You gotta have the conversation with your spouse, partner, kids, and roommates. Even if your kids are very young. 

“When I’m sitting here, between these times, I’m working. Unless the house is on fire, or someone is bleeding, please don’t interrupt me.”

Start there. Make sure everyone has been told about your working hours, and your working space, and the expectation of no interruptions.

Of course, there will still be interruptions, and that’s OK. They are inevitable, even if the house isn’t on fire. When this happens, learn the phrase “Yes, but how about this evening or later today?” Or, “Yes, I would love to hear about that, but can we talk about it later?”

Here’s the key to using those phrases:  You must follow through. Don’t let them be an empty promise; you lose trust, and the phrases lose their power. Even 4-year-olds (especially 4-year-olds) will hold you to the fire on this. 

Unlike in an office where you are physically separate, your home and work lives are now integrated. Realistic boundaries have to reflect that. In the office, you get 8 hours. At home, maybe you get chunks of 1-3 hours. Find what works for both you and the others in your house. 

Give yourself and your family members grace and a period of transition. But set those boundaries.

Contrary to what you might fear, avoiding distractions when working remotely is not about self-discipline.

Thanks God, because if it was, I’d have no hope. I’m not a Navy Seal nor a Buddhist monk. I’m not disciplined enough.

The key to avoiding distractions is to create an environment that heads off your triggers. 

First, acknowledge that you have distraction triggers. It’s OK. Take a breath. We all have them. Once you acknowledge them, you can design an environment around them.

Is it the dishes in the sink or the lawn that needs mowing? Is it the email popup, or the text message buzz, or the Facebook messenger ding? Is it the kids walking in and asking what’s for lunch? Is it the incessant barking of the neighbor’s dog?

Now get to work buidling the right environment. Try stuff and test it. It may change over time. Over the next few days I will provide your with several pointers that helped me and can help you.

Start with creating a physical space for work. It may be the most important thing you can create to help eliminate distractions. 

Walking to and then sitting down at that space helps your mindset switch into work mode and signals to the others around you that you are now working. It’s worth giving up some area of your home to create this (semi-) permanent space. 

Don’t bring non-work related devices or distractions into that space. If you wouldn’t have it in your office, don’t have it on your desk at home. Either before you start the day, or at the conclusion of your day’s end, make this space conducive to your personal needs. 

For example, my wife requires a level of cleanliness in her space. If it’s a mess, she’s totally distracted and can’t get started. She must start the day with her space neat and tidy.

For me, it’s continuity from the previous day. When I sit down to start working, I want it to be like it was when I finished yesterday. That helps me jump right back into where I left off.

More to come…

Working from home, especially if it’s new for you, can present an almost paradoxical challenge to your productivity and energy. Especially in the afternoon.

Time works differently when working from home. 

A healthy and productive integrated work and home life schedule does not look like a commute to the office schedule. Working in an office has natural breaks built into the day, even if your normal routine is to work through lunch.

Working from home can bend linear time into an amorphic blob. 

Many days, you roll out of bed and right into work mode, and before you know it, it’s dark outside. You are often isolated from your team, and the household distractions that occur are counterproductive rather than naturally rejuvenating.

There is a pile of research from both the psychology and physiology angles indicating that physical exercise, especially something that you look forward to, helps boost your mood, energy, cognition, and mental acuity. 

These are the ingredients that keep you productive and happy during your workday. 

Taking a recess is about taking an intentional break from your work to do something that you look forward to in order to boost or regain your energy and creativity for the afternoon. If you use that break time to do something physical, you magnify the benefits.

What kind of break should you take? The one that you take.

Anything that you like to do can be a helpful recess, but you will get the most benefit out of something physical and outside. Get outside, get some fresh air. Maybe sweat a little or a lot. 

Feeling the benefits of recess, just like when you were in 5th grade doesn’t require something specific. It just requires that you do something you like so that you look forward to it and keep doing it.

And here’s one more suggestion for those of you whose schedule is stacked with one meeting after the other: 

Start declining meetings over lunch. You have my permission.

When the recess bell rings, don’t miss it.

It’s worth returning to why taking breaks, specifically a lunch break or some sort of recess, is critical to your success at mastering remote work.

To do so, let’s recall elementary school. Or at least my elementary school experience.

Fifth-grade was all about kickball. The way I remember it, the kickball game was the most important 30 minutes of the entire fifth-grade day. This was 1979, so unless it was pouring, we were going outside at recess, and there would be a kickball game. Dress appropriately.

The pre-game ritual started early in the day with trash-talking and anticipation of the impending contest. The lunch table was filled with underhanded draft negotiations just prior to the recess bell’s merciful release.

When the recess bell rang, it unleashed us to bolt outside, line up against the brick wall, and rush through the anti-climactic choosing of the mostly pre-negotiated teams.

And then we began.

The result was a glorious full-circle arc of anticipation, physical release, and the thrill of victory marred only slightly by the occasional trip to the nurse’s office for band-aids or finger splints.

The ending recess bell delivered our cohort of sweaty boys and girls back to the classroom. Some euphoric with the win. Others dejected and passing around the blame of the loss.

We were all physically spent yet mentally refreshed and ready to take on an afternoon of sitting in class and paying attention to the riveting lessons in language arts and the scientific method.

As it turns out, what’s good for readying a 5th grader for an afternoon of desk work is just as good at readying an adult for an afternoon of desk work.

More to come…

A quick but important divergence into the negative.

As a leader, you have a plethora of supervisory tools at your fingertips. The IT department can probably provide login reports, keystroke activity, and browser histories. Ignore them. Throw them away. Disable them.

The remote work environment is not a shop floor, nor is it a kindergarten classroom. You don’t need to maintain a watchful eye. You don’t need to ensure people are doing their jobs by making sure they’re online for the prescribed amount of time.

You might be tempted to create a standing Zoom meeting for the start of your workday or maybe mid-afternoon. If your project requires or runs better this way, then go for it. But if your true purpose is to ensure your team is working at what you consider the right time of the day, resist.

It’s not about supervisorship. It’s about respect and empowerment. It’s not about hours. It’s about impact.

Lead like a leader.

Provide more. Expect more. Get more.

Leading teams remotely is about, well, leadership. Specifically leadership in the new work paradigm. The new work paradigm calls for true leadership, not the supervisorship and micromanagement of org chart leadership. True leadership requires vision, connections, courage, respect, willingness to try things that might not work, and the ability to change one’s mind. 

Ensure each member knows what is expected of them and are empowered to control their own destiny. Empower through tools, responsibility, and trust.

Respect each team member’s schedule and the integration of work and home life. Consider alternate times for meetings. Does 7 am work better than 10 am now that no one is commuting? Use the tools to socialize everyone’s status throughout the day. 

A productive work community does not require a commitment to a daily schedule, but it does require a commitment to one another and to the mission. Encourage the commitment to one another and foster the commitment to the mission.

Developing and then keeping a productive and happy team is all about embracing the differences between the home and office environments, enhancing the benefits of working from home, and equipping your team to foster community and conversation. 

The schedules are jumbled. The distractions are greater. The isolation can be real. 

Acknowledge these challenges rather than ignore them.

Lead by example — work socially.

One of the keys to a cohesive, productive, and happy remote team is to foster community and conversation. Your team wants to feel cared for and cared about. You can do this through your actions and by encouraging everyone to work socially.

Start by putting a proper toolset in place, then use it correctly. Email ain’t it. Not for conversation anyway. Use tools such as Teams, Zoom, or Slack or even non-business tools such as WhatsApp (especially if you have a global team) for conversation. These tools make private and group conversations effortless and useful. Once you master them, it’s like you’re all sitting around the conference room table.

Establish daily contact. It doesn’t have to be intense, formal, nor even work-related. A few chat messages. A quick video session. Just like you might run into someone in the hall or walk by their desk.

Pull people into conversations on your messaging tool. Make sure they’re included and their voice is heard and valued. Actively seek out input from those who prefer to hide.

Once you master the art of working socially, your team will be on fire.

More to come…

The first step in successfully leading a remote team is to allow and help each team member to master it themselves.

Help them establish the same principles that you did:

1. Create a space
2. Find a routine
3. Take breaks
4. Work socially

Push for a budget. Your team needs quality gear and a comfortable setup to mimic an office vibe. Lobby for this. If they’re set up right, they’ll produce right.

Routine matters. Understand each member’s personal flow. Are they morning people or night owls? Schedule around these nuances. The aim is to integrate, not disrupt, their daily life.

Breaks aren’t optional. They’re necessary. Encourage your team to step away, recharge, and come back stronger. A walk around the block or a quick workout can do wonders for productivity. Make it a part of the work culture.

Social interaction keeps the team vibe alive. Use video calls, chat apps, or virtual meetups to keep everyone connected. Loneliness can be a creativity killer; keep the energy flowing.

You’re not just managing tasks; you’re curating an environment. Do it right and you’ll transform remote work from a challenge into a team superpower.

More to come…

Now that you’ve mastered your own remote work environment and practices, it’s time you figured out how best to lead your remote team.

I’ve been leading remote teams worldwide for the last decade, just as I’ve been working remotely myself. Here’s what I’ve learned.

Your goal for your remote team is really no different than if you all sat together in an office. You want to keep them productive, on target, and happy (maybe you don’t care about happy, but I do). The key is to embrace differences between the home and office environments, enhance the benefits of working from home, and to equip your team to foster community and conversation. 

Home life and work-life are now integrated, by definition. Rather than trying to ignore this integration, use it to everyone’s advantage. There is no more commute. The kitchen is steps away. Suddenly, the 3rd grade’s 20-minute presentation of Christopher Columbus’s arrival at the New World looks like something a parent can and should attend. Yes, you can take that 10 a.m. dentist appointment.

The workday might look different, and that’s OK if you know how to lead through it.

Isolation is real for your team. It’s a benefit for unencumbered focus time, but it can suck their life out when they need the energy and vibe of the team around them. 

Nail this leadership, and you’re not just running a remote team—you’re pioneering the future of work.

Mote to come…

I have found this one to be the most important one and the one that eludes most people.

The great news is that it’s not that hard, but it does take some awareness and intention. In fact, for introverts (like me), using your remote toolset to work socially can be better than sitting in an office full of people. Less distractions and more flow time. 

What does “work socially” mean?

Fostering conversation and community around work, but also around life.

How do you do that? By fostering community.

You probably have tools such as Slack, MS Teams, Zoom, etc. Use them instead of email for conversation. Email is a great tool, but not for fostering community. Email is for documentation, publishing, and formal external communication. 

These other tools make real-time conversation effortless. Real-time conversation helps develop a community. Use these tools to “overshare” what you are doing, ask questions of others, and generally create a transcript of the daily work and life conversation.

Turn your video on in meetings. If you have your video on, others feel more comfortable turning theirs on. When everyone has their video on, it’s like you’re sitting around the conference room table. And the potpourri of weird stuff in the background of your video? That just enhances the conversation.

Fostering and participating in conversation and community are the keys to working socially. And working socially is the single biggest factor that will help you master working from home.

OK, maybe that sounds silly, childish even, but I’ve found that taking breaks is one of the keys to unlocking the master of remote work.

Like a commute creates a natural routine, the office environment naturally provides mental breaks in your day — lunchtime, watercooler conversation, meetings, a trip to the coffee machine, a colleague stops by to lament about the game last night, a walk out to the restroom.

These little breaks don’t come as naturally when you’re by yourself. 

Done right, breaks can be your superpower. Not taken or done wrong, and you can derail the rest of your day and leave yourself mopy or agitated. 

How do you design breaks into your day?

Like your routine, try stuff and adjust, but start with a lunch break. 

If you don’t normally take a lunch break, start taking one. Take a walk. Workout. Run some errands. Decline your meetings over lunch and take a break.

Then be diligent and intentional about taking some other breaks throughout the day. Walk the dog. Go out to get coffee. Run to the post office. 

One warning — there can be a fine line between productive breaks and unproductive distractions and interruptions, especially when working from home. Setting boundaries helps with distractions and interruptions. 

Master your breaks, and you’re one step closer to mastering remote work. It’s that simple.

When you commute to an office, you have a routine. That routine serves the important purpose of transitioning you from your home self to your work self and back again.

This routine is critical in transitioning your mind and body into the workday in the morning, and out of the workday in the evening. These transitions occur naturally when you commute.

One challenge of working from home is the integration of home and work thwarts that natural transition. You’re unmotivated or distracted to start your workday, and that turns into difficulty staying engaged throughout, which then leads to a challenge in being fully present with your family in the evening. 

It took me a while to find what works for me, and it shifts around a bit. My routine currently doesn’t look exactly like it did a couple of years ago. But when I’m on my game, it always involves these 4 elements:

1. Intention to start the day
2. Priming my mind
3. Priming my body
4. Creating a ToDo list with a clear head prior to the firefights and distractions of the day

What should you do? 

Experiment. Try different things. Start with something similar to what you do today. Take a shower and getting dressed as if you were going to the office. Take a walk to emulate the commute. 

The key is to find a routine that transitions you from your home self into your work self. Once you have that, you’ll find your motivation and focus return. 

You still gotta go to work, which means you need a spot. 

Creating a physical space helps bridge the mental transition to the workday and sets boundaries for the others in the house.

Working from home full-time, or even just for a full day, is not the same as sending a couple of emails after dinner. You can’t do it from your bed or the couch, at least not effectively. 

Effective working from home requires a mindset commitment to the workday, just as if you were going to the office. Having a physical space helps transition your mindset, just as your commute did before. Once you set those physical boundaries, your focus sharpens and you’ll have a better time ignoring interruptions. 

At the office, everybody’s on the same schedule, but at home, the schedules clash. You can’t run your day interrupt-driven from your family and expect to be successful. 

This may be your biggest challenge, but it’s worth sacrificing a spot in your house. Even if you have a tiny apartment, make a permanent spot that you can go to each day. Set up your big monitor and docking station. Layout your favorite pen and notebook. Leave this stuff there just as you would at your desk in an office. 

When you go to this space and sit, you are going to the office.

Even though I started working formally from home ten years ago, my journey started about 15 years ago, in the middle of the night.

At that time, I was burning the midnight oil from home just to keep up with my job as a programmer. Found myself thinking, “I’m productive alone. What if I ditch the commute and office distractions?”

Tried it, but ultimately failed. Slow internet, household distractions, and isolation killed my motivation. I didn’t yet know how to do it effectively.

Then I took the job ten years ago. The daily grind of a three-hour commute to Philly forced my hand. I knew I had to get serious about remote work. So I went at it for two days a week. A lot had changed, but what really made the difference? I was mentally committed.

That’s step one.

Then I got laid off, but it was a blessing because I had learned how to work remotely by that time and started to love it. So, I jumped at a full-time remote opportunity and never looked back. I lead teams all over the world now from the comfort of my home office.

I’ve learned what makes me tick in this setup. And I’ve figured out how to keep a remote team humming.

Ready to dive in? Next up, I’ll share the secret sauce for successful remote work. Stay tuned.

Ten years of remote work and still loving it, with all of its ups and downs. Over the next several days, I’ll tell you how I mastered the art.

The transition began subtly. The first three years had me in the office three times a week, laying the groundwork for what would become my full-time remote career over the last seven years.

I’m astonished when I look at how far I’ve come since making that game-changing decision to jettison the familiar and forge off into the unknown. But today, the idea of trading my remote workspace for a traditional office feels unthinkable. That’s not to say the office doesn’t have value (it does, and I’ll talk about that), or that I wouldn’t take a position that required my frequent presence in an office (I might, and I’ll talk about that), it’s just that the remote environment is here to stay, so we should acknowledge it.

What’s coming your way? A treasure trove of insights on optimizing your personal efficiency, leading virtual teams like a pro, and leveraging the remote culture to benefit your business. These aren’t just theories; they’re lessons drawn from a decade of trial, error, research, and keen observation.

Stay tuned. If you’re hungry for success in the remote world, yearning to sidestep common pitfalls, or eager to challenge the norms, you won’t want to miss what’s next. Dive in, debate, and refine your remote work game.

