What you call people matters. It tells them what you really think about them.
Here’s an example: years ago my friend Jules shared how her Mom would call for her Dad in a never-changing escalation of urgency and decline of affection: “Sweetheart!” she’d trill, followed by, “Honey?” and then ending with “Bill!!”
The equation worked this way:
“Sweetheart!” = “Hello, loving husband, it is I, your loving wife, checking in this happy morning.”
“Honey?” = “Where has that man taken himself off to, and is he perhaps forgetting that I’ve asked him to accomplish something this morning?”
“Bill!” = “Move it old man— I’ve got shit to do!!”
In three words Jules’ Mom went from an affectionate to a functional relationship with her husband. Fortunately, relationships are dynamic and tend to move in both directions.
This matters for marketers and their attendants (agencies, media) because when you talk about those folks who either already buy your stuff or may one day buy your stuff as “consumers” then you have reduced your relationship with these people to a functional one in which their only job is to consume your stuff so that you can make money, then make new stuff, and then sell that stuff to the consumers also.
If you are an old-style marketer who is using one-way pipes like TV and print to firehose impressions at a somewhat resigned population, then you’re probably OK doing this because you’re just talking and not pretending to listen… sort of like Jules’ Dad. (This may sound like I disapprove of such messaging, but I don’t: it’s honest and practical and sometimes the ads are entertaining.)
However, if you’re a marketer using social media to create so-called “friends” or if you’re content-curious and trying your hand as a publisher, then the moment you use the word “consumer” then you’ve proven that you are a liar.
They aren’t your friends. You don’t care what the people on the other end of the communication think or how they feel. They are just consumers, and you’re saying, “shut up and eat.”
Now, for the most part people don’t want to have relationships with brands. They don’t want to be friends with brands. They don’t care about the brand behind the products they buy and use except insofar as those brands save them valuable cognitive effort when shopping (so they can go back to playing with their phones) or save them money at checkout.
But that still doesn’t make them consumers. At zero moments do people welcome marketers efforts to paint them into a corner where they are consumers.
So, if you’re a marketer reading this, then join me in vowing not to call the people who pay your bills “consumers.” It’s just rude.
BUT WHAT DO I CALL THEM? I hear your plaintive cry. Much ink has been spilled on this question.
Marketers don’t want to call people “customers” because they reserve that label for the folks who have already bought something (not that they treat customers any better than consumers.) This is bullshit but at least it’s logically consistent.
My friend Joe Jaffe and I got into a spat many years ago when we disagreed about whether to call the online version of these folks “users” or not (I thought yes; Joe thought it made them sound like addicts… and this was before Facebook made us all into genuine addicts). Another friend, Grant McCracken, once suggested calling these people “amplifiers,” but I think this is too hopeful a term as most folks decline to amplify.
When you’re talking about folks who do or might buy your product in a social media or content marketing context, then I suggest using “audience,” since even though they don’t have much of a voice at least we credit audiences with having brains, opinions and feet with which they can vote.
If a marketer is talking about people who are actively doing something, then I suggest “participants,” because that label recognizes their efforts— whether positive or negative.
And if you’re fire hosing messages, then I suggest you talk about the collection of drenched bodies as people— since that’s what we all are.
Just don’t call them consumers.
[Cross-posted with iMedia Connection.]
Like Moe, the schoolyard bully in Calvin & Hobbes, Daniel Kahneman has taken away my cognitive lunch money for the last four years.
To be clear, it isn’t the 81-year-old Nobel laureate himself: it’s his best-selling 2011 book Thinking Fast and Slow.
Let me back up.
I read fiction quickly, sometimes gobbling up a novel during a plane ride or a rare quiet evening. Nonfiction, though, goes down more slowly. Even delightfully-well-written nonfiction books (Adam Grant’s Give & Take, anything by Steven Johnson) go into my mind with kidney-stone-passing-out perceived slowness when compared to, say, the latest by Neil Gaiman. I inhaled Nick Hornby’s Funny Girl so quickly last month that I belched afterward, metaphorically, of course.
But I can speed up my non-fiction reading rate by having a project at hand. Right now, for example, I’m working on two different, oddly-echoing projects: the first is about the future of technology and user behavior and the second is about Shakespeare as a business innovator. These projects are my cognitive rudders, helping me sail through non-fiction arguments and implications at higher speed, evaluating their relevance to my own work while making notes about interesting other bits for later.
