Process, part III

A process can be described as a series of steps designed to achieve a particular outcome.

A journey can also be described as a series of steps, designed to achieve a particular outcome.

A process is predictable, pre-defined, repeatable and mechanical.

A journey is adventurous, undefined, surprising, unique and organic.

A process is generally defined and imposed by one person, to be performed by someone else.

A journey is generally undertaken by a person for his or her own reasons.

I would love to see business adopt a journey metaphor instead of a process metaphor, when describing what we do around here.

Process, Part II

I'm not a big fan of process-based approaches to work, as several of my published articles will attest. 

But I'm not against process entirely. I'm just against the tendency to overapply and overvalue a process-based worldview.

The problem with process advocates is not that they seek to control, predict and optimize. It's that they can't stop. They take something that has a limited use and benefit, and set it loose to gobble up the entire world. They end up creating a monster of stunted growth and apathy, not to mention poor outcomes. Should we judge a process by the good it is supposed to do, or by the evit it actually does?

Process advocates may object that their scientific theory and mathematical calculations indicate that Process Enterprises are full of freedeom, creativity and personal empowerment, along with increased efficiencies. They do indeed point out that the boundaries they draw are quite roomy, spacious even. But these claims must be countered by the observed outcomes.

There are alternatives. More tomorrow...

Process, Part 1

I recently came across a quote by Edward Deming. He said "If you can't describe what you are doing as a process, you don't know what you're doing." I'm sure he's correct (who am I to disagree with Deming?), but I think we tend to go too far in applying the wisdom of his observation.

If you can't describe what you are doing as a process, you don't know what you're doing. Fine. That does not mean you aren't doing it well. It just means you don't "know" what you're doing.

And by "know," of course, Deming meant something very specific, a modernist, positivist type of explicit knowledge. And as long as we restrict knowledge to that category, then Deming is correct. But I humbly suggest there are other kinds of knowing, which are just as rigorous, dependable and correct as the academic, statistical, word-and-number-based knowledge. Donald Schon, for example, talks about "knowledge-in-action."

So, I can juggle. I can't necessarily describe my juggling as a process. Does that mean I don't know what I'm doing? Sure, if we limit the word "know" to only describe explicit, conscious awareness. But there's a type of muscle memory involved in things like juggling. There is a sort of knowledge in my hands and arms (and eyes, etc) that results in doing things for which I have no process-based explanation.

I'm not a fan of the process-based worldview, which only acknowledges a single kind of knowledge. I find it unnecessarily limiting and self-destructively arrogant. That approach does have a track record of increasing efficiency in repetitive tasks, but as I've written elsewhere, there's a cost associated with this approach.

More tomorrow...

Reform

In the president's recent "Non-State of the Union" address, one line jumped out at me. President Obama said we would "Reform our defense budget so that we're not paying for Cold War-era weapons systems we don't use."

Seems like a good idea to me.

Thesis Defense Update

This morning's thesis defense was sort of like running the 1/2 marathon last September.

When I finished, I was sweaty, thirsty, exhausted and a little dizzy. I had a slight headache, a strong sense of accomplishment and relief, a confused appetite (hungry? no? yes?) and a moderately impaired decision making ability. I enjoyed having done it, even though it was painful and difficult at some spots, and I very much liked how it felt to be done. Both the 1/2 marathon and the thesis defense were harder than I expected... and in both cases, I was able to finish with my head up.

Also in both cases, my satisfaction came from having run/worked well, not from the time/grade I received (I didn't actually get a grade on the thesis yet - it'll be interesting to see what grade I get. It could totally go either way).

In the end, it was a lot of fun. The thesis committee asked some very pointed, tough questions, and all I can say is "Dang, I like a good fight." I enjoy being challenged and pressed and forced to explain my position. 

And holy cow, I'm so glad to be done.

Thesis Defense Day

At 8:30 this morning, I will present my thesis defense. I'm very much looking forward to it! 

I'm presenting it my way - which means humor, energy and lots of pictures. 

I'm proud to say there's not a single bullet point in the entire presentation. There are over 50 charts, but I blow through them in less than 30 minutes (not counting time for questions). Some charts don't stay on screen for more than a few seconds. Oh, and I made some stickers to hand out afterwards, just for fun.

So, it's not your typical military/academic approach to giving a presentation. There's a very real possibility it will bomb, at least with some members of the audience. But I can't force myself to do a boring, standardized, bullet-point-ized presentation... not on a topic that's so important to me, which I've been researching and working on since at least 2003. It's my show, baby. It's my story. I gotta tell it my way.

I still have some course work to finish up for my one last class, and two final projects in that class to turn in by March 16th, so I won't be all done with school today... but a big milestone will have been passed (I hope!), and a big chunk of my work over the last year has finally come to fruition.

On with the show!

How much?

Nathan Bransford, Literary Agent (and blogger) once asked aspiring authors "Would you still write even if you didn't get paid?"

Of course, 99% of the commenters gave a loud YES, partly because 99% of them probably are already writing without getting paid. Writers write, and as much as we'd like to sell books and make some money, that's not why most of us do it. We do it because it's fun, it's challenging, and we can't really help ourselves.

A more interesting question, to my mind, is whether someone would be willing to stop writing if they were paid a million dollars (to pick a random number).

I don't think I would take the money. I'm sure there are ways to game the question such that I could still write something, but to stay within the question's intent, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't give up writing for a million bucks. 

How about you? Is there anything you'd still do even if you didn't get paid for doing it... and would you stop for a million dollars?

Trust Me

You know what's a good show? Trust Me (on TNT, Tuesdays at 10pm).

It's got the guy from Will & Grace and the guy from Ed. They're best friends and partners in an advertising agency. Their relationship and creative tension is really fun to watch - check it out.

Something versus This

There seems to be a widespread amount of confusion about the difference between the words "something" and "this."

Whether it's the economic stimulus bill, the auto industry bailout or the latest military weapon system, I keep coming across an argument that says "The situation is dire so we need to do this," followed by an apparent expectation that the argument is over.

What they mean is "The situation is dire so we need to do something."

Maybe the various this's are indeed the best solution to the various dire situations. But they are not the only option. We didn't necessarily have to do this. We only needed to do something, and the something could have been quite different than this.

I'm not commenting here on the specific merits of any spending bill, bailout package or weapon system development project. I'm just saying that the defenders and advocates of such endeavors really need to avoid "We had to do this, it was our only option" when explaining why their selected course of action is appropriate. 

There's always another option.