Dan's Daily

Both WordPress and Feedblitz have been playing up over the past few days.

WordPress—my blog’s content management system—failed to upload a scheduled post.

And Feedblitz—my email delivery service—has, on multiple occasions, only delivered to 10% of readers.

Thanks to Salvador and Caroline for alerting me!

I had a few reflections:

1) I should set up an alert for when emails aren’t delivered so I don’t have to worry or double check. Automate and relax.

and 2) I’m really grateful when people speak up and let me know when something is amiss. Your support on this blogging journey means a lot to me!

I’m not talking about English, Spanish, or Mandarin.

I’m talking about the language woven into the way our family, friends, and teams work.

All groups have their own unique culture, vibe, and way of working. Each has their own minimum language: a set of words, terms, phrases, and ideas that you have to know to be part of the group.

In my family, we all know the Dad Jokes my Dad has told for past 20 years. We repeat frequently to give him a hard time. Understanding these jokes is part of the minimum language needed to operate in my family.

My team—now that we’re remote—run a GIF competition every week. We set a prompt, and we each post a GIF to our chat, vote for the winner, and keep a running points tally. You’d be really confused if you saw our chat thread each Thursday when it fills up with 16 GIFs. Knowing the about the competition and how it works is part of our minimum language.

Whether we like it or not, a minimum language is present any time there is a group of 2 or more people. My challenge to you is to see it as an opportunity to inject some creative hilarity into your life and work.

Dr. Seuss was set a challenge by Bennett Cerf: that he couldn’t write a book using fewer than 50 unique words.

The 50 words were: a, am, and, anywhere, are, be, boat, box, car, could, dark, do, eat, eggs, fox, goat, good, green, ham, here, house, I, if, in, let, like, may, me, mouse, not, on, or, rain, Sam, say, see, so, thank, that, the, them, there, they, train, tree, try, will, with, would, you.

Those 50 words became the famous Green Eggs and Ham. It’s been a staple for many children learning the English language since its publication in 1960.

I’ve blogged multiple times over the past year about how I’m a big fan of constraints, and how they can increase our creativity.

Green Eggs and Ham is one of the great examples of what can be produced when the constraints are embraced, rather than scorned.

The value of a business is not in its spreadsheets, financials, or conference calls.

The value of a business is in how good its product or service solves a real problem for real people.

Spend less time on the spreadsheet, and more time on making the product better.

You’re playing chess.

It’s been a long day.

You’ve lost a few pieces.

Your chances of winning are slim.

Don’t despair.

Your lost pieces are sunk costs—there’s nothing you can do about them.

Don’t look back and chastise yourself for the errors.

Simply look ahead and focus on next best move available to you.

Real life is a lot like chess—except there are more second chances.

Our lives and littered with sunk costs and dead ends.

Don’t rue them.

Accept that they exist, and figure out the next best move.

Many of you will have recently sat in a Zoom call where, at the end of the meeting, someone has outlined a set of next steps.

We’re usually pretty good at deciding what needs to be done next.

But I consistently see individuals and teams forget about defining the who, and the when.

Once we’ve got our list, we ought to assign one person to each action, and all agree on when that action ought to be completed.

It’s simple, and seems obvious, but it’s often missed. However, if performed consistently and correctly, it can be the difference between progress and inertia.

The UK has vaccinated more than 15 million people; equivalent to 22% of its population.

About 400,000 people are getting vaccinated each day. So if supply chains remain stable, and this rate of vaccinations continue, everyone in the country will be vaccinated by June.

Imagining some degree of normalcy in the second half of 2021 has lifted Maru and my spirits immensely.

Despite many bungles throughout the pandemic, the UK government’s early decision to purchase 355 million doses from 7 suppliers—a bold hedge to account for possible failure or delay—looks likely to be their redemption.

I am also conscious of how incredibly lucky I am to be living in the UK, especially when UNICEF reports 130 countries have yet to administer a single dose of the vaccine.

There is still a long way to go, but I’m grateful for good news when it comes.

I loved the recent story of how a 7 year old, upon hearing of Jeff Bezos’ decision to step down as CEO of Amazon, decided to apply for the top job himself.

He listed his leadership qualities, his creative ideas, and his commitment to making Amazon better as why he’d be good for the role.

The world doesn’t hand out opportunities, and the best ones need to be taken. But this story is a great reminder that self-belief, and a sprinkling of audacity, can go a long way.

In our age of Zoom calls and Work From Home, many of us are finding ourselves on calls with dozens of people. With this many people, and with spotty internet connections, it’s easy for our messages to get lost or misunderstood.

The more I reflect on how I work, the more I realise one of the highest impact things I can do is invest in clarity.

I try and invest until it hurts.