So getting back to Kahneman, this is my third attempt at Thinking Fast and Slow, his remarkable book about how humans are not nearly as rational as we think we are when it comes to making all sorts of judgments and decisions. I’m about to start the fifth and last section, and this progress is because of the projects.
My first try was on the iPad, but what that copy of the book taught me was that I read, metabolize and retain nonfiction better on paper, with pencil in hand, underlining, annotating and making notes in the back of the book. If I let you borrow a copy of any of my nonfiction books, then I must trust you a lot because I’m giving you a voyeuristic window into my mind, and you’ll see any number of checks, asterisks, “yeahs,” and longer marginalia.
Susan MacDermid, my then-boss and now-business partner, then gave me a hardback copy of Thinking Fast and Slow. I attacked it, pencil in hand, but that was around the same time that I was jetting all over the planet on business, and the hardback copy was greedily taking up most of my precious briefcase space, so I stopped lugging it around.
Over the last few weeks, though, my thoughts have returned to Kahneman time and again as my two projects have come into focus, so on a weekend jaunt to England from Norway I picked up a paperback copy at Waterstone’s and dug back in.
Now, with projects in mind, I’m now able to place Kahneman’s arguments in context, tweak them into different directions, and think through what the book isn’t talking about as well as what it does claim.
This is great news, and a good rule-of-thumb for difficult books in the future: projects speed progress.
On the other hand, it’s bad news for when I’m between projects, as general reading without the frame of what I’m trying to do with it will slow back down to my normal molasses pace with nonfiction.
I expect I’ll finish Thinking Fast and Slow tomorrow. It’s a magnificent book— and also laugh out loud funny in many places. It has been a pleasure and a privilege to read it, and I expect to read it again.
With luck, the next reading won’t take four years.
[Cross-posted with Medium.]
Sharon washed up at the table next to me during a post-conference dinner here in Bergen and opened up over beer and reindeer steaks. She’s a bright young woman about to finish a Masters in finance and economics who doesn’t know how to approach the post-graduation void.
Sharon started reeling off different directions and opportunities, but I could see she wasn’t energized by any of them.
That’s when I shared my practical way to chop overgrown forests of life decisions into mental lumber out of which you can build thoughts and plans. Then, my conversation with Sharon recurred and recombined into conversations with Diane and Adam and Abby,* hence this piece.
At every life transition you’ll stand in front of three unlocked doors, but just like with real doors you can only walk through one of these metaphors at a time.
The doors are What, Where or Who.
What: you know the job you want or the industry in which you want to find that first gig to lead onwards and, with luck and late nights, upward. If What is ascendant is your astrology then you don’t care where you live or who is living there with you. If you want to be a baseball journalist, you go where you find an opportunity even if that takes you to a Podunk town you can’t even find on Google Maps without zooming, where nobody has ever heard the word “barista,” but where somebody will pay you to cover the minor league feeder team (among a bunch of other less tasty assignments).
Where: you don’t care that much about how you’ll make a living, although selling sex toys door to door is out because you get tired of explaining what goes where. Sure, you want to have friends around, but the players change while the stage remains the same. It’s Seattle that has captured your heart: the hills, the water front, the coffee culture. You like seeing dead trout hurled around Pike Place Market. You’re a Where person. Every town’s got some of these folks; they’re the “Mayors” of different sub-communities.
Who: it’s not that you don’t have standards about what you do to keep ramen on the table, and there are places that make your underarms itch if you even think about living there. But you’ve made the big choice about Who you’re going to live with and be buried next to after you die, and that person has a What or a Where pulling him or her, so you’re going along for the ride. (This time. It’ll be your turn to be What or Where later because that’s fair.)
The trick when you’re looking at three different doors is to be honest with yourself. Right now, are you a What, a Where or a Who?
The problem is that being honest with yourself sucks. It’s really really hard.
It’s much easier to listen to all the other voices: your friends, your family, your teachers, your vague sense of what people like you do with their lives at certain stages.
A good test to see if you’re lying to yourself is to listen for the word “should” in your internal monolog. “Should” coaxes you to turn the wrong door handle. Sometimes. Yeah, you should pay your bills, and if you’ve got kids they come first. I’m not talking about the brush-your-teeth-twice-each-day should. I’m talking about continuing to practice law even though you hate it just because you got a law degree.
