Just got my car back from the body shop.
In March, a 79-year old man parked his Volvo estate (station wagon) behind my parked car to post a letter. When he drove away, he got confused about the difference between his accelerator (gas) and brake pedals.
Result? He pushed my car fifteen yards into two other cars that were parked in front of mine, writing off the other two and (I thought) mine. No-one was hurt, but it wasn't a good day.
I called the insurance people and they took the car off to the bodyshop. This was March 10th. Yesterday, July 27th, I finally get my car back, having had to take it back two times to have the bodyshop remedy their sloppy work.
What gets my goat, however, is not the bodyshop but the insurance company. They made a big deal about the claim, ensuring that everything up to the point of starting the work on the car was taken care of effectively and well. For that, kudos.
But after that, they didn't want to know. The repair cost more than £5000, yet when I got my car back, no-one called to see if I was happy with the work done. It seems that the quality of repair was of no interest to them.
Moreover, when I found seven things that needed correcting after the repair, they provided little or help to get things sorted. When the dealer refused to take the car a third time to fix the things left over from the second time in the 'shop, I called the insurers to sort it out. They agreed, then without letting me know, raised an internal escalation. Result: when the dealer did eventually take the car for further investigation the work needed was delayed for more than 10 days, because my claim "...had been escalated to customer relations..." who responded much more slowly than the claims department.
At least I had the recursive pleasure of raising an escalation with the insurance company about their escalation process...
What they needed was a reasonable situation appraisal process - but I continue to be amazed - so many people and so many organisations will do anything rather than think. It's a very expensive pastime....
Anyway - my car is back and eating up the motorway miles. It's sunny, and for a little while, all's right with the World.
- Drib
Monday, December 29, 2025
Evening in Berlin
A September evening in Berlin. I´m here on business in the capital of Germany. I was last here fourteen years ago, attending a friend´s wedding in the British Zone. I remember (as David Bowie sang) standing by the Wall. The guards, however, did not "...shoot over our heads..." But they were there - I saw them. I was drunk outside the Reichstag at 4am and it was possible to look through the security across the River Spree to see the watch towers and the shadows bearing guns...
The whole Cold War was an act of collective madness that led to great sorrow (Prague, Korea, Vietnam) and great wonder (landing on the Moon, nuclear testing and wonderful spy novels...) The East was strange, scary and slightly alien, the West was benign but misguided. If it was anything, the Cold War was romantic.
Coming back to Berlin after all this time I am struck by how little has changed. True, the Wall has gone and Checkpoint Charlie reduced to a museum exhibit, but the only thing that´s different to my eyes is the gentrification of East Berlin. West Berlin hasn´t changed - it´s simply spread to the East.
I walked back to my hotel at 1am last night. Two observations: the first is that it was still possible at that hour to get a drink (and more) at any number of bars, all over the place. It´s a Tuesday night in September for goodness sake - don´t these people ever sleep? The second is that there was no-one on the streets. In London, at any hour of the morning, the bars are closed but there are always cars and pedestrians working their way through the night. In Berlin, the bars are open but the streets are empty. Maybe it´s just that Berliners are going to sleep early, and only the tourists are awake - an example of Germany's much vaunted industry, perhaps. Or maybe there is a place that Berliners go at night - but they don´t tell foreigners about it...
It´s not that I´m paranoid, you understand...
But in many ways I miss the Cold War. We might all have been going to die in a nuclear holocaust, but at least we knew where we stood. And it had glamour, and excitement, and uncertainty.
But now? Berlin is no longer split, is no longer exotic, is no longer fascinating. It is safer - and much more boring.
The Cold War has gone; in its place is something tepid...
- Drib
The whole Cold War was an act of collective madness that led to great sorrow (Prague, Korea, Vietnam) and great wonder (landing on the Moon, nuclear testing and wonderful spy novels...) The East was strange, scary and slightly alien, the West was benign but misguided. If it was anything, the Cold War was romantic.
Coming back to Berlin after all this time I am struck by how little has changed. True, the Wall has gone and Checkpoint Charlie reduced to a museum exhibit, but the only thing that´s different to my eyes is the gentrification of East Berlin. West Berlin hasn´t changed - it´s simply spread to the East.
I walked back to my hotel at 1am last night. Two observations: the first is that it was still possible at that hour to get a drink (and more) at any number of bars, all over the place. It´s a Tuesday night in September for goodness sake - don´t these people ever sleep? The second is that there was no-one on the streets. In London, at any hour of the morning, the bars are closed but there are always cars and pedestrians working their way through the night. In Berlin, the bars are open but the streets are empty. Maybe it´s just that Berliners are going to sleep early, and only the tourists are awake - an example of Germany's much vaunted industry, perhaps. Or maybe there is a place that Berliners go at night - but they don´t tell foreigners about it...
It´s not that I´m paranoid, you understand...
But in many ways I miss the Cold War. We might all have been going to die in a nuclear holocaust, but at least we knew where we stood. And it had glamour, and excitement, and uncertainty.
But now? Berlin is no longer split, is no longer exotic, is no longer fascinating. It is safer - and much more boring.
The Cold War has gone; in its place is something tepid...
- Drib
Riding down to Rio
Writing this in the humid lobby of a tech firm in Rio de Janeiro. 32 degrees C, hazy sun and a brief exposure to the Carioca lifestyle.
I´m filling in for a colleague who fractured a vertebra on Thursday; Friday I get the call and Sunday I´m on the plane from London to Rio. Fourteen hours later and Autumn has become Spring.
I like Rio. It is one of only four cities, in my opinion, that live up to their billing (the others being San Francisco, Edinburgh and Vienna).
What really impresses me, however, is that almost no-one speaks English. I know it makes life a tad inconvenient for the monoglot english-speaking tourist, and makes taking a taxi somewhat akin to spinning a roulette wheel, but it impresses me nonetheless. For it tells me that Brazil is confident in its own culture and (for what it is worth) its economy; Brazilians are living their lives on their own terms, and not by trying to accommodate the dash to global mediocrity that so characterises (say) eastern Europe or Africa.
Don´t get me wrong. I´m not saying that learning English is, per se, incorrect - I simply mean that countries where the population are desperate to learn English tend to be ones where you can see the national identity evaporate.
Imported fruit does not taste as good as that you grow yourself.
Obrigado.
- Drib
I´m filling in for a colleague who fractured a vertebra on Thursday; Friday I get the call and Sunday I´m on the plane from London to Rio. Fourteen hours later and Autumn has become Spring.
I like Rio. It is one of only four cities, in my opinion, that live up to their billing (the others being San Francisco, Edinburgh and Vienna).
What really impresses me, however, is that almost no-one speaks English. I know it makes life a tad inconvenient for the monoglot english-speaking tourist, and makes taking a taxi somewhat akin to spinning a roulette wheel, but it impresses me nonetheless. For it tells me that Brazil is confident in its own culture and (for what it is worth) its economy; Brazilians are living their lives on their own terms, and not by trying to accommodate the dash to global mediocrity that so characterises (say) eastern Europe or Africa.
Don´t get me wrong. I´m not saying that learning English is, per se, incorrect - I simply mean that countries where the population are desperate to learn English tend to be ones where you can see the national identity evaporate.
Imported fruit does not taste as good as that you grow yourself.
Obrigado.
- Drib
Footloose in Toulouse
In Toulouse on a quick, one-day assignment to work with the WW management team of a tech company. The last day of September and it is positively balmy. I dined out last night when I arrived at an open-air bistro by the leafy cobbles of the Place Wilson. Outstanding food, a half-bottle of a '98 Medoc: a pleasant evening - even if I was dining alone.