I look at every word and clause, and I try minimise the possibility that the person reading them—or hearing what I have to say—walks away with clarity, and not confusion.

Even with this focus and attention, I’m still no where near as clear as I’d like to be. But I know a learning journey that pays for itself in no time.

There is a reason why we don’t pay firefighters for each fire they put out.

Wrong incentives drive the wrong behaviours.

We must design incentives with great care, consideration, and foresight.

And when we get them wrong—because at some point, we will—we must correct them quickly.

As a product manager, I work with a team of software engineers, data engineers, data scientists, designers, user researchers, and content strategists.

Product managers play the co-ordination role; leading the team and product direction via influence, rather than authority.

If I believe Option A is better than Option B, I need to convince my team to buy into that option by using logic, data, and story, rather than making a unilateral decision on behalf of the team.

I recently received some feedback from a team member that in my attempt to get everyone to agree, our team would defer decisions to subsequent meetings. This was slowing us down.

They asked me to push to a decision faster, as it would give them clarity and unblock upcoming work.

So I started trialling a new habit. In each meeting, I run each decision past 2 filters:

1. Do we have enough information? Note: enough is different to perfect. You’ll never have perfect information; 70-80% is often enough.
2. Can we, or how quickly can we, reverse the decision if we’re wrong? (e.g., we can roll back an experiment if it fails)

If we have enough information, and the decision is reversible , then “Let’s decide now.”

I was little worried my team would feel uncomfortable with this new approach, but to my surprise, the benefits of clarity and forward momentum have far outweighed the cost of uncomfortable decision conversations.

When you look at the moon at night, and it’s one of those nights when the moon feels really close, and you can see on its face little circles: craters left by asteroids.

We don’t see many craters on Earth because the wind, vegetation, and the ocean eventually erase them.

If you’re a planet floating in space, it’s inevitable an asteroid will eventually hit you.

If an average asteroid hit New York City today, it would wipe out and vaporise the whole city. That’s the entire five boroughs. 18 million people.

In order to stop an astroid from destroying you, you need to do two things:

1. You need to be able to detect it
2. You need to be able to deflect it (basically flying a satellite into it and causing it to veer off course)

Want to know how much it’d cost to do these two things and eliminate the threat of an asteroid disaster?

About $500 million.

To put this in perspective, the movie Armageddon—a 1998 film about Bruce Willis and Ben Affleck stopping an asteroid from hitting earth—grossed $550 million at the box office.

So if we can easily afford to stop an asteroid from hitting earth, why haven’t we done so?

In a drastic oversimplification of game theory, political psychology, statistics, and economic theory, no one on earth has ever experienced an asteroid disaster, and when something has occurred zero times, we place a much lower probability on that thing happening. Additionally, asteroid funding is subject to the free rider dilemma: if one country pays for the programme, they bear the cost, but all other countries reap the benefits. So it disincentivizes all countries from taking that first, bold step.

To date, there is no coordinated funding for affordable asteroid destruction.

And I wonder if there ever will be.

H/T to Planet Money from NPR on the amazing podcast on this topic.

On recent snowy day in London, I found myself waiting outside the doctor’s for an appointment.

There was a small private garden on the property, so while I waited, I paced up and down the freshly fallen snow in my hiking boots.

I watched as the smooth powder layer turned into a crisscross of steps and patterns. After a while, I stopped at the side of the garden, listened to a podcast, and slowly watched my footprints begin to disappear under a new layer of snow.

It reminded me how the work we do each day to move our projects, friendships, and families forward is never complete. The world moves quickly, and a moment of inertia can undo a lot of progress.

Sometimes—but not always—progress requires us to just keep moving.

Back in 2019 I wrote about two additions to our home: a set of terrariums Maru and I made at a workshop.

I love terrariums because they’re a microcosm of our environmental ecosystem. The photosynthesis, respiration, and water cycle processes all take place within its glass walls—creating a habitable and healthy environment for the plants.

I’m pleased to say that our terrariums are still well and thriving, but when a plant’s leaves become withered, grow to the ceiling, or end up touching the sides of the terrarium, they need to be trimmed.

So today I got busy with the scissors and tweezers.

The pruning process—for both our plants and our own lives—can look and feel painful, but it’s necessary. Critically thinking about what needs to stay, and what needs to go, is what gives us the room to grow.

Setting high expectations for others often invokes the Pygmalion Effect: a psychological phenomenon where high expectations lead to better performance.

It gets it’s name from the Greek myth of Pygmalion, a sculptor who crafted a beautiful statue and then fell in love with it.

Setting high expectations, though, shouldn’t be confused with being unreasonable, harsh, or unfairly demanding on others. We can be both fair and firm in setting the quality bar for others to meet.

Deliberately set that bar higher, and who knows what you or your team could achieve.