More to come…

Just tried this in ChatGPT:

“You are a life coach specializing in personal development. You have a middle-aged client who is bored with their work and a little depressed. Create a self-directed exercise to help your client explore possibilities, both with work and life in general. The exercise should be interactive. Suggest ways to help them realign their core values with their daily actions. Your tone should be friendly, supportive, and encouraging throughout. Build this exercise by asking me questions and tailor your responses accordingly.”

It started an interactive conversation with me, but that conversation was too explicit. For example, it started here:

Let’s start by identifying your core values. These are the principles that guide you, the beliefs that you hold dear. Could you list five core values that resonate most with you?

Well, that’s not effective for real people who may be struggling. A better method requires subtlety. So I told it:

“Although I understand what you’re doing with this exercise, its too explicit. I’m basically just gaming the system. Can you use a more subtle approach that will be more effective at getting the core of the person?”

And it got better!

Here is what it came up with:

The “Two Lists” Exercise
Grab a piece of paper and divide it into two columns…

And it gave me an interesting exercise to write down experiences and moments that both invigorated and drained me. 

AI or not, good coaching is all about mastering the art of nuance.

On the one hand, Key Performance Indicators are a natural and necessary method for organizations to measure themselves and their people.

“Here are the things we care about. How did we do against those things?”

But the problem is the cat and when he gets out of the bag.

Because once you know how you’re being measured, you can easily game the system. It’s why oil companies can score high on the ESG scale, and fast food companies can score high on healthy eating initiatives, and big pharma scores well for affordable health programs.

If the help desk worker knows she’s being judged against how many tickets she closes and how fast, you gotta know that she’s closing tickets quickly and reopening new ones for the same issues. If a software developer knows he’s being judged against story points (or lines of code), you gotta know he’s inflating the points associated with his tasks (or writing extra lines of code).

That’s human nature. We optimize for what’s being measured. But optimizing isn’t the same as doing what’s best. It’s just doing what’s counted.

The fix?

First is transparency. Here are some KPI’s, but KPIs are not the only story. Impact is, and impact may be subjective. You care about the full picture, not just a scorecard.

Second, mix it up. Change the KPI’s. Reveal some after the fact.

Third, foster a culture of genuine improvement. Celebrate and encourage the innovations and attempts that didn’t work.

KPI’s aren’t the north star. Your mission is.

AI is only as smart as (all of) humanity, but not one tick more.

It aggregates knowledge. Crunches numbers at lightspeed. Finds correlations that we missed. Yet it lacks original thought. Can’t philosophize. Can’t dream.

It’s a tool, not a mentor.

AI might be the smartest entity in any room, but it’s not smarter than the collective human experience. Because wer’e the ones teaching it. Our data. Our patterns. Our successes and even our mistakes. It can’t push boundaries; it only works within the ones we’ve established.

It’s a reflection, not a pioneer.

Smartness isn’t just raw computation, speed, and size of the database. It’s creativity, empathy, intuition. All things AI can’t grasp. It’s fantastic for tasks and solving complex problems. Streamlines processes. Makes us more efficient.

But it can’t replace human insight. That gap is where you find your value.

Let AI do the heavy lifting. You handle the vision, the strategy, the soul.

So don’t fear AI. Respect it. Use it. But remember, its “smartness” is borrowed. Ours is earned.

Like John Mulaney said, “I always thought that quicksand was gonna be a much bigger problem than it turned out to be.”

As a Gen-X’er, I grew up on Saturday morning cartoons, and in the cartoons, quicksand is a big problem. One of the biggest, in fact. I just assumed I’d be dealing with it my entire adult life. I remember formulating my plan for how to survive when I fell victim to quicksand — grab on to whatever I could, lay out flat if possible, never struggle. I may have practiced my survival techniques in the backyard. 

As it turns out, I’ve never had to work around nor be saved from quicksand. I’ve never even seen quicksand.

I was a victim of availability bias.

Since the quicksand concept was right in front of me all the time, I couldn’t help but be worried about it. 

The News, and media in general, are masters at using availability bias to play us like fiddles.

The next time you find yourself anxious or angry because of something you saw, heard, or read on The News, ask yourself, 

“Is this quicksand?”

Because unlike quicksand, where you focus really can trap you.

I am one of those computer guys.

When I worked as an intern at GE Astrospace in 1990, our team of about 20 people shared six or seven computers situated in the common area of the office. We had two black and white Mac’s (SE-30s), a color Mac (Macintosh II), and three or four VT100 terminals (connected to the VAX machine somewhere else in the building).

One of my unofficial roles as the intern was to be the “computer guy.” Most of that computer guy work was secretarial. The real engineers would give me their handwritten tables and ask me to create a pretty graph on the Mac. Or they would give me the modified characteristics of a component box on the spacecraft and ask me to update the model on the VAX so they could perform new radiation analyses. 

I didn’t mind because a) I got to learn about real engineering work, and b) I liked learning how to use the computers. In those first few years, I taught my team members how to use now-ubiquitous technologies such as networking, email, and the web. 

My computer guy-ness spilled over into my entire life. Even though I was an electrical engineer working on spacecraft problems, I became known as the computer guy in all aspects of my life. 

My friends and family would describe what I did for work as, “Oh, he’s one of those computer guys.”

In the 90s, having the skill of operating a computer was a novel quality. A quality worth mentioning about a person. Just like being a “driver” was something worth noting about a person around the turn of the 20th century. 

But today? Everybody’s a driver and a computer guy. 

You’ll probably be better off embracing useful technologies rather than sounding the alarms. 

Humans have been competing with machines and systems for over a hundred years.

The human creator can win if he asks himself the right question.

We got machines and assembly lines pumping out millions of coffee mugs. We can go to Walmart and buy as many as we want in as many colors and styles as we want for a $1 each.

The clay artisan that asks herself the right question isn’t trying to compete with the machine or Walmart as she handcrafts her mugs and then carefully places them on display for sale at the front of her studio.

The question she asks herself is, “who’s it for?” If she gets that right and then serves that audience, she’ll find the customers who matter to her and keep her in business.

Content creators can ask themselves the same question. If they get it right and serve that audience, AI won’t ever take their job.

Hey, “creatives”…Welcome to the working world.

Some very famous authors are suing OpenAI, claiming copyright infringement. Similar suits have been brought for comedy and images. 

But these lawsuits have two prongs to them:

• The valid legal prong — Has OpenAI (and Midjourney, Meta, Stability AI, etc) violated copyright law?
• The fearful and whiny prong — Is AI better than us at our jobs, and will it supplant us in the future?

The Valid Legal Prong

Fair enough. Copyright law exists to protect the creators. It’s complicated, has a long history, and is generally well-legislated. 

The main question in my mind: Is it a copyright violation for another entity (human or AI) to consume copyrighted material legally and then use it as a base of knowledge from which to create other material?

An ancillary question: Has the AI entity consumed the copyrighted material legally?

I’m interested to see how it turns out. Basically, I trust the legal process.

The Fearful and Whiny Prong

What makes you so special?

The working world has been dealing with job replacement for 100’s of years. Content creation is no different.

Creatives have jobs because people like to consume your content. But make no mistake, the consumers don’t care who or what is creating the content. They just know what they like.

The good news is that, like with all job replacements, the outlook for creatives isn’t dismal. All it takes to remain relevant is for you to figure out how to add value. 

As humans, we like to, actually need to, simplify the world around us. It’s a survival mechanism.

Our brains are wired to reduce complexity to manageable chunks of information. Psychology research says we can hold 7 plus or minus 2 items in our working memory. But holding info isn’t the same as processing it or using it to make sense of the world.

Then we add in the marketers, headline-creators, and the fear-mongers of the world. They are smart and good at what they do. Their purpose is to distill the complexity into ordered, simplistic, single-variable problems.

Climate change causes forest fires and superstorms.
Children’s books on transgender issues cause transgender identity.
Capitalism causes poverty and racism.
Social programs cause dependency and lack of motivation.

The issue with this simplification, especially when pushed by those with an agenda, is that it gives us a false sense of understanding and control. When you’re trying to make order out of the chaos, leaning on half-truths is as good as knowing nothing. Oversimplification is like slapping a band-aid on a wound that needs surgery.

So, what’s the antidote?

Keep questioning. Keep digging. Keep changing your mind. Keep expanding your reach. Keep evaluating and re-evaluating. Keep trying stuff. Keep talking. Keep being surprised. Keep walking through doors. Keep opening windows. Keep believing before seeing.

Empathy first.

You gotta see before you believe.

Science. Evidence. Data. We are conditioned to trust our eyes, to give weight to what’s measurable, and to believe in what’s before us. If it can be demonstrated, quantified, or replicated, then it warrants our belief.

But that’s no way to live.

How do you pioneer without faith? How do you break through? How do you believe in your future? How do you trust in possibilities? How do you find meaning? How do you develop purpose? How do you build courage? How do you transcend?

You gotta believe before you see.

The next day is a powerful force.

It’s redeeming. It’s enlightening. It’s encouraging.

You can get started the next day. You can quit the next day. You can make amends the next day. You can try again the next day. You can assess the results the next day. You can make the change the next day.

The next day is like tomorrow but better because we all know that tomorrow never comes. The next day always comes.

Until it doesn’t.

Familiar no more.
Pushed away from shore.
The struggle is real.
Don’t know how to feel.
We’re here to guide.
To pick up and abide.
I wish you could hear.
While my heart holds you near.
I wish you could see.
You can be whatever you can be.
The future isn’t a place.
Nor is it a race.
The path isn’t straight.
And it’s never too late.
The future is open.
An unpolished gem.
Maybe put heart before head.
And open up instead.
The future is today.
And today is your day.

When I was a kid, we played good guys versus bad guys. I’m Gen X, so it was Cowboys vs Indians, cops vs robbers, or the US Army vs the Russians.

We mostly divided the roles randomly. Sometimes, I’d be on the good guys’ team, and sometimes, I’d be on the bad guys’ team. It was equally fun on either side. We certainly didn’t consider the roles explicitly. We didn’t think much of it.

But in real life, who doesn’t want to be one of the good guys?

Often, we outsource the decision of who the good guys are to our tribe. It makes sense because the good guys see the world the way we do, think and feel like we do, and say the things we agree with. So we get on their team, take their side, and cheer them on.

But if we lift the covers just a bit and look for ourselves, we find that we don’t know who the good guys are, or they’re not as good as we thought, or maybe we start to align a little bit with the bad guys.

Sometimes, I think we had it right as kids. Let’s just divide up the roles randomly because neither side is what it seems.

Comedy is tough right now. I get that.

Actually, art, in general, is tough right now. But is that really any different than at any time in history?

Interesting art usually treads the line between cultural norms and the taboo. Sometimes pushing over that line. Many times polarizing. Rick Rubin says that good art can divide the room.

I’m open to laughing at anything. I (like to think that) cultural norms do not affect my ability to find the funny, see the perspective, and enjoy the take.

Like any good art, good comedy pushes the edge. It shines a light on the absurd, at least from a point of view. The comedian using laughs to play with the emotions of the subject.

But if you’re gonna push that edge with comedy, it better be funny, or else its just tragic.

I believe God brings people into your life.

People that push you. People that help you. People that test you. People that love you.

People for you to push. People for you to help. People for you to test. People for you to love.

And people that complete you.

When that person comes along, grab them, and don’t let go. Because with them, the good times are better, the purpose is clearer, and the bad times are navigable.

I’ve grabbed onto you because you complete me. The good times are better, my purpose is clearer, and the bad times are navigable. I thank God for you every day.

Here’s to 30 more.

I believe that most of our collective issues arise from differences in perspective.

I see it this way. You see it that way. They see it the other way.

My group cares about the right things. Your group cares about the wrong things. The other group is evil.

I also believe that solutions to our collective issues derive from empathy.

The best way I’ve found to engage empathy is to care about, seek out, and genuinely try to understand other perspectives. The proverbial walk a mile in another’s shoes. The more we latch into another’s perspective, the better we understand what they think and feel and, more importantly, why they think and feel.

Perspectives are built through personal history, and personal histories are stories of experiences, sights and sounds, group affiliation, and even geography. The world looks different, sounds different, and tastes different over here.

One of the best methods for broadening perspective is to change geography, if even for a short time.

It’s a big world. Get out there and explore.

Fear is an interesting engine.

For some, it drives them inward — to protect, shrink, and even blame.

For others, it drives them outward — to go on offense, beat one’s chest, and act as if they’ll take matters into their own hands when the moment arrives. 

For the last couple of weeks around here (southeastern Pennsylvania), a convicted murderer was on the loose. He did a fanciful job of escaping prison and then eluding authorities for eleven days. If you listened to The News, Satan himself was running amok. 

Across the whole community, we had all of the reactions to the fear. Some wouldn’t step outside their doors. Security systems sold out (unusual since this is a rural community). So were guns and ammunition (purchases not unusual — sold out unusual). One guy was driving around on his 4-wheeler vigilante-style with a bulletproof vest and his rifle strapped across it. These were the reactions that The News highlighted. The toggle switch headlines, of course. According to The News, all of the southeastern PA had stopped their lives as the manhunt continued.

But if you talked with most people, their reactions to the situation were quite reasonable. They paid attention, ensured the house and cars were locked up at night, and generally were just a bit more diligent. 

But nobody stopped living like The News would have you believe.

Turn off the damn news. 

I will continue, at least for now.

I’m not sure what roads we’ll take, but then again, that’s one of the points of the project. Keep the articles short and manageable, but explore widely.

I’m fiction curious. I’m curious about how I can use ChatGPT better. I’m curious if I can group some of these daily shorts together into longer forms useful for others. I’m curious if I can build an audience. I’m curious if I can dig deeper with more personal stories.

Onward and upward.

Needing daily topics sharpened my observation skills.

That’s definitely a good thing because it required more presence in my surroundings. I was on the lookout. My subconscious prompting my conscious to engage. 

Sometimes topics came to me easily through something I saw, read, or experienced through conversation. Other times, they emerged from the quiet moments. The spaces between actions. 

The world produces plenty of content, but often I was short of attention. I found myself tuning into the nuance, the overlooked, and the subtle patterns amongst the chaos. Although sometimes the chaos itself provided the content. 

The art of deliberate attention. What did I notice today that I might’ve missed yesterday? How can today’s observations lead to tomorrow’s revelations?

One last curious and maybe surprising observation about observing — I found myself taking less pictures focused on the moments of the day and simply using my senses to engage and allowing the sensory perception to burn itself into my memory. The story — as I remember it — being the critical piece, not the concrete image of “how it was.”

Do what you want with that.

More to come…

ChatGPT can be a writer’s friend.

ChatGPT is already my friend as a software developer. I do use it to help me write code just about every day. I’ve described it as a crappy intern. But as I’ve gotten better at managing it (i.e., prompt engineering), it’s gotten better at helping me. 

But here’s the thing — I’m an expert software developer. As such, I know the terminology to use, the technologies involved, I can spot flaws early, and I know the thought process required to start with nothing and end up with something you want. If you know nothing about writing software, ChatGPT can’t help you write software. At least not today. 

I’ve also used ChatGPT to help me write. Again, if you know how to use it, and are already an expert writer, I imagine you could get it to work pretty good. Not so much for me, but as with code, I’m getting better. 

Here’s what I’ve found most useful:

1. I feed it my article, and it helps me edit.
2. I can ask it for synonyms and antonyms.
3. I can ask it to give me some surprising or non-obvious conclusions of what I’ve written.
4. I can ask it for historical examples and analogies.

I don’t always use it, and I don’t always use what it gives me, but it’s definitely useful. I will continue to use it and try to get better.

More to come…

I wondered if it would get easier as the year wore on.

It got easier, but not in the way I was thinking. The writing itself didn’t get any easier. The commitment, however, did get easier.

I knew that each day I had to write (except for just a handful). At first, that was a daunting task. But as the year wore on, that commitment became something I looked forward to rather than dread. In fact, here I am, still going.

The writing, though. Still the same. Some days it flows. Others, well, it’s a cat fight.