Don’t be a ventriloquist’s dummy. Which door is important?
I used to think I was a What. In fact, I was so convinced I was a What that I spent a decade getting a doctorate in Shakespeare studies because the plan was to teach undergraduates about Shakespeare no matter where that happened or how little I’d be paid to do so.
Then I thought I was a Where, moving back to Los Angeles after grad school to work in Hollywood then in the Internet. (Look, Mom, I have practical business skillz that feed the kids— who woulda thunk it?)
But Where wasn’t true either.
Turns out, for the last few years I’ve been a Who. My wife Kathi wanted to move to Oregon, and then I found myself surrounded by pierced hipsters sipping micro-roast coffee.
Then, Kathi got a Fulbright to study in Bergen, Norway (#wet, #dark, #expensive, but #fjords and #happywife), and here I am for the school year.
Anybody want some reindeer sausage?
I haven’t always been a Who: we wound up in Los Angeles after grad school because at that time I was a Where and Kathi was the Who. We’ll switch roles again and again.
That’s another thing I’ve found myself sharing with people like Sharon and Diane and Adam and Abby: after you pick a door and walk for a while, you’re going to find yourself standing in front of another three doors.
If you want to experience paralysis, then ask yourself what you want to do with the rest of your life. That’s like asking somebody if they prefer to die in a ballooning mishap or from brain cancer: it’s a long way down either way.
I prefer the question, “what do you want to do NEXT?”
Pick a door. Start walking.
* Sharon, Diane, Adam and Abby are all pseudonyms.
I read a lot — magazines, two newspapers, email newsletters, and countless social-media-shared links I chase down digital rabbit holes. I’d never know anything, for example, without Jason Hirshhorn’s magnificent daily Media Redefined.
But I’m lost without books. Actual books. Whether paper or digital, if I’m not reading at least two books then I get grumpy and feel IQ points oozing out of my ears and down the shower drain.
So one year ago, inspired by my friend David Daniel who keeps a list of books he wants to read, I decided to keep a list of books I finished in 2014. Since it is now 12/31/14 and I’m not going to finish any of the three books I’m reading at the moment, what follows is my 2014 list with brief remarks added.
Note: with the exception of My Side of the Mountain I am not counting re-reads. Often, at night, or when I’m in need of a visit with an old friend, I dive back into a novel I’ve already read. My kids are the same way. Since I tell the two of them that this doesn’t count for their reading, I’m not counting it towards my own.
Looking back, there’s a lot of fiction in this list. I need fiction like I need oxygen (except when I’m writing fiction), and most of the business writing I read comes in articles. I wonder what the fiction/non-fiction balance will be next year?
So here’s the list:
Dashner, James. The Maze Runner. Finished 1/1/14.
I read a fair amount of YA or children’s books, usually in quest of reading matter for my kids, but in this case it was for a project a friend and I were contemplating. Not bad but not good enough for me to read any farther.
Sloan, Robin. Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore. Finished 1/4/14.
A fun ride, albeit only pancake deep. I inhaled this over a day or so at the start of last year. A good yarn for any of the digerati who mourn the loss of bookstores and wonder about the future of book-length reading in a digital age.
Elberse, Anita. Blockbusters: Hit-Making, Risk-Taking & the Big Business of Entertainment. Finished 1/22/14.
Interesting and thoughtful, and powerfully presented. What I wanted, though, were more connections outside of entertainment to the rest of business and human endeavor. A missed opportunity.
Eggers, Dave. The Circle. Finished 1/23/14.
A frustrating book… it annoyed but compelled me in a similar way to Aaron Sorkin’s just-finished HBO show “The Newsroom.” There’s a smugness to Eggers that grates, and I don’t think he understands how companies like Facebook and Google work.
Asaro, Catherine. The Spacetime Pool. Finished 2/5/14.
Novella in Asaro’s fantastic “Saga of the Skolian Empire” series, which is great fun for people who like space opera with good physics and a bit of romance.
Aaronovitch, Ben. Broken Homes: a Rivers of London Novel. Finished 2/15/14.
#4 in Rivers of London. I saw #5 on the shelves at Foyle’s in London last week and am excited to read it when the e-book comes out in a few days. This series is delightful fantasy set in modern-day London, written by one of the many “Doctor Who” alumni who go on, like Douglas Adams, to write novels.
