Do we except excuses for low sales productivity because, in truth, things are hard out there, or do we keep pushing for more?
Over the years I've gone back and forth on the issue. I used to offer consulting advice that equated to this: if we accept the status quo, then people get used to the status quo. In fact, I would cite examples of how accepting a little bit of sloppiness only led to the slippery slope of sloth. So, I said, we should always send signals that we want more! Consistent with this philosophy was my stance that people who didn't have the right level of all the skills required for their job had to learn those skills. I was always suggesting "We must strive to get better and better."
Then for a while I would lean the other way. I accepted that if my youngster wasn't good in math, then math wasn't his thing. Or, mold a person's job to fit that person's strengths rather than having the person change to match the job description. Become accepting of somebody's bad practices; why push Beulah to follow through if it's just going to waste everyone's energy?
I hate to say it, because it's not very philosophically responsible (and I must ALWAYS be philosophically responsible, yes?), but these days I just go with my intuition. Some days I'm a realist. Other days an idealist.
I suggest it's a philosophical cop-out, of course, because I'm not really embracing the question. It's like a lady I knew who once said, "I know I must be morally right about this because my stomach doesn't hurt; my stomach always hurts when I feel guilty."
Truth be told, the last academic paper I produced from the field of philosophy basically argued that questions such as these can't be answered. They are useful questions because exploring the issues can shed valuable light on many nuances. But eventually, perhaps when a philosopher gets tired, or disenchanted, or maybe even when he or she finds peace in the unanswered, the stomach test, in one form or another, does the job.
Here's an example: let's say one of your kids has always shown a certain tendency towards sloppiness. On some days you say to yourself, "Well, it's just the way he is, I shouldn't come down too hard on him." On other days, you find yourself saying, "But he can't continue this way, he has to get better!"
Stuff like this happens on the job all the time. Do we accept an employee's incessant tardiness, knowing that she has an extraordinarily complex life, or do we keep at her, demanding that she fulfill her duties? Do we put up with someone's habit of not fulfilling their commitments because they never seem to change, or do we keep pushing? Do we except excuses for low sales productivity because, in truth, things are hard out there, or do we keep pushing for more?
Over the years I've gone back and forth on the issue. I used to offer consulting advice that equated to this: if we accept the status quo, then people get used to the status quo. In fact, I would cite examples of how accepting a little bit of sloppiness only led to the slippery slope of sloth. So, I said, we should always send signals that we want more! Consistent with this philosophy was my stance that people who didn't have the right level of all the skills required for their job had to learn those skills. I was always suggesting "We must strive to get better and better."
Then for a while I would lean the other way. I accepted that if my youngster wasn't good in math, then math wasn't his thing. Or, mold a person's job to fit that person's strengths rather than having the person change to match the job description. Become accepting of somebody's bad practices; why push Beulah to follow through if it's just going to waste everyone's energy?
I hate to say it, because it's not very philosophically responsible (and I must ALWAYS be philosophically responsible, yes?), but these days I just go with my intuition. Some days I'm a realist. Other days an idealist.
I suggest it's a philosophical cop-out, of course, because I'm not really embracing the question. It's like a lady I knew who once said, "I know I must be morally right about this because my stomach doesn't hurt; my stomach always hurts when I feel guilty."
Truth be told, the last academic paper I produced from the field of philosophy basically argued that questions such as these can't be answered. They are useful questions because exploring the issues can shed valuable light on many nuances. But eventually, perhaps when a philosopher gets tired, or disenchanted, or maybe even when he or she finds peace in the unanswered, the stomach test, in one form or another, does the job.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Why the Blog?
Okay. I get asked this question. Why the blog?
Some tell me it’s my ego. I want to be seen. Maybe, seen as smart. I can’t deny this possibility. I'm pretty sure at some level I have spent my life seeking attention. I value intelligence, so how I prefer to be seen can be characterized as smart. Okay. That secret's out.
I have also heard that maybe I am trying to help people. Sounds altruistic, doesn’t it? In truth, even since I was a kid, I think I have helped people see things from my perspective, and over the years I have received feedback that this tendency has brought value. But no, altruism herein is not my main purpose; at best, benefit to readers is just a corollary benefit.
