trash

This evening (ok, several nights ago), my three-year old daughter pulled an empty kitchen trash bag from its box under the kitchen counter. She proceeded to leave it on the floor, where it sat for about an hour. During out post-dinner clean-up, she picked it up, showed it to me, and asked me "Is this trash?" Three hours later, I still do not know how to answer that question. Surely, it is trash because we throw it in the garbage can on a regular bases; surely, it's not because, well, it's a perfectly good (and empty) trash bag.

Is a trash bag, trash?

I feel that there is a Truth buried somewhere in the answer to this question, a metaphorical Truth relating to the professional space. Something about usefulness, purpose, and duty; however, tonight my sinuses are inflamed to the point where I cannot think through the haze. So, I turn this post over to you, dear reader.

Can you see the Truth here? Can you solve this quandry? If so, please let me know. I'd love to hear your thoughts/opinions/metaphors because it really has my head spinning.

shanti,
mjh

dis.ease

A couple of quick bits:

1. I've had issues with Psoriasis for many years now. It's never been too much of a bother (though I admit the patchy elbows and shins are less than attractive). By and large, however, I have gone about my life pretty normally. That is (or was) until last year.
2. On a seemingly unrelated note, about 5 months ago, I became quickly acquainted with sick days. I contracted the much-hyped H1N1 virus and somehow also managed to layer strep throat on top of that. Yah, it was not a fun time.

So what do these two facts have to do with each other? At the time, I assumed nothing; turns out I was wrong. The flu/strep combination turned my mild skin issue into a moderate-to-severe dermatological phenomenon. Being homebased has never been so welcomed.

Who knew that Psoriasis was an autoimmune disease, not simply a skin irritation? Not me. Who knew that an infection like Strep could worsen, even trigger, skin inflammation? Who would connect such seemingly disparate dots?

An organization, a company, a team, a workgroup...these are all organisms with systems; sometimes these systems are interrelated, and sometimes they are not, at least that is how it often appears. The Truth, however, most likely lives within the grey area between these extremes. Everything within your team (and within the larger corporate structure) is related, sometimes not as closely as it seems, sometimes much more so.

We should remember that if our team is currently sick, if there is a patch of ill-will or dissension, we are not immune from its effects, regardless of how far away we position ourselves. And if we target/treat the cause (or think that we have), we might only be temporarily fixing the surface issue. The effects can be long-lasting and brutal in their resilience.

The company-as-body metaphor is certainly not a new one; many articles have been written on how the 'head' and the 'hands' need to work in concert. However, we must also pay attention to the dis.ease of the body. To be blunt, don't be so distracted by an illness in the throat that you fail to notice how it affects the skin.

So wash your hands in the real-world, but metaphorically, don't let yourself off so easy.

shanti,
mjh

normal(cy)

Several years ago, I was in a raucous crowd at a UAB/Tulane basketball game. As a rabid UAB basketball fan, this was not abnormal for me. Also not-unlike me (at the time), I relished every opportunity to poke at, yell at, and throw verbal darts at the other team. On this particular night, it seemed too easy. A few minutes into the first half, I stared in disbelief at this:

That, dear reader, is (was) the mascot for Tulane. I literally could not believe my eyes when this 'thing' stepped out on the court, somehow in support of its team. Tulane's mascot? The Green Wave. "Seriously?" I asked my buddy. "A color and water? That is their statement to the world?"

After spending much time harping on the apparent (to me) stupidity of this choice of mascot, and after hurling many vocal assaults at the players and foam-thingy that was trying to move around the court, my buddy knocked me down with a simple revelation.

"You do realize," he stated, "the nickname of the team you grew up loving, your beloved University of Alabama, is the Crimson Tide. A comparable color, but certainly a less intimidating water event."

Sometimes we fail to realize that our personal "normal" is not universal. What seems common to you, what seems logical or obvious, can be the most foreign concept/Truth to others. Sometimes, we even fail to realize what we deem obvious or normal until someone (hopefully with love) points it out.

Save yourself the humiliation, and realize that your unique normal is just that: unique (though not at all normal). Don't assume that anyone, not your customers, colleagues, or companions, sees the world through your eyes. Yes, the singular specialness of you is to be celebrated; however, it is also to be viewed with caution.

If I stop to realize that your Green is my Crimson, and if you stop to realize that my Tide is your Wave, then maybe we can both learn something about normalcy (even if it is normalcy through the ludicrous). Bottom line: there is no normal, and we would be wise to realize it as unattainable.

Take a minute to rethink your assumptions, recalibrate your (leadership) compass, and toss out your idea of what is normal. No one really agrees with you.

shanti,
mjh

isit

'And is it
the hen's nightmare, or her secret dream,
to scratch the ground forever
eating the minutes out of the grains of sand?'
--G.Kinnell

shanti,
mjh

hidden

'Hidden Mickeys'; ever heard of them? If you have spent any time around a Disney fanatic, you probably have. They are, in large part, important to Disney extremists...and they should be important to us, as well.

In brief, HMs are "representations of Mickey Mouse that have been inserted subtly into the design of rides, attractions, and other locations in Disney theme parks and elsewhere on Disney properties." (Wikipedia)

I must admit that I love them; I love the concept, the creativity, the course. But even if I did not have a soft spot for all types of subcouncious indoctrination, their presence begs an important question. Why are they there? What purpose do they serve? Certainly, these special touches are not economically-driven. No one pays $1K to spend their vacation looking for images of a cartoon character carved into a rock or disguised on a leapord statue. They are not mandated or "official"; legend has it that HMs just started appearing as inside jokes amongst the designers. And they are likely not used for subcouncious indoctrination; if you happen upon one...you're already there.

So what, then, can we learn from the HM phenomenon? Turns out, there is an important lesson hidden here. Simply put, it's about detail.

Let's say that you are spending a few nights at the Animal Kingdom Lodge on WDW property. While scoping out the decor, you notice this, tucked away amongst the rocks:

I imagine that most people would assume that a micro-detail such as this, would naturally translate into a feeling of comfort with the macro. In other words, if a company spends the time to insure the tiniest of elements are tended to, you generally have a feeling that the big stuff has been taken care of. To quote John Wooden, "It's the little details that are vital."

Sure, details are important in life, but they are critical in business. Minor points will make or break a company, a team, an employee. Bottom line: we should all be paying more attention to the details.

I am not suggesting that we sneak in Knowledge Bursts throughout the country, or even throughout the buildings (though I, of course, would love it). I do suggest, however, that every one of us has the ability, and even the responsibility, to make each one of our projects, our products, our processes special and complete, down to the last element.

Rumor has it that hidden mickeys are personal (instead of corporate), inspired and created by the designers themselves. They exist as a calling card of sorts, letting you know that the artist has created something unique and special, and that he or she had you, the audience, in mind.

Do your internal/external customers feel this way? Perhaps they can; certainly, they should.

Find a detail during your workday, something that no one has asked you to do, perhaps something that no one even realizes that you can do, and do it. Take the time to add a special and important detail to your process, product, interaction, design, etc. Hide an extra moment's work to your product; someone will notice.

It might not be a hidden Mickey, but you just might win the appreciation of many.

shanti,
mjh

p.s.--ok, that "many"/Minnie pun just might be the worst thing I have ever written, but I couldn't resist. Apologies.