I'm here because my client, a multi-billion dollar company that led the world in its field, has lost its way and is looking to set a new direction - while trying to make enough money to stay in business while it sorts things out. In short, they've been losing money and need to get better at making it. The problem is: they know what they need to do - they just don't know how.
They are not alone. It's an epidemic. No-one knows how.
Cut costs in rational, practical ways that reduce deadwood and improve efficiency? Absolutely. Identify new markets and develop new products to meet the new demand? Damn straight. Create a customer-centric organisation that delivers ever-better products with consistent speed and quality? Ohhh yeah....
I wish it was that easy.
If I am the CEO, I can read the books and go to the business schools and pay the consultants their big fees but I'm worse off than when I began because now I know what I should do, I really do - but it's a wet Monday morning in February and the numbers are down and the Finance director is quitting and the IT guys are telling me that our great white hope of a CRM system is becoming a great white elephant and there's a quality problem in Kuala Lumpur and I know that my North American Operations Director is bucking for my job and my inbox tells me I have 223 unread emails and I'm late for the plane to Osaka and any hope I have of thinking about the real problems is washed away daily in this torrent - and Tuesday will only be worse.
I don't need people to tell me what to do - I need them to tell me how, because I don't have time (or, often, the capacity) to work that out for myself. And almost all the consultants out there offering to help don't get this.
Most offer 'solutions' - like a new computer system has ever saved a company. (Has one, ever? I'd be delighted to hear about it. In my experience, a new system is more likely to kill, not cure).
If they can't offer you an IT solution, you can always rent their brains, because they're so much smarter than you about your business, aren't they? (huh?) After all, you've outsourced everything else, why not outsource your thinking? They'll write the reports, make their slick presentations, then leave you to get on with it (But you still won't know how, remember?).
And if this doesn't work, they'll offer to do the job for you. Good grief, if you've outsourced your thinking, you may as well outsource your role while you're about it. So they flood you with lots of green, smart-suited graduates with condescending smiles who'll run around analysing here and auditing there and (if you'll let them) eventually running the show with their procedures and their metrics.
And you still won't know how to change the business to make it better. (And you know what? Neither will they. If they really wanted to run a business, they would be managers, not consultants...)
The only sustainable way for a business to succeed is for its people think better, more efficiently and more productively about the things that matter - and to do so in ways that drives effective action. And that's what I do. I help the leaders of the business do what they have to do, better and faster. I show them the how - and then get the hell out of their way. You don't rent my brain - I simply help yours to work better.
And today it is Toulouse.
A bientot.
- Drib
I'm here because my client, a multi-billion dollar company that led the world in its field, has lost its way and is looking to set a new direction - while trying to make enough money to stay in business while it sorts things out. In short, they've been losing money and need to get better at making it. The problem is: they know what they need to do - they just don't know how.
They are not alone. It's an epidemic. No-one knows how.
Cut costs in rational, practical ways that reduce deadwood and improve efficiency? Absolutely. Identify new markets and develop new products to meet the new demand? Damn straight. Create a customer-centric organisation that delivers ever-better products with consistent speed and quality? Ohhh yeah....
I wish it was that easy.
If I am the CEO, I can read the books and go to the business schools and pay the consultants their big fees but I'm worse off than when I began because now I know what I should do, I really do - but it's a wet Monday morning in February and the numbers are down and the Finance director is quitting and the IT guys are telling me that our great white hope of a CRM system is becoming a great white elephant and there's a quality problem in Kuala Lumpur and I know that my North American Operations Director is bucking for my job and my inbox tells me I have 223 unread emails and I'm late for the plane to Osaka and any hope I have of thinking about the real problems is washed away daily in this torrent - and Tuesday will only be worse.
I don't need people to tell me what to do - I need them to tell me how, because I don't have time (or, often, the capacity) to work that out for myself. And almost all the consultants out there offering to help don't get this.
Most offer 'solutions' - like a new computer system has ever saved a company. (Has one, ever? I'd be delighted to hear about it. In my experience, a new system is more likely to kill, not cure).
If they can't offer you an IT solution, you can always rent their brains, because they're so much smarter than you about your business, aren't they? (huh?) After all, you've outsourced everything else, why not outsource your thinking? They'll write the reports, make their slick presentations, then leave you to get on with it (But you still won't know how, remember?).
And if this doesn't work, they'll offer to do the job for you. Good grief, if you've outsourced your thinking, you may as well outsource your role while you're about it. So they flood you with lots of green, smart-suited graduates with condescending smiles who'll run around analysing here and auditing there and (if you'll let them) eventually running the show with their procedures and their metrics.
And you still won't know how to change the business to make it better. (And you know what? Neither will they. If they really wanted to run a business, they would be managers, not consultants...)
The only sustainable way for a business to succeed is for its people think better, more efficiently and more productively about the things that matter - and to do so in ways that drives effective action. And that's what I do. I help the leaders of the business do what they have to do, better and faster. I show them the how - and then get the hell out of their way. You don't rent my brain - I simply help yours to work better.
And today it is Toulouse.
A bientot.
- Drib
A Call to Clutter
The thing is...
The thing is...
...that while I love my electronic media (could not live without it, still a boy who likes his toys) when it comes to making sure, I like paper.
In my job I have to do a lot of company research - and the best way to do this quickly is by the internet (of course). But I can't scribble notes on the internet. I can't comment in the margin, or put a great big circle around a key point, or keep the page on my desk or any of that stuff.
I miss paper. With paper, I can find my notes - I can find my thoughts - I can make sure.
So: my request for a killer app. My computer screen is a keyhole through which I am peeking at the universe. Give me a door (but please, not a window... ;-) )
Please give me a way to make my virtual desktop messy, and scribbled on and spread out. Give me room to think.
It's not much to ask, is it?
I'm pleased to see that some progress is being made in a few places, however.
Remember: someone with a tidy desk has too much time on their hands.
- Drib
The thing is...
...that while I love my electronic media (could not live without it, still a boy who likes his toys) when it comes to making sure, I like paper.
In my job I have to do a lot of company research - and the best way to do this quickly is by the internet (of course). But I can't scribble notes on the internet. I can't comment in the margin, or put a great big circle around a key point, or keep the page on my desk or any of that stuff.
I miss paper. With paper, I can find my notes - I can find my thoughts - I can make sure.
So: my request for a killer app. My computer screen is a keyhole through which I am peeking at the universe. Give me a door (but please, not a window... ;-) )
Please give me a way to make my virtual desktop messy, and scribbled on and spread out. Give me room to think.
It's not much to ask, is it?
I'm pleased to see that some progress is being made in a few places, however.
Remember: someone with a tidy desk has too much time on their hands.
- Drib
From darkest Surrey
For those of you who do not know, Surrey is an English county that sits between 6 and 730 on the clockface of London. It is crowded, affluent and seriously middle class.
As it is also close to London, various motorways and to Gatwick and Heathrow airports, Surrey is also home to a number of company headquarters. I was at one yesterday working with the UK management team of a tech company trying to find out why they were losing more contracts than they were winning. We found out why (so that was a good day's work) - but during the course of the day I found that one of the managers happened to live in the same village as me, in the next street.
He had lived there ten years, I had lived there eight - and this was the first time we had seen each other.
This is not unusual. People in the UK do not live where they grew up. And when everyone is new, then people don't talk to each other. We are driven paranoid by the papers and the television news, so our kids can't go out to play by themselves or to run round to their friends' houses to ask "..is Johnny coming out to play?" And we drive everywhere, rather than walk, so we don't see our neighbours anyway.