And then there are folks who fear that my motives are commercial; like I feel I should make these musings available so that potential clients can be drawn to the quality of thought leadership at our firm. I say "fear" in the above sentence because I believe they are afraid of two things: that I might say something that makes us look BAD, rather than good; and, because greed-based motives put me in the middle of a kind of conflict of interest wherein maybe what I'm saying is not really what I believe.
But, notwithstanding any of the attractiveness of those three hypotheses just outlined, there's a better explanation.
The bigger truth is that all my life I have been insecure - maybe less so, as time has gone by, but the program was well embedded over the first couple of decades. To compensate, even as a little kid, almost out of bewilderment, I looked inward. Who am I? Why do I hurt? How do I feel happy? How do feelings work? How does consciousness work? What's the relationship between consciousness and the outside world? Is there a god? I studied philosophy and psychology in school. I had extensive therapy. I trained to be a psychotherapist. I explored meditation in a pretty big way. All this, because, at the core, I had a sense of emptiness that I believed would only go away if I figured it out. I tried to figure it out in order to get control over my angst.
So why do I write these entries? Because doing so feels like old home week. I get to do what came naturally for decades: formulate my answers to my big questions posed because I NEEDED answers. When I write these ideas, I am getting closer and closer, mostly for my own sake, to how I think things work.
Why make them public? My knowledge that you are reading this somehow holds me accountable for getting it right. And I want it right for my sake. So thanks.
I made a career out of sharing the output of my insecure meanderings. I found the perfect profession, a symbiosis of sorts that supports my manner of living: my neurotic need to figure out my existence in the world, the cravings of others for answers to similar questions, my desire to be seen, and the expectations of others (teachers, listeners, readers, colleagues, learners) that I be as accurate and accessible as possible.
You see, I BECOME by explaining my world view, responsibly, accurately, and with effort. At the end of an entry, just like at the end of writing a chapter in a book, or before a break during a training session, my background consciousness, after working like a bugger, seems to say, “I think I got that idea right,” and then I feel, as I have felt all my life, closer to myself. Not for your sake, for my own.
So, with respect, you're my superego, my conscience. That's the point. Your presence makes me reorganize ideas, prune fluff, and bear down on my message. Apparently, since, as you can see, I AM my understanding of the universe, YOU, by your anticipated presence, deliver me me.
In that sense, then, thanks, again.
Some tell me it’s my ego. I want to be seen. Maybe, seen as smart. I can’t deny this possibility. I'm pretty sure at some level I have spent my life seeking attention. I value intelligence, so how I prefer to be seen can be characterized as smart. Okay. That secret's out.
I have also heard that maybe I am trying to help people. Sounds altruistic, doesn’t it? In truth, even since I was a kid, I think I have helped people see things from my perspective, and over the years I have received feedback that this tendency has brought value. But no, altruism herein is not my main purpose; at best, benefit to readers is just a corollary benefit.
And then there are folks who fear that my motives are commercial; like I feel I should make these musings available so that potential clients can be drawn to the quality of thought leadership at our firm. I say "fear" in the above sentence because I believe they are afraid of two things: that I might say something that makes us look BAD, rather than good; and, because greed-based motives put me in the middle of a kind of conflict of interest wherein maybe what I'm saying is not really what I believe.
But, notwithstanding any of the attractiveness of those three hypotheses just outlined, there's a better explanation.
The bigger truth is that all my life I have been insecure - maybe less so, as time has gone by, but the program was well embedded over the first couple of decades. To compensate, even as a little kid, almost out of bewilderment, I looked inward. Who am I? Why do I hurt? How do I feel happy? How do feelings work? How does consciousness work? What's the relationship between consciousness and the outside world? Is there a god? I studied philosophy and psychology in school. I had extensive therapy. I trained to be a psychotherapist. I explored meditation in a pretty big way. All this, because, at the core, I had a sense of emptiness that I believed would only go away if I figured it out. I tried to figure it out in order to get control over my angst.