I gave myself the 250 word limit to give myself permission to write and publish small bits. Short would be ok. 

But a curious thing happened along the way. Many times I found myself having to cut articles down to fit within 250 words. I didn’t expect that, but I started to learn the importance and power of editing. I know I’m too wordy (also when I speak). So the 250 word limit helped me focus the content. 

Sometimes I spent longer editing that I did writing. I think that’s a good thing. Many great writers talk about the importance of editing, removing unnecessary words and explanations, and honing the final product.

I have not always kept 250 words, but when I go above, I do so with intention. 

“If you eliminate the unnecessary words, the reader will have time to catch his breath and to think.”

– Ernest Hemmingway

“The first draft is just you telling yourself the story. The second draft is you telling the story to someone else.”

– Stephen King

“The more you leave out, the more powerful it will be.”

– Raymond Carver

My parameter was to publish each day, not write each day.

Not initially, though. Since my purpose is to get better at writing, my initial goal was to write to completion each day. Come hell or high water, I’d need to commit. Just f’n do it — David Goggins style. 

Then, as I designed the project and really thought about the necessary boundaries, I realized even with my best intentions and discipline, I just wouldn’t be able to get it done some days. I can’t always place my own needs above the needs of the groups I’m a part of. I’m a husband, dad, team leader, and team member. Although I’ve become very good at controlling my own time, empathy, leadership, and professionalism demand prioritizing other’s needs over my own sometimes.

Hence, publish every day. I knew I’d have to work ahead to do so. But how far?

For the first few weeks, I worked ahead by one day. I wrote each day and published that article the next morning. That was too close to the hairy edge, stressing me out. I missed my 8:44am deadline one day in November. 

Over the next few weeks, I pushed the pendulum too far the other way. At one point, I was ten days ahead. A curious thing happened — I found myself not as focused, not thinking about topics, and I even “just didn’t write” a few days. Ten days was too much cushion.

I found a happy medium. I worked ahead just enough that if I couldn’t write on a particular day, I wouldn’t miss the deadline, but I’d be uncomfortable enough that for sure I’d write the next day. 

The happy medium is between two and four days ahead. That’s where I’m at right now as I write this — two days ahead. 

I learned that too stressed doesn’t serve me, and neither does too comfortable. It’s such a fine line between clever and stupid. 

I purposely wanted to try writing different types of stories. 

I wasn’t sticking to a rigid timeline, as in, “OK, let’s try narrative personal stories for the next 6 weeks,” but I found that once I started with a genre, I tended to stay there for a bit. Like a mindset.

I didn’t have a schedule of story types, but looking back, I can roughly group them as follows:

• Observational opinions (I’d call it Seth Godin style).
• Self-improvement / Personal Development
• Narrative personal stories
• Success in today’s work culture, team building, leadership, and professionalism

The easiest for me to write was, by far, the observational opinions. I guess I have a lot of opinions that I’d like to share. 

The hardest was the narrative personal stories, especially the ones where I dug in and shared the emotions of the time (maybe still?). I kept saying to myself, “Don’t worry, nobody reads it anyway.” But almost surprisingly, I think these might be the most satisfying. I’m sure a connection exists between the difficulty of the inwardness and the satisfaction of getting it out. 

One exception is the story about working on the iPod with Apple. That flowed out like water down the falls — once started, it could not be stopped. First, I’ve told that story (in person and standing at the front of rooms) several times, so I’d already had its basic structure. But also, I’m still really angry about it. It happened 20 years ago, and I cannot let it go. It feels like yesterday. I can recall the emotions of that moment in a heartbeat. No professional part of me can see anything other than ineptitude, fear, and short-sightedness. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. Of course, none of us know the result of paths not taken, but the ripple effects of that single dastardly decision reach far and wide.

More to come…

Some observations from the “Every Day for a Year” project. 

I needed boundaries. 

Luckily, I recognized going in that I would need to bound the problem, or I would fail right away. Hence, the parameters. I knew this from writing articles for the last few years and developing software for 30 years. 

There’s a big lesson here. Namely, we sometimes think that creativity, problem-solving, and “our best work” require less or no boundaries, when in fact, boundaries, even strict boundaries, are the exact things we need to unlock progress. Our minds can only handle a limited number of variables at once. Therefore, eliminating some variables, even artificially, can help you make progress, eliminate the wrong path, and finish what you started. 

I do this quite a bit as a leader. When my team gets stuck or can’t get started, I bound the problem and eliminate some variables. 

I needed boundaries, so I created some. In hindsight, the two most important were publish every day at 8:44 am and 250 words. 

More to come…

Why writing?

The young me thinks this is just plain crazy. Essays? The teenage me thinks I’m an idiot. But somewhere in my adulthood, I got the bug for putting words on paper (rather, typing on a computer keyboard. I hate writing longhand). 

I like to make things. In fact, I’ve committed my entire professional life to making things (as an engineer and software developer). That part of me is just as satisfied with a completed article as it is with a computer program, fully automated test system, or set of shelves I’ve built from scratch in my garage. 

Start with a blank sheet. End with something. I live for that.

I would suck in the service industry. I would suck as a doctor or a lawyer. I know I suck at sales. But I’m good at making stuff, helping others make stuff, and leading teams that make stuff. It’s good to know something about yourself. 

I’ve been writing a bit now for about 7 1/2 years, or at least, that’s how long I’ve been publishing off-and-on-again blog posts here. Here is my very first, from May 5, 2016. It’s terrible, but I wanted to get better. To get better, I must continue to do it.

As I started writing, I began to notice and then appreciate the ability to get stuff out of my head. It helps me make sense of things. Most of these articles are just me explaining shit to myself. You’re a voyeur. 

And the last reason is that I hope to continue well into the twilight of my life. Maybe it’s fiction. Maybe it’s more and better articles. Maybe it’s something entirely different. 

No matter where you are or who you’re with, you can always write. 

When I committed to The250 project, I knew I had to create some parameters and boundaries. 

I had already been publishing articles on johmaconline for over six years. Sometimes, with months in between. The250 project was going to be about commitment and discipline. I could not keep trying to do what I was doing. 

It took me too long to write. I got too hung up on what it was. I struggled with topics. I struggled with my voice. I was way too focused on “making them good” (which, of course, is bullshit). I didn’t really have a set purpose.

So, I knew I needed parameters. These parameters, although in some ways limiting, in other ways would provide the exact set of boundaries to keep me on task. The parameters needed to define some of the things with which I struggled. That way, I didn’t have to think about them. I could focus on the writing itself.

The parameters:

1. When? Publish every day at 8:44 am Eastern time.
2. Publish, not necessarily write. I knew that there would be some days, for very good reasons (not lack of discipline), that I just wouldn’t get a chance to write. Therefore, my parameter was publish, not write.
3. 250 words or less. 250 words is generally considered a single page. Size matters.
4. Topic? Whatever. Allow myself to explore. OK, this one is really squishy, but I knew what I meant. I was going to have to dig a bit here. 
5. Done is better than good. Ship it, always. No matter what.

More to come over the next few days…

“You’re on a 365-day streak on jmaconline!”

That’s what WordPress just told me.

I did it. That was my goal. Publish something on The250 every day for a year. Here is the first post from this run. 

What was the purpose of this exercise?

Discipline — to commit to something each day, no matter what else was happening around me. Discipline is freedom. Many success and life coaches preach about the benefits. By honing your focus on smaller, daily actions, you make the larger, more daunting tasks seem achievable while also creating a life rich in purpose and meaning. 

Improvement — You wanna get better at something? Do it. Keep doing it with intention. 

Practice what you preach — Even though I’m no certified success coach, I am a leader, a Dad, and a mentor to some. Coaching doesn’t require that you have “been there, done that” (i.e., how many great players were also great coaches?). But, the type of leader I want to be is a servant leader. Part of serving is engaging in the practice. I have little respect for unhealthy doctors. 

To be a writer — You are because you do. Not because you have a degree or have been chosen by The World. You can choose yourself. I want to be a writer. I am a writer, and I will conduct myself as one. 

More to come about this project over the next several days…

Tension is an engine.

It moves us forward or backward. It pushes us side to side. It gets us off our butts.

In a world seeking instant gratification and easy answers, tension serves as a reminder that the journey matters as much as the destination.

Philadelphia passed 100 homicides for 2023 in March. The problem is guns. The problem is a progressive DA. 

Homicides in that same period (Jan – March) are down 14% from 2022. We’re definitely making progress. I’m scared to visit.

Over the last two years, the average global surface temperature is between 0.8 and 1 degree higher than 1965. We’re doomed if we don’t do something drastic over the next decade. That’s nothing. What are we worried about?

Teachers earn 25% more, on average, in states with collective bargaining, and school support staff earn 15% more. Teacher’s unions are an important and helpful resource. Teacher’s unions are ruining our public school systems. 

Facts are facts, but rarely do we discuss the facts. We discuss our interpretation of the facts. Then we use those interpretations as “fact-bludgeons.” See this fact here? This is why I’m right, and you’re wrong.

The answer lies outside of the facts. 

The key is not to eliminate subjectivity but to be accountable for our own views and respecting others’ views. Owning our subjective beliefs means acknowledging that while they may not be universally applicable, they are still a valid part of our personal narrative. Respecting others’ views acknowledges and validates their different life experiences.

And that’s not only acceptable, it’s essential for a nuanced understanding of the world and ourselves.

You are an individual. You have unique needs, beliefs, desires, and ambitions.

You are part of a collective. Probably many collectives. These communities have unique needs, values, and shared goals.

Tension. Because, of course, the individual needs sometimes conflict with the collective needs. So which should win in any given situation?

The collective often faces the inertia of tradition, the unwillingness or inability to change quickly. The collective is also subject to the persuasion of the loudest voices. Conversely, the individual can be plagued by narcissism, an excessive preoccupation with personal needs and ambitions, often at the expense of others.

The surprising answer may be that neither should win outright; instead, the tension itself should be embraced. This dynamic interplay between individual and collective is not a bug in the system, but potentially its greatest feature. The push-pull relationship can actually be a catalyst for innovation, societal progress, and personal growth.

Embracing the tension rather than resolving it may just be the key to a more vibrant, resilient society and happier, more fulfilled individuals.

You can’t control your genetics, but you can control your health.
You can’t control the weather, but you can control your preparedness.  
You can’t control others’ commitment, but you can control your commitment.
You can’t control how others feel about you, but you can control your feelings.
You can’t control external results or outcomes, but you can control your activities.
You can’t control what others say about you, but you can control what you tell yourself.
You can’t control news or social media, but you can control what and how much you consume.
You can’t control where or when you were born, but you can control what you do, what you know, and who you know.
You can’t control whether the executives cancel your project, but you can control your professional skills and value to the organization or another organization.  

We live in a constant tension between what we can’t and what we can control. The things we can’t control are part of The World. The things you can control are part of Your World. 

Do you want to stop worrying, take control, and start having more happiness and success in your life? Recognize this tension and focus on Your World. 

“Yes” opens the doors to new opportunities, enriches your life with experiences, and expands your network. You never get anywhere or do anything with saying “yes.”

“No” promotes focus, filters out distractions, and swats away the flies of faux-busyness. “No” allows you to hone your most significant contributions.

Yes is about breadth. No is about depth.

But both can be an excuse — an excuse not to forge a new path, or an excuse not to finish what you’ve started. There is constant tension between the two.

They key to navigating this tension in any given situation is to look to your comfort zone. Ask yourself, “Which is harder for me in this situation?” Your comfort zone is a reliable guide, flagging what you probably should be doing. The choice that nudges you out of that zone is often the right one.

You’ll have to say “yes” until you find it, and then you gotta start saying “no.”

Balancing the two is not about adhering to external advice but about tuning in to your internal compass, guided by the subtle tension between comfort and growth.

Is it OK for authorities to listen to phone calls of someone suspected of plotting a terrorist act? What if that suspicion is based solely on a group affiliation?
Is it OK to peek in your neighbor’s windows if you suspect they’re up to no good? What if that suspicion is based solely on the fact that you think they’re weird?
Is it OK to access your child’s browser history if you suspect them of visiting forbidden sites? What if that suspicion is based solely on the fact that you remember what you were like as a kid?
Is it OK for authorities to search someone’s car if they are suspected of having weapons? What if that suspicion is based solely on time and location?

Privacy and safety are always in tension.

You can’t have both perfectly. But perhaps that tension isn’t a problem to be solved but a dynamic to be managed. What if this tension is the very thing that keeps our society in balance, compelling us to continually assess and reassess the boundaries we set? This constant friction might serve as a societal ‘check and balance,’ ensuring neither privacy nor safety is taken to an extreme that could jeopardize the fabric of our communities.

We might not need to resolve this tension but to embrace it, recognizing that its very existence helps us stay vigilant, mindful, and, ultimately, human.

Neuralink (one of the Elon’s companies) is working on a brain-computer interfaces. They’re making progress, but they have a ways to go.

If we assume they, or someone else in the field, are successful, what then?

Do we all become bionic? Will regular humans be obsolete?

Well, what about automation today?

Just as machines are taking over tasks that once required human labor, advanced brain-computer interfaces could take over functions that currently require human thought.

But are they augmenting or replacing? Extending or rendering obsolete?

The prospect of brain-computer interfaces, like computers, robots, and AI before it, highlights the perpetual tension between technology and ethics, progress and equality, the artificial and the natural.

Just as we’re grappling with the societal shifts brought about by automation, the challenge won’t just be in the technology itself, but in how we integrate it into the fabric of human life.

Although not opposites, efficiency and resilience are orthogonal.

Efficiency follows from centralized, standard, high-density, and common. In contrast, resilience follows from distributed, heterogeneous, low-density, and unique.

Efficiency thrives on optimization — doing more with less, reducing waste, and maximizing outputs. Resilience, on the other hand, is about having the ability to adapt and recover — not having too much power or functionality in one area of the system.

But beautiful, elegant, and worthy systems — whether business, society, or individual lives — bring facets of both to the table.

The art lies in recognizing how to balance that tension.

We should follow the rules. But what set of rules, and who makes them?
We should do what’s best. But for whom and who decides what’s best?
We should help each other live a good life. But what is a good life?

The tension between what “should be” and what “is” permeates the very fabric of our human existence — a philosophical battleground that spurs introspection, motivates change, and fuels discontent.

The “should be” often finds its roots in our dreams, aspirations, and the morals and ethics we uphold. It’s the world we envision: a place of equality, fairness, and boundless opportunity. The realm where dreams materialize, and justice prevails. But who’s dreams? And justice for who?

In stark contrast, “what is” represents the ground realities, the imperfections, the challenges, and the systemic structures already in place. It’s the world we live in, warts and all. It’s the pragmatic acknowledgment of the present that for sure falls short of our vision of the ideal.

This chasm can be a source of frustration, igniting passion, driving innovation, and spur movements. But there is always tension because of who decides and to what standards.

There is beauty in the tension. You think about what should be. I think about what should be. We both struggle with what is. Together we move us forward.

We scoff at those who display what we consider to be unearned confidence.

We call them arrogant and cocky, and smart people start labeling with smart labels such as Dunning-Krueger.

Basically, how dare they?

They didn’t earn the credentials. They didn’t wait in line. They didn’t start in the mail room. They didn’t check the boxes. They don’t have the experience.

All of this is true, of course. Who doesn’t want someone with the credentials and the experience? Many times, we need that person. When I had my shoulder replaced, I was looking for the team with the most experience — the most amount of “been there, done that.” Because I wanted each step to be routine. From the prep, the hardware, anesthesia, surgery, and post-op recovery. All as routine as possible.

But also, how do we find new solutions? How does one break out of the box? How does anybody do anything new? How do we create work that matters? How does one make a difference?

Through confidence that isn’t necessarily learned or earned because it comes through belief.

Who doesn’t want to be free?

I sure do.

But also, with freedom comes chaos, responsibility, danger, rif-raf, people not like us, consequences, grit, faster, slower, sharks, and a natural meritocracy.

So we have introduced order. With order comes stability, safety, expectations, people like us, understanding, systems, soft pillows, groomed beauty, and a plan.

