Dan's Daily

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.

I recently went for my dental check-up, and I don’t know about you, but I remember my dental appointments vividly.

It may be only 30 minute for them, but the experience sticks with me for a long time.

So if they’re having a bad day, and are a little flustered or rude, there’s a high likelihood I won’t forget it.

We all have moments when we’re responsible for making or breaking someone else’s day.

We could be serving them at a restaurant, answering their customer service query, interviewing them for a job, or treating them for an injury. At some point, we’ll find ourselves in a situation where the way we treat others—for better or worse—will stick with them for a long time.

Choose wisely.

Full disclosure: I used to want to work for McKinsey. I interviewed with them in 2013 and made a maths error in the final 5 mins of my final round. Some mistakes are good in hindsight.

The global management consulting firm, McKinsey & Company, paid a settlement of $573 million to 47 US states because of advice it gave to drug makers.

McKinsey advised these companies on how to increase their sales of the opioid pain medication, OxyContin.

Some facts sickened me. For example, in a 2017 slide deck, McKinsey analysed and estimated the number of people that would likely overdose due to the increase in sales. Essentially a cost-benefit analysis on overdosing; prioritising profit over well-being and human decency.

This story reminded me immediately of the McKinsey careers presentation I sat in on almost 10 years ago. A partner of the firm was asked by one of my university colleagues what was his favourite project. The partner proceeded to talk about a complex slot machine optimisation project for Las Vegas casinos.

It left me with a sinking feeling in my gut.

The New York Times reports the OxyContin epidemic has caused over 450,000 deaths over the past two decades. McKinsey, along with drug makers, has blood on their hands.

McKinsey makes about 10 billion in revenue each year. A $573 million settlement equates to a little less than 6% of revenues. I don’t know their exact profit margin, but I do know McKinsey will still make a very healthy profit this year.

This settlement is a wrist slap. It will hurt a little, and it may sting for a while yet, but I worry the flesh inside the beast is still rotten.

I know this post is a weird one, but I’ve shared this foolproof method for heating up delivery pizza with 4-5 people now, and 1) no one had heard of it before, 2) they were all keen to try it, and 3) it really works!

So I thought you may find it useful too. Here it is:

1. Turn your oven to 200C or 390F
2. Put your delivery pizza in for 2 mins; and 2 mins only
3. Voila!

The daily learning doesn’t always need to be insightful, novel, or complex. As long as it is useful, it can be worth sharing.

As part of Maru’s Masters in Service Design, she’s working on a project with Camden Council to help limit the impact of extensive construction in London’s Euston area.

One of their ideas is to fill construction hoardings—which are the large, boarded fences keeping people out of construction sites—with artwork to help the local area feel more lively, and less like a construction site.

These artworks would form meanwhile spaces—which are unused sites temporarily lent to the public sector, arts organisations, charities, or start-ups for community-oriented activities.

A big part of her programme is prototyping and experimentation. So her group decided to make their own origami art pieces and place them on construction hoardings in the Camden area to gauge the reactions from local residents.

We spent Sunday evening folding our origami, and set out early Monday morning to put up our little creation. Our fingers were frozen stiff, and we worked quickly—perhaps a little afraid of the peering eyes of the nearby construction workers.

Soon after we finished, we heard a mother and son walking past and the son asking if they could pause and take a photo of all the bright colours. Success!

When a concept alone is insufficient, or the bells-and-whistles solution isn’t possible, sometimes you just have to prototype and do it yourself.

Today is my Dad’s birthday, and it’s a big one. One of those with a zero at the end.

Milestone birthdays like this always inspire a little more reflection than normal.

When I think back over the years, it’s Dad’s consistency in the little things that stand out—particularly in the way he treats and cares for others.

He never missed a sports game, music show, or theatre performance.

Every Saturday, for as long as I can remember, he has cooked the family breakfast.

He always made sure we tidied the house before mum got home, because that helped her relax after a long day.

