Archives for 2019

In our team room, I put up this poster that details 24 cognitive biases that can stuff up your thinking. It’s a fun resource that has sparked laughter and interesting conversations among our team.

It also serves as a helpful safety check for decision making.

Although we try to be objective, us humans naturally take shortcuts.

For day-to-day decisions, shortcuts are helpful. For example, it’d be crazy to perform a cost-benefit analysis on which type of milk to buy each time we find ourselves at the supermarket.

However, for complex decisions, shortcuts in the form of cognitive biases can lead us dangerously astray.

One example is Confirmation Bias, which is when we seek out data that proves our existing beliefs, and ignore information that disproves our world view.

By creating a playful atmosphere to learn about cognitive biases, we give ourselves and our teams a licence to call out when they crop up in our daily work.

Jeff Bezos learnt a profound lesson about kindness when he was 10 years old.

Jeff’s grandmother was a smoker, and having recently heard how many minutes a single cigarette shaved off one’s life, he calculated she’d lost 9 years due to smoking.

Proud of his quick mental maths, he told her, but was surprised when she burst into tears.

His grandfather pulled him aside and said, “Jeff, one day you’ll understand that it’s harder to be kind than clever.”

This story helps me reflect on the teachers, friends, family, and managers who’ve been gracious when I missed the point or made a mistake. They opted for kindness when lauding their cleverness over me was the easy option. I’m a better person due to their patience and coaching.

Of course logic, facts, and figures will always be welcome, but it’s helpful to remember we’re all just humans seeking the same kindness, respect, and support from each other.

Every time author, Bob Goff, catches a flight, he buys a big bag of M&Ms and gives them to the flight staff.

He’s not expecting anything in return, or special treatment of any kind, but he swears the mood on each flight is measurably lighter than without the M&Ms.

Of course, M&Ms don’t have superpowers. But thoughtful and unexpected gestures of gratitude do have the power to change the mood of a flight, home, team, or workplace.

My part-time jobs were immensely valuable.

I never earned much, but they taught me about what kind of work I wanted to do, and what kind to stay away from.

One of the weirder jobs I had in my first year of University was being a Singing Telegram.

Here’s how it worked.

I’d get an email from my boss with the following things:

1. A location and time,
2. A short description of my costume (to be picked up from a hire store), and
3. Some personal and funny details (including favourite songs) about the recipient of the Singing Telegram

After receiving this email, I’d have 2-3 days to pick one of their favourite songs, re-write it to include funny details about them, turn up at a party in costume, and surprise serenade them.

Those who bought Singing Telegrams were almost always co-workers farewelling a colleague, or a maid-of-honour organising a bridal shower.

I still remember turning up to bridesmaids’ dinner at an Auckland restaurant dressed in a chicken costume and singing a horrid remake of ‘Hey Jude’.

But the magic it didn’t last long.

I was paid by the job, so some napkin maths quickly revealed I was only making $6 an hour for a service comprised of personalised song writing, extensive travel, and sonic delivery. For reference, this was $3 below minimum wage.

Regardless, I’m so grateful I had this experience. I got to be creative each week, I got comfortable with regularly facing fear and stage fright, and I found my resolve to pursue a career of high leverage; which is doing work with the aim of impacting a large number of people.

I’ve got a bank of other weird part-time job stories, like being a perfume salesman for Chanel, but that’s for another time.

I hope this post helps you reflect on, and perhaps laugh about, the weird part-time jobs you had before you levelled up to “real life”.

Back in October, I posted about how we’re growing an oak tree in our home.

At the time, Carlos (that’s his name) was an acorn with a tiny sprouting taproot.

Two months later, and he’s made insane progress.

In fact, his growth has been so rapid there have been days where we’ve measurably seen his roots extending and leaves budding.

Despite this progress, if he were to be planted outside in his current state, he’d be eaten in a hot second by a squirrel or mouse.

He is immensely vulnerable, but has all the potential to be something enduring and strong one day.