And even if we do - in Surrey, no-one says 'hello' in the street.
Our neighbours are strangers.
So while I was intrigued that my client was my neighbour, I'm afraid that I was not surprised that we did not know each other.
We used to have communities, but someone stole them while we were looking the other way.
- Drib
As it is also close to London, various motorways and to Gatwick and Heathrow airports, Surrey is also home to a number of company headquarters. I was at one yesterday working with the UK management team of a tech company trying to find out why they were losing more contracts than they were winning. We found out why (so that was a good day's work) - but during the course of the day I found that one of the managers happened to live in the same village as me, in the next street.
He had lived there ten years, I had lived there eight - and this was the first time we had seen each other.
This is not unusual. People in the UK do not live where they grew up. And when everyone is new, then people don't talk to each other. We are driven paranoid by the papers and the television news, so our kids can't go out to play by themselves or to run round to their friends' houses to ask "..is Johnny coming out to play?" And we drive everywhere, rather than walk, so we don't see our neighbours anyway.
And even if we do - in Surrey, no-one says 'hello' in the street.
Our neighbours are strangers.
So while I was intrigued that my client was my neighbour, I'm afraid that I was not surprised that we did not know each other.
We used to have communities, but someone stole them while we were looking the other way.
- Drib
Noordwijk in the Netherlands
The North Sea in autumn is cold and grey and blown by a west wind that isn't bitter but cold enough to make me wrap my coat more tightly around me. The waves come in the colour of dirty dishwater, like the sky.
Welcome to Noordwijk. A town north of Amsterdam and south of Den Haag and frequented - in November, at any rate - by elderly tourists and business people taking advantage of out of season hotel rates to attend conferences. The bankers with whom I am working are a polyglot crew from Singapore, Canada, the US, Spain, Germany, Romania, France and the Netherlands.
They are attempting something new - creating a new business service using expertise that they have used successfully to change their own operation - and they are scared that they have never done this before. They are better than they think.
My job is help these people to become confident enough to engage with new clients - change is scary and they need help to walk through the dark woods to the clear ground on the other side.
I like the dark. It's fun.
- Drib
Welcome to Noordwijk. A town north of Amsterdam and south of Den Haag and frequented - in November, at any rate - by elderly tourists and business people taking advantage of out of season hotel rates to attend conferences. The bankers with whom I am working are a polyglot crew from Singapore, Canada, the US, Spain, Germany, Romania, France and the Netherlands.
They are attempting something new - creating a new business service using expertise that they have used successfully to change their own operation - and they are scared that they have never done this before. They are better than they think.
My job is help these people to become confident enough to engage with new clients - change is scary and they need help to walk through the dark woods to the clear ground on the other side.
I like the dark. It's fun.
- Drib
Game plans
Sometimes (all too rarely) , telling the truth sounds like boasting. In these enlightened times, of course, we call it marketing.
One reason why I enjoy what I do is that I can sell - and do - it with a clear conscience. I work for the World's leading troubleshooting company. I'm serious: we've helped more people solve more problems than any other company.
Today, for example, I've been helping a telecoms company resolve a number of major technical problems in the field. We solved one and found out what information they needed to progress three others.
Of course, we could do this kind of thing for them. You know the kind of thing - deploy our massive brains to do analyses and write reports and behave with a faintly smug and arrogant air of superiority. Of course, our clients would resent us and no matter how good we were, they would loathe the fact that next time something needs fixing, they would have to call us (or someone like us) next time.
Nah. Not a game I want to play.
The only right way to do these kinds of things is with the client. So we guide, cajole, coach, lead and facilitate people to think their way through the difficult problems. They solve them and then, when we're gone, they've learnt enough to solve the next ones too.
This is a game worth playing.
- Drib
One reason why I enjoy what I do is that I can sell - and do - it with a clear conscience. I work for the World's leading troubleshooting company. I'm serious: we've helped more people solve more problems than any other company.
Today, for example, I've been helping a telecoms company resolve a number of major technical problems in the field. We solved one and found out what information they needed to progress three others.
Of course, we could do this kind of thing for them. You know the kind of thing - deploy our massive brains to do analyses and write reports and behave with a faintly smug and arrogant air of superiority. Of course, our clients would resent us and no matter how good we were, they would loathe the fact that next time something needs fixing, they would have to call us (or someone like us) next time.
Nah. Not a game I want to play.
The only right way to do these kinds of things is with the client. So we guide, cajole, coach, lead and facilitate people to think their way through the difficult problems. They solve them and then, when we're gone, they've learnt enough to solve the next ones too.
This is a game worth playing.
- Drib
Not with a bang...
As I looked down tonight from the plane flying in to London, the city was laid out in the dark like amber diamonds on a jeweller's velvet cloth. This evening, however, was different from normal.
The cityscape was speckled with flashes as far as I could see - fireworks sparking briefly in hundreds of random flickers of peripheral vision that were gone almost as soon as I swivelled my eyes to see them.
The interesting thing, of course, is that no fireworks were going off within half a mile of the Houses of Parliament - sort of missing the whole point, really....
- Drib
The cityscape was speckled with flashes as far as I could see - fireworks sparking briefly in hundreds of random flickers of peripheral vision that were gone almost as soon as I swivelled my eyes to see them.
The interesting thing, of course, is that no fireworks were going off within half a mile of the Houses of Parliament - sort of missing the whole point, really....
- Drib
Slung to Singapore
Changi airport is slick, fast and friendly. The immigration officials smile at you and help make sure your entry form is filled in correctly - a marked contrast (say) with US immigration, where civility is largely noticeable by its absence.
The place is clean and orderly and evidence that commercial culture drives out all others. I was aware of something strange, for example, when I walked past a duty-free shop. It wasn't until I was past that I realised that the muzak was playing a bland Christmas medley.
In November. In Singapore.
My suspicions were confirmed by a saccharine 'Ave Maria' in the queue for the taxi.
Proof indeed that globalisation is everywhere - but brought to us by people whose favourite flavour is vanilla.
- Drib
The place is clean and orderly and evidence that commercial culture drives out all others. I was aware of something strange, for example, when I walked past a duty-free shop. It wasn't until I was past that I realised that the muzak was playing a bland Christmas medley.
In November. In Singapore.
My suspicions were confirmed by a saccharine 'Ave Maria' in the queue for the taxi.
Proof indeed that globalisation is everywhere - but brought to us by people whose favourite flavour is vanilla.
- Drib
Globalisation in action
Just an observation...
I met a client last week. "Big deal," you may say. Maybe, but as we were talking I was suddenly struck by what was happening:
I, an Irishman living in England, was meeting a Mexican man in Germany. During the meeting we were joined by a Canadian working in England and German working in France. As both our companies were American, we spoke English.
It is a World beyond what my parents could conceive in their time. And it wasn't any of this technology stuff that brought us together, it was simply the nature of business today.
Our villages may not yet be global, but our offices certainly are...
- Drib
I met a client last week. "Big deal," you may say. Maybe, but as we were talking I was suddenly struck by what was happening:
I, an Irishman living in England, was meeting a Mexican man in Germany. During the meeting we were joined by a Canadian working in England and German working in France. As both our companies were American, we spoke English.
It is a World beyond what my parents could conceive in their time. And it wasn't any of this technology stuff that brought us together, it was simply the nature of business today.
Our villages may not yet be global, but our offices certainly are...
- Drib
The cultural wave
I was in Amsterdam the other day, discussing a programme with a financial institution to support their delivery of projects in places like Egypt, The Emirates, Taiwan and Thailand.
Langauge is, of course, an issue. While we can supply local language support in many of these places, we do not have an Arabic presence.
