Work, in Plain English

So why do you manage projects, anyway? Derry Simmel cuts to the chase in his article, Cargo Cult Project Management.

I love articles like this: articles that remind us to focus, not on the trappings of project management, but on the desired outcome. As with many essential truths, this applies to more than business. Before there were hundreds of models and brands of cars, there was the desire to quickly and safely get oneself and one’s stuff from Point A to Point B. Before there was House Beautiful, there was the desire to make a shelter both safe and comfortable. Before there was project management, there was a great idea that was too big or too long to be completed alone, in a single burst of energy.

In Derry’s example, a group of otherwise intelligent human beings were missing the context of the mysterious cargo that had been briefly showered upon them, seemingly from nowhere. They were missing the culture that had evolved a world view, as well as systems and values, for creating and distributing those cargoes, just as I lack the world view, as well as the systems and values, to become a Pacific Islander.

Derry reminds us, first of all, to wait, and assess a project before acting. I would add that this would be a good time to privately interpret the purpose of a project, as well as to determine how you personally plan to contribute to its success. Then, jettison wasteful “Project Management-ese”, whether it’s processes, lingo, superfluous meetings, etc.

Once you do that, you can start building the unique processes required by that unique project, and, as he reminds us, build on what is working.

Surprise! Not only do you win a more successful project management experience, you and more team are now free to discover and initiate much more creative solutions, and (shhh…) have much more fun doing it.

I am taking in a great article on my latest blog gem, The Simple Dollar. I found it while working on the redesign of another financial site that is chock full of content so inscrutable it’ll make your eyes water. This blog is subtitled, “financial talk for the rest of us”. It does keep it’s promise, and I nearly wept for joy.

It was probably relief that got me to read, Financial Success Isn’t About Who Has the Most (or Best) Stuff, because, heck—I know that. What flicked the light on for me, though, was the reminder that:

Being rich or successful is never measured in the amount of stuff you have. It’s measured in the amount of security you have and the amount of freedom you have from the worries of day to day life.

Most of the comments in response to this article were more of the “I knew that” sort. Still, if so many of us know that, why are we still expanding our expenses to the very brim of our income? The answers are complex, and include both the positives and negatives of our consumerist culture, as well as a healthy dose of personal soul searching.

Some might argue that the trappings of success are key to making you feel successful. For me at least, I rarely feel more successful than when I see my investment balances going up because of my contributions or when I see an opportunity to really make someone else’s life more successful through a helping hand delivered by my knowledge or a connection that I have.

This kind of success requires more thought, and a commitment to continuously search outside of what society, family and the media would like us to believe.

So many of us 21st Century People have to husband our money the way we once husbanded farmland. Unfortunately, most big (and popular), Happy Friendly Money Sites are filled with a quagmire of content that is the modern equivalent of swampland.

In the meantime, it’s amusing, frustrating and heartening (all at the same time) to see someone speak Money in Plain Talk. One might suspect, considering the title of my own blog, that it’s an important issue for me. After years as a communications professional, I’m ever more convinced that I’m not alone.

It only gets better with time!

My 9-year-old son and his 8-year-old buddy have worked out the meaning—or possible meanings—of the f-word. Here are their guesses:

1. Go knock your head on a brick wall
2. Money
3. Dumb
4. Shoot

It’s fun to think about what meanings children, as well as adults, consider to be “bad”, and to ask ourselves what we really mean when we say a word… and that in a few years (or less), my son and his friend will probably have the occasion to reevaluate this list.

This past week, I have been at both the giving and receiving ends of some very poor communication.

Dishing it out: I asked for backup support with a project, but neglected to mention a specific time the support would be needed. To make matters worse, no one had the mental bandwidth to reply with a clarifying question, so the email wasn’t answered until it was too late.

Being dished: After spending half a week on a project, all preliminaries were junked when the project owner mentioned requirements that should have been in the initial request.

We’re all busy. When we are the source of a request, it’s important that we either do the work of providing all key details, or clearly state what details are needed from the other person. When we’re the recipient of an unclear email, it’s up to us to ask for missing details, and to make sure we get them.

One tool I use is a quick checklist:

If you get the feeling a note (either that you’ve received or are about to send) is unclear, re-read it and jot down the questions that come to mind (they will). If you’re having trouble coming up with questions, give yourself a “who-what-where-when” kick-start: Does the message name all necessary names? Does it explain exactly what’s happening, or what’s needed? Do you need to know more about where or when? (Sure, you learned that years ago, but did you use it in your last memo?) Once you start a list like this, it’s surprisingly easy to know when you’re done.

And once you’ve jotted down those questions…

Are the questions for an email you’re sending? Answer what you can, and ask for help with the others.

Are the questions for an email you’ve received? Reply to the sender with a numbered or bulleted list of questions. Don’t glob the questions into a long paragraph, but break them out into easy-to-answer pieces.

And remember to be patient with yourself and others. We are all busy; Communication is one of those things that will never be perfect, and could always use a little improvement.

This article purposely leaves out the nuances of more complex communications, such as those that seek to inspire change or address organizational issues. If you’re looking beyond the simple project memo, see Ken Milloy’s thoughtfully assembled 11 Laws of Internal Communications.

Check out the beautiful page announcing the New York Times social network beta, MyTimes. It only displays if you haven’t already signed up, so I’ve placed a screenshot here:

I continue to admire this site for its super-clean handling of massive content. Just look at how much they manage to tell you in a single graphic which, once again, both expresses and expands the NY Times visual identity.

Birth is personal, miraculous, mundane. Mothers and fathers have been profoundly transformed by the experience of having a child as far back as human beings can remember, and yet we accomplish it with no training or even forethought.

Now consider cliques, teams, buddies, clubs, tribes, neighborhoods and nations: Community is just as fundamentally a part of our humanness, whether we connect for shared needs, shared desires or shared meaning.

I’m confident that, like birth, communities have been happening since at least the dawn of human consciousness… that they, in fact, came before self-awareness, and that to avoid community requires great effort.

Now that we are focused on it, now that we want so much to consciously create it, it has somehow become (for many) a Herculean Undertaking.

Look at what has happened to modern Western childbirth and perhaps we can find clues of pitfalls to avoid when seeking to create and/or tap Online and otherwise-conscious communities.

More to the point, however, is that in retrospect, the social network—the development of web communities—was inevitable, because it is what we do, and to a great degree, it is who we are.

At my favorite wireless café/laundromat, the washing machines are (understandably) in an adjoining shop to the café, so customers who use both services must leave their table to check on their clothes. Recently, I settled down with computer and coffee on a comfy couch, not far from another laundry/café customer, and got going with a project. After awhile, she asked me to watch her stuff while she went next door. Next, it was my turn. The other customer simply looked up and nodded as I moved passed her. I smiled, understanding that I didn’t have to say a word—my computer would be safe.

When I came back, there was a third person, seated near my spot on the couch, who looked at me sheepishly and confessed she had accidentally sipped my coffee. She offered to buy a replacement, and all three of us shared a laugh while our new café companion described how the first had looked up and gasped, attempting to warn her of her mistake (but not quite in time).

When I got up to leave, the first customer was over in the laundromat. I couldn’t wait for her, so the second took over the “watch”. I popped into the laundromat to let the first customer know what was going on, and exchanged a hurried, but friendly, goodbye.

This is a big city—it’s unlikely any of us will ever meet again. It was a short-lived community of three, begun and ended with grace, and some other nice human qualities.


As we involve ourselves in the art and science of creating online communities, it’s important to remember that human communities surround us, and are born and re-born constantly, with or without Web 2.0, PHP or Ajax. They are a natural, abundant and profoundly renewable resource.

This thoughtful Washington Post opinion piece by Shankar Vedantam reminded me why I unschool my child and do the things I do for fun:

“When Play Becomes Work”

I did the 5-minute farewell survey, and was rather sad to click that final button, but the long experiment is over for me. I haven’t got the time to file reports (BzzAgents are welcome to file both positive and negative feedback — it’s all buzz, after all), points and status awards for my participation felt increasingly counter-productive… and, well, the thrill is gone.

Thanks, BzzAgent. We’ll see you around.

Brown’s Descent
by Robert Frost

Brown lived at such a lofty farm
That everyone for miles could see
His lantern when he did his chores
In winter after half-past three.

And many must have seen him make
His wild descent from there one night,
’Cross lots, ’cross walls, ’cross everything,
Describing rings of lantern light.

Between the house and barn the gale
Got him by something he had on
And blew him out on the icy crust
That cased the world, and he was gone!

Walls were all buried, trees were few:
He saw no stay unless he stove
A hole in somewhere with his heel.
But though repeatedly he strove

And stamped and said things to himself,
And sometimes something seemed to yield,
He gained no foothold, but pursued
His journey down from field to field.

Sometimes he came with arms outspread
Like wings, revolving in the scene
Upon his longer axis, and
With no small dignity of mien.

Faster or slower as he chanced,
Sitting or standing as he chose,
According as he feared to risk
His neck, or thought to spare his clothes,

He never let the lantern drop.
And some exclaimed who saw afar
The figures he described with it,
”I wonder what those signals are

Brown makes at such an hour of night!
He’s celebrating something strange.
I wonder if he’s sold his farm,
Or been made Master of the Grange.”

He reeled, he lurched, he bobbed, he checked;
He fell and made the lantern rattle
(But saved the light from going out.)
So half-way down he fought the battle

Incredulous of his own bad luck.
And then becoming reconciled
To everything, he gave it up
And came down like a coasting child.

“Well—I—be—” that was all he said,
As standing in the river road,
He looked back up the slippery slope
(Two miles it was) to his abode.

Sometimes as an authority
On motor-cars, I’m asked if I
Should say our stock was petered out,
And this is my sincere reply:

Yankees are what they always were.
Don’t think Brown ever gave up hope
Of getting home again because
He couldn’t climb that slippery slope;

Or even thought of standing there
Until the January thaw
Should take the polish off the crust.
He bowed with grace to natural law,

And then went round it on his feet,
After the manner of our stock;
Not much concerned for those to whom,
At that particular time o’clock,

It must have looked as if the course
He steered was really straight away
From that which he was headed for—
Not much concerned for them, I say:

No more so than became a man—
And politician at odd seasons.
I’ve kept Brown standing in the cold
While I invested him with reasons;

But now he snapped his eyes three times;
Then shook his lantern, saying, “Ile’s
’Bout out!” and took the long way home
By road, a matter of several miles.

From the book, Mountain Interval, published 1916