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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.

Asking for advice is a good thing.

But to make sure it’s useful, we should run the advice we receive through a few filters before acting on it.

One of those filters is the Lottery Test: is the advice genuinely helpful, or is it just the numbers on someone else’s winning lottery ticket?

The recipe for success for one person is rarely the same for another; the probability of the same numbers coming up twice is infinitesimally small.

The advice giver’s life, and that of our own, are unique concoctions of talent, circumstance, privilege, bias, determination, habits, support networks, belief, and luck.

So if someone gives you a 3-point plan and is adamant that it’ll work for you because it worked for them, beware of that advice.

It’s good to seek advice, but don’t bet the farm using someone else’s winning numbers.

H/T Naval Ravikant

“I resolve to be the person in the room that’s hardest to offend.”

What would happen if we adopted this attitude in our personal and professional lives?

Would we be better listeners? Seeking to understand, rather than defend.

More gracious? Opting first to trust, rather than assume bad intent.

Calmer? Composed, rather than anxious.

Confronting and working through challenging problems in the home and workplace isn’t easy. We often need to peel back the layers and examine what went wrong, and what we need to do to fix the situation.

Approaching these moments, not just trying, but resolving, to be the person in the room that’s hardest to offend, is a secret superpower.

‘All You Can Eat’ seems like a good deal at first.

For a fixed price, you get an unlimited quantity of the thing being sold.

But you can’t eat all the food at the buffet, nor can you use the gym 24/7, and you certainly can’t demand the consultant or agency to work outside the hours or terms of the retainer agreement.

When the seller faces the unavoidable trade-off between price, speed, and quality, and you’re the one paying the fixed fee, you can bet that quality or speed of service will suffer.

For companies with ‘All You Can Eat’ Business models, it’s helpful to question the value exchange before purchasing.

I’ve recently found myself including a simple, “Have fun,” in the odd note to friends and family.

Cards for those going on paternity / maternity leave.

Whatsapp messages to those with upcoming job interviews.

And in gifts for the holiday season.

And why not?

We’re often at our best when we’re having fun.

There is little downside to being reminded of that.

Balance is a buzz word. Its overuse has made it a trite conversational addition in the workplace.

Balance implies there’s an end state, a destination, and a world in which things usually go to plan.

But this isn’t true.

Life is chaos.

The moment we feel we’ve got things under control, there’s another Hydra rearing its head.

But perhaps satisfaction can be found in continuous balancing, rather than achieving a state of balance.

Much like riding a bike, we’re stable when we’re moving forward; constantly tweaking and adjusting our position. But arrive at a traffic light and it’s suddenly hard to maintain your balance without putting your feet down.

What would happen if we shifted our focus from trying to reach a state of balance, and instead tried to do small things each day to stay on the bike and keep moving?

There is currently much commotion about Transport for London’s refusal to extend Uber’s taxi licence due to ongoing safety concerns. Specifically, unauthorised drivers were using the accounts of authorised drivers to complete trips; this happened more than 14,000 times.

If this decision is upheld, it will have huge implications for Uber and Londoners.

London is Uber’s most profitable European city, and Londoners depend on Uber to shelter them from the eye-watering prices of the Black Cabs.

Sure, Transport for London has justified concerns about commuter safety, but they also need Uber. Ride-sharing is a key part of the plan to reduce emissions in the capital. Entire programmes, like the introduction of the Ultra Low Emissions Zone, work towards encouraging more ride-sharing.

Uber’s shortcomings, in this instance, are substantial, but I make a prediction: Uber will be fine. They’ll commit to improving their safety procedures, and their London licence will be extended. There won’t be a day without Uber drivers on the roads.

P.S. Part of the fun of daily blogging is making public predictions, watching the world unfold, and then reflecting on them. Uber has 21 days to appeal Transport for London’s decision, so I’ll report back when there’s an answer!