johnmaconline

Seth Godin’s new book about the future of work is fabulous. 

And coincidently, I happen to be thinking about, experimenting with, and scribbling about this topic right now. Particularly, I’ve been mulling over the art of assembling an exceptional team ready for the work of the future.

In my tenure, I’ve hired great people and missed wildly on others. I’ve successfully built great teams from the ground up and reshaped underperforming teams into great teams. You might be surprised at what I have found to be the best strategy and method for building great teams. 

Key to assessing potential team members is understanding their qualities — what unique flavor they’re adding to the mix. Seth has a great little quotable anecdote:

“Hiring is not dating.”

– Seth Godin

What he means, and I agree with, is that the people you select to work on your collective mission do not have to be someone you want to spend social time together. You’re not looking for a lunch partner. You’re looking for someone who will make the team better and push it farther.

People that make the team better have these characteristics:

• Competence
• Curiosity and Excitement
• Investment
• Adultiness
• Growth

In the coming posts, we’ll take a deeper dive into each of these characteristics.

Stay tuned…

Any work can be work that matters.

If the rent is due, the fridge is empty, or the car is broke, and the bank account reads $0, any work that pays becomes work that matters.

If layoffs are coming, the contract is over, or the leads have dried up, any work that brings some stability or promises work for a little while longer becomes work that matters.

If you’re isolated, wandering, or stuck, any work that builds community, defines a collective mission, or provides new opportunities becomes work that matters.

If you feel undervalued, unrecognized, or overlooked, any work (or leader) that values contributions, capabilities, and celebrates accomplishments becomes work that matters (or a leader worth following).

If you feel unfulfilled, underutilized, or that your potential is unexplored, any work that provides purpose, growth, or aligns with your passions becomes work that matters.

It’s all about what you bring with you to the work.

Where does the soul of your work reside?

Is it within the office walls? Connections with colleagues? Is it within the words you type or the impact you try to make? The pursuit of a goal? Is it within the collective mission?

The answer is none.

The soul of your work is within you.

Whether you work in an office, a bus, the great outdoors, or your home, you always bring your soul with you.

Be kind to it.

The old work paradigm required your compliance.

Park here. Sit there. Show up at this time and work until this time. Do it this way. Use this tool. Get good at our process. Ask the boss. Keep your head down. Do your job. Don’t do my job. Don’t put yourself at risk. Don’t put us at risk. And for the love of all things good, fit in.

We agreed to pay you for your compliance.

The new work paradigm requires responsibility.

You don’t get paid to work hours. You get paid to make a difference.
You don’t get paid to do your job. You get paid to enroll in the mission.
You don’t get paid to do what you’re told. You get paid to bring new ideas.
You don’t get paid to be available. You get paid to contribute.
You don’t get paid to push it down the line. You get paid to take it on.
You don’t get paid to minimize risk. You get paid to try new things that might not work.
You don’t get paid to fit in. You get paid to stand out.

In the new paradigm, you get paid for your humanity.

“This is how we’ve always done it” may sink you.

We love to lock in our processes and methodologies once we’ve had some success with them. That’s just human nature. Familiar patterns, especially ones that have produced success in the past, help us execute with predictability.

We do it for very good reasons.

Constantly rehashing and re-evaluating the way we do things is exhausting.
I need to spend my limited brain cycles elsewhere.
If we’ve had success before, why wouldn’t we again?

But culture changes, a competitor invents new and improved, and the never-ending march of technology transforms our tools and capabilities.

Fancy offices, in-person perks, prime and expensive real estate, and hours worked are the way we’ve always done it. And the big guys, even the big guys at the forefront of the tech sector, don’t want to let it go.

Which offers an opportunity to the upstarts, the rebels, and the troublemakers. Now is the time to be a square peg in a market full of round holes.

In the vast savannah, a pride of lions and an ant colony lived side-by-side.

The male lion, majestic and commanding, lorded over its pride and insisted everyone gather around it at the watering hole. Here, in close proximity to one another, the lion handed out assignments and ensured he could keep tabs on each pride member.