Semmelhack, Peter. Social Machines: the Next Wave of Innovation; How to Develop Connected Products that Change Customers’ Lives. Finished 3/09/14.
A good introduction to the Internet of Things, more practical than visionary.
Craighead George, Jean. My Side of the Mountain. Finished 3/11/14.
I read this when I was a kid, found it on my son’s shelf, and re-read it with lip-smacking pleasure. I was looking in particular for a discussion of how you want a machete rather than an axe, which I remembered from a book I read decades ago, but didn’t find it in this terrific book. Anybody out there know what I’m talking about?
Thomas, Rob. Veronica Mars: the Thousand-Dollar Tan Line. Finished 4/3/14.
Loved the Veronica Mars movie that came out around the same time and couldn’t get enough of it, so I read the novel. Fun. Nailed the voice and sensibility of the series. I look forward to the next one, which comes out soon.
Grant, Adam. Give and Take: a Revolutionary Approach to Success. Finished 4/11/14.
One of the best business-y books I’ve read in the last few years, I tore through this after Dana Anderson praised it at the AAAA’s, and had the pleasure of trading notes with Adam Grant subsequently. I can’t say enough nice things about this book. It’s brilliant, and — perhaps more importantly and certainly a surprise coming from a social scientist — it’s beautifully written.
Greenwood, Kerry. Cocaine Blues. Phrynne Fisher #1. Finished May sometime.
Between May and July I inhaled seven of these murder mysteries set in Victorian Australia. Karen, a woman who practices Tae Kwon-do with my son back in Oregon, and I talk books, and she was flying through them. These are like McNuggets: I kept tearing through them at high speed until I hit a satiation point and stopped. Formulaic and with a bit of the Ensign Mary Sue about them, I recommend these to historical mystery lovers who also like a recurring cast of characters. The Australian TV series based on these (streaming on either Netflix or Amazon Prime) isn’t bad, although not as good as the books. Things rarely are. Just this note for all this series.
Greenwood, Kerry. Flying Too High. Phyrnne Fisher #2. Finished May sometime.
Greenwood, Kerry. Murder on the Ballarat Train. Phrynne Fisher #3. 5/28/14.
Greenwood, Kerry. Death at Victoria Dock. Phynne Fisher #4. Finished 6/13/14.
Greenwood, Kerry. The Green Mill Murder. Phynne Fisher #5. Finished 6/16/14.
Gottschall, Jonathan. The Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human. Finished 6/20/14.
A friend — either Ari Popper of Sci Futures or Brian Seth Hurst of Story Tech — recommended this to me at CES. Good popular science journalism, but I don’t have clear memories of it now, which is a bit of a ding.
Deaver, Jeffrey. The Skin Collector. Finished 6/24/14.
I read it because of my affection for The Bone Collector, but it wasn’t very good.
Miller, Derek B. Norwegian by Night. Finished 7/13/14.
My friend Rishad Tobaccowala recommended this to me when he found out I was moving to Norway for the school year. It’s fantastic: an emotionally engaged and heart-stopping thriller starring an 80 year old Korean War Vet set in Oslo. I can’t believe this hasn’t been made into a movie yet. Clint Eastwood should direct and star.
McKeown, Greg. Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less. Finished 7/13/14.
This book taught me a lot about how I sabotage my own productivity: I read it with passionate intensity in paper, and then bought a digital copy to bring with me to Norway. It’s on my “to re-read in January list,” which isn’t a long one.
Greenwood. Kerry. Blood and Circuses. Phynne Fisher #6. Finished 7/18/14.
MacLeod, Hugh. Ignore Everybody and 39 Other Keys to Creativity. Finished 7/23/14.
I admire MacLeod and hadn’t gotten around to reading the book for no good reason. It’s short, sweet and smart. Don’t miss, particularly if you like his cartoons.
Greenwood. Kerry. Ruddy Gore. Phynne Fisher #7. Finished 7/24/14.
Russ, Joanna. The Adventures of Alyx. Finished 8/14/13.
Back in college, my friend Keylan Qazzaz wrote her senior thesis about women in science fiction with a particular focus on this book. I picked it up a few years later, but never got around to reading it. Then, as I was packing for Norway and grabbing books from the “I’ve been meaning to read this” pile (a big pile), I saw this. Turns out, it’s a collection of short stories and novellas featuring a terrific protagonist who seems to have amnesia between each story. More strong space opera. A bit hard to find now, but quite good.