So why do I write these entries? Because doing so feels like old home week. I get to do what came naturally for decades: formulate my answers to my big questions posed because I NEEDED answers. When I write these ideas, I am getting closer and closer, mostly for my own sake, to how I think things work.
Why make them public? My knowledge that you are reading this somehow holds me accountable for getting it right. And I want it right for my sake. So thanks.
I made a career out of sharing the output of my insecure meanderings. I found the perfect profession, a symbiosis of sorts that supports my manner of living: my neurotic need to figure out my existence in the world, the cravings of others for answers to similar questions, my desire to be seen, and the expectations of others (teachers, listeners, readers, colleagues, learners) that I be as accurate and accessible as possible.
You see, I BECOME by explaining my world view, responsibly, accurately, and with effort. At the end of an entry, just like at the end of writing a chapter in a book, or before a break during a training session, my background consciousness, after working like a bugger, seems to say, “I think I got that idea right,” and then I feel, as I have felt all my life, closer to myself. Not for your sake, for my own.
So, with respect, you're my superego, my conscience. That's the point. Your presence makes me reorganize ideas, prune fluff, and bear down on my message. Apparently, since, as you can see, I AM my understanding of the universe, YOU, by your anticipated presence, deliver me me.
In that sense, then, thanks, again.
Labels:
angst
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Influencing Others
There are plenty of things people say in order to influence others. I like to put those utterances into two categories: not-so-hot, and good.
Not-So-Hot
- Everybody else is doing it.
- So and so, supports it.
- Billie Bob (powerful or knowledgeable person) mentioned that he...
- Time is running out.
- There are no other options.
- You promised.
- Isn't it sad?
- If you don't do it, here's what's going to happen.
I don't respond well to the not-so-hot ones because they seem to be appealing to my fears (of being left out or being unloved or failure).
Good
- This is the most direct route to the goal and here's why
- Of all the options just outlined, here's the rational choice
- You do this for me, and I'll do that for you
- I'm just looking you in the eye and asking ...
I like the good ones because they are appeal to my rational side or my straight-up human sensibilities.
Not-So-Hot
- Everybody else is doing it.
- So and so, supports it.
- Billie Bob (powerful or knowledgeable person) mentioned that he...
- Time is running out.
- There are no other options.
- You promised.
- Isn't it sad?
- If you don't do it, here's what's going to happen.
I don't respond well to the not-so-hot ones because they seem to be appealing to my fears (of being left out or being unloved or failure).
Good
- This is the most direct route to the goal and here's why
- Of all the options just outlined, here's the rational choice
- You do this for me, and I'll do that for you
- I'm just looking you in the eye and asking ...
I like the good ones because they are appeal to my rational side or my straight-up human sensibilities.
Labels:
authority,
coercion,
consistency,
influence,
rapport,
reciprocity,
scarcity,
social proof
Thursday, February 12, 2009
On Meditation
Meditation can be like a hot air balloon ride. In ballooning, you’re floating along, in silence, maybe falling a little too low, a little too close to the ground, you release some heat into the balloon and it levels you off for a minute or two. Similarly, in deep meditation, in silence, maybe falling a little too low, a little too close to sleep, you release some energy with just a whiff of deliberate thought, and it levels you off, for a minute or two.
Labels:
ballooning,
meditation
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Be Happy
Here’s my happiness manifesto.
1. Shut down work stuff at night and over the weekends. Period.
2. Find a hobby. Work it.
3. Hang around with positive people. Avoid negative people.
4. If there are kids in your world, roll on the floor with them. Now.
5. Pamper yourself, in a way only you know, daily.
6. Exercise—even in some small way--because you know you want it.
7. Give to others.
8. Regarding that person who REALLY bugs you...let it go, just for today.
9. Each day, do 2 little things you don’t like to do.
Notice that the each of the above requires some degree of will. You ARE your will. By willing, you become more like you.
Ask yourself: What am i if i am not my choices?