We rarely argue over whether we need freedom or order. Not really. Mostly, we argue where the line is.

A religious debate, and I’ve always taken one side.

My side has always been the delayed gratification side.

“Good things come to those who wait.”
“He that can have patience can have what he will.”
“The seeds of greatness are often planted in the soil of patience.”

I’ve seen and experienced the fruits of patience. But I also realize, when I’m being truthful with myself, that I’ve used patience as an excuse.

I’ve not started or not completed a million projects because “I’ll have time, someday.” I’ve not looked for new opportunities because “they’ll come when the time is right.” I’ve not taken the trips because “maybe now isn’t the best time.”

I used to think, “I got 40 or 50 years to make it happen.” But age is a funny thing.

I no longer have 40 or 50 years to make it happen. How many? Who knows. But now the clock is ticking. Louder. Clearer. Each tick echoing with urgency.

I am now becoming acutely aware of this veil that masks procrastination, the voice that whispers comforting lies about infinite tomorrows. I see the constant tension between the present and the eternal, between action and waiting. And somewhere in the intersection of these, life unfolds. But there’s a profound difference between patience and passivity.

While I remain an advocate for the wisdom in waiting, I can no longer use it as an excuse to not to.

About 18 months ago, I had my right shoulder replaced. Before I went under, the doctor confirmed which shoulder to upgrade and marked it with his initials.

This marking practice is common among surgeons to prevent errors. It’s a simple system, but highly effective at eliminating avoidable errors. It ensures everyone involved, from the patient to the medical team, is aligned.

And operating on the wrong shoulder is indeed an avoidable error.

My youngest son started a lawn care and landscaping business two summers ago. I taught him a foolproof method that I used to ensure his trailer was securely attached.

Because the trailer disconnecting as you drive down the road is indeed an avoidable error.

My father was a pilot. I watched and helped him apply a rigorous pre-flight checklist prior to engine start, taxi, and takeoff.

Because an accident due to improper clearance around the propeller is indeed an avoidable error.

Systems and procedures are the perfect antidote for avoidable errors. If that’s the problem you’re having, devise a system, teach the system, and stick to the system.

Unfortunately, you can’t, nor should you seek to avoid all errors. Failing forward is an unavoidable part of growth and innovation. While it’s essential to have systems in place for predictable scenarios, it’s equally crucial to stick your neck out.

Life is a blend of caution and courage. While systems protect us from known pitfalls, embracing the unknown equips us with resilience and adaptability.

Success lies within the tension.

The box exists for a reason. Actually several.

The box keeps the rain out and the heat in. It also keeps the rif-raf out and the people like us in.

The box serves as a guide. Here’s a good direction and a great place to play. But also, stay here, don’t go there.

The box serves up ready-made excuses. The box won’t let me.

The box is familiar. Everything makes sense in the box.

Honestly, there’s probably nothing wrong with the box. Billions of people walk around in the box every day. Happy. Healthy. Safe.

But you and I both know that life begins outside the box.

I do it too. I think we all do, but some are much better at overcoming it than others.

I don’t know if it’s human nature — programmed into us at some basic level. Or if it’s learned — taught by the culture and tribes to which we belong. But I do know it’s a force that is difficult, sometimes impossible, to overcome. 

It’s what keeps people in abusive relationships, crummy jobs, and godforsaken circumstances. Those are the highlight reels. You read about them, see them in news clips, and listen to those stories detailed in podcasts. You probably shake your head and say, “not me.”

But it’s also a much darker and more insidious force that keeps billions of others — probably you and me — on a path of mediocre, malaise, and unrealized dreams. 

That force is the familiar.

We love what we know. We do what we know. We choose what we know. We seek out what others know so we can follow it. We borrow what others know. 

But the path to somewhere is paved with the unfamiliar.

I studied Electrical Engineering in college.

One of the basic electrical components one must learn is called an operation amplifier. Op-amps have a ton of practical circuitry uses in our world such as inverters, phase-shifters, amplifiers, converters, and switches.

To perform circuit analysis and design with op-amps, you can assume that the op-amp is “ideal” — this means you assume several characteristics to be categorically perfect.

Ideal op-amps use no power, have infinite input impedance, unlimited gain-bandwidth and slew rate, no input bias current, and no input offset. They have unlimited voltage compliance.

With these assumptions, you go on your merry way designing or analyzing what’s happening — on paper.

And then you get in the lab. Only practical op-amps exist in the real world, and hence, in the lab.

Practical op-amps consume power, have high, but not infinite, impedance, have limited gain-bandwidth and limited slew rate, have some input bias current and input offset voltage. Voltage compliance is limited by the power supply rail, or frequently even less.

Ideal versus the real world.

Ideal can be assumed for analysis purposes — thought experiments, hypotheses, philosophical systems, “should” statements.

But never forget that, as humans, we live in the real world.

While clearing out my closet recently, I discovered some funky ties from the early 90s — relics from my early-career “work clothes” wardrobe. 

I worked at my first intern assignment at GE AstroSpace during the spring semester of 1990. I wore a tie to the office every day, as did every other male worker.

But apparently, this was already progress because a colleague told me, “not so long ago, we could only wear white shirts and conservative dark ties.”

I returned for my second intern assignment during the spring semester of 1991. Casual Fridays emerged, signaling the onset of Business Casual. No more ties on these days. 

After graduating, I began full-time at the same office, with the same team, and the same people in the early summer of 1992. I never wore a tie to work again. And by now, casual Friday attire had morphed into jeans and a respectable shirt. 

By the time I left that job (by then, the company had morphed into Lockheed Martin) in 1995, jeans and respectable shirts had weaseled into the entire week unless you were presenting to management or meeting with customers. 

And now look at us. Who has “work clothes”? What even is Business Casual? 

Sometimes tradition guides us as to the (relatively) “right thing to do.” Sometimes we mistake tradition for the “right thing to do.” 

There’s nothing wrong with tradition. But let’s recognize the difference between tradition and “the right thing to do.”

I’ve always been a destination man.

I never understood wandering. I need a destination.
I never understood no plan. I need a destination.
I never understood those who walk slowly. I gotta get there.
I never understood those who drive slowly. I gotta get there.

One thing that age has taught me:

There is no destination. And why are you in such a hurry to get nowhere?

I’m getting better at taking in the journey, but I have a ways to go.

Start here. End there.
Movement. Everywhere.
Force required.
Stuck and tired.
Faced with fear.
Not very clear.
Do it anyway,
or maybe someday you’ll find
the end you didn’t intend.
Twist and turn,
In lessons learned.
Choices matter,
Amidst the chatter.
The journey, long,
Requires a song.
Start with a stride,
There’s no place to hide.
Forge your path,
Defy the wrath.
Till the end you’ll see,
The person you’re meant to be.

Continuing the conversation with my younger self…

Current Self: Hey, I got some good news and some bad news to share with you. Which do you want first?

Younger Self: I guess the bad.

Current Self: You won’t get picked. Nobody is gonna choose you.

Younger Self: Huh? What do you mean? Chosen for what?

Current Self: Nobody is gonna walk up to you and just hand you opportunities or a job or the perfect life. Nobody will notice you. Ever.

Younger Self: I don’t think I understand.

Current Self: You know how you’re waiting for things to happen? You assume that if you do the right things — get the degree, stay within the framework, try the front door — that this will get you noticed. Someone will notice your talent and hand you the perfect job or some amazing opportunity.

Younger Self: OK, but isn’t that how The World works? Fit in, play by the rules, and get good enough to be chosen?

Current Self: That’s what I’m trying to say. It doesn’t. At least not for you. 

Younger Self: That just sounds like bad news. So, what’s the good news?

Current Self: The good news is that you can choose yourself. You don’t have to wait for someone else to pick you. You can create your own opportunities, your own success, your own life. 

Younger Self: That sounds selfish. I don’t want to be that guy.

Current Self: I’m not talking about narcissism. This isn’t about looking out only for yourself or caring only about yourself, or doing the things that put you ahead at all costs. In fact, it’s kind of the opposite. 

Younger Self: How so?

Current Self: It’s simply about recognizing your potential, taking responsibility for your life, and using it to make a positive impact on those around you. It’s about not waiting for others to define your value or to give you permission to be great.

Younger Self: So how do I choose myself?

Current Self:  Invest in yourself — physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. Embrace fear and failure. Create things. Get comfortable with uncertainty. Be open to and seek out opportunities. Talk to people — all kinds of people. Help others. Help your community. Lean into faith. Stand up for what and who you believe in, but always seek to walk in others’ shoes. Listen don’t shout. Lead with empathy. 

Younger Self: Hmmm. Sounds empowering, but how am I supposed to do all that?

Current Self: That’s for you to figure out. It’s a tall order, but if you manage it, everything changes. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep moving forward. 

Current Self: Hey, one more thing about fear.

Younger Self: OK, what is it?

Current Self: Don’t think it goes away just because you’re walking towards it. It doesn’t.

Younger Self: So you’re saying that I’m supposed to go towards my fears, but that when I do, it doesn’t get any easier?

Current Self: Not exactly. It will get easier. What I mean is the more you face it, the better you’ll get at handling it. It won’t go away, but your confidence will soar. And confidence is everything. 

Younger Self: I think I understand. Are you saying that even though the fear doesn’t subside, I’ll start to build up a skillset at dealing with it?

Current Self: Bingo! Because your goal isn’t to have no fear but to have the confidence that you’ll succeed in the face of fear. Everyone is afraid of something. What separates the successful from the unsuccessful is the ability to operate within that fear — to feel that fear deeply and still move forward.

Younger Self: So, take my fear of heights. You’re saying that I’ll never get over it, but I shouldn’t let it keep me from doing things?

Current Self: Yes! If you shy away, you’ll miss out on a bunch of memories that you wouldn’t otherwise have had, plus it will help you get better at operating when afraid. So stand on the edge of that cliff and feel your knees go weak.

Younger Self: OK, got it. The fear doesn’t go away. But do it anyway. 

Continuing my conversation with my younger self…

Current Self: Hey, let’s talk about fear, because you’re going to experience a lot of it. 

Younger Self: Ok, sure.

Current Self: Fear isn’t your enemy. It’s your compass — your guide. You’re gonna want to walk towards it. 

Younger Self: My compass? That doesn’t make sense. Fear means danger. Why would I go towards it?

Current Self: Danger, sometimes. But its mostly just emotional danger. 

Younger Self: I don’t know. Isn’t safety what we ultimately want?

Current Self: Well, let’s look at. When’s the last time something amazing happened when you weren’t a little afraid? 

Younger Self: Hmmmm

Current Self: Now, what happened when you were a little afraid? Like when you talked to the girl, or gave the presentation, or jumped off the 10-meter platform? 

Younger Self: OK, good stuff. But there were times when fear led to failure, too.

Current Self: And those failures? They were the sparks that fueled your fire. Every fall was a stepping stone, each failure a lesson. Fear will lie, but you must hear the truth in its whisper. That truth? That you are limitless.

Younger Self: I never thought of it that way.

Current Self: Start thinking of fear as a challenge, a riddle to solve. Go towards it, embrace it, wrestle with it. It’s a wild ride, and it’s where life truly begins.

Younger Self: It’s still scary, though.

Current Self: That means you’re on the right track. 

Continuing the conversation with my younger self…

Current Self: I need to tell you about another myth of The World. You’ve got to stop playing by their rules. 

Younger Self: But isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Follow the rules, work hard, and then it’ll all fall into place? 

Current Self: How’s that working out for you so far?

Younger Self:  You’re telling me to just ignore everything I’ve been taught? Just go rogue?

Current Self: No, it’s not about going rogue. It’s about creating your own path. Creating doors that don’t yet exist. 

Younger Self: So, you’re saying we should just break the rules?

Current Self: Not break them, reframe them. Playing it safe will suffocate your potential. There’s a third door to success, one you forge yourself.

Younger Self: But what will others think? Won’t they hate me or think I’m not playing fair?

Current Self: Some will, problaby, but forget them. They’re the front-door people, stuck in their lanes. But some will get it.

Younger Self: But what if I fail? What if I make a fool of myself?

Current Self: What if you do? You’ll learn, and you’ll move on. You’ll get better. Failure isn’t the end; it’s a new beginning. And that beginning is forged along your own path. 

The real fools are those who never try.

Continuing the conversation with my younger self…

Current Me: Hey, you’re gonna struggle with something that will absolutely keep you stuck in neutral and pile up the regrets.

Young Me: Really?

Current Me: Yup. You’re gonna find excuses not to start some things and, ironically, not finish other things. In fact, you’ll have more trouble finishing than starting. And you’re gonna do it a lot.

Young Me: What do you mean?

Current Me: Well, you’ll have this terrible feeling that whatever you are doing isn’t good enough. This will infiltrate your entire life. And you’ll sight your lack of external success as proof that it’s true. I’m even doing it now as I write this.

Young Me: Will I be afraid to fail or make mistakes?

Current Me: Not exactly. You’ll understand that failure is a necessary path to success, and you’ll get better at that over time.

Young Me: Then what will be the problem?

Current Me: You’ll think that whatever you’re doing isn’t good enough. Which will actually be, “I’m not good enough.”

Young Me: Can I fix it? Can I stop it somehow?

Current Me: Say “yes” to more. Put yourself out there. Finish it anyway. Get around people who are doing it. Don’t give in to those feelings.

And most importantly, embrace the journey, not the endpoint.

Continuing the conversation with my younger self…

The younger me saw it all as black and white, or maybe he wanted it to all be black and white. 

Put perfectly by Brene Brown:

“I spent a lot of years trying to outrun or outsmart vulnerability by making things certain and definite, black and white, good and bad. My inability to lean into the discomfort of vulnerability limited the fullness of those important experiences that are wrought with uncertainty: Love, belonging, trust, joy, and creativity to name a few.”

– Brene Brown

The younger me was wrong.  

This binary thinking was my shield, as I sought to align myself with the “smart people” while dismissing the others. But this rigid mindset was draining, limiting my emotional growth, and constricting my perspective — and just plain wrong.

The revelation came when I recognized that the smart people exist on all sides of an issue: Theism and Atheism, Liberal and Conservative, Vegan and Paleo, Chocolate and Vanilla. This realization allowed me to see that there might not always be an objective right and wrong.

It’s grey. 

Embracing the grey means engaging in conversation, exchanging ideas, and respecting diverse viewpoints. In this space, perspectives are formed, changes are made, and love deepens.

The grey is where art and authenticity reside. It’s the path to connecting with the whole and realizing one’s unique perspective. The grey challenges us to be more open, flexible, and understanding. 

Open your eyes and embrace the grey.

Continuing my discussion with my younger self…

I’ve recently watched the Arnold documentary and listened to Dice Clay on a Joe Rogan podcast. Regardless of personal feelings about them, they are shining examples of one important thing I’d tell my younger self:

You are who you tell yourself you are.

That guy looking back at my 20-year-old self in the mirror had no idea how much power he had and how manipulating he could be (or maybe he did?). 

You can’t do that.
You’re not good enough.
You aren’t smart enough.
Nobody cares what you say.

I told myself this story every day. Over and over again. 

It’s true that not everybody will like you, think you are pretty, resonate with your message, or think your idea is good. Your audience is not everybody. 

You will have to get better, do the work, and continue to improve. And you will have to find your voice and let it out. But who do you want to be? Keep telling yourself that’s who you are.

Wherever you go, you take yourself with you. Make sure that person is telling you the right story.

Continuing my discussion with the younger me…

Keep my head down, play by the rules, avoid scary, stay in the framework, never get in trouble, and all will turn out dreamy. If it felt scary or I wasn’t comfortable, the younger me believed it wasn’t for me. Little did I know then that those were the very things that I should have been pursuing.

With clairvoyant hindsight, I can recognize the growth monuments along my path. Without fail, each time I grew, made progress, or ended up better, it was because I stepped out or was forced out of my comfort zone. 

I can also look back and regret the opportunities missed or not taken. 

No matter how much you fight to stay in that zone, however, it’s not always your choice. Whether you want to or not, there will be times when you get shoved outside of your comfort zone. How will you deal with it? 