Shenk, Joshua Wolf. Powers of Two: Finding the Essence of Innovation in Creative Pairs. Finished 8/31/14.
I enjoyed the Atlantic excerpt of this book and decided to read the whole thing, which I did in short order. It’s a powerful antidote to the “genius alone is his garrett” Romantic myth that still pervades western notions of creativity and genius. However, I’d have liked more on how groups collaborate, and think that his focus on the pair is unnecessarily limiting. Still a worthwhile read, and in addition it lead me to Carse (see below).
Huizinga, Johan. Homo Ludens: a study of the play element in culture. Finished 9/9/14.
Play is important to how I think about disruptive technologies (much more about this in 2015), and a few years ago my friend and partner Susan MacDermid mentioned this book from the 1930s. It’s a tough read — continental philosophy that seems deliberately, almost hermetically sealed away against non-specialist readers — but worthwhile and interesting and useful for my thinking.
Powers, Tim. Expiration Date. Finished 9/20/14.
Powers wrote my all-time favorite time travel story, The Anubis Gates, but I never managed to get into this one or it’s quasi-sequel (see below) even though I’ve had them for years. Powers’ imagination is powerful and intricate, and it takes time to settle into the worlds he creates. By the time I made it to page 50 I was hooked, and then I was sorry when it ended. Don’t give up on this one too easily.
Wilson, Daniel H. Robopocalypse. Finished 10/10/14.
My friend Renny Gleeson recommended this, and it’s yummy sci-fi candy along the lines of the Terminator movie series only updated to include how the world works post-internet. For paranoiacs worried about AI, this is either something to embrace or something to avoid for fear of never sleeping again.
Carse, James P. Finite and Infinite Games: a vision of life as play and possibility. Finished 10/12/14.
As I mentioned, the Shenk book turned me onto Carse. Like Huizinga, this is far from an easy book to read or understand, but it’s an important meditation on play. It’s particularly important for Americans, I think, with our cultural tendency to bottom line everything and be more concerned with the final score than how the game was.
Gawande, Atul. The Checklist Manifesto: How to Get Things Right. Finished 10/21/14.
Gawande is one of those people who does so much in a day to make the world a better place that he makes me feel like a loser, even though I’m sure that if I said this to him in person he’d charm me into feeling like a superhero until the next morning. He’s a terrific writer, and in our information-overload era this book is both moving and useful for anybody who despairs of getting the important things done.
Mann, George. The Affinity Bridge: A Newbury & Hobbes Investigation. Finished 10/28/14.
The Steampunk genre and movement appeals to me, but I keep holding back because it feels like it will turn into an addictive time-suck that will pull me far deeper than just reading the novels. Suddenly, I’ll be going to maker fairs and dressing in lots of metal-studded leather. I just don’t have that kind of time. This is also why I rarely play video games and don’t drive a motorcycle. Still, I ran across this book at Books, Inc. in Palo Alto and was so interested that I found myself reading it while walking down El Camino Real on my way to a dinner. For Sherlock Holmes lovers as well as Steampunks, this is great fun. I also read the sequel immediately thereafter (see next entry) and a cluster of free short stories on Mann’s website. Like Ben Aaronovitch, Mann is a Doctor Who alum. I’ll read more of this series eventually.
Mann, George. The Osiris Ritual: A Newbury & Hobbes Investigation. Finished 11/6/14.
Scalzi, John. Lock In. Finished 11/16/14.
Fascinating notion about telepresence for quadriplegics (a reductive description, I admit) as background for a compelling near-future science fiction adventure story. Scalzi’s voice is the closest to a 21st century Heinlein that I’ve found, particularly with the Old Man’s War series.
Bach, Rachel. Fortune’s Pawn. (Paradox Book 1.) Finished 11/22/14.
IO9 compared this to Lois McMaster Bujold’s work, and since she is my favorite living science fiction writer I immediately bought the first one. Bujold it ain’t, but it’s not-bad space opera. One key difference (literature geek spoiler alert) is that while Bujold practices Austen-like free indirect discourse, Bach’s narrative is first person, which is harder to carry off if you’re not practicing the skaz a la Mark Twain in Huck Finn. I really like how Bach’s protagonist is a kick-ass woman mercenary soldier, but I wish the writing was better.