"No problem," I was told, "We'll have them do it in English."
Now I know that the language thing will be a problem - but I am sure that we can find a way through it. The more interesting concern for me, however, is that this conversation must be happening all over the World.
The rules of the global game are set by the developed World. Countries in the developing World must abide by these rules if they want to play - not that they have any choice, really...
The explicit rules are obvious enough - compliance with international standards, working to WTO requirements and so forth: but the implicit rule is - do it in English.
This might be all right if this meant using the language only, but English is not a simply a language: it is a door to the Western (largely American) World.
And any culture that opens that door is engulfed in a Tsunami of Western culture every bit as destructive to the local environment as the real Tsunami was to the buildings and lives of the peoples of Asia.
There's no stopping it. The developing world had better get good at learning to surf.
- Drib
Langauge is, of course, an issue. While we can supply local language support in many of these places, we do not have an Arabic presence.
"No problem," I was told, "We'll have them do it in English."
Now I know that the language thing will be a problem - but I am sure that we can find a way through it. The more interesting concern for me, however, is that this conversation must be happening all over the World.
The rules of the global game are set by the developed World. Countries in the developing World must abide by these rules if they want to play - not that they have any choice, really...
The explicit rules are obvious enough - compliance with international standards, working to WTO requirements and so forth: but the implicit rule is - do it in English.
This might be all right if this meant using the language only, but English is not a simply a language: it is a door to the Western (largely American) World.
And any culture that opens that door is engulfed in a Tsunami of Western culture every bit as destructive to the local environment as the real Tsunami was to the buildings and lives of the peoples of Asia.
There's no stopping it. The developing world had better get good at learning to surf.
- Drib
Heisenberg and Oscar
The Heisenberg Uncertainty principle (as it is usually translated) holds that fundamental particles under observation are affected by the act of observation. When we look at them, we participate with them; we change them.
Back in the 1920's (almost at the same time as Heisenberg was doing his thing) a social psychologist called Hawthorne, the original 'time and motion' man, was looking to improve worker efficiency; not surprisingly, workers who were watched became more efficient.
Like the rest of us, I have watched awards ceremonies like the Oscars with a certain amount of superior distance - the awards are arbitrary, after all: is the Oscar winner necessarily better than the runner up? (Forrest Gump versus Shawshank Redemption? Ordinary People versus Raging Bull? I don't think so).
Observed, awards ceremonies are luvvie hokum.
But, gentle reader, I have myself been up for awards in the past for some of the projects I have helped put together. And when they open the envelope, you try to affect nonchalance, but when they call out your name you grin like a baby, newly fed. Someone else thinks that what you do is worthwhile. Heisenberg was right: being there is definitely better than watching - and different too.
And in April, I and my clients are up for another. Penguin suits and too much wine, listening to tedious speakers reeling off boring platitudes with music and lights and multimedia lending the whole thing a spurious glamour.
I love it.
Dammit, I'm an applause junkie.
- Drib
Back in the 1920's (almost at the same time as Heisenberg was doing his thing) a social psychologist called Hawthorne, the original 'time and motion' man, was looking to improve worker efficiency; not surprisingly, workers who were watched became more efficient.
Like the rest of us, I have watched awards ceremonies like the Oscars with a certain amount of superior distance - the awards are arbitrary, after all: is the Oscar winner necessarily better than the runner up? (Forrest Gump versus Shawshank Redemption? Ordinary People versus Raging Bull? I don't think so).
Observed, awards ceremonies are luvvie hokum.
But, gentle reader, I have myself been up for awards in the past for some of the projects I have helped put together. And when they open the envelope, you try to affect nonchalance, but when they call out your name you grin like a baby, newly fed. Someone else thinks that what you do is worthwhile. Heisenberg was right: being there is definitely better than watching - and different too.
And in April, I and my clients are up for another. Penguin suits and too much wine, listening to tedious speakers reeling off boring platitudes with music and lights and multimedia lending the whole thing a spurious glamour.
I love it.
Dammit, I'm an applause junkie.
- Drib
Making a Difference
In my game, I see a lot of analyses, review many reports, hear frequent recommendations. And I'm sure they are useful, but at the back of my mind, I know...
Analysing what's wrong is easy.
Writing reports is easy.
Making recommendations is easy.
They are, all of them, easy. If it wasn't, why would we keep doing these things at home, with our friends, our families?
It's acting on these recommendations, making the necessary change, that is hard.
If you don't believe me, cast your mind back to the last time you had a relationship with a 'significant other' - and it had gone wrong. (If you can't remember such a time, either you are too young to be surfing the internet or I would like a glass of whatever you were drinking at the time...)
Remember? Talking about it with your friends and forcing them to listen until they ran out of patience (three weeks for women, three hours for men) and gave you the recommendation you knew was right: 'Dump him / her'.
As I said: easy to say - but hard to do.
And all the nonsense about 'Management of Change' doesn't help. The important thing is not 'change' - it's about making things better: more efficient, more effective, less painful. Change is not something abstract to be taught on a workshop, it's specific, it's personal and it takes time.
And, like breaking up, it's better done cleanly, with good manners and by taking into account the feelings of the other person (people?) involved. And sometime down the line, after the pain is gone (but it never really goes away, does it?) it might be possible to see that yes, things are better; yes, it was the right thing to do.
But no matter how it comes out, we shouldn't be surprised that making change happen is hard, because it's always personal.
- Drib
Analysing what's wrong is easy.
Writing reports is easy.
Making recommendations is easy.
They are, all of them, easy. If it wasn't, why would we keep doing these things at home, with our friends, our families?
It's acting on these recommendations, making the necessary change, that is hard.
If you don't believe me, cast your mind back to the last time you had a relationship with a 'significant other' - and it had gone wrong. (If you can't remember such a time, either you are too young to be surfing the internet or I would like a glass of whatever you were drinking at the time...)
Remember? Talking about it with your friends and forcing them to listen until they ran out of patience (three weeks for women, three hours for men) and gave you the recommendation you knew was right: 'Dump him / her'.
As I said: easy to say - but hard to do.
And all the nonsense about 'Management of Change' doesn't help. The important thing is not 'change' - it's about making things better: more efficient, more effective, less painful. Change is not something abstract to be taught on a workshop, it's specific, it's personal and it takes time.
And, like breaking up, it's better done cleanly, with good manners and by taking into account the feelings of the other person (people?) involved. And sometime down the line, after the pain is gone (but it never really goes away, does it?) it might be possible to see that yes, things are better; yes, it was the right thing to do.
But no matter how it comes out, we shouldn't be surprised that making change happen is hard, because it's always personal.
- Drib
Why Change Goes Wrong
I've been thinking recently about some of the change programmes I have led or been part of over the past ten years (and damn, there have been a lot) trying to identify those things that helped make them succeed - and those that made success difficult.
And something came up and slapped me in the face like a wet kipper wielded by a Monty Python extra: Every time a project had gone wrong, it was because someone wasn't being honest.
Every time.
And this doesn't mean that I work with dishonest scumbags seeking to lie and cheat their way to success. On the contrary: the people with whom I work (colleagues and clients) are amongst the most stand-up, ethical and well-intentioned people found anywhere. In fact, this is part of the problem.
The dishonesty to which I refer is that driven by good intentions. In almost every case, the dishonesty arises because the organisation needs to change - and those making the change happen are worried about hurting those affected. A person is not performing, say, or their role is going to have to change in some significant fashion - and no-one tells them.
Until the last possible moment.
And then only with weasel words that talk around the topic - they aren't fired, they are redeployed. Their performance wasn't bad, it was just constrained by the environment.