You’re going to get laid off.
Your family will have a crisis.
Somebody close to you will hurt you.
You will have to give the presentation.
You will have an existential crisis of faith.

These things are coming. You can count on it. With a mindset that recognizes opportunities, not only can you deal with them, but you can grow through them. 

The more you live with sweaty palms, weak knees, and the tension of discomfort, the better equipped you will be to handle them.

Expose yourself to emotional danger.

Getting older is a funny thing.

Time speeds up. The black and white of my youth fades to grey. The weave of certainty unravels. The future compresses from limitless possibilities to a subset of realities.

The current me looks back on the previous me and wonders. What would I tell him?

I’d tell him to take more risks.

The risk of failing.
The risk of losing.
The risk of rejection.
The risk of looking stupid.
The risk of getting laughed at.
The risk of not being good at it.
The risk of what they’re going to think.
The risk of making the wrong the decision.
The risk of someone else getting upset at you.
The risk of looking like you made the wrong decision.
The risk of letting someone know how you really feel.

In hindsight, I can see now how fear ruled over me. Fear of what? All those things listed above. That was an easy list to write. I could keep going.

When my kids drive off, I always tell them in jest, “Drive fast and take chances!” I don’t mean it literally, and they know that. But it’s just a little out-of-context reminder that they will have to take some risks.

There is no reward without risk. Life is worth the risk.

We swim around inside a foamy sea of multitasking.

We ride the waves, juggling tasks, hoping to crest the wave of productivity. However, beneath the surface, the undertow of inefficiency and stress pulls us deeper into the tumultuous waters. The industrial machine demanding ever more.

Maybe the solution isn’t more gadgets, apps, or AI.

Maybe the solution is leaning into our humanity. The deep focus of one thing at a time.

One task, one wave at a time. That’s how we navigate this sea. That’s how we find our way back to the shore. Because our humanity isn’t built to frolic in the foamy sea of multitasking but to walk firmly on the ground of focused purpose.

Focusing on the work that matters.

Read a great article from Luke Burgis about AI and Effective Altruism.

I have also mused about this topic in the past. 

Rest assured that you don’t have to be a foot soldier in the Effective Altruism (EA) movement to be doing work that matters. Because EA — the formal movement — rejects what really matters about altruism — the human heart. Truly effective altruism defies objective metrics, as does work that matters. 

Each revels in investment, purpose, and empathy. In the realm of significant work and altruism, it’s not the calculated strategy that triumphs. It’s the emotionally charged, human-led endeavor. It’s not the cold data, but the warm, resonating human touch that truly makes a difference.

It’s about our individual and collective human capacity to help others. It’s personal, subjective, and emotionally driven. Truly effective altruism and work that matters invite us to bring our full, authentic selves to the table. To embrace our emotions, harness our passions, and contribute to a cause greater than ourselves — whether that cause is an outward facing mission, inward on the team, or simply within the confines of one’s family and friends. It’s not about fitting into a predetermined box, nor adhering to computed numbers, but about celebrating our humanity, making a difference, and adding value where we can. 

This is the essence of work that matters and true effective altruism.

At first, it may seem as if work that matters is outward facing and possibly even objective.

We can all agree that some work matters objectively, right? When asked, you might say something like teaching, medicine, social work, policing, green energy, defense/military, politics, farming, truck driving, DEI, or firefighting. 

Ah, but that’s the rub, isn’t it? You probably found some work in that list that you agree matters and some that you don’t. 

Because work that matters isn’t objective, nor does it have to be outward facing. Any work can be work that matters.

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

As a leader, your role isn’t just to guide and direct. It’s also to connect. To empathize. To understand each team member’s ‘why’. What drives them? What motivates them? What do they value? Why does their work matter to them?

In the new work paradigm, a leader doesn’t impose meaning. You unearth it. You create an environment where everyone can see their own work as work that matters.

Right out of college, I thought I had found the perfect career path. 

I started my career at a large defense contractor (GE Astrospace — which became Martin Marietta and then Lockheed Martin while I sat at the same desk, doing the same thing). As a space nerd, I certainly was excited about working on space-y things.

I worked in the Survivability group. We ensured that the satellite would work within the naturally occurring and man-made radiation and electromagnetic environments of space — including nuclear weapons threats. 

Queue the Oppenheimer movie trailer. 

On paper, and before I knew anything about engineering work, I thought this was a dream job. Like Oppenheimer movie cool. But reality turned out differently, at least for me.

The projects were too large. The bureaucracy was stifling. The time frames were too long. The tasks were too myopic. The office politics were overbearing. The workday framework was like kindergarten. 

After a while, I really did hate it.

But also, I learned a lot. In fact, I know that place helped me get where I am today. I learned how to conduct myself. I learned how to be a professional. I learned that the more you give and help, the more valuable you become. 

Any new opportunity may or may not be what you thought it was going to be. You may end up hating it. But there’s always something valuable to be taken away.

Never miss the nuggets. 

Work-life balance. A buzzword of the past. An antique in the new work paradigm.

In the old paradigm, balance was a scale. Work on one side. Life on the other — a juggling act. A struggle to keep both sides level.

But that was yesterday.

Welcome to today. To integration. To harmony. Work and life intertwine. They coexist. Work-life balance becomes work-life integration.

Work isn’t a place anymore. It’s an activity. Life isn’t a break anymore. It’s intertwined.

You’re not two people. One at work. One at home. You’re you. Everywhere. Always.

And you are the person we all need.

You’re human. You’re team is human. Sometimes you miss.

You can follow all the rules of hiring, yet fundamentally, it’s still a risk. It’s a gamble. You gather data. You make an educated guess. You choose. Sometimes, it works. Other times, it doesn’t.

You’ve invested time. Energy. Hope. And it didn’t pan out. That’s OK.

Perfection is a mirage. Even if you’ve done everything right.

Give yourself grace. Embrace the missteps. They’re not failures. They’re lessons. Insights wrapped in discomfort. They show you where to improve. They shine a light on blind spots.

A missed hire is not a life sentence. It’s a detour. An opportunity to reassess. Reframe. Realign.

Fix the problem. Don’t dwell on the miss. Focus on the fix. Is it training? Is it a different role? Or is it time to part ways? Each miss gives you data. Use it. Learn from it.

Sometimes, you hit. Sometimes, you miss. Both are part of the game. Both lead to growth.

Boldly roll those dice.

We’ve seen paradigms shift before. We’re living through another now.

Today, we stand on the precipice of a seismic change. Not just a shift, but a shattering of the old paradigm. 

So, what’s next? An orchestra — the composer, the conductor, and the orchestra.

We’ve already discussed the composer and the conductor. Now, musicians. 

The orchestra members share the purpose, but each contributes uniquely. The violin does not attempt to mimic the trumpet, nor does the cello envy the flute. An interplay of autonomy and unity.

This is the future of work.

We’re artists in an ensemble. Work isn’t about syncing our steps; it’s about harmonizing our tunes. The new work paradigm isn’t just about how we work. It’s about who we are.

We’re embracing diversity, not just in race or gender, but in thought, in skills, in points of view. Each individual brings their unique instrument to this grand symphony, contributing to a melody richer and more dynamic than we’ve ever heard before. 

The most extraordinary part? This orchestra is boundless. With the rise of remote work, our ensemble is expanding beyond borders and time zones. We’re tapping into global talent, harmonizing with individuals we may never meet face-to-face.

The symphony of the new work paradigm is playing. Do you hear it? It’s time to pick up your instrument and join the ensemble. 

It’s time to make your music.

The industrial machine valued meetings.

Top-down. Front of the room. Presentation. Here’s what you need to know. Consensus by org structure. Do what I say.

The new work paradigm values discussions.

Exchange ideas. Argue convictions. Respect each other. Consensus not required. Push forward. Re-evaluate. Change direction if needed.

Leaders in the new work paradigm understand the difference.

We have a mantra on our DevOps, Automation, and Tools team:

“Make the right thing to do the easy thing to do.”

This is the standard to which we hold everything we make. We don’t always hit it, and many times (most times?), we have to iterate to get there, but it’s always our goal.

This mantra does two things:

One, it provides a target — a north star. One which we can always apply to whatever it is we’re building. It’s simple to say, see, and understand.

Two, we acknowledge a fundamental truth about our audience — humans usually take the easy road when available, even if it’s the wrong road.

That’s not a judgment statement. It’s just a truth.

In an ever-increasingly complex world, we gravitate towards easy, or maybe one could say simple. Simplicity encapsulates elegance. Simplicity accelerates understanding. Simplicity finds common ground. 

Know your audience. 

Take responsibility.

Your job doesn’t stop at creation in the new work paradigm, where we rely on agreements, standards, and interfaces. Your job doesn’t stop till it’s tested.

You create, then you ensure that it meets the agreement, the standard, or the interface. In the software world, we can use all kinds of automation — AI and bots — to execute this testing. If we can define it, we can test it.

But it’s ultimately a human exercise — whether it’s software, accounting, lawn mowing, nursing, welding, personal training, or mayor-ing.

As the human, you must take the responsibility to ensure you’ve adequately tested your stuff.

If the org chart, micromanagement, and compliance are out as effective leadership tactics in the new work paradigm, then what is in?

How will we get stuff done on time and on budget? Even though we’ve deemphasized machine-like productivity in favor of significance, we still need to produce something.

We use agreements, standards, and interfaces.

We agree (even if we disagree). We agree to deliver. We agree to take responsibility for this and you for that. We agree to work together. We agree that when the shit hits the fan, we’ll dig in.

Standards set the quality, the bar that we collectively aim to meet or exceed. They give us a shared understanding of what ‘good’ looks like and motivate us to bring our best to the table. We rise to the standards.

Interfaces define the interaction between teams and individuals. Interfaces aren’t just about technology; they’re about communication, about how we exchange information, ideas, and feedback. Effective interfaces streamline collaboration and ensure that everyone stays in sync.

Agreements, standards, and interfaces fit perfectly into the new work paradigm built on trust, empowerment, and commitment.

We leverage the unique strengths of each individual, fostering a culture of shared responsibility and collective success.

The beginner digs in.
The beginner observes.
The beginner is curious.
The beginner applies focus.
The beginner sets aside her ego.
The beginner approaches with humility.
The beginner knows it will be a journey.
The beginner learns from those before him.
The beginner tries things that might not work.
The beginner understands there will be setbacks.
The beginner combines apprehension with excitement.

All masters started as a beginner.

Lunch break.
Evening chill.
The weekend.
A week on holiday.
An earned sabbatical.

Cyclical — work and rest. Micro and macro. Do and do not. Flow and wander.

Connect and disconnect. Balance plus integration.

Two rhythms in the same dance. Together, they create a sustainable, satisfying work-life symphony.

Respect the effort and honor the rest.

The fear isn’t new.

First robots. Then outsourcing. Then robots again. Then robots plus outsourcing. Then AI. Next, AI plus robots.

You can always find something to fear.

What if, instead, you found something to embrace?

The two most important people in the symphony performance don’t even play an instrument.

First, the composer. She’s the one who writes the music. She may play some of the instruments for which she is writing, but not all. And she doesn’t play anything on the night of the performance. Her job is to create the framework for the feeling; the roadmap for taking the audience from point A to point B.

She’s the original gig worker, entrepreneur, and intrapraneur. She creates and then lets it go into the ether. She’s the visionary.

Then, the conductor. He’s the one who drives the audience from point A to point B on that particular night. He makes the decisions on who needs to give more or less, which part requires emphasis, who must do what, and how to adjust the flow to create that emotional journey. His role is to unite individual performances into a harmonious collective that meets the composer’s vision and his interpretation, even if those individuals are machines.

He’s the leader in the new work paradigm. He gathers his team around the stage, and they’re all better than him at their individual roles. But he’s the one that turns the musicians into the symphony.

Both of these roles have been around since the dawn of work, but now more than ever, the new work paradigm emphasizes these roles.

Find your place.

Trust is hard.

I don’t necessarily mean trusting another, although that may be hard as well. I mean trusting in the unknowable future.

God asks us to trust. Smart people tell us to trust. We tell our kids to trust. We ask our partners to trust. We ask our team to trust. We’re told to trust the process.

But it’s hard.

Maybe that’s what makes it so important.

Building a team isn’t a lottery. It’s a chess match.

Within the ranks of sprouts and warriors, search for your essential generals, gatherers, and snipers.

The industrial machine hierarchy is out the window. When you get your team around the table, each member has their place. Each better than you at what they do. This ain’t your grandfather’s org structure. You’re building a team for the new work paradigm. 

Generals are your torchbearers, leaders, and the stalwarts holding your mission high. Commanders in competence, visionaries in ambition, they help you steer the ship, even through storms. Since not all eyes are on you, you need others who can also lead, if even just themselves. 

Next are your gatherers. More than just hard workers; they are the heart and soul of your team. They see the patterns others miss, collect the knowledge others overlook, and build the bridges others cannot. They are the glue holding your team together, the unassuming heroes fostering relationships, strengthening bonds, and fueling operations.

Then come the snipers. Your secret weapon and game-changers. They dive deep, deliver big. These are your experts. 

Building a great team is about pinpointing these roles, and then positioning them to maximize their potential. 

Choose right, and watch your team soar.

Should you consider hiring someone who has many years of contractor experience to be an employee?

This one is more of a yellow flag than a red one. It can work, but you should understand the risks.

Long-time contractors are typically specialists with depth in their niche. Hired guns. Snipers. Delivering specifics on time and with precision.

However, when you transition them to employees, the landscape shifts. You’re need team members who are invested and show up every day with curiosity and conviction. Your contractor ace swimmers may flounder on dry land.

Employees need a different skill set. They require breadth. Versatility is their secret weapon. They juggle tasks, pivot quickly, adapt to new roles. Their playground is vast. Their utility, manifold. They care. You want them to care.

A contractor turned employee might struggle to broaden their horizon and to invest the way you need them to. The singular focus that once was a strength may now be a constraint. Plus, they’re used to filling a role for time period, and then moving on.

Hiring a long-time contractor as an employee is an exercise in balance. It’s about finding that sweet spot where a contractor’s laser-focused expertise and an employee’s diverse skill set intersect. It’s also about finding someone who’s willing to invest — in the mission, the team, and themselves.

So, look before you leap. Transitioning a contractor to an employee might sound like a logical move, but it’s not always the winning move. Beware.

Not all that glitters is gold.

You’re on the hunt for craftsmen, meticulous in their method and knowledgable of their craft, yet agile in their approach.

Masters have their cherished tools, languages, and methods. That’s good. It means they care. You need your team to care. But there’s a fine line. When this affection hardens into dogma, it’s damaging. Productivity stumbles. Teamwork suffers. A single inflexible developer can grind your project to a halt, fracturing your team in the process.

Religious wars work against progress.

Then there’s the fluff. Buzzwords. Jargon. Overcomplicated explanations. This fluff hides gaps in understanding or skill. The true professional and master can simplify the complex and communicate it clearly. Even the sprouts you’re looking for know when to speak up about their current limitations.

Talking a good game isn’t the same as playing a good game. You need the players.

Remember, hiring the right people starts by eliminating the wrong ones.

Linus Torvalds ruined an entire generation of software developers.

Well, more specifically, he ruined a generation of his disciples in software team environments. He made it seem like it’s OK to be a giant asshole. Let’s be clear. It’s not. Not when you’re trying to build a great team full of sprouts and warriors, and you’re not one of the tech giants.

Torvalds is a master at his craft, no doubt. Yet, he’s equally infamous for a harsh communication style. Public rants and dismissive comments are his hallmarks. These behaviors spawned an intimidating, hostile culture. It squashed collaboration. It quashed innovation. It bred fear, not ideas.

Therein lies a critical lesson: Technical brilliance is not enough. An engineer who can’t play well with others can seriously damage the team’s dynamics, no matter how skilled they might be.

But don’t confuse “plays well with others” with “milk toast” and “B-players.” You need people who care, and you want them to speak up. You want conviction. You want creative tension, and you want everybody to hold each other accountable and to a higher standard. You should listen to ornery people who care. 