Perhaps the reason why I like Carlos so much is the metaphor the acorn and the oaktree represent for our own lives, learning, and growth.

Finally, here’s a small collage of the journey he’s been on over the past 2 months.

If a car in dense traffic slows down, it causes the car behind it to slow down even more. This leads to a ripple effect that spreads backward through a lane of traffic.

This is called a phantom jam. No accident or roadworks caused it, but its impact can be felt for up to an hour.

The physics of a traffic jam are easy to understand. We’ve all likely been in one, and can imagine how one car can impact others down the line.

However, the phantom jams in our places of work are harder to see; but they do exist.

Sales may overpromise. Technology may fail. Operations may miss a key process.

An imperceptible delay or mistake by one team can prevent another from playing their part.

Although we can’t prevent jams from happening, we can leave home a little earlier, or start that project a little sooner, in an attempt to avoid the jam altogether.

My favourite way to commute around London is at the top of a red double decker bus.

I still get excited to sit at the front and admire London’s heritage buildings and tree-lined streets from the wide windscreen.

Whichever city you’re waking up in today, there is something about your commute to be grateful for.

That short walk to the bus stop, the carpool lane to skip the jam, the mini heaters placed on train station ceilings, or maybe that podcast that has you laughing the whole way to work.

There’s always something.

We spend a lot of time commuting, so it’s mostly put into the ‘dull’ and ‘uneventful’ category. However, it’s a good habit to think kindly of it every now and then. After all, our commutes allow us to earn, live, and contribute.

There is a crossfade feature in music players like Spotify and Apple Music. This is where the final seconds of the finishing song are blended with the first seconds of the queued one; supposedly creating a smooth transition.

I was excited to try this feature when it first came out, but it quickly frustrated me. And it took me about a week to figure out why.

When I was young, a piano teacher helped me understand that music is largely the creation and resolution of tension. For example, a minor chord can feel uncomfortable to the listener, but all feels right again when the song returns home to the root major chord.

When the crossfade happens, we miss the resolution.

However, the song feels complete when we get to hear the ending the artist intended.

The same is also true for the art we make, the projects we lead, the stories we tell, and the music we play. They deserve resolutions, yet they’re so easily drowned out by the next idea off the rank; we barely finish one project before picking up the next.

We don’t need to hurry right away to the next thing. There is joy to be found in eliminating the crossfade.

I was heating up soup in the microwave earlier this week; something I’ve done hundreds of times.

As I took the container out of the microwave, a piercing jet of steam escaped from underneath its plastic lid, setting off a chain reaction.

The steam scorched my hand, forcing me to drop the boiling soup. The container bounced off the edge of the kitchen counter, hit the floor, and sent its contents everywhere.

I’m sure the laws of physics were broken that day, as I couldn’t figure out how that much French Onion soup could end up on our ceiling.

I slumped to the floor, dejected that I’d lost our dinner, and frustrated at the mess I’d created.

At this point, Maru came running in.

After making sure I wasn’t burning alive, she immediately started to make me feel better with jokes about how our ceiling had never looked so good.

We spent the next 20 minutes wiping down every surface of our kitchen, and I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the way she responded.

She was patience personified.

We’re all human, and part of the deal of being human is we’re destined to mess up, in countless ways, for the rest of our lives. But the journey is made easier when those around us are gracious and gentle through those times.

She left breadcrumbs in the forest for me that day, ones that I hope I can follow in the future.

Have you ever looked at a piece of clothing and seen the letters ‘YKK’ printed on the zipper?

If you haven’t, you’ll now start seeing it everywhere.

Originally from Japan, YKK is a zipper company responsible for a staggering 50% of global zipper sales.

So how’d they get there?

Well, if a zipper fails on, say, a pair of jeans, the buyer blames the brand, not the zipper manufacturer.

Respected designers can’t afford to let a zipper ruin their reputation, especially when that item is produced by someone else.