1. Shut down work stuff at night and over the weekends. Period.
2. Find a hobby. Work it.
3. Hang around with positive people. Avoid negative people.
4. If there are kids in your world, roll on the floor with them. Now.
5. Pamper yourself, in a way only you know, daily.
6. Exercise—even in some small way--because you know you want it.
7. Give to others.
8. Regarding that person who REALLY bugs you...let it go, just for today.
9. Each day, do 2 little things you don’t like to do.
Notice that the each of the above requires some degree of will. You ARE your will. By willing, you become more like you.
Ask yourself: What am i if i am not my choices?
Monday, February 9, 2009
Self Awareness, in the Moment, is Impossible
There’s no such thing as in-the-moment self awareness. Self awareness is always retrospective. Sorry.
Go ahead. Take a moment to close your eyes and become aware of what you’re thinking. Let your thoughts flow.
Notice that as soon as you become aware of a thought, that awareness is happening AFTER the thought. The relentless forward motion of time denies us self awareness in the present.
It’s like there are two of you in there: the one that simply experiences a moment and the one that comes after, the observer.
I like just experiencing things—complete immersion in activity. When I forget that there’s an observer, he goes away.
Fortunately, being totally immersed doesn't mean I've lost my self; it means he's busy, aware of things other than himself.
Go ahead. Take a moment to close your eyes and become aware of what you’re thinking. Let your thoughts flow.
Notice that as soon as you become aware of a thought, that awareness is happening AFTER the thought. The relentless forward motion of time denies us self awareness in the present.
It’s like there are two of you in there: the one that simply experiences a moment and the one that comes after, the observer.
I like just experiencing things—complete immersion in activity. When I forget that there’s an observer, he goes away.
Fortunately, being totally immersed doesn't mean I've lost my self; it means he's busy, aware of things other than himself.
Labels:
flow,
self awareness,
temporal consciousness
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Changing Behaviours
It's no surprise that a biggie in the world of training is in getting people to actually change their behaviour. A trainer can explain stuff, actually get "learners" to understand everything, but still not get them to implement. What's that about?
Here's a useful principle in psychology: if people get pleasure or relief from a new behaviour, they will likely keep doing it. If there's little direct payback, well, they might nod, agree, even pledge to make a change but, later, in private, just do stuff the way they always have.
For example, let's say you are my sage trainer and you believe in this principle of creating change by getting me to experience pleasure or relief. You want me to change the way I handle complaints (from customers, employees...anybody). Specifically, you want me to ask questions instead of getting defensive.
Now, because you're so good, you know you can't just say, "Art baby, you gotta ask a question instead of getting your back up."
In response to a complaint you throw at me, you teach me to ask questions instead. You make the sequence clear: hear complaint, ask a question; hear complaint, ask a question. You make me practice. You create a little one act play during which I hear a complaint. You stop time. During this pause, you get me to feel the impulse to defend. You get me to ask a question instead. I experience the value of the new behaviour; I say to myself, "ooh, that feels good."
If it feels like a genuine solution to something that's been bugging me (like complaints always leading to shouting matches), then I'll do it your way forever. Even if it just feels somehow smoother than the way I always did it, I'll probably switch.
Okay. So you've done it.
But, you might wonder, if this training technique is so effective, wouldn't everybody be running around behaving perfectly?
You might think so, but the whole thing is easier said than done. It can be tough to clarify for people the things that trigger the behaviour we're trying to change (in our example, you made me recognize what precedes my defensive response to complaints). Without that clarification people might not be able to recognize their triggers in the future. Also the desired response has to be simple and recognized intellectually as superior to the habituated response. Further, there needs to be the personal eureka moment--the "ooh la la, this helps!" experience.
And those are just the one-person-at-a-time issues. A designer and facilitator of a group training session also need to think about: the number of course objectives (we don't want to tackle more than we have time for), the challenge of defining the targeted behaviours in terms of antecedent/consequence, not boring the heck out of folks who don't face the same obstacles. One-on-one training is easier than group work.
So, why does my wife find it challenging to train me to put the wooden spoon in the spatula drawer rather in the drawer with all the other cooking utensils? Because there's no pleasure in it. In fact, as I write this, I wonder if I've got it wrong. Maybe the wooden spoon is NOT supposed to go with the spatulas. Sorry.