Catmull, Ed. Creativity, Inc. Overcoming the Unseen Forces That Stand in the Way of True Inspiration. Finished 11/29/14.
Rishad and Renny both put this on lists of influential books, and I loved every page both as a Pixar fan and as a consultant who watches businesses get in the way of their own success time and time again. I managed creatives for many years, and wish I had this book on my desk when I started. Don’t miss. Like Adam Grant’s book, this one will stick with and help any business leader.
Powers, Tim. Earthquake Weather. Finished 12/22/14.
See above note on Powers’ Expiration Date. I was delighted to discover that Earthquake Weather was a quasi-sequel, because that made it easier to get over my usual 50 page learning curve with Powers.
Connelly, Michael. The Burning Room: A Harry Bosch Novel. Finished 12/29/14.
My last completed book of 2014, which I finished on a plane this Monday. Is there anybody who doesn’t love these books? Connelly seems to be easing Bosh towards retirement or a dramatic death, and while I’m eager to see how it all ends I despair at the notion of a fictional Los Angeles without Harry Bosch solving crimes in it.
Looking forward to 2015: I’m currently reading four books that I hope to finish in January or February:
Daniel J. Levitin’s Thinking Straight in the Age of Information Overload.
Susan L. Smalley and Diana Winston’s Fully Present: The Science, Art, and Practice of Mindfulness.
(After I finish these two, I’m ambitious to dive into Daniel Goleman’s new Focus, which seems to be along similar lines to both of these.)
James H. Carrott and Brian David Johnson’s Vintage Tomorrows: A Historian And A Futurist Journey Through Steampunk Into The Future of Technology.
And although I haven’t read it, I picked up Lamentation, the sixth Matthew Shardlake novel by C.J. Sansom in London. If you want murder mysteries set in the same time as Hilary Mantel’s Thomas Cromwell books, don’t miss this excellent series.
Any must-reads for the coming year? Please share in comments below…
I first smacked my forehead (ouch!) against a wall of decision fatigue when I was the Editor in Chief of iMedia Connection (a daily trade journal covering a different collision between marketing and technology). The best part of editing involves coaxing order from mess, making points pointier and helping writers to say what they want to say. The part that makes the days long is having to make a lot of decisions that matter in the moment but not in the long run: yes, let’s run with that one, the other one, and, oh wait, did that thing we’ve been waiting for come in? Editing — like management — is an endless series of arbitrary decisions, but somebody’s gotta pick and that’s the EIC.
I wouldn’t feel my decision fatigue until lunch. If we were heading out for a group lunch, the editorial staff would look to me. “You’re the boss, so where do you want to go for lunch?” Something in my hungry stomach would sink and I’d chose a place. Eventually, I changed my response. “I’m happy to pay for lunch, but I’ve made dozens of decisions already today.” I’d then point at one of the editors. “You pick the place. Nobody is allowed to complain.”
That was years ago, and in the interim — even though I’m no longer in that job — the scope and number of decisions I have to make each day has grown. Email vexes me in particular: do I check it when I first wake up? If I do, then I risk falling down a rabbit hole for the rest of the day. If I don’t, then I might miss something important. On top of that, the number of things bleeping at me, vibrating and waving their electronic hands like importunate fifth graders who know the answer to a question, keeps increasing year after year. I joined Ello because I was curious, for example, but now it’s another damned thing to check.
Greg McKeown’s remarkable book Essentialism helped me to recognize some of this and to intervene in my own behavior, but with smart phones breaking down all barriers our environment no longer does the work it used to do to help us know who we are at a given moment and what we’re supposed to be doing or not doing.
It’s not just me.
For the past dozen years or more I’ve been reading books tracing the same picture: life is getting evermore complicated. And, even though the human brain is the most sophisticated and powerful comprehension machine in the world, we just can’t keep up with the onslaught of information coming from new gadgets, screens, media and the increase in chatter from the old ones like radio, TV, books and the like. These are books with titles like Chaos, Frontiers of Complexity, Think Twice: Thin Ice, but also other books like Mistakes Were Made (But Not By Me), Predictably Irrational, and Thinking Fast and Slow.
Like the old saying about how people complain about the weather but nobody does anything about it, most of these books were of the point and exclaim variety rather than being helpful. “Look at how irrational we are!” “Look at how things appear chaotic but actually have hidden patterns of order!” “Look at how you can never make a smart decision, but don’t give up!”