You just don’t have to be a dick about it.

You need people who argue about ideas, not about the person. You want people who can find empathy. You want people who contribute to the positive energy in the room.

Find the people who move the team forward, not backward. 

Hiring is hard.

Especially if you’re not one of the tech giants or a hot shit startup. But you can still hire and assemble a great team.

Previously we learned that hiring is not dating and that you’re looking for sprouts and warriors.

The secret is in strategic elimination rather than trying to assess perceived perfection. Shif your approach to eliminating those that will capsize the boat. 

Often, we’re too engrossed in finding ‘the best’, overlooking problematic traits that lurk beneath the surface. It’s like inverse anchor bias. The critical focus? Personality. Misjudge this, and you’re headed for an iceberg.

Consider arrogance versus confidence. You’re craving the confident, and you’re hoping to spot the arrogant. Arrogance dismisses critique and steamrolls colleagues, while a confident one invites feedback, respects peers, and fuels team synergy. You need to eliminate the blustery hype machines. 

Consider introversion versus milk toast. A great team member doesn’t need to be the life of the party or talk all that much. But she certainly needs to speak her mind and argue her convictions. The team needs constructive dissension and creative tension. You need to eliminate those who won’t ever speak up. 

Tune your hiring process to find the right personalities. 

The industrial machine drove the old work paradigm.

Work the hours. Supervisorship and micromanagement. Fifteen-minute increments. Org leadership. Come to this office. Park here. Sit in this office. We’ll give you snacks. Do what we say. Ask the boss. Fit in.

The old work paradigm required ever-increasing productivity, compliance, and hierarchy from the humans. Humans acting like machines.

But the industrial machine is in its death throes.

Queue the new work paradigm.

The new work paradigm values significance — for the mission, team, and the people.

Authority gives way to autonomy. Micromanagement replaced by empowerment. Compliance out, and creativity in. Our days aren’t dictated by the clock but driven by curiosity and commitment. Boundaries have blurred, giving rise to fluid, cross-functional teams. Unconventional thinking is celebrated, not silenced. The office no longer dominates work. Geography independence begets work-life integration.

This is the new work paradigm. Empowering. Engaging. Enthralling. Work of significance. Let the humans be the humans. Let the humans use the machines rather than be the machines.

The future is now. Embrace it with confidence or get left behind.

You’re looking for warriors, but warriors don’t always show themselves through flashy credentials.

Warriors go to battle. Warriors persevere. Warriors don’t stop until you’ve done the job. Warriors invest themselves in the team, the project, and the outcome. They’ve turned their scars into strength.

Warriors are made in the trenches, in the projects that have derailed, the classes they failed, and a life that’s gone sideways. In these harsh environments, they’ve learned to adapt, persist, and most importantly, overcome.

Herb Brooks, coach of the legendary 1980 US Hockey team, didn’t opt for the most skilled players. Instead, he sought fighters, individuals who knew adversity and still pressed on. He looked beyond mere talent, focusing on resilience, dedication, and the will to conquer.

In your hunt for warriors, ignore the shiny qualifications and uncover the gritty stories of resilience. Look for those who’ve fought battles, emerged victorious, learned, and are ready to take on the next challenge. Find those who value commitment over prestige, team victory over personal glory.

Warriors don’t require work experience in your field. Life throws each of us battles. Warriors are chiseled out of life experience as much as work experience. Sprouts can be every bit the warrior, just as a 20-year grizzled veteran.

How do you find them?

Listen to their stories — work, school, life. Discuss the battles they’ve fought. How they fought them. Find the uncut gems of wisdom.

Go beyond the resume and dive into life.

You’re looking for sprouts, and one of the best places to find them is fresh out of college. 

So how do you find them?

Experience has taught me this: the conventional hiring process for new graduates doesn’t cut it if you’re not one of the big tech firms or a hot shit startup. Google, Facebook, and Apple can afford the conventional approach to finding their superstars because they have a line of candidates that stretch out the door and around the block. 

So what if you don’t?

Toss the school name, GPA, and grueling theoretical interviews out the window. They won’t serve you, and that’s what everyone is looking at. You need to look differently. Don’t compete in that ocean. Find your own sea. 

Here’s what truly matters: Will this sprout succeed with us?

Software development demands a mix of technical skill, initiative, productivity, and teamwork. Spotting potential in these areas is the game changer.

Ask them one question: “What are you presently working on?”

If the answer smells like, “Well, nothing, I’m still trying to get my first job,” then pass. Yours will not be their first job, no matter what their GPA and class standing is. 

You need sprouts who are already working on something, regardless of pay because that shows initiative, creativity, focus, and self-reliance. They have curiosity and drive. They already care enough to do it. 

So, look for the sprouts who are already working on something. They’re your future.

You’re on a quest for sprouts and warriors.

Sprouts burst upwards, hungry to grow, learn, and become. They’re not complete, not yet. But within them lies a potential brighter than the brightest star. When you recruit, seek sprouts. Seek the thirst, the ambition, the raw, unshaped talent. More than that, seek the spirit.

Walt Disney built his empire by finding the right sprouts. The genius of Disney was his ability to see the sprouts, the raw potential, and to cultivate it.

Sprouts bring new ideas, energy, and turn into warriors.

Warriors win the war.

Warriors are embodiments of unwavering commitment, less about talent and more about resilience. They dance in the rain of adversity, not always the most gifted, but the most dedicated. They’ve tamed their tools, turned challenges into stepping stones, and carry a fire of willing contribution.

Herb Brooks built the 1980 US Hockey Team from a band of warriors. He chose fighters over flash. Grit over names. Resilience and experience in the ring, and those who had battled their dragons and emerged victorious. He transformed a group of collegiate athletes into an Olympic team that beat the invincible Soviets.

You don’t have to be Google, Facebook, or Apple to build an amazing team. You need to choose and recruit differently.

You’re gonna want to find sprouts and warriors.

Building your team is a quest, and it’s critical to your success. 

If you’re Google, Facebook, or Apple, it’s easy. The people will come to you. The A-listers will be pounding on your door to get in. All you have to do is select, and if you make a mistake, no big deal. Get someone else. The supply is never-ending.

But you’re not Google, Facebook, or Apple. You don’t have a long line of A-listers banging down your door. Don’t worry. You can still build an amazing team. In fact, you can probably build a better team. 

Of course, you’ll need to go about it differently. Ironically, you’ll turn it around on them and be the one to think and act differently. You’ll channel some Billy Beane (finding undervalued and under-the-radar talent by thinking differently), mix in a little Herb Brooks (getting the most out of who you have — warriors), and spread some Walt Disney on the top (finding people who will grow to be amazing — sprouts).

The first thing to understand is that Hiring is Not Dating. 

What’s next? 

Let’s go find the warriors and the sprouts. 

The craftsman knows that mastery itself is a skill.

Since it’s a skill, it can be learned.

Mastery, and by extension craftsmanship, follow curiosity, openness, others, effort, diligence, and time. Mastery doesn’t require special talent or genetics. Sure, those ingredients can accelerate or guide you toward the path, but they’re not necessary.

Each day, each project, and each challenge is an opportunity to learn, grow, and improve. Skill development requires it.

Because mastery isn’t just a destination, it’s the journey itself.

Masters acknowledge others and Luck/God/Universe.

The master knows he is connected to something bigger than himself. The master is one part of the whole.

Sometimes things fall into place for her, and she acknowledges this. She may consider it God, or the Universe, or fate, or the muse, or even incoherent luck, but she knows that the whole has contributed. She does not drink her own bathwater.

He also knows that he is not self-made and there is no such thing. The very concept of self-made is oxymoronic.

The master asks for review, takes criticism, and adjusts. Not for external validation but for growth.

He always gives credit to others and the whole. He is thankful for those before him and with him and who come after him. The master makes gratitude part of his daily practice.

The master knows she is not alone, nor could she have made it alone.

Masters remain flexible and current.

The master questions his own beliefs and his own methods. This may shake him to the core. He does it anyway.

Beliefs are beginning assertions, and methods are test procedures. She knows that sometimes they are wrong. As she produces, she adjusts accordingly, and her output changes.

The master also knows that skill sets and philosophies are fluid and ever-changing, so he keeps up. He doesn’t keep up so that he knows the lingo and can talk a good game. He keeps up to discern progress from bullshit.

He employs progress. He eschews bullshit.

A master knows when to be flexible.

A craftsman masters his domain.

The master turns from consumer to producer.

He does stuff, and he continues to participate. He takes the information, finds his voice in it, and starts producing. The master makes the phone calls.

The master gets comfortable being uncomfortable. She tries the things that might not work. 

Mastery requires going through the hard. There are no shortcuts, or ways around, or tunnels underneath. There is only through. 

The guru on the mountain may be a master, but not because he’s got a robe and a label. He’s a master because he’s dug into it, struggled with his own beliefs, argued with his teachers and peers, written about it, lived it, and is willing to teach it to you. The guru produces. 

The social media influencer may be a master, but not because she’s beautiful and has a team of people around her. She’s a master because she’s built a network, mastered her distribution channel, mastered her content, adjusts the content accordingly, and exposes herself to the emotional danger from the public. The influencer produces.

The master may talk a good game, but maybe not. Because talk doesn’t matter. 

Masters are producers.

A craftsman masters his domain.

What is mastery? How good do you need to be? How do you become a master?

Mastery starts with a beginner mindset.

The master started by setting his ego aside and becoming a beginner.

The beginner is humble and recognizes he will need help. The beginner steps out of his comfort zone. He sets aside what he thinks he knows and is willing to start fresh.

Beginners gather information. They learn from other masters. They may go to school, read books, listen to podcasts, and take courses. They definitely invest.

But information only takes you so far. Information cannot make you a master.

The amateur stops at beginner. He stops at gathering the information.

The amateur can make good dinner conversation, but he hasn’t made a contribution that matters. That’s where the line is drawn, because across the line of contribution lies the emotional danger.

A master starts at the beginning. 

I’m committed to helping you work the way you want.

Because I want to work with craftsmen, and craftsmen care about the way they work.

But also…

Craftsmen keep up with the times. Craftsmen look out for new and better. Crafstmen adapt to new tools when needed or when the benefits become clear. They take the industry’s pulse to see if anything new will help them at their craft.  

They adopt new if new brings forward progress. And they discern forward progress from shiny objects.

If you want to know about the latest tools, gizmos, methodologies, and science in your industry, ask a craftsman.   

If you work for/with me, I will do my best to allow you to work the way want. 

I apply this to environments, platforms, tools, applications, and methodologies. We have standards and agreements, of course, but for the most part, I’m on board. Want a mac or Linux? I’ll get it for you. You need a license for your favorite IDE? I’ll approve. 

Because I want to work with craftsmen and craftsmen care about the way they work. They care about their tools. They care about methodologies. They care about what they produce and how they produce it.

Empowering you to work your way, I believe, is a key element in creating a productive, innovative, and vibrant work environment. I respect your professional expertise and want to equip you with what you need to be successful. In turn, I anticipate the passion, commitment, and high-quality output that craftsmen are known for.

By enabling this level of autonomy, we foster a culture of respect, personal responsibility, and a sense of ownership over one’s work. It’s not about conforming to a one-size-fits-all approach, but rather, embracing diversity of thought, style, and approach to drive innovation and foster personal growth.

By working the way you want, we all get better. 

Where are you trying to go? What is your endpoint?

Project management maps the journey to the endpoint. Without an endpoint, you don’t need a map. If you don’t need a map, you don’t need project management. 

Razor sharp focus on the endpoint saved and built companies like Apple, Southwest Airlines, and Amazon. Choose the endpoint. Unite the project managers. Distractions be damned. We’re on the road to our endpoint. 

However, Twitter (podcasting platform), Slack (game), and PayPal (security software) all became what they are because they chose a new endpoint in the midst of their journey. OK, project managers, throw out the map. Let’s build a new one.

Commitment and adaptability are two sides of the same coin. But in both cases, you need to know your endpoint. 

When you get your team around the table, what does it look like?

Are you at the head, everybody facing you, everybody looking to you to tell them what to do?

Are you the best at all the jobs?

Do all the decision flow through you, up and down the chain?

If so, consider a new order.

Trust is the cornerstone of the new work paradigm.

Trust builds strength, fuels cooperation, and helps team members feel valued. Trust must be actively built and consciously maintained. You build trust through transparency, consistency, and accountability on both the leadership and team sides of the fence.

It starts with transparency and open and honest communication. Leaders should strive for a culture of open dialogue, where concerns, ideas, and feedback are exchanged freely. And team members must contribute their voice, respect the voices of others, and be mission-focused.

Trust follows from consistency. Consistency follows when leaders’ words align with actions, and team members bring their pro game to the table.

Accountability rounds it out. We’re going to try things that might not work. We’re going to make mistakes. We’re going to learn along the way. We’re going make each other better.

Trust is how you win.

Multitasking is a myth. Busy is a distraction.

That’s nothing new, of course, but it’s important to remember, especially in the new work paradigm. The new work paradigm requires leadership to empower rather than micromanage and to entrust individuals with responsibility, nurturing self-reliance and initiative.

Which makes setting priorities critical. Because if everything is important, then nothing is. Empowerment without clear priorities can be a recipe for chaos, leading to diffused focus and diluted results.

Effective leadership in the new work paradigm creates the vision, sets the standards, enrolls the team, and ensures each member understands their objectives and significance. Teaching and empowering to focus on the important, not just the urgent.

This marriage of empowerment and priority transforms the work environment into an arena of focused impact. A shift from busy to significant.

Show and tell was a big deal for us in kindergarten.

I have fond memories of my classmates bringing in their favorite toys, stuffed animals, and vacation souvenirs. We had a friendly contest going about who brought the best item.

My favorite thing that I showed was my hockey stick. This was the mid-70’s in the Broad Street Bully era, and I was proud that I was a “real” hockey player. I remember it having the intended effect as I puffed out my chest just a bit for a few minutes.

And then one day, Jenny walked up to the front, waved at the classroom door, and in walked Jenny’s mom with a furry little puppy. Pandemonium broke out.

Jenny won show and tell.

In the new work paradigm, job descriptions, org charts, and seniority get replaced by impact. New leaders will empower you. They’ll expect you to speak up. They’ll need your courage.

The new work paradigm, and especially remote work, rewards the winners of show and tell.

Which methodology wins in the new work paradigm?

Commitment versus flexibility. Structure versus fluid. Quality versus quantity.

Take (historic) Apple. Meticulous planning, clear objectives, focus on the design. Don’t release until it’s perfect. Refine before anyone sees it.

Each new iPod, iPhone, or Mac fully developed before release. No ambiguity. No uncertainty. Just precision. The result? Device experiences that echo the Apple ethos – sleek, intuitive, impeccable.

Take Microsoft. More experiments, more releases with the bare minimum, focus on the functionality and the roadmap. Release it quicker. Cover up the chinks in the armor with the next release.

Each new version of Word or Windows more capable than the previous, and also full of little gotchas around the corners. No worries, release the fix next week. The teams quickly adapt, evolve, iterate. No long, drawn-out development stages. Just quick responses to ever-changing software needs. The result? A software suite that is constantly evolving, always at the cusp of innovation.

Apple and Microsoft, different approaches. Both successful.

So which methodology wins in the new paradigm?

It doesn’t matter. Both can win, and both can lose. Religion around it is futile. Because methodology is just an agreement among the team — this is how we agree to work.

And agreement is about leadership and followership. Can you enroll the team?

The new work paradigm requires new leadership.

A phrase of the past. A remnant of the compliance workforce of the industrial machine.

It won’t cut it in the new work paradigm.

In the paradigm of significance, your work is about impact. It demands more engagement, initiative, and adaptability. It’s about owning the outcome and the direction, not just completing tasks.

“Just doing my job” was acceptable when work was rigid, segmented. The assembly line model. One task, one worker. No overlap, no questioning. Top-down, org chart leadership.