Meanwhile, the ant colony embodied a complex network based on distributed communication, autonomy, and flexibility.

The lion roared with laughter at the ants scattered across the savannah, working without needing to gather in a single place.

“How can they get anything done? Who will protect them? Who will tell them what do to?”

The lion believed in the power of physical unity and took pride in its structured meetings.

One day, a massive sandstorm hit the savannah. The lion found itself lost in the swirling sands. The pride members scattered, not knowing where one another or their leader was. Many perished, their pride smashed beyond usefulness.

The ant colony adapted quickly. Their decentralized operation and robust communication lines ensured their work continued seamlessly. They shifted bases when required, communicating through their resilient network. Yes, they also lost members, but although sad, the colony strived forth undeterred.

Nobody brags about their short game.

When guys sit around over a beer and talk about their golf games, we always talk about the length of our drives. And 300 yards is the measuring stick.

“I’m usually around 300.”
“When I get it on the screws, I’m 320.”
“Ah, crap. Hit it a little thin. Looks like only 260.”

Even if the drive is a spectacular failure, slicing into oblivion or hooking onto an adjacent fairway, it’s the distance that dazzles us.

And we love to talk about our driver. We never talk about our 7-iron or pitching wedge. We brag about and debate companies, models, shafts, grips, and loft angles. Clever club manufacturers know this, so they design and market drivers with as much character and charisma as a classic Hollywood star.

However, how far one hits their drive rarely determines their score.

Consistency, precision, and control are what chip away at your strokes. Subtlety and nuance matter. Knowledge matters. A good short game trumps long drives every time. But the short game ain’t sexy. Laying up ain’t sexy.

If you want to improve your golf game or anything else in your life, ignore the sexy and focus on what really matters.

Say it with me:

“We don’t need the office. I trust my people. We can build amazing remote teams.” 
“We don’t need the office. I trust my people. We can build amazing remote teams.”
“We don’t need the office. I trust my people. We can build amazing remote teams.”

The industrial machine begs to differ because the industrial machine demands adherence. It demands conformity. It demands easily measurable productivity.

But the industrial machine is in its death throws.

What if, instead, the new paradigm demands questions, humanity, and the hard work of new types of measurements?

Companies resisting this shift risk being left behind, just as those who scoffed at the assembly line fell into oblivion. Modern tools, responsibility, empowerment, and trust render the office factory obsolete.

Don’t be confused, though. Remote work isn’t just about saving on commuting or office space costs. It’s a revolution in work culture. 

History shows us that those who fail to adapt to major shifts risk obsolescence. 

Embrace the future. The new paradigm is remote.

We software developers use a tool every day called “git.” Yup, that’s a funny name. You can blame Linus for it.

Git is like a farming co-op; each farmer (developer) can tend to their own plot (branch), experiment with different crops (code changes), and when the harvest is bountiful (the changes are beneficial), they can contribute it back to the main field (master branch) for everyone to enjoy.

Git has a function known as ‘git blame.’ Its name suggests a tool designed to point fingers, to scapegoat, to assign fault. 

It looks like this:

0d4f6aee (John Macdonald 2023-05-04 15:04:39 -0400 137) 'asvt': ['ASVT', 'ASVT-Development'],

It tells me who contributed that line of code (in this case, me) and when.

But ‘blame’ is a bad name for this function. Because it’s really about understanding. It’s a detective tool, a guide that leads us through the tangled forest of code revisions to the genesis of a line, a change, a function. Its aim isn’t to identify culprits, but to provide insights into the ‘why’ behind each alteration.

Today’s social and communicative technologies have turned people into public blamers. When problems arise, it’s tempting to locate a target for our frustrations, to find someone to blame. We blame to assign fault, boost ourselves, and diminish our enemies. 

Someone is to blame. And if it’s someone else, it’s not me. 

Yet, much like ‘git blame’, our real aim should be understanding. To seek the ‘why’ instead of the ‘who,’ because ‘why’ grants us the tools for long-lasting resolution and growth. 

Rather than blame, let’s find empathy.