What’s better than better?

Throughout management training I was taught “More isn’t better; better is better.”

But there’s a problem with being better. To be better means to be compared against something.  Sometimes it’s competition against another person – do better than that rival.  Sometimes it’s competition against the self – do better than what you did yesterday.  Sometimes it’s competition against an ideal – as in “you can do better.” Being better implies optimizing on something, that somewhere above where we stand exists a higher level of achievement.  To be better means to take what we  already do and improve it based on the evaluatives of an existing rubric.

The problem with “better,” then, is that it only works when your customers – and here “customers” takes on a wide meaning: patients, buyers, parents, whatever – uses the same rubric that you do.

Being better is also very hard to do – to find the “Best” out of N choices, a computer makes N-1 comparisons, each comparison based on a rubric of many parameters. Humans take shortcuts by substituting this algorithm with a heuristic – a much easier question.  Most of the time, “who’s the best doctor/plumber/dogsitter” gets subconsciously substituted with “who comes up in your head first when I mention doctor/plumber/dogsitter?”

In other words, our customers very frequently end up thinking very differently about “better,”  and being better isn’t always better.

We end up with ourvery own type of better – how we uniquely contribute to the team, the organization, the customer.  How we communicate these qualities shapes how we differ from their choices. Different is how people remember us, walking away from that first meeting.  Different is what stops us from becoming a substitutable commodity.  Different is better than better.

Taking the second step

We all know getting started is tough; that’s not news.  Writing the introduction of your paper, the first day on a new job, starting a company, all tough tasks.  Taking the first step requires a certain amount of know-how.

Taking the second step, though, is an entirely different matter.  It requires trusting that the first step you took was in the right direction, and that you are ready to commit and take things further.  With the first step, you are just experimenting.

The second step requires courage. It is what transforms a footprint into a path.

Making Friends

Some people say we make friends because we learn vital life skills through them.

Some people say we make friends because talking to yourself is strange.

Some people say we make friends because no one wants to be alone in a time of need.

But at the end of the day, we do it because at some point, if you’re lucky, you get to spend the rest of your life with your best friend.

In search of better tools

Tools are supposed to make our lives better, easier, more connected.  The oldest tools came about because humans needed to overcome certain barriers.  The first caveman who invented the first stone knife was probably very popular – all these other guys are still tearing leather and meat by brute force probably all wanted one because it made their lives far easier.

At some point we started inventing – and wanting – tools that precede our needs, tools that we want before we need them.  Maybe this is a good thing.  If done correctly, this means we will never be left wanting for better functionality again: the invention always anticipates future demands.  Every once in a while, a game-changer comes into the market that makes this true.  More commonly, we are left with the promises of a better future, new dreams, which the new tool fails to deliver, which has the effect of creating new demands that now go unfulfilled. (And of course, the occasional invention that neither makes promises nor delivers results simply get forgotten.)

It follows, then, that in a world of a litany of mediocre new inventions, there is a high likelihood that we end up creating new needs rather than satiate them – I see an ad for X, I realize I have a need Y which X promises to do, I buy X to realize that it doesn’t do Y very well, but now I can’t un-realize / un-want Y.

Thus, the irony if our information age may be that sometimes consolidating our tools and admitting that “no, I do not need this functionality” might make us more content, or perhaps even more productive.

Breaking up routine

Continuously practicing is how we become better at something – at school, at work, at sports, at a hobby.  The converging destination at the end of countless hours of practice is usually routine.  The task becomes routine.  This is what we want.  Finding the toughest questions on the problem set routine and banal is how you realize you are ready for the calculus final.  Having managed myriad complications and knows what to do for each combination of things-gone-wrong is how you would want to pick a surgeon.  Routine is good.  Routine means no surprises.  Routine is how you know you’ve gotten there, surpassing the threshold of difficulty and now looking down at the remains of the world.

Surprises can sometimes be bad, but so can routines.  As we learn to become experts we take on the thought patterns of other experts.  Experts make the mistakes of experts, and, surrounded by other experts, become blind to these cognitive errors.  Sometimes it takes a fresh pair of eyes to see just how far off center we have gone.

Slow down and take a breather.  Then look around and see if things look a little different.   Of course things are not actually different.   Your tasks remain the same, the calculus problem is still there, and the surgery will not perform itself.  No, what was different in those 10 seconds was you.  Deliberately doing something a little differently, even something immaterial,  breaks up the routine and monotony, bringing back new perspective to the old problem.

The Irony of Complexity

Anyone who has worked on a complex problem knows that simplicity is the result of many, many hours of hard work. 

  • Colin Dunno, Designer at Dropbox, in response to the question, “What is the need for all the world class designers at Dropbox, for a product that seemingly has zero complexity?”

Like a figure skater on ice, to score you have to do hard moves but make it look easy.  If the product of your complex work looks complex, then there’s room for improvement.

Healthcare has plenty of room to improve.

When all is said and done

You leave the world with the relationships you’ve formed over the course of your time.  This is why people like having a drink with friends, watching movie with someone, or eat lunch with an associate, even though the acts of drinking, watching, and dining do not technically require an accomplice.

This is also why vowing to spend the rest of our lives together makes us so happy.

rings

“Doing QI” is Not The Same as Improving Quality (2/2)

There is a fine line between “quality improvement” and innovation. Some may argue that quality improvement is a fix – making something better, more successful, or less error-prone.  Innovation, they might, involves creating something truly new, something that had never existed.

But if one insists on that definition, then some of the world’s most respected “innovators” were not innovators at all.  Steve Jobs did not create the first portable MP3 music player, only the arguably best.  Alexander Fleming did not invent the first antibiotic, only the most effective and famous.  Issac Newton was not the first to describe gravity, only its most mathematically characterized incarnation.

Innovators is a misnomer, coming from the Latin word novus (i.e. new), convincing us that one must strive to create something novel (i.e. novus) to innovate.  Innovators do not create something new; they are fixers of broken systems.  They are masters in the their traditional crafts who felt unsatisfied with the status quo’s offering, be it in technology, medicine, or physics.  They are quality improvement experts.  They did not need Level-5, 5S’s, 5Y’s, 6-Sigma, 12-Step QAPI, DMAIC, FADE, DOWNTIME, Kaizen, balanced scorecard, Deming cycle, ad infinitum.

“Doing QI” Is Not the Same as Improving Quality (1/2)

I was once told that when someone boasts to love James Joyce’s Ulysses, to ask that person how the book ends.

Like to the lover of Ulysses, the next time you hear someone in love with “Toyota” please ask him/her to describe the Toyota Production System. The short version would do.

When we see others succeed, we ask, “How do you do it?”  They may reply, “Here’s how,” followed by a set of well-intended advice in shortcuts and tips.  We then create a spiffy mnemonic and hold it as the bible for replicating the others’ success.

When quality improvement becomes an increasingly rigid set of criteria, alphabet bundle, and kanzi, it becomes easier to think of it as an end in itself.  Let us “do quality improvement.”  Let us find a project to applying these incredible principles (and they are incredible, but they are not hammers).  Let us refer to it as “QI” because that’s a thing now.

But sometimes quality is just about mending the gap when you see one.  Sometimes being methodical helps, but being passionate – not just mending a gap, but your gap – is probably all the requisite there is.  “Doing the QI,” then, may sometimes become an unintended obstacle.

Making a Deal with Your Future Self

Last July when I started my job, I was told that success will involve completing a set of 30-35 online physics modules over one year.  Each module takes only 1 hour, and I have a whole year to do it.  35 hours over one year, or six minutes a day. Continue reading