That model is obsolete. Today’s work environment is fluid, interconnected.
Let the machines be the machines. We need human thinkers, problem solvers, and innovators. People who want to see the bigger picture. Who understand that their job isn’t just to do. It’s to improve, innovate, inspire.

“Just doing my job” isn’t leadership. It’s hiding. Dodging accountability. In today’s work, everyone’s a leader. Everyone’s a follower. We lead, we follow, we contribute beyond our job description.

“Just doing my job” kills creativity. Stifles innovation. Stunts growth. We need creativity to thrive. To keep ahead. To adapt in an ever-changing market.

So ditch the “just doing my job” mindset. Embrace the new paradigm. Engage, innovate, lead. Be more than your job. Be a part of the mission. Be the difference.

Today, that’s doing your job.

The industrial machine valued productivity as the end goal.

Productivity helped everyone. Cars became more affordable. As did food, clothing, TVs, toilet paper, and information. Ford, Carnegie, Bezos, Gates, and the other industrial leaders evolved and then led the charge.

Get more done faster and cheaper.

Human workers were every bit the machine. Each stood in their spot. Each had their job. Each complied. Each generation went faster than the previous.

But productivity as the end goal of work has had its day. The new paradigm values significance.

The leaders of tomorrow will evolve and lead the charge.

Leadership is about followership.

Can you, as a leader, enroll the team. Will they sign up? Will the follow? Will you know when to follow?

The industrial machine sought the loudest voice to lead. It favored the top name, the heftiest paycheck. Yet, today’s work era doesn’t need that. Modern leaders know how to cultivate followership.

Each team member both leads and follows, regardless of the title. The roles dance. One may lead, others follow, then smoothly, roles switch. This interchange nurtures an adaptable, resilient team, ready for any challenge. Many voices coming together as one.

It implies a proactive stance, courage to question ideas, and readiness to collaborate. Followership isn’t subservience, it’s partnership.

This shift from industrial machine leadership to a blend of leadership and followership is the path forward. A leader who can enroll the followers and actively switch to a follower themselves boosts team cohesion, sparks creativity, and engages work that matters.

I told you to throw out the org chart because leadership in the new work paradigm doesn’t need or conform to the org chart. Leave that to the industrial machine. 

But also…

True leadership, the kind that resonates beyond the titles, is timeless. At its core, true leadership was never defined by the position one occupies. Instead, it’s characterized by the ability to influence and inspire others, cultivate growth, and steer the collective toward shared goals. This definition holds, irrespective of changes in the work paradigm.

A leader navigates and captains through the storms of change. The leader reads the room. Sometimes a leader may feel conflicted, but the situation calls for conviction. Sometimes they may feel certain, but the situation calls for consensus.

In the industrial machine version of leadership, you might get lucky. The names on the org chart may intersect with the true leaders. The name at the peak might be the destined one. History has given us glimpses of such alignments. Yet, it has also shown us glaring disparities.

That underlying truth remains constant, but the evolved work paradigm now demands—not merely uncovers—the necessity of true leadership.

Burn the org chart.

The industrial machine loves the org chart version of leadership. In fact, it requires it. 

The org chart used to lay out the structure of leadership. Where am I? OK, I’m under this box here. Who’s on top of that box? OK, let me go ask that person what I should do because they’ll know. 

Then the industrial machine enforces the org chart version of leadership. The top of that box tells the names inside the box what to do, then flows those directions on down to the name on top of the next box. And so on down the org chart. 

And how does one become a leader in the industrial machine? Why, get your name at the top of one of the boxes, of course. We used to promote the people who were good at their jobs, or good at telling those above what they wanted to hear, assuming that would make them good at the job above them on the org chart. This person is awesome at writing code. For sure, they’re gonna be great at telling all the others what they should do. 

The new paradigm requires true leadership, not org chart leadership. 

Leadership in the new work paradigm does require a top-down skillset — vision, what we care about, willingness to try new things (that might not work), connections, and who can best help with what. But it also requires a bottoms-up skillset — willingness to listen, courage to forge ahead, ability to change one’s mind, and the persuasive skills to enroll the team. 

The org chart does have a purpose, though — to give you an idea of “who’s doing what.” If you’re wondering who to talk to or you’re looking for some expertise outside of your circle, the org chart can point you in the right direction. 

Other than that, you might as well use that org chart as a wall decoration. 

Nothing is static. Certainly not work.

You seek candidates primed for growth. Growth within their roles, growth as individuals, growth in enriching the team’s capabilities.

Growth blends the qualities of curiosity and excitement with competence. Competence provides them with base. Curiosity nudges them to question, to experiment, and to learn. Excitement fuels their dedication to their role, the mission, and the teaam.

Growth is potential.

General Managers and coaches all over the sports world talk about growth and potential. Those are the diamonds in the rough — the hidden gems. The raw materials that just need to be shaped like clay in their hands. The ones who might not be all that now but will be all that in the future.

You care about growth, not just because of the hidden gems, but because growth is the engine that drives making great things. Stagnation is death. To ensure your team’s growth, you need individuals who can match that momentum step for step.

Growth, in essence, is the journey from ‘what is’ to ‘what could be’. And it’s this journey that transforms individuals, galvanizes teams, and propels organizations forward.

The days of supervisor, compliance, shifts, and authoritative micromanagement are over.

I started working in corporate America at a large defense contractor in the early 90s. We worked from 7:30 am to 4:15 pm, with a 45-minute lunch break. At 7:15, my manager walked around the office informally tracking attendance. Same thing at 1:00 and then again at 4:30. We filled out weekly time cards and tracked overtime and compensation time in 15-minute increments.

Tucked behind a drawer in my desk, I discovered a crumpled snapshot of this very office from the 50s. The image revealed a workspace reminiscent of kindergarten classrooms—rows of identical desks directed towards the supervisor’s spot. Occupying each station was an indistinguishable man — crew cuts, white shirts, and dark ties only varied by the presence of eyewear.

Compliance. Work the hours. Do what we say. Ask the boss. Don’t question. Fit in.

As a manager today, you’re equipped with numerous tools to enforce similar compliance. Credentials logs, keystroke monitoring, slack statuses, mandatory 9:00 am Zoom meetings—it’s all trackable.

Throw them away. Disable them. They’re the enemy of hiring and leading great teams.

Because what you need today are adults. Individuals who assume responsibility, make decisions, show up, contribute, communicate proactively, troubleshoot issues, respect their peers, voice disagreements, defend their convictions, and manage the integration of work and home life.

A high-performing team calls for such adults. And your recruitment process must be fine-tuned to identify them.

You’re looking for people who care.

Because people who care invest themselves in the mission, and when people invest in the outcome, the tide rises, and so do the boats.

Investment comes in several forms.

It might be investment in the collective mission. What we’re building here is important; therefore, I care.
Or it might be investment in one’s contribution. I’m important to this mission; therefore, I care.
Or it might be investment in the team. This team and its people are important; therefore, I care.

The invested team member enrolls. They sign up. They’re motivated beyond the paycheck. They see value in the work they do, and we do, and connect it to a greater purpose. This connection breeds their best effort, elevating their work’s quality, commitment to the team, and ability to innovate.

Invested team members display resilience in facing challenges, viewing obstacles as temporary, and spurring innovative solutions. Their commitment unites individuals into a cohesive, collaborative team, fostering a positive work culture centered around a shared goal.

Sometimes they’re ornery, but that’s their investment talking. You should listen to the ornery people who care.

You want people who care. You need people who invest.

You’re not hiring somebody for what they’ve done. You’re hiring them for what they’re going to do.

The number one indicator of future performance is curiosity and excitement about the work. Those who are curious and excited engage with the work. Engagement breeds investment, immersion, and exploration.

People brimming with excitement see their tasks as interesting puzzles waiting to be decoded. They care, wanting to dissect the “why” and “how” behind their tasks. They become craftsmen. Such immersion amplifies their dedication and the quality of their work.

Curiosity is the spark that ignites innovation. It compels individuals to scrutinize the status quo, traverse uncharted territories, and table unconventional solutions. Their distinctive viewpoints keep the organization on its toes, promoting a culture of dynamism and competitiveness.

With the ever-changing professional landscape sprouting new technologies and strategies, curious minds stay ahead of the curve and discover new and changing paths. They help the team adapt to these changes, turning them into a strategic advantage.

Curiosity and excitement are the dynamic forces that drive future performance. When you infuse your team with competent people who are genuinely curious and excited about the work, the rising tide lifts all the boats.

Never hire a clown to perform brain surgery.

My daughter was a Division 1 college gymnast. When she got to college, she and all of her teammates were already highly skilled. Yet, each season, the first week of formal practice focused on the most basic gymnastics skills — tumbling. Here is a team full of elite athletes practicing the same skills that toddlers start on. 

Why? Two reasons:

1. No matter how good you are, you can always get better at the basic skills
2. Being the best at basic skills lays a solid foundation for advanced skills, including learning new skills. 

Step one in understanding that hiring is not dating is to weed out anybody without the basic skill set. You’re building a great team, and a great team needs competent players.

However, competence is not just about advanced skills or an impressive resume. Competence, although required, is the lowest bar to satisfy. We’re not even talking if you don’t have the basic competence.

It’s what comes next that starts to separate the wheat from the chaff. 

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. 

It’s easy to become a mimetic robot. 

We have an inherent tendency to imitate, fit in, and adhere to the norms of our tribe. It’s a survival instinct, after all. 

But we exist in an era that has evolved beyond mere survival – most of us spend our time swimming around the top of Maslow’s Pyramid. Hence, we’re in constant tension between fitting in and standing out.

Mimesis is the bedrock of the AI world. We trained AI systems to imitate, learn from existing data, and then regurgitate it back to us. They excel at blending into the machine-like processes they’re a part of. They embody mimesis. 

Your capacity to transcend the expected, to question the norm, to envision and bring forth the unheard of – that’s the power of standing out. It’s the audacity to choose not to fit in, but to break free from the mold, that makes us human.

So here’s to standing out, to embracing our uniqueness in a world that often urges us to fit in. Here’s to harnessing the power of our humanity and using it to create, inspire, and transform. 

AI can take care of the rest. It can fit in where needed. The race to the bottom. 

But you, the human, you’re here to stand out.

The passionate craftsman cares about context.

The passionate cabinet maker cares about how the cabinet looks when it leaves his shop. But he also cares a great deal about how it looks after installation.

Is it level?
Is it placed at the proper height?
Was it cleaned after installation?
Do the colors work in the room?

He would love to show you the cabinets in someone’s home when installed up to his specifications. In fact, if you ask to see them, he knows you care about him.

The passionate craftsman cares about tools.

When a passionate chef shows up at the restaurant, she brings her own knives, and she likely won’t let you use them.

She cares about her knives and who uses them because they are an extension of her. They feel familiar and sound in her hands. They give her confidence in her ability because of this familiarity. They never distract her.

In reward for their service, she carefully cleans, sharpens, and stores them.

You should ask her about her knives because although she may not let you use them, she’d love to tell you about them. In fact, this is how she knows you care about her.

You want a craftsman on your team. To find one, start by asking about context and tools.

At 22, I dove headfirst into corporate life at a large defense contractor making satellites. Guided by Jim, a veteran colleague, I worked on a team that tackled satellite nuclear survivability — a highly specialized and novel expertise in the industry. 

However, three months in, my first test arrived. Charlie, my manager, asked me to learn some specialized modeling techniques from Bill. So I bounded over like an eager puppy dog.

“Charlie wants you to teach me how you do your modeling so I can help.”

[OK, in hindsight, I can see the error in my approach]

Bill paused, turned around slowly, peered over his reading glasses and said, “Get the hell out of here.” 

Smacked right in the face. At first, I wasn’t sure he was serious.

“Um…um….what?” 

“Get out of here. This is what I do. It’s my job. If I teach you what I do, then they’ll just lay me off. Tell Charlie, ‘no way.'”

Confused and dejected, I turned to Jim. He consoled me, saying we could master the task ourselves. Sure enough, with Jim’s help, I quickly picked up the guarded techniques.

A year later, I was flourishing, Jim had been promoted, and Bill was laid off. His fear had turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Bill’s refusal stung, but Jim’s willingness to guide me ignited my passion. I can still feel that terrible feeling as Bill refused me. 

The incident underscored the importance of adaptability, mentorship, collaboration, and continuous learning. It taught me that being a valuable team member isn’t only about expertise—it’s also about caring for your colleagues.

The Human Resources department should be fired.

Not the people in the department. Let’s keep the people, but let’s fire the department.

Let’s fire the HR department and hire a Human Being department.

Because our people are not resources. They’re the reason for the work we do, the vision we hold, and the impact we strive to make. They are the dreams, ideas, and potentialities that propel us forward.

With a Human Being department, we recognize that our organization is a living, breathing entity that thrives on the interplay of human creativity, empathy, and ambition. Once we recognize it, we can start living it.

Let’s let the AI and the machines be the resources. They’re better at being resources anyway.

Our humans aren’t a resource. They are the point.

Embrace the grey.

The nuances, the grey areas, the uncertainties – that’s where the magic happens. That’s where you, as a human, shine the brightest.

While machines excel in efficiency, precision, and endurance, they lack the ability to navigate ambiguity. They crave structure, they demand definitions. But you, you thrive in uncertainty.

AI is the just latest tool moving the industrial machine towards mechanization and automation. But your greatest strength lies in your humanity. Your ability to adapt, to think creatively, to handle ambiguity. You’re not a machine. Dont’ compete with the machines.

Embrace the ambiguity. It’s not a weakness; it’s a strength.

Step into the grey and let your uniquely human skills guide you.

There are no wrong questions. Or sometimes we say there are no dumb questions.

You know this isn’t true. That’s just something we say, albeit with good intentions.

Ever been frustrated getting answers from your toddler? What about your spouse? How about getting what you want from Google?

Last week, I needed Google to help me solve a problem. I needed to verify (or refute) the validity of an inspection sticker on a truck we just bought (because I got taken). I had an ID number from the sticker, but I didn’t know the terminology or the right question to ask. I needed to do some prompt engineering. Here’s what I tried:

“pa state inspection licenses” — no
“pa state inspection licensees” — no
“find pa state inspection by knowing the ID” — aha!

That gave me something that looked interesting: Safety Station List by County for the Web

That was the right question.

When you ask the right question, you get what you want. Sometimes that’s information back to you (aside: as I suspected, the ID from the sticker was not on the list — the sticker is fraudulent). Sometimes the question passes the information in the other direction. And sometimes, the right question inspires, motivates our caring engine, and sets us on the journey.

Prompt engineering has been around since a human asked the first question. We invented the name recently, but we’ve been engineering prompts since we opened our mouths.

Who is a good prompt engineer? Someone who asks the right question.

It can’t go down any further.
It’s always cheaper to fix it rather than buy new.
But if I quit, I lose all of my vacation.
I’m full, but I spent good money on this meal.
I’ve already got 3 years into this degree.
Quitters never win.

I worked at Lucent Technologies during its heyday.

As an employee, I benefitted through an employee stock purchase program which allowed me to purchase shares at a 15% discount.

This was great because the stock just kept going up and up and up. So I kept buying and watched the value of my account go up and up and up right along with the stock price. I did this for several years.

And then the news came out — Lucent was cooking the books.

Crash. Overnight, the stock price and the value of my account cut in half.

I remember when that happened, my colleagues and I said to each other, “Should we sell today? It can’t go down any further, right? We should just sit tight.”

But it did go down. And down and down and down. I rode it right into the ground. By the time I sold it, I had lost $27000 real dollars. Not a paper loss, or a missed gain. I had spent $27000 that no longer existed.

Why? Emotions. Sunk cost emotions.

Sometimes the smartest ones simply know when to quit.

Today is more about questions than observations and answers.

How can I connect with God today?
Is it even possible?
Is universal connective energy real?
If so, can I shape it?
What does “real” mean?
What is the relationship between God and universal connective energy?
How can I be more generous?
Is it going to be ok?
Am I paying enough attention?
Am I good enough?
How can I fix my foot?
What is my purpose with this writing?
What should I do today that my tomorrow self will thank me for?
When is the right time to get the legal system involved?
What do I need to care more about?
Who do I need to care more about?
How can I be someone that makes others feel good about themselves?
What should I be open to?