In markets for cheaper goods, like zippers, it’s easy for companies to participate in a race to the bottom, with ever cheaper and poorer quality products.

YKK, on the other hand, took a different approach. Instead of following others with increased outsourcing, constant cost cutting, and ever reducing quality standards, it brought everything in-house.

It smelts its own brass, produces its own polyester, spins and twists its own thread, weaves and dyes its own cloth, and molds its own zipper teeth.

By doing everything itself, it ensures quality.

The ironic thing is YKK plays only a small role in each garment, but by doing that one job well billions of times, it has earned the unparalleled trust of designers and brands around the world.

It’s a classic example of being faithful with the small in order to be trusted with much greater responsibility.

A lesson applicable in business, and in life.

One of the primary advantages of a young company is the ability to move fast.

Unencumbered by the governance processes of more mature firms, these companies can get a product to market in record time.

If that product is loved by customers, and makes money, the company has a shot at survival. This is generally called Product/Market Fit.

However, there is a fine line between moving fast and committing a dangerous error: falling prey to knee-jerk reactions.

Knee-jerk reactions are decisions made with little consideration and based on scant data.

These decisions are often driven by fear, rather than logic. Emotional, rather than rational.

They are changes made for changes sake; equating movement with progress.

Moving fast as a default rhythm is a good thing, but knowing when we’re at risk of making knee-jerk decisions can be the difference between the success and failure our projects and companies.

Every year, around this time, Spotify makes my day.

Each user gets a personalised summary of the music they’ve listened to during the year, culminating in a playlist of their Top 100 most played songs.

Another excellent feature is the resurfacing of Top 100 playlists from previous years. For me, it’s like jumping in a time machine and going back to moods, places, and moments when particular songs played a big part in my life.

In product design, these are examples of ‘Delight’ features. They are cherry-on-top moments that give your product soul, rather than part of the core experience.

And this got me thinking.

At the time of posting, Spotify has 50 million hours of music in its library. That’s 70 human lifetimes’ worth; which is hard to fathom.

But Spotify isn’t selling quantity, it’s selling possibility.

Whatever song you want, you’ll find it there. And based on what you listen to, it’ll help you discover new artists. And at the end of the year, you get a hit of nostalgia that you didn’t know you needed.

Products are made in the small moments.

P.S. Here’s my playlist for the year. Feel free to share yours with me!

For the past 158 years, Timothy Taylor’s Beer has banned coffee from their brewing room.

Apparently, the smell and taste of the brown stuff messes with the palates of their brewers.

And given the average hit rate of coffee drinkers in the workplace, this is no small deal.

These brewers have agreed to a social contract: to abstain from coffee, because it allows them to do their best work.

This example raises a question for us: what price are we willing to pay to do our best work?

H/T Timothy Taylor’s quirky London Underground Tube ads for inspiring this post

We’ve all had those days.

We may have missed the alarm, overslept, and arrived late. Or perhaps we forgot the keys or the umbrella. Or maybe we didn’t think the traffic would be that bad.

Any number of small things can put us on the back foot; where we’re playing catch up for the rest of the day.

When faced with these situations, instead of ploughing on, it can be helpful to take a moment to reset.

A short walk, deep breaths, and acceptance for what has been, can help steel our resolve for what we still have to face.

Being on the back foot can be a short term affair.

I’ve previously written about the power of great questions.

And so when I came across Really Good Questions, which is a curated repository of the best questions (and answers) on Twitter, I thought it’d be nice to share the love.

On Really Good Questions you can explore crowdsourced answers to questions like:

• What’s the most beautiful book you’ve ever read?
• What’s an overlooked subject everyone should know more about?
• What’s one question that’s useful to ask yourself from time to time?
• What’s the kindest thing a stranger has ever done for you?
• What are some non-obvious habits that can change your life?

If any of those questions pique your interest, then settle into an armchair and prepare yourself for some inspiring ideas.

This is one of those “I love the internet,” moments when the side-projects of others make the online world a fun place to inhabit.