Proceed Until Apprehended

Erring on the side of caution is really bad advice.

Erring on the side of caution is a vote for the status quo. It says, “Let’s keep this really simple and round the corners off of it. That way, the potential failure will be minimized.”

Everyone sleeps well the night before the launch. After, I can envision smug and knowing smiles as “disaster” is averted. Nothing really changes and no-one looks bad… unless you step back. From there, you can see that avoiding failure cost you the opportunity to make something valuable happen.

An example:

There’s a theory that goes something like this:

• employees have great ideas
• our system doesn’t allow them to invest in or launch those ideas
• if our employees had resources and corporate support, these ideas would flourish
• we need some sort of “outside of the system” system that TOTALLY supports our employees
• some of the ideas will be stinkers, so we’ll need a way to identify the good ones before we take them too far. We don’t want to waste money/look bad/prove the naysayers right/give our bosses a reason to say no.

Do you see a flaw? The “safe” resolution to our innovation need is to keep the paradigm but change the forms. We’ve decided to institute a new and improved Bureau of Idea Approval. We’re exchanging one form of vetting for another.

Well, here’s some surprising news. We have enough vetting in our organizations to kill excellent projects already. It’s layered so thick, you could take out every official “sign off” process in your organization and you STILL wouldn’t get ideas. There’s a culture of safety and maintenance that goes well past the policy and procedures manual.

Building a process that remotely acknowledges that there might be bad ideas is a mistake. Trust me, stuff that won’t work will get caught. You don’t have to design more roadblocks.

Don’t believe me? Here’s a test: If your boss announced a prize for the biggest mistake, would you still be cautious?

When we get a huge stinker out of the gates, that’s when we’ll know we’ve had some success.

This has been a year of tremendous personal growth for me.  A real highlight was my discovery that I had things I wanted to say and a desire to be a part of a conversation about what’s next. Not just part of the conversation, actually, but I realized I wanted to be a participant in making the future.

This may not seem like much, especially with the ubiquity of blogging and other social media tools. Everybody has a voice and can use it. I had to make my own personal journey to determine that I was going to step beyond “lurking.” To my great surprise, you and other readers have been willing to bless me with your attention, your insight and your passion.

Wow. Just wow.

I hope you enjoy the holiday season. I can’t wait to do more of this.

Hungry People gave me an early Christmas gift. They interviewed me and put it up for their audience to see. It’s kinda neat, getting a little attention. I’d much rather have a conversation with someone than just yell into the town square.

By the way, I see big things coming for Hungry People. They are creating conversations and content that’s worth reading. Chief Storytelling Officer Jay Jaboneta is proving that this game can be had with a plan and a work ethic.

this joker is actually learning more than his classmates about solving tomorrow’s problem.

Unfortunately, class doesn’t necessarily encourage creativity, challenging conventions and proceeding despite the snickers. You have to study it on your own.

A recent Bad Astronomy post helps put some perspective around a pretty fascinating Hubble telescope image.

It’s clear that we’re an infinitessimal speck in this universe. BA’s blogger Phil Plait points out that this zoom shot is a really narrow sliver of the night sky. There are 30 million more possible pictures like this one, and you can bet they’re  just as full of galaxies.

If pondering the size of the universe doesn’t do it for you, visit this Nick Vujicic video.

With a timely and more than adequate perspective smack, I now go back to my day.

Try this with me. Use both your index finger and your middle finger to point with both hands. Tilt your head slightly forward, place your newly formed pointers at your temples and try and turn on your screensaver. Sometimes it takes up to five minutes, but you’ll get it. I promise.

If that’s not your cup of tea, try this: By simply using your free will, you can alter the behaviour of others.

This is sci-fi, mind-bending stuff, but I need you to bear with me. By simply deciding what you’re going to do (and not do), you can influence the way others act.

Here’s an example. I decided not to be so beholden to email. Actually, I decided not to allow my day to be dictated by all members of the interruption family – walk-in requests, phone calls and voicemails, emails, the day’s media stories… I made a conscious choice to work on the most important things, not the last thing.

I still deal with all the “incoming,” but I do it on my schedule. That means twice a day email checks, all phone calls screened, polite requests to reschedule if an interruption is inconvenient and I disregard local media.

You know what happened?

Nothing.

Well actually, better than nothing. Colleagues quit sending me urgent stuff. I quit being so quick to respond to what I saw as distractions and I received less of them.

How did that happen, you say? Well, this is where the paranormal piece is strongest. I don’t really know what caused it. I don’t think it was a conscious utility decision by my colleagues (Danielson won’t help, keep him off the list). I think it was that, over time, I was no longer considered the guy who just gets stuff done. At some point, I stopped being top of mind for panic situations. I quit being an enabler of urgency addiction.

Maybe another example makes it clearer. I like to ride my bike to work. I’m a die-hard commuter during the months we’re not covered in snow. When I first started biking, I was a timid, apologetic cyclist, using the roadway when I wasn’t being an obstruction for vehicles. I’d squeeze over to the right side, as far as I could without falling onto the curb and make myself small when a vehicle skimmed past. And vehicles came real close. Drivers saw that I was offering the lane and they took it. It was their lane after all, I was just an interloper.

Now, though, I’ve decided my bike is a vehicle. it’s MY LANE to do with as I please. I’m right out in the middle of it, and if a driver doesn’t like it, well, they can not like it. It’s now a rare occurrence that a vehicle doesn’t give me a wide berth.

You could say I’m moving three tons of glass and metal with my mind. Pretty impressive, huh?

I tend to think of my bike actions as “signaling.” The behaviours I consciously exhibit (and remain steadfastly committed to) create a constant that others simply choose to work around. In a way, I’m counting on the smaller commitment of others. They may desire to move/operate/function in a certain way, but it’s not worth their time to argue with the obstinate guy.

Of course, I don’t think I’m obstinate. I think I’m passionate, and committed, and thoughtful. Sometimes it’s hard because I feel like other’s eyes are boring into me either at the office or on the road, but that’s actually my baggage. I can definitely influence that.