But when someone isn't performing, they know. They feel guilty that they aren't delivering. Guilt breeds anxiety; so does change. Anxiety - when the person feels out of control - can quickly turn to (quite reasonable) paranoia. And if you lie to a paranoid person, they can tell.
And, by lying to them, you give them something else (not the change) to vent about - and immediately what you are trying to do gets derailed.
The most successful projects, on the other hand, don't pussy-foot about - they identify the people affected early and tell them straight. Most people get it; most people want to do the right thing.
Really. They do.
And when we fail to recognise this, we fail.
- Drib
And something came up and slapped me in the face like a wet kipper wielded by a Monty Python extra: Every time a project had gone wrong, it was because someone wasn't being honest.
Every time.
And this doesn't mean that I work with dishonest scumbags seeking to lie and cheat their way to success. On the contrary: the people with whom I work (colleagues and clients) are amongst the most stand-up, ethical and well-intentioned people found anywhere. In fact, this is part of the problem.
The dishonesty to which I refer is that driven by good intentions. In almost every case, the dishonesty arises because the organisation needs to change - and those making the change happen are worried about hurting those affected. A person is not performing, say, or their role is going to have to change in some significant fashion - and no-one tells them.
Until the last possible moment.
And then only with weasel words that talk around the topic - they aren't fired, they are redeployed. Their performance wasn't bad, it was just constrained by the environment.
But when someone isn't performing, they know. They feel guilty that they aren't delivering. Guilt breeds anxiety; so does change. Anxiety - when the person feels out of control - can quickly turn to (quite reasonable) paranoia. And if you lie to a paranoid person, they can tell.
And, by lying to them, you give them something else (not the change) to vent about - and immediately what you are trying to do gets derailed.
The most successful projects, on the other hand, don't pussy-foot about - they identify the people affected early and tell them straight. Most people get it; most people want to do the right thing.
Really. They do.
And when we fail to recognise this, we fail.
- Drib
The junkie gets a fix
You may remember my previous post about being up for an award - well, we went, in black tie and the full gear with 650 other people to a bash at the Mayfair Hilton.
We won something - not the big deal, but something. A nice trophy and a happy client.
It gets better - the same project has been featured here and here.
Only a little fame, and even less riches.
But damn, it feels good.
As I told you, I'm an applause junkie.
- Drib
We won something - not the big deal, but something. A nice trophy and a happy client.
It gets better - the same project has been featured here and here.
Only a little fame, and even less riches.
But damn, it feels good.
As I told you, I'm an applause junkie.
- Drib
10,000 yards...
Sir Bobby Robson, the great soccer manager, used to play professionally in the top flight back in the sixties. He says that one of the biggest differences between then and now was that in his day, he used to run maybe 6,000 yards in a game. Players today run an average of 10,000.
In other words, they are working about 60% harder than they did in his day.
When I was growing up, my father worked hard, but he was home by six o'clock. My mother also worked hard in the house, but she took up golf to a pretty good standard after she had me and my four siblings. They had friends round for dinner.
I rarely (except when we were being driven, drag-racing style, to church) had the sense in our house that my parents were short of time or had a timetable to meet. In our family, we had time to talk, time to think.
Nowadays, however, time is always under pressure. So many things fill the time we have, from kids activities to domestic paperwork to work...
Footballers aren't the only ones who have to run faster and harder these days. We all do.
This isn't a complaint, you understand. Football today is so much more entertaining, skillful and fast than it used to be. I have had many more opportunities, more education, more experiences than my parents had.
But it might be nice sometimes not to have to run at all. Sometimes, we just want to sit, rest and watch the butterflies flit about a summer meadow.
- Drib
In other words, they are working about 60% harder than they did in his day.
When I was growing up, my father worked hard, but he was home by six o'clock. My mother also worked hard in the house, but she took up golf to a pretty good standard after she had me and my four siblings. They had friends round for dinner.
I rarely (except when we were being driven, drag-racing style, to church) had the sense in our house that my parents were short of time or had a timetable to meet. In our family, we had time to talk, time to think.
Nowadays, however, time is always under pressure. So many things fill the time we have, from kids activities to domestic paperwork to work...
Footballers aren't the only ones who have to run faster and harder these days. We all do.
This isn't a complaint, you understand. Football today is so much more entertaining, skillful and fast than it used to be. I have had many more opportunities, more education, more experiences than my parents had.
But it might be nice sometimes not to have to run at all. Sometimes, we just want to sit, rest and watch the butterflies flit about a summer meadow.
- Drib
Making it easy
I’ve been doing some work to help a client translate feedback from customers into better ways of working. Stripped of consultant jargon, this means: "Your customers say they don't like it when you do this. Please stop."
If only it was that simple. The things we are helping our client to change are in existence because the client needs to manage their costs and the trade-off of improving the customer experience while keeping costs down - is not simple.
So we are turning things on their heads. Instead of thinking "what can we do to make things better?" we are thinking "What can we do to make it easier for our customers to deal with us?" In other words, thinking as if we were customers.
And you know? It's working. An example: one problem we had was that customers were calling our client for help, when the information they needed was already available to them on the website. When we checked it out, we found that customers could find the customer service telephone number at the top of the webpage, while the information they needed was a few clicks further down the page. So they called straightaway, rather than taking the thirty seconds or so to look down the page. Result? The customer got the information they needed - but after a time-consuming phone call taking five or more minutes, rather than in seconds from the website.
So our client made it easier to draw the customer's attention to the necessary information - and moved the telephone number to the bottom of the page.
Result? Calls from customers have been cut by 50% - while customers are getting the answers they need in seconds, not minutes. Lower cost, happier customers.
So many companies don't realise that one of the fastest and easiest ways to boost customer satisfaction and sales is make it as easy as possible for your customers to deal with you.
In other words, pay as much time and attention to managing and motivating your customers as you do your people - and you'll be rich.
- Drib
If only it was that simple. The things we are helping our client to change are in existence because the client needs to manage their costs and the trade-off of improving the customer experience while keeping costs down - is not simple.
So we are turning things on their heads. Instead of thinking "what can we do to make things better?" we are thinking "What can we do to make it easier for our customers to deal with us?" In other words, thinking as if we were customers.
And you know? It's working. An example: one problem we had was that customers were calling our client for help, when the information they needed was already available to them on the website. When we checked it out, we found that customers could find the customer service telephone number at the top of the webpage, while the information they needed was a few clicks further down the page. So they called straightaway, rather than taking the thirty seconds or so to look down the page. Result? The customer got the information they needed - but after a time-consuming phone call taking five or more minutes, rather than in seconds from the website.
So our client made it easier to draw the customer's attention to the necessary information - and moved the telephone number to the bottom of the page.
Result? Calls from customers have been cut by 50% - while customers are getting the answers they need in seconds, not minutes. Lower cost, happier customers.
So many companies don't realise that one of the fastest and easiest ways to boost customer satisfaction and sales is make it as easy as possible for your customers to deal with you.
In other words, pay as much time and attention to managing and motivating your customers as you do your people - and you'll be rich.
- Drib
Words and Action
I was born in Belfast and had a great childhood; I remember a seemingly endless stream of afternoons walking home, playing in the garden and spending time in my friends' bedrooms playing soldiers.
Of course, we also had real soldiers on the streets at that time. Walking home from school we would count the bomb explosions we had heard that day. We complained my friend Vincent's mother called us from football in her garden because she did not want us killed by stray bullet from the gun battle between the IRA and the British army half a mile away.
We lived with it and we dealt with it.