Here's a useful principle in psychology: if people get pleasure or relief from a new behaviour, they will likely keep doing it. If there's little direct payback, well, they might nod, agree, even pledge to make a change but, later, in private, just do stuff the way they always have.
For example, let's say you are my sage trainer and you believe in this principle of creating change by getting me to experience pleasure or relief. You want me to change the way I handle complaints (from customers, employees...anybody). Specifically, you want me to ask questions instead of getting defensive.
Now, because you're so good, you know you can't just say, "Art baby, you gotta ask a question instead of getting your back up."
In response to a complaint you throw at me, you teach me to ask questions instead. You make the sequence clear: hear complaint, ask a question; hear complaint, ask a question. You make me practice. You create a little one act play during which I hear a complaint. You stop time. During this pause, you get me to feel the impulse to defend. You get me to ask a question instead. I experience the value of the new behaviour; I say to myself, "ooh, that feels good."
If it feels like a genuine solution to something that's been bugging me (like complaints always leading to shouting matches), then I'll do it your way forever. Even if it just feels somehow smoother than the way I always did it, I'll probably switch.
Okay. So you've done it.
But, you might wonder, if this training technique is so effective, wouldn't everybody be running around behaving perfectly?
You might think so, but the whole thing is easier said than done. It can be tough to clarify for people the things that trigger the behaviour we're trying to change (in our example, you made me recognize what precedes my defensive response to complaints). Without that clarification people might not be able to recognize their triggers in the future. Also the desired response has to be simple and recognized intellectually as superior to the habituated response. Further, there needs to be the personal eureka moment--the "ooh la la, this helps!" experience.
And those are just the one-person-at-a-time issues. A designer and facilitator of a group training session also need to think about: the number of course objectives (we don't want to tackle more than we have time for), the challenge of defining the targeted behaviours in terms of antecedent/consequence, not boring the heck out of folks who don't face the same obstacles. One-on-one training is easier than group work.
So, why does my wife find it challenging to train me to put the wooden spoon in the spatula drawer rather in the drawer with all the other cooking utensils? Because there's no pleasure in it. In fact, as I write this, I wonder if I've got it wrong. Maybe the wooden spoon is NOT supposed to go with the spatulas. Sorry.
Labels:
behaviour change,
conditioning,
training
Monday, February 2, 2009
Elegant Leadership
I’ve found that if I get tough, then people push back in one way or another. If I am soft, then things become less orderly over time.
It’s no surprise, of course. From the field of thermodynamics we know that systems break down over time. Jung addressed the psychology of this. It led folks to talk about "psychological entropy": left alone, people get bummed out. It’s the proverbial, “idle mind, devil’s playground” kind of thing. To me, it partly explains why people don't do what they intend (but that's another story).
And then there’s Newton’s third law of motion: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. This law predicts what happens when a leader gets too tough. He or she might get compliance, at least in the short term, but somewhere, somehow, there will be damage done (office politics, theft from the supply cupboard, accepted calls from head hunters).
So, I think I’ve concluded that elegant leadership is this fine line between being an overbearing meanie versus being a wuss: provide direction, don’t kick up dust.
And, when things get really out of whack, provide stronger leadership while helping people to see that you still love them.
It’s no surprise, of course. From the field of thermodynamics we know that systems break down over time. Jung addressed the psychology of this. It led folks to talk about "psychological entropy": left alone, people get bummed out. It’s the proverbial, “idle mind, devil’s playground” kind of thing. To me, it partly explains why people don't do what they intend (but that's another story).
And then there’s Newton’s third law of motion: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. This law predicts what happens when a leader gets too tough. He or she might get compliance, at least in the short term, but somewhere, somehow, there will be damage done (office politics, theft from the supply cupboard, accepted calls from head hunters).
So, I think I’ve concluded that elegant leadership is this fine line between being an overbearing meanie versus being a wuss: provide direction, don’t kick up dust.
And, when things get really out of whack, provide stronger leadership while helping people to see that you still love them.
Labels:
discipline,
entropy,
leadership
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