Month: October 2023

An Ode to Incrementalism

As I made my way through the cavern, I felt something hit my left shoulder.

It was cold, wet, and gray. And it was now sitting on my favorite shirt.

With an exasperated sigh, I moved to rid myself of the moisