On
13 January 2009 tagged Business, Design, TILTHW, Work
In this series, I’m exploring some of the stories I find myself coming back to for reminders. I call them Things I Learned the Hard Way.
At heart, I’m a designer, and designers care passionately about making sure the details are right. If you spent any time in an art-related education, you’ve experienced critique sessions. For the uninitiated, a critique is when you put your hard work on a wall in front of your teacher and peers, and they all rip the living shit out of it.
Critique sessions are rarely about suggesting solutions. In fact, to suggest alternatives would be insulting. It’d be like someone telling Picasso to make all those brush strokes blend in more. Sure, it happens, but it’s not the point. A lot of the criticism in these sessions boils down to “this isn’t working for me. Push harder.”
That’s why most designers make awful team members. It’s why, when the biz dev guy says “this is how our startup is going to make money,” our first inclination is to tear down the idea. We’re in critique mode and that’s just what you do.
If your organization is comprised of people with exceptionally thick skins, this can lead to great products. But most teams are not, and it leads to hurt feelings or worse. In many cases, the designer is seen as a negative blocker, and excluded from the decision making process (which, of course, leads to alienation and attrition).
What team members have to know is that this is just how designers think. We come up with a million ideas, and our work is a constant stream of “no that’s crap” self-messages and iteration, which leads to, hopefully, a better design.
But what designers need to understand is that nobody likes a negative blocker, and when we attack an idea, it feels personal to the guy with the idea, and invariably leads to us being left out, which is that last thing we want.
Fortunately the solution is simple: just force yourself to come up with an alternate solution.
I really learned this when I was working as a Creative Director at Technorati. The then-CEO and founder David Sifry had a great way of redirecting complaint with one simple question: “So what’s your suggestion?”
It’s fine to list all the ways an idea is bad. But you have to immediately follow it with a suggestion. For example: “I agree that we need to make money, but I’m concerned that the current proposal of implanting chips in all our users brains will be difficult to implement and lead to widespread privacy concerns. So I suggest that we instead simplify our user experience here and here which will lead to the same result without the risks.”
Then the conversation can continue on the merits of the ideas. By having two solutions on the table, it encourages others to toss in their proposals. Before you know it, you’re working with many ideas, and the winner may be some combination of the best. Vetting competing proposals is always easier than fighting just to prove something’s bad.
It’s also become a great mental exercise. When I’m tempted to write that piss-all-over-it email, I think to myself, “so what’s the solution I want to see?” If I can’t come up with one, I won’t send the email. Better to be quiet and see how things progress than to be the negative blocker guy.
(Aside to any of my former coworkers reading this: Yes, I know I’m absolutely guilty being the negative blocker guy. Sometimes the best way to learn a lesson is to do the wrong thing long enough to figure out why it doesn’t work. A guy can learn, right?)
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On
13 January 2009 tagged Links, Publishing
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Asking Google for help with print publishing is like asking a car dealer how to fix your steam engine.
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Jason Santa Maria notes that publishers should look at their website as their primary outlet, print as secondary. I largely agree, but would rather say it this way: Publishers have to go to where their readers are. Today that's the web. Tomorrow?
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Op-ed in the NY Times. "The book is like a hammer." I love that. But doesn't it imply that we're the nails?
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"eBooks" have many problems, but what to call them is hardly their biggest one.
On
12 January 2009 tagged TILTHW, Work
This is the first in a series of short stories with clear morals that I keep coming back to for reminders. I call them Things I Learned the Hard Way.
When I was in college, I ran an open mic night at the campus cafe. I’d play my songs and then invite others to do the same. Some were wonderful and some were dreadful, but they were all played with heart. (And, yes, this was absolutely a proto-Fray Day.)
My friend Jed was the Sound Guy. We had two mics and four speakers, and it was his job to make sure everyone sounded good. With acoustic guitars and cheap equipment, it was no easy task.
One night, while I was warming up the crowd, a killer brrrrrrrrrwwwp of feedback flew out of the speakers, shaking the rafters. The usual etiquette was to just play on as if nothing happened, but this one was so loud, I stopped and waited for Jed to make it stop. Some knob-fiddling and mic adjustments and we were back on track.
When the song was over and I was transitioning to the open mic portion of the evening, I wanted to assure the crowd and the upcoming performers that everything was okay, so I said something like:
“Well, if Jed’s got the sound under control,” I said, “we can move on to the open mic.” My tone was meant to be a friendly jibe, but I came like a chiding from a petulant boss.
The audience fidgeted uncomfortably. I couldn’t see Jed’s face at the back of the room, but I didn’t have to. I knew I’d fucked up.
Later Jed pulled me aside and let me know he didn’t appreciate it. All I could say was, “You’re right, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”
I learned a valuable lesson that night: Never piss off the sound guy. He’s got the power to turn off your mic, turn off your spotlight, or create a feedback loop so loud it could induce seizures. You may have the eyes of the crowd on you, but the sound guy has all the power.
This is a lesson that’s applicable to more than just college open mics. Every time a CEO criticizes a subordinate in front of others, every programmer that mocks the designer who’s trying to make their code usable, every high mucky-muck who depends on the people below to make their promises come true … they should all remember this lesson. Often, when companies fall apart, it’s because the people at the bottom, the ones actually doing the heavy lifting, have become pissed off this way.
Never, ever, piss off the sound guy.
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On
10 January 2009 tagged Event, Powazek
Just a scheduling note: I’ll be speaking at An Event Apart in Seattle on Tuesday 5 May. I’m going to dig deeper into the wisdom of crowds in virtual communities ideas I talked about at FOWD. The whole schedule looks amazing and early bird ticket prices are still available, so if you do this web thing for a living, get yours now.
On
7 January 2009 tagged Belief, Life
And it makes perfect sense to me.
The are large parts of Judaism that are about being a good person, living a good life, and helping your community. I can do all of that without believing in an old school biblical god. I choose to interpret any talk of "god" to addressing the vast unknown splendor of the universe that I know exists.
And atheists are free to be spiritual, to do good things in the world, to care. The point is to simply admit that there’s no bearded dude on a cloud listening to your prayers. There’s just you and your world. The point is to make it better because it’s there – not because some teacher in the sky is keeping score.
I see how these two schools of thought can easily coexist. If you see it, too, maybe you’re in that little overlapping area with me. If so, welcome.
Don’t worry, my rabbi said it was okay.