On the other side of the bookstore (when I can find one), the self-help books don’t help much. They’re too involved in a method to which I must enslave myself before seeing any benefit. I can Get Things Done, but only if I start managing endless lists that suck up a ton of time. I can Hack my Life (yuck) but that involves having a gadget or twist tie for everything. Often, when I read these books I feel like I’ve just shelled out twenty bucks for a commercial for the author’s consultancy.
All this is why I’m excited by Atul Gawande’s 2010 book, “The Checklist Manifesto: How to Get Things Right,” which I read in a day. Gawande is a globetrotting Harvard Medical School surgeon who works with the World Health Organization and writes for the New Yorker.
Gawande is intimidatingly smart and eloquent with an eye for evocative detail, but he didn’t write a book about himself. Instead, it’s a passionate defense of the simple checklist as a tool for embracing and mastering the complicated tasks in front of us day to day.
Wait, didn’t I just backhand David Allen’s list-oriented Getting Things Done approach a few paragraphs ago? (Answer: yes.) How is Gawande different?
First, The Checklist Manifesto isn’t a self-help book. It doesn’t have a handy appendix that helps you to create your own list, nor does it advertise how there are other books in the series that you can buy, or how you can hire Gawande as an efficiency expert to make your business run better (you can’t, although my sense of the author is that he would probably come up with a referral for you if you asked).
Second and more importantly, The Checklist Manifesto isn’t about self-help at all. It’s not about individuals doing things, it’s about how groups of people working together can work together better, and how empowering the group is more important than empowering an individual… even if the individual is the boss, like a surgeon, editor or CEO.
This is different than crowd-sourcing (another raft of books I’ve read in recent years) where trusting to the mass can reveal information uncloaked by individual or observer bias.
Instead, this is about teams working in environments of massively overlapping subspecialization. We have lots of technologies that help us to track and manage the what of collaboration, but surprisingly few to help us with the who.
That’s where the checklist comes in.
Here’s an example that Gawande articulates from skyscraper construction when he talks with a man named Finn O’Sullivan about two lists in O’Sullivan’s field office. The first list is the microscopically detailed construction schedule:
But the list on O’Sullivan’s other wall revealed an entirely different philosophy about power and what should happen to it when you’re confronted with complex, nonroutine problems– such as what to do when a difficult, potentially dangerous, and unanticipated anomaly suddenly appears on the fourteenth floor of a thirty-two-story skyscraper under construction. The philosophy is that you push the power of decision making out to the periphery and away from the center. You give people the room to adapt, based on their experience and expertise. All you ask is that they talk to one another and take responsibility. That is what works. (pages 72 to 73)
Gawande’s vision of the checklist isn’t merely another device (albeit a simple one) to outsource our increasing cognitive burden somewhere else. Instead, The Checklist Manifesto puts that device into the moments where tasks move from one person to another. It puts interaction at the heart of a project, not at the periphery.
For anybody working as a member of a team (and this pretty much means everybody), managing a group or leading a company, The Checklist Manifesto will help you to rethink how to collaborate to enhance the work at hand and avoid avoidable mistakes.
It’s also a spritely read with terrific stories.
My latest Medium post — “Future Tweets: Amazon knocks out Ticketmaster” just went live on Medium. Here are the first few paragraphs:
After my eight year old son accidentally set the clock on my computer forward things got weird on Twitter. Tweets had the time signature from 2019 complete with links, but when I clicked they didn’t go anywhere.
One caught my eye immediately:
“Amazon knocks out Ticketmaster. Longtime entertainment company files Chapter 11.”
Could this Future Tweet be true? Some quick searching proved that my computer was indeed having problems, as Ticketmaster is still in business. But the more I thought about it, the more logical it sounded.
I just uploaded a new piece to Medium.com about how the airline industry can practice innovation through simplification.
Here’s how a savvy airline can disrupt the rest of the industry: create a secondary market in airline tickets that allows customers to buy and sell tickets to each other with no fees.
Need to change a flight? You’d simply log onto the airline’s website and click either the “change your trip” option (the current model) or the new “sell your ticket” option and crowdsource finding a buyer for the ticket you can’t use.
Technologically speaking this is trivial. eBay or Amazon or CraigsList could handle it easily, as could Travelocity or Kayak or Priceline.
Just uploaded my first post on Medium, the new publication platform:
“’Bossypants’ as startup bible.”