So why think of this now? As most people know, there were bomb attacks in London this July. Around 60 people were killed, several hundred were maimed and injured. This was a wholly reprehensible and cowardly act of terrorism aimed at killing inncent men and women and children.
Last Tuesday, I was flying back with a colleague to the UK from Amsterdam on a very crowded flight. My colleague had to rearrange some of the bags in the overhead lockers to enable him to fit in his own briefcase. A young man with mediterranian looks and a non-English accent said "Be careful - I've got a bomb up here."
It was, apparently a joke. It was also, by some magnitude, the most crass and thoughtless thing he could have said.
Especially on a plane.
Especially on the way to London.
He was immediately upbraided by the angry Englishman sitting beside him who complained that his 'joke' as offensive, probably illegal and almost certainly sufficient to justify his being thrown off the aircraft and arrested. He was probably correct.
He was joined by the woman in the seat in front who also claimed offence and said that she had been on one of the bombed trains and it was no laughing matter. She also was correct.
The man who had made the remark, to his credit, immediately realised that he was in error. He immediately made a fulsome apology.
If that had been the end of it, then I should not have thought to mention it here. But it was not.
The two who were offended did not leave it alone. For the next 20 minutes, they loudly and persistently lectured him about his remark, about how insensitive it was, and how they continued to find it offensive.
After about ten minutes, another passenger, a Dutchman, seeking peace, asking them to desist. The man had made a mistake, he had apologised, could they not let him be? The Englishman immediately rounded on this peacemaker, pointing his finger, and saying loudly that as he was not English, he had not been in London when the terrorists attacked, so he could not understand and should leave well alone.
Eventually, the tirades faded but the atmosphere remained brittle for the rest of the flight...
This hapless, tactless man from another country had become a lightning rod for the frustration and prejudice of the English. So they let rip, working themselves up into a froth - and, no doubt, increasing the ire of their victim.
The goal of the terrorists has now been fulfilled. Their success lies not in the atrocities they commit, but in the scale of the response they induce. Look at 9/11: a serious attack on New York by a few, unrepresentative fanatics induced a hugely disproportionate response from the US in Afghanistan and (especially) in Iraq. More than 60,000 people killed - most of whom are innocent civilians. Result? Two countries full of people who hate America and want nothing more than to attack her. From a few fanatics to countries full of antagonists. That is the goal of the terrorist: unreasoning, emotional, visceral response - creating a post-hoc justification (in their eyes) for the terrorism that provoked it.
And in that plane from Amsterdam I witnessed the same thing in microcosm.
And I thought again of Belfast. The fires of war there were fuelled by sectarian bile and the accelerant was the theatrical anger blustered on the television and the pulpit. But the peace - the fragile peace that we now clutch with brittle fingers - only became possible when those who had the chance to disport their anger chose not to do so and, instead, sat down to talk.
So, while I did indeed dislike the passenger's thoughtless remark - I disliked more the, yes, theatrical anger of his two complainants - for down that path lies perdition.
But hope still remains - in Belfast, the peace holds and fitfully grows stronger.
- Drib
Of course, we also had real soldiers on the streets at that time. Walking home from school we would count the bomb explosions we had heard that day. We complained my friend Vincent's mother called us from football in her garden because she did not want us killed by stray bullet from the gun battle between the IRA and the British army half a mile away.
We lived with it and we dealt with it.
So why think of this now? As most people know, there were bomb attacks in London this July. Around 60 people were killed, several hundred were maimed and injured. This was a wholly reprehensible and cowardly act of terrorism aimed at killing inncent men and women and children.
Last Tuesday, I was flying back with a colleague to the UK from Amsterdam on a very crowded flight. My colleague had to rearrange some of the bags in the overhead lockers to enable him to fit in his own briefcase. A young man with mediterranian looks and a non-English accent said "Be careful - I've got a bomb up here."
It was, apparently a joke. It was also, by some magnitude, the most crass and thoughtless thing he could have said.
Especially on a plane.
Especially on the way to London.
He was immediately upbraided by the angry Englishman sitting beside him who complained that his 'joke' as offensive, probably illegal and almost certainly sufficient to justify his being thrown off the aircraft and arrested. He was probably correct.
He was joined by the woman in the seat in front who also claimed offence and said that she had been on one of the bombed trains and it was no laughing matter. She also was correct.
The man who had made the remark, to his credit, immediately realised that he was in error. He immediately made a fulsome apology.
If that had been the end of it, then I should not have thought to mention it here. But it was not.
The two who were offended did not leave it alone. For the next 20 minutes, they loudly and persistently lectured him about his remark, about how insensitive it was, and how they continued to find it offensive.
After about ten minutes, another passenger, a Dutchman, seeking peace, asking them to desist. The man had made a mistake, he had apologised, could they not let him be? The Englishman immediately rounded on this peacemaker, pointing his finger, and saying loudly that as he was not English, he had not been in London when the terrorists attacked, so he could not understand and should leave well alone.
Eventually, the tirades faded but the atmosphere remained brittle for the rest of the flight...
This hapless, tactless man from another country had become a lightning rod for the frustration and prejudice of the English. So they let rip, working themselves up into a froth - and, no doubt, increasing the ire of their victim.
The goal of the terrorists has now been fulfilled. Their success lies not in the atrocities they commit, but in the scale of the response they induce. Look at 9/11: a serious attack on New York by a few, unrepresentative fanatics induced a hugely disproportionate response from the US in Afghanistan and (especially) in Iraq. More than 60,000 people killed - most of whom are innocent civilians. Result? Two countries full of people who hate America and want nothing more than to attack her. From a few fanatics to countries full of antagonists. That is the goal of the terrorist: unreasoning, emotional, visceral response - creating a post-hoc justification (in their eyes) for the terrorism that provoked it.
And in that plane from Amsterdam I witnessed the same thing in microcosm.
And I thought again of Belfast. The fires of war there were fuelled by sectarian bile and the accelerant was the theatrical anger blustered on the television and the pulpit. But the peace - the fragile peace that we now clutch with brittle fingers - only became possible when those who had the chance to disport their anger chose not to do so and, instead, sat down to talk.
So, while I did indeed dislike the passenger's thoughtless remark - I disliked more the, yes, theatrical anger of his two complainants - for down that path lies perdition.
But hope still remains - in Belfast, the peace holds and fitfully grows stronger.
- Drib
The Power Of Lunch
I was talking to a client the other day and was surprised and delighted to discover evidence of a sharp cultural difference between the United Kingdom and Ireland. This particular client works for a technology company that employs a couple of thousand people at each of two campuses, one near Dublin in Ireland and one in Berkshire in England. The American owners of the company were conducting a financial review when one of their accountants noticed that the cafeteria in Dublin occupied six times as much space as the cafeteria in Berkshire.
"Why," the bean counter wondered, "do the Irish need six times as much floorspace as the English?" The answer, when it came, provided a refreshing insight as to why many more people are seeking to work in Ireland than take-up tech jobs in the United Kingdom.
The explanation was simple: it seems that in Ireland almost everyone takes lunch in the cafeteria with their colleagues. In the UK, alas, it appears that most people take a sandwich at their desk by themselves.
It is interesting to note, however, that despite the apparent loss of time and production that a proper lunch hour would seem to entail, productivity in the Irish operation is at least comparable to, and in many cases better than, that in the United Kingdom.
The bean-counters left the Irish cafeteria untouched.
- Drib
"Why," the bean counter wondered, "do the Irish need six times as much floorspace as the English?" The answer, when it came, provided a refreshing insight as to why many more people are seeking to work in Ireland than take-up tech jobs in the United Kingdom.