Who do you think you are?
How dare you?
Why would you do that?

These are trigger phrases. Either they trigger you to hit the brakes or step on the gas. What you do depends on how you see yourself. 

If you see yourself as someone who isn’t worthy, you hit the brakes. If you see yourself as someone who just might be the right person, you hit the gas.

Of course, how you see yourself is really “how you perceive yourself.” And perception is reality. 

Change your perception. Change your reality.

Dee Snider was my hero for a minute.

I was a child of the ’80s. Although I grew up in a conservative Christian home, my parents allowed me to listen to and play the music I liked. And I liked the hard stuff. They endured my garage bands creating horrible, wonderful, overdriven Marshall stack sounds from the basement of our three-bedroom ranch house in the country. They also endured my typical ’80s oversized boombox blasting metal from my bedroom at the end of the hall. 

They got it. They respected my choices and empathized with what moved me. 

But what my parents allowed was threatened by the “my morality is the correct morality” crowd. The PMRC, with its talons into the government, wagged its manicured finger and insisted that our music was sure to harm us.

And then, in September of 1985, Dee Snider took the stand. Edgy, yes. Blustery, sure. Disrespectful? Damn straight. But also eloquent, knowledgeable, and right on — keep the government out of the censorship business. 

A group of three easily decides what it will and won’t censor. But with a group size of 330 million, using the big stick of the government gets awfully attractive. 

Various political, religious, and social groups pass the censorship baton back and forth as each loses or regains power. When our team gets the baton, we use the government to ban books, censor art, and influence media platforms that run against our ideology. 

But it doesn’t help because, fundamentally, it comes across as “you’re bad.” 

Instead, let’s resist the baton and instead lean into respect and empathy. Respecting choices. Empathizing with personal journeys and worldviews.

When we care enough to do the hard work, there’s room for all of us.  

I work in the detection tools industry. 

My company invents, designs, and builds biometrics identification sensors. Specifically, we make fingerprint sensors for low-to-no-power applications such as credit cards, crypto wallets, and access cards. In theory, if you’re not you, you can’t gain access. And we spend an awful lot of time, resources, physics, and brain power making sure you’re you. 

We only exist, as does the entire industry of detection tools, because somebody somewhere cheats the system. If nobody cheats, we don’t need to detect it. 

Bank vaults, door locks, passwords, the blockchain, militaries, police, jails, and defense lawyers. All part of the detection tools industries. All exist only because somebody somewhere cheats the system. 

Along comes ChatGPT, and with it, a whole new avenue to cheat the system. The education industry is up in arms. So we create detection tools like GPTZero and AI Text Classifier. 

It’s a weird zero-sum game. First, create the method for cheating, then create the method for detecting the cheating.

Or maybe it’s not zero-sum. Just like the fingerprint sensors that my company makes don’t always detect the cheater. Sometimes somebody gets away with it. 

As humans, we, unfortunately, cheat each other all the time. Sometimes unintentionally, but not always. How do we detect it? What tools do we use? 

We use our feelings. We feel cheated. Our detector is rock solid. 

Remember, the next time you intentionally cheat someone else, they’re gonna feel it. 

* Results of feeding this text into GPTZero: “Your text is likely to be written entirely by a human”
** Results of feeding this text into AI Text Classifier: “The classifier considers the text to be very unlikely AI-generated.”

You and I have walked through the one-way gate.

Twenty-five years ago, I’d get dressed, have breakfast with the morning paper, kiss the kids on the forehead, grab my coat, and commute to the office with the morning sports radio guys. When the whistle blew, I’d turn off the machine, grab my coat, commute home with the afternoon sports radio guys, and kiss the kids on the forehead on my way back through the front door.

Your workday probably looked similar.

That daily procedure transformed us from our family identity into our work identity and back again. Two different identities split by time and space but linked by a commute.

But we didn’t stop there. On Tuesdays we’d grab our whistle and transform into coach. On Wednesday nights, we’d grab our notebook and transform into committee member. On Sunday mornings, we’d grab our shirt and tie and transform into pew-sitter. On the first Saturday in August, we’d stuff the car and head to the beach for a week.

All of these separate me’s were me, of course, but somehow compartmentalized. We sought and gained balance through the separation of time and space.

The internet, smartphones, and remote work blurred the lines. Now we check on work between innings. A quick email reply to the committee from the beach. The Sunday service from our couch.

The gate’s shut. Wishing won’t help.

We’re no longer looking for healthy balance. Now we need healthy integration.

To find it, look ahead, not behind.

A billion seconds feels like a lot. It’s about 31 years.

I’m in the middle of my 53rd year, which means that I might no longer be a time billionaire.

Let’s assume that my healthspan is 70 (aggressive, but I work on it daily), and my lifespan is 80 (statistically, also a little aggressive). That gives me half a billion seconds of healthy living left and 0.85 billion seconds of total life. 

One way to look at this is, “Damn, I used to be a multi-time billionaire and now I’m not. What have I done so far?”

Another is, “Damn, half a billion seconds is a lot of time left. What can I do?”

Still, a third is, “Damn, I’m grateful for the time I’ve had and the time left to come.”

All three are valid. 

Either you are or were a time billionaire. The time is yours. 

It’s not exactly your fault.

The System coerced you into misunderstanding the hiring process.
Don’t feel too bad. The System is a master marketer.

The System tells you that the hiring process is about finding the best candidate. The best candidate presents the best System-certified credentials. And that the best evidence for qualifying the best System-certified candidates is through past performance.

But what if…

The hiring process isn’t about finding the best candidate but eliminating the worst.
The worst candidates are just as likely to have System-certified credentials.
The worst candidates are just as likely to have outstanding past performance with relevant experience.

Eating your fill is easy if you’re the big fish with big teeth in an ocean full of small fish. You have your pick of candidates to fill your belly. If one isn’t filling enough, you just eat another.

But if you’re one of the small fish, you gotta think and act differently to keep yourself fed and healthy. If you miss one, you may go hungry for a while. You must make each one count.

Start by thinking differently about the hiring process.

I hate complainers, but I love complaints.

Complaints don’t necessarily come from complainers, and complainers don’t necessarily generate (the right kind of) complaints.

Complaints from the right people, though, are magic bullets. It’s all about proper context.

When you’ve made something new — something that might not work — and someone complains about it, you’ve just had the eureka moment. They care enough to take time and effort to make the complaint. They care enough to say, “I want, no I need this to be better.”

They care because they can see themselves using it, and once they see that, you’ve won the war’s first battle. It means you’re on the right track. Your thing strikes a nerve. That’s all you want and all you can know for version 1.0.

Now your job is to listen and determine how you can make it better. Not necessarily to “do what they say,” but to take in what they say, align it with where you’re trying to go, and do the work.

Go out and seek complaints because most of your competitors are looking for compliments.

This is how you win.

This is the advantage of you, the human worker.

Asymptotic industrialism seeks efficiency and productivity, which requires precision and tirelessness. It likes machines because machines deliver on this promise.

But the machines don’t do well with ambiguity. Even the smart ones all have expectations. They require definitions. They require some physical foundation of bedrock from which to start.

Which is why and how you matter.

You, a human, excel in the ambiguity. You excel at being the adult in a room full of mechanistic children.

I’ve been greasing the industrial machinery for the last ten years through the use of automation and AI. Given our capabilities, it makes me wonder why anybody would sign up for, let alone lobby the government for, an assembly line job. You can’t win at speed. You can’t win at precision. You can’t win at tirelessness. Why would you want to?

But you can win with your humanity.

Worried about your job? Start embracing ambiguity.

“Have faith in God,” Jesus said to them. “Truly I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” 

– Mark 11:22-24

Maybe you think Jesus is bunk. OK, what about Joe Dispenza and Bruce Lipton? Deepak Chopra and Louise Hay? Or perhaps Oprah and Tony Robbins? Napolean Hill and Zig Ziglar? Heck, even Lance Armstrong. 

It’s finally starting to sink in. 

Belief. Faith. Disbelief. Doubt.

Thinking and acting as if. Believing it is before it is. Faith creating. Mind over matter. Ask, and ye shall receive. 

I’ve read that passage from Mark a thousand times. I’ve read the books, listened to the podcasts, and watched the YouTube channels of the other names above a thousand times. 

The light bulb is starting to glow. Dim, but the filament is warming.

Knowing that it comes from God, the universal energy, through you, into existence. 

So simple yet so difficult for this engineer to…believe. 

(If you have any personal stories or connections to stories of mind over matter or faith, please share them with me. The more we share, the quicker the compound interest kicks in.)

My youngest son, a budding entrepreneur much smarter than me, recently asked me what was the best financial decision I’ve made.

Well, in a career filled with questionable, hazardous, and just plain dumb financial decisions, it wasn’t that hard.

“Started putting the maximum allowed in my 401k from the moment I started working.”

OK, I cringed a bit when I said it because that’s not a sexy answer. A part of me knew he’d be disappointed in stodgy old dad because he’s got friends whose parents did this smart thing or made out on that opportunity over there.

And in this day of YOLO, instant access, and systemic distrust, good ol’ fashioned long-term savings is out of favor. I get it.

But for me, it’s still my best financial decision.

Why?

Compounding interest.

Compounding interest is a snowball rolling downhill. It starts small, but if you keep feeding it, the longer you give it, the more it picks up and the faster it grows. Bigger and bigger as it takes on a life of its own.

And compounding interest applies to many things in your life besides finances.

Your relationships. Your health and fitness. Your knowledge. Your career or business. Your worldview.

You always have a choice, and you should always be on the lookout for opportunities. But even though it ain’t sexy, taking the long view is sometimes the best decision you can make.

My wife and I are coming up on our 30-year anniversary. 

Thirty years ago, for our first anniversary, we decided to explore the finger lakes region of upstate New York.

We mapped out, via AAA paper trip-tick, a route around Cayuga and Seneca Lakes, with stops in Ithaca, Seneca Falls, Watkins Glen, and many of the little wineries along the way. A week or so of sightseeing, hiking, tasting, and generally just being together. 

We also had very little money.

I grew up in a camping family, but I describe myself as camping agnostic. Our vacations weren’t exclusively camping, but many of the 15-20 vacations I took as a kid were camping. 

For example, we camped at Disneyworld…in August. I’m still not over it. Even as a kid in the magical land of Disney, I was miserable. I remember the constant steam bath interrupted by quick ducks into the gloriously air-conditioned bathroom or trinket shop in the park, but unfortunately, nowhere to hide at the campsite. 

So here we are, planning our first little vacation together, and given what we’re doing, where we’re going, and the lack of funds, I suggest, 

“Hey, babe, you know if we camped, we could save some money and we’d be more on our own time schedule.”

And she turned to me and said quite earnestly, 

“Let me be clear. If you wanna go camping, that’s fine. But never confuse camping with vacation, and this is vacation.”

We’ve never been camping in our 30 years.

You have nothing to fear. 

Yes, keep your eyes open, but don’t be afraid. 

If you’ve been following along here, you know we’ve been exploring AI, its current and future capabilities, and whether we should fear the flapping jaws spouting doomsday scenarios.

Will AI become sentient? Will it matter?
Will AI destroy the human race?
Will AI become better than us?
Will AI take our jobs?
Will AI render us useless?

At this point, I’m not afraid of Player Piano, and I’m not afraid of Skynet.

Player Piano posits a future where humans no longer have utility and, by extension, purpose. We’ll just trudge through our lives without purpose while the machines do the work. That’s a very low view of humanity. History tells me that this couldn’t be further from the truth. History says that humans rise up. We no longer need to carry water from the stream three hours a day, yet we’ve filled those three hours with more utility and purpose. 

Will some people feel useless or lack purpose? Yes, of course. Just like today. But not everyone. Humans will rise up and find their place in the order of things. 

I’m not afraid of Skynet because, well, I just don’t see it. What I mean is I don’t understand what would drive the sentient AI to destroy us. Destroying the human race doesn’t seem like a data-driven outcome. That seems like an emotionally driven outcome. AI, even “sentient” AI, won’t be driven by emotions. 

Remember, the way AI works (could change in the future, and then we’ll have to reassess) is not like a human. Similar to how humans can use an airplane to fly, but we still can’t fly — not really. Not like a bird can fly. Our current computing AI systems will scale up, become faster and more capable, but not in the way a human mind is capable. 

Neural nets are interesting. More power and faster are interesting. Quantum computing is even more interesting. But these are still airplanes, not birds. 

I’m deep in the throws of evaluating and using some of the various AI tools in my professional setting as the leader of a software development and DevOps team. I’m using ChatGPT and Bard in earnest. Can it help me? Is it scary? Am I part of the problem?

I’ve read, watched, and listened to many AI evangelists talking about how much it’s helping them in their day-to-day work. Here’s my evaluation of ChatGPT (GPT-4) and Bard’s current ability to make useful contributions in the software engineering world:

There’s something there, but it’s like a crappy intern at best. 

It can do some things, but it needs constant attention, is always asking questions it shouldn’t have to, misunderstands very clear instructions, has a myopic view, and generally makes me want to give it to someone else to mentor. 

This is why a new field of “prompt engineering” has popped up. But if I gotta be a prompt engineer to make it do what I want, how is that helping the general population? 

But at some point, it’s definitely gonna take some jobs. 

If you’ve experienced job replacement or been negatively affected by outsourcing and automation, then you understand one of the existential threats of AI. AI will take jobs, or rather, shift jobs and rearchitect the scale of the workforce in some areas. But technology has been doing this throughout the history of human work. One could argue that we haven’t seen a technology like AI to date, but neither did we see electricity, the internet, and airplanes. 

Some will rise above, and unfortunately, some will not. 

You can ignore the doomsayers. At least the dystopian predictors. Keep your eyes open for opportunities. Keep your eyes open for ways you can add value and make an impact. Engage your humanity. 

But that advice isn’t novel or revelatory in any way. That has always been true. 

This world was built for humans, at least the current version is. You and I are humans. Don’t ever forget that. Lean into it. 

Intentional gratitude.

It’s simple. It’s powerful. It requires (the illusion of) free will. 

If I had to pick one singular practice that has made the most significant positive impact on me, it’s the practice of intentional gratitude. I know this not because I walk around in some enlightened state. I know it because I rarely walk around in that enlightened state.

Until I start practicing again, and then I taste it again. 

I fall off the wagon, and the spiral starts. I kick against it. I lay my head on the soft pillow of victimhood. I think, “why?”

But deep down, I know. I fight against it for a while with excuses like time, difficulty, and “It won’t keep working.” Then I sit down in the quiet morning before I start the work day and get started. I make the list. I think about the list.

And slowly, if I commit, my mood lightens over the next few days or weeks. I feel less burdened. Therefore, I am less of a burden.

I know it because I observe those around me, and I see the spectrum. Light resonating off like a main sequence star or getting sucked in like a black hole. 

The real magic of practicing intentional gratitude is that you can change everything without changing anything. 

I don’t know if biochemistry precedes the thought or if the thought proceeds from biochemistry.

But would an AI ever think to itself, “I’m blessed.”

I suck at negotiation. Always have.

Winning a negotiation is about gaining leverage. Gaining leverage is the art of knowing what the other side cares about. I suck at that art. 

Luckily, here come the hagglebots.

Procurement departments rejoice! Bots with all of the info, including what makes the other side tick, will soon be on a tear. Hagglebots will be putting the squeeze on the supply chain. 

I’ve paid almost full price for my cars. I’ve rarely made headway on salary or benefits moving into a new job. I can’t remember a touchy situation when I successfully extracted what I wanted. 

But that doesn’t mean I’ve always come out of negotiations feeling like a loser. 

There’s more to winning a negotiation than any objective measure because winning is a feeling. You’ve won if you felt like you got a good deal. The best negotiators know this. If you can make the other side feel like they’re getting a good deal, i.e., the proverbial win-win, then you’ve actually won. 

Would an AI ever think to itself, “I feel like I got a good deal.”