And to this day, whenever I call him, he always greets me with a cheesy grin and a “Hey Buddy.” And his words have only ever served to build me up; never to tear me down.

I’m beyond lucky to have him.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

The small city of Cesena in Italy is not usually on the touring radar of the world’s biggest bands. With a population of only 100,000 people, its residents usually have to travel to Milan, Rome, or nearby Bologna for a show.

However, that changed in 2015 when more than 1,000 people from Cesena gathered in a park to play the Foo Fighter’s song ‘Learn to Fly’. The huge coordination effort and well executed music video was a petition to the Foo Fighters to come and play a show in their city.

The Foo Fighters responded with a show in Cesena in that same year.

The Cesena video now has more than 55 million views on YouTube, and is an amazing example of what a group of passionate people can do with the power and scale of the internet.

When Ancient Rome established the Roman numerals, they became the standard method of numerical communication in Europe for 1,500 years.

It wasn’t until the 15th Century that Europe began to adopt and use the Hindi-Arabic numbers we all know and use today. The base-ten (decimal) system is highly logical and structured, and allows for faster and more complex calculations than the Roman kind.

I had three reflections on this:

1. I had no idea the numbers we use today were of Hindu-Arabic origin. Early versions were developed in India, and following Islamic incursions into Northern India, the Arabs adopted the numerals in the the 8th Century and were responsible for their rapid propagation, including to Spain.
2. I’ve taken the numbers we use today for granted. It’s easy to assume they’ve always existed in their current form, but they’ve been on an arduous journey over millennia to get to where they are today.
3. It was amazing to learn how te Hindu-Arabic numbers have only been in Europe for a relative short period of time! Despite being the main numerical system for the past 500 years, the Roman system was the dominate set for more than 3x this length.

Our plans to make things better don’t need to be complicated. We should:

1. List out the problems
2. Rank them in order of importance
3. Knock them off one-by-one

It’s usually easier to overcomplicate than it is to keep things simple.

This is a lesson I remind myself of over and over again.

Encourage the dissenter.

Embrace the heretic.

Make space for the contrarian.

It’s these people that spot the gaps in the plan. It’s these people that have the courage to speak up about what’s not working. It’s these people that anticipate the storm ahead.

Don’t shun or rebuke them. Instead, create a safe space for them to speak up, and let them loose on your toughest problems.

When working on complex problems, it’s easy to hide a lack of knowledge or understanding. All you need to do is talk using vague and abstract terms, and avoid specifics.

The true test of someone’s understanding of a subject is their ability to 1) make an assertion, and 2) provide a simple and accurate example.

This applies across any area or discipline.

I’m going to use a facetious example of a lemonade stand to illustrate the point.

Customer research

Bad: Our customers love our lemonade. We’ve got a great reputation in the neighbourhood.

Good: Our customers love our lemonade. We know this because we interviewed 20 recent customers, and 15 of them said they’d recommend us to a friend.

Designing experiences

Bad: We should start a loyalty programme. Everyone loves those.

Good: We should start a loyalty programme. 80% of our customers are weekly buyers, and we could run a buy-5-get-1-free experiment to see if they end up buying more over time.

Disagreeing on ways of working

Bad: Our team is dysfunctional. Even after 2 months of trying different things, we still can’t work well together.

Good: Our team is dysfunctional. 2 months ago, the lemonade makers and lemonade sellers met to identify why we were missing orders. We agreed to implement a checklist system so no orders would be missed, but the lemonade makers haven’t been following the process for the past month.

Reporting financial results.

Bad: Our lemonade stand’s profits increased this week, and we’re doing well on costs.

Good: Our lemonade stand’s profits increased by $10 this week (a 10% improvement on last week), because we renegotiated our lemon supply contract from $0.40 per lemon to $0.30.

Of course, this lemonade stand example is silly, but keep your eyes peeled, and you’ll find examples of this lack of knowledge and understanding all around you.

To truly understand something, and to have greater impact in our work, force yourself to include an example.