The explanation was simple: it seems that in Ireland almost everyone takes lunch in the cafeteria with their colleagues. In the UK, alas, it appears that most people take a sandwich at their desk by themselves.
It is interesting to note, however, that despite the apparent loss of time and production that a proper lunch hour would seem to entail, productivity in the Irish operation is at least comparable to, and in many cases better than, that in the United Kingdom.
The bean-counters left the Irish cafeteria untouched.
- Drib
Beating Boredom
Cranfield University is a post-graduate technology and management campus set in the middle of rural England in Bedfordshire between London and Birmingham. It was originally an RAF airfield; its location chosen because the surrounding countryside was so empty of landmarks that German bombers could not find it during the Second World War. This – the avoidance of German military airpower – was possibly the most exciting thing to happen in Cranfield’s history.
From the aerodrome came a college of aeronautics, from that, a school of engineering, then manufacturing, then management until now it has become possibly the most boring University in the World.
For one thing, it is entirely a post-grad school – no party-loving undergraduates at all. For another, its subject mix means that it is 85% male – and many of these from overseas. The result is that if you ever have the misfortune to be walking through the campus on a Saturday night, the loudest sound you hear is the Microsoft theme tune through an open window as someone starts up their PC for another exciting evening’s work on their dissertation.
But occasionally, slightly funky things happen. One of these was in the late eighties when IBM apparently decided that more people in British manufacturing needed to be familiar with the value that computers (especially IBM computers) could bring to industry. So they proposed to found a University department in Computer Integrated Manufacturing. Despite the catchy title, several universities bid for the money and Cranfield won. They built a building, put a couple of million pounds-worth of IBM mainframe, software, terminals and staff and set about recuiting an academic team. They found it at the University of Bath, where they found a set of academics who were interested in the “interface between technology and organisations.”
And this is where things got fun. Because no sooner had this crew come in than they started preaching heresy. Successful use of technology, they argued, was only interesting when it supported appropriate business change. The purpose of education in CIM was therefore less to do with the technology and more to do with working cross-functionally in teams to drive behavioural and process change – which technology could then support.
So that’s what they did - in interesting and radical ways.
I attended a Masters programme in CIM at Cranfield at the end of the eighties and it was an exceptional experience. The year comprised three segments: a taught course, followed by a group project, followed by an individual project. What made it different – on the surface – was fundamentally two things: first, that the projects were paid for by companies who wanted solutions to problems, not interesting theses. This meant that we very quickly adopted a ‘Real World’ focus (which was useful). And the second thing was that although the programme was continually assessed, at no time were we given our marks.
That’s right: throughout the course we had no idea how we were doing – were we passing, failing, at the top of the class, near the bottom? Not a clue.
It was an experiment – and it worked. Because we did not know how we were doing, we measured ourselves against each other – especially against those we knew were doing well. So we worked 70 hour weeks, asked penetrating questions and drove each other in a frenzy of peer pressure to meet and exceed our own expectations – all without any cajoling or coaxing by the staff.
Those of us who survived – because not everyone could take the pressure or the ambiguity – came out having had an exceptional learning experience, and confident that we were equipped to lead change in almost any organisation.
Of course, this wasn’t true (is anyone capable of this?) but we were better able than most.
Nowadays, of course, the litigation nazis have come in and now they have to give marks – and no-one is really interested in Computer Integrated Manufacturing any more. But for a brief time, something interesting happened at the most boring University in the World.
- Drib
From the aerodrome came a college of aeronautics, from that, a school of engineering, then manufacturing, then management until now it has become possibly the most boring University in the World.
For one thing, it is entirely a post-grad school – no party-loving undergraduates at all. For another, its subject mix means that it is 85% male – and many of these from overseas. The result is that if you ever have the misfortune to be walking through the campus on a Saturday night, the loudest sound you hear is the Microsoft theme tune through an open window as someone starts up their PC for another exciting evening’s work on their dissertation.
But occasionally, slightly funky things happen. One of these was in the late eighties when IBM apparently decided that more people in British manufacturing needed to be familiar with the value that computers (especially IBM computers) could bring to industry. So they proposed to found a University department in Computer Integrated Manufacturing. Despite the catchy title, several universities bid for the money and Cranfield won. They built a building, put a couple of million pounds-worth of IBM mainframe, software, terminals and staff and set about recuiting an academic team. They found it at the University of Bath, where they found a set of academics who were interested in the “interface between technology and organisations.”
And this is where things got fun. Because no sooner had this crew come in than they started preaching heresy. Successful use of technology, they argued, was only interesting when it supported appropriate business change. The purpose of education in CIM was therefore less to do with the technology and more to do with working cross-functionally in teams to drive behavioural and process change – which technology could then support.
So that’s what they did - in interesting and radical ways.
I attended a Masters programme in CIM at Cranfield at the end of the eighties and it was an exceptional experience. The year comprised three segments: a taught course, followed by a group project, followed by an individual project. What made it different – on the surface – was fundamentally two things: first, that the projects were paid for by companies who wanted solutions to problems, not interesting theses. This meant that we very quickly adopted a ‘Real World’ focus (which was useful). And the second thing was that although the programme was continually assessed, at no time were we given our marks.
That’s right: throughout the course we had no idea how we were doing – were we passing, failing, at the top of the class, near the bottom? Not a clue.
It was an experiment – and it worked. Because we did not know how we were doing, we measured ourselves against each other – especially against those we knew were doing well. So we worked 70 hour weeks, asked penetrating questions and drove each other in a frenzy of peer pressure to meet and exceed our own expectations – all without any cajoling or coaxing by the staff.
Those of us who survived – because not everyone could take the pressure or the ambiguity – came out having had an exceptional learning experience, and confident that we were equipped to lead change in almost any organisation.
Of course, this wasn’t true (is anyone capable of this?) but we were better able than most.
Nowadays, of course, the litigation nazis have come in and now they have to give marks – and no-one is really interested in Computer Integrated Manufacturing any more. But for a brief time, something interesting happened at the most boring University in the World.
- Drib
In the soup...
A long time ago I was doing a Master's degree and my thesis concerned the implementation of a manufacturing planning and scheduling system in a food factory. The system took customer orders and worked out which machines did what and when and with which ingredients to make for the order. In theory, the order came in to the factory and at the alloted time, the right materials in the right amounts arrived at the right machines and were turned into baked beans.
In theory.
In practice, the stuff was late or the materials were wrong or the machine was busy or the order couldn't be traced and everyone knew that the cardinal sin was to leave a machine sitting idle - so they kept some stock back so that if the worst came to the worst, they could make the standby product: tomato soup.
So their warehouses ended up stocked with (I kid you not) three years' worth of tomato soup.
This was not a viable way to proceed.
The company had spent millions on the system and had millions tied up in unsold tomato soup (you could just imagine the eBay auction now, can't you: 'For sale: 100 million cans tomato soup, no reserve'). Part of my project was to design and deliver the training necessary to equip the business to work in the new ways - without treading on the toes of the folk doing the technical and systems training.
Anyway, I was delivering a workshop on the importance of managing inventory correctly at 4am in the morning (permanent night shifts are a very strange world) when it struck me that many of the problems we faced were because we were confusing two kinds of change. What I christened 'first order change' were things like the installation of the physical system; 'second order change' was the change needed in the organisation and the individuals who had to work with it. Addressiing one without equal emphasis on the other was a recipe for disaster.
This was the heart of the company's problem. It needed the system to do what it was supposed to do: what they were learning (at great expense) was that getting the system right is much easier - and is much less important - than having people to do the right thing. What we ended up doing was using the system as a vehicle for changing behaviour - and changing the system as a result.
This distinction has stood me in good stead ever since. Now, whenever I have to oversee implementation of a system or a physical change in an enbvironment, I immediately seek to understand how people need to work differently as a result - and strive to make the work we put in on the people side is a real and as specific as that on the systems side. At the same time, I am with Herman Goering who made famous the quote from Hanns Johst, "Whenever I hear the word 'culture', I reach for my revolver." In other words, change does not happen simply because we seek to 'change the culture' - the only sustainable way to change the culture of an organisation is through delivery of real things that require people to work differently: workshops don't do it.
In short, don't spend money on systems without spending equivalent time working with your people on helping them to work differently - and don't waste money on training to improve culture unless you are implementing real, physical change in the work environment.
For example, currently I'm working with a team developing a two-day workshop to change attitudes - so we are making it a 90-day programme to deliver real change, with two days' of training at the start.
Simple, really.
- Drib
In theory.
In practice, the stuff was late or the materials were wrong or the machine was busy or the order couldn't be traced and everyone knew that the cardinal sin was to leave a machine sitting idle - so they kept some stock back so that if the worst came to the worst, they could make the standby product: tomato soup.
So their warehouses ended up stocked with (I kid you not) three years' worth of tomato soup.
This was not a viable way to proceed.
The company had spent millions on the system and had millions tied up in unsold tomato soup (you could just imagine the eBay auction now, can't you: 'For sale: 100 million cans tomato soup, no reserve'). Part of my project was to design and deliver the training necessary to equip the business to work in the new ways - without treading on the toes of the folk doing the technical and systems training.
Anyway, I was delivering a workshop on the importance of managing inventory correctly at 4am in the morning (permanent night shifts are a very strange world) when it struck me that many of the problems we faced were because we were confusing two kinds of change. What I christened 'first order change' were things like the installation of the physical system; 'second order change' was the change needed in the organisation and the individuals who had to work with it. Addressiing one without equal emphasis on the other was a recipe for disaster.
This was the heart of the company's problem. It needed the system to do what it was supposed to do: what they were learning (at great expense) was that getting the system right is much easier - and is much less important - than having people to do the right thing. What we ended up doing was using the system as a vehicle for changing behaviour - and changing the system as a result.
This distinction has stood me in good stead ever since. Now, whenever I have to oversee implementation of a system or a physical change in an enbvironment, I immediately seek to understand how people need to work differently as a result - and strive to make the work we put in on the people side is a real and as specific as that on the systems side. At the same time, I am with Herman Goering who made famous the quote from Hanns Johst, "Whenever I hear the word 'culture', I reach for my revolver." In other words, change does not happen simply because we seek to 'change the culture' - the only sustainable way to change the culture of an organisation is through delivery of real things that require people to work differently: workshops don't do it.
In short, don't spend money on systems without spending equivalent time working with your people on helping them to work differently - and don't waste money on training to improve culture unless you are implementing real, physical change in the work environment.
For example, currently I'm working with a team developing a two-day workshop to change attitudes - so we are making it a 90-day programme to deliver real change, with two days' of training at the start.
Simple, really.
- Drib
Learning hurts
I am a terrible golfer. I have a terminal slice. I aim straight down the middle but my ball flies in a perfect arc way, way off to the rough on the right.
I take lessons, of course. But I don't improve. It's not my teacher's fault. It's mine. I have a multitude of bad habits. My golf pro explains what I'm doing wrong and works with me to change my technique so that I can drive straighter. And I promise to practice.
And I do. For a while. I understand what I have to do. But my body refuses to do the simple things I demand of it. I still straighten out my arms much too late; forget to correct my stance; get my grip wrong. Often, as I try to change my swing, my shots get worse.
And so my balls continue to in their perfect flights to the deepest rough. Or the bunker. Or the lake. I get frustrated. Then I get irritated at myself. Then I get angry that I am irritated.
I haven't broken any clubs yet, but it's only a matter of time.
On occasion, I get so angry I give up and walk away. But sometimes I try again the following day. And the day after that.
And after a couple of weeks later my slice is...better. It's not great. But it's better.
My body has learned to do better.
I still get frustrated that I'm not hitting it like Rory McIlroy, but I tell myself it's only a matter of time, (and many more frustrating, irritating, enraging bad shots before I get there).
As adults at work we have learned to do our jobs. When we want to improve, we get some training and we are supposed to practice. But many of us don't. Why? Often because it hurts too much to try to change something we have learned to do, to doing it in a new way. We feel frustrated that we can't hit it perfectly off the tee as soon as we have had it explained to us.
Many of us feel these things and stop trying. But as I have learned, painfully, this is a mistake. The frustration and anger and irritation that happens when we try to learn something new aren't just signs of stress - they are evidence that we are learning. It is generated by the gap between our knowledge (we know what we want to do) and our skills (our bodies or minds haven't yet developed the facility to do so).
Education gives us knowledge. Training give us skills. And there is a gap between our understanding what we want to do and our being able to do it.
So now, when I start to feel frustrated and angry because my golf ball sails away into the rough, again, I accept it as the price I need to pay to cross this gap.
Better, I know that because I feel this way, I know learning is happening and it will get better - for learning hurts.
The F-word
As I've said before: change is always personal. If individuals do not perform differently, then (in business at least) nothing has changed. This means not only thinking about individual behaviour (not always easy, but it's mainly a matter of discipline) but also individual feelings.
There. I said it. I used the f-word.
Feelings.
When we introduce change into a business, we have our reasons. They may be good or bad, but the reasons exist. In this sense, change is rational.
When we think carefully about how best to implement change and look at the factors that we can adjust to support better performance, we will do best if apply some logic to focus on those things that make a difference and minimising those that don't. Again, we are rational.
But change is about people and people are as much emotional beings as they are rational - as Dr McCoy would say.
So if your approach to change is entirely rational, you will fail. And that is what makes it interesting. People have feelings and we need to recognise them. Moreover, their feelings when faced with exactly the same event my be wholly different. One person, on hearing that the company is replacing it's customer management system may feel "...fantastic! Just what we need to replace our current old system." while another may feel "...I don't like the sound of this - our old system might be creaky, but I'm used to it."
The game, of course, is to apply rational thinking to the change, to design the work environment to encourage and support the new performance and set up feedback processes to sustain it. At the same time, we have to apply the same quality of thinking to ensuring that most people will feel as well as they can about the change - and plan what you will do for those who don't want to play.
Rational processes, applied to emotional things.
Tough to do, but seriously worthwhile.
- Drib
There. I said it. I used the f-word.
Feelings.
When we introduce change into a business, we have our reasons. They may be good or bad, but the reasons exist. In this sense, change is rational.
When we think carefully about how best to implement change and look at the factors that we can adjust to support better performance, we will do best if apply some logic to focus on those things that make a difference and minimising those that don't. Again, we are rational.
But change is about people and people are as much emotional beings as they are rational - as Dr McCoy would say.
So if your approach to change is entirely rational, you will fail. And that is what makes it interesting. People have feelings and we need to recognise them. Moreover, their feelings when faced with exactly the same event my be wholly different. One person, on hearing that the company is replacing it's customer management system may feel "...fantastic! Just what we need to replace our current old system." while another may feel "...I don't like the sound of this - our old system might be creaky, but I'm used to it."
The game, of course, is to apply rational thinking to the change, to design the work environment to encourage and support the new performance and set up feedback processes to sustain it. At the same time, we have to apply the same quality of thinking to ensuring that most people will feel as well as they can about the change - and plan what you will do for those who don't want to play.
Rational processes, applied to emotional things.
Tough to do, but seriously worthwhile.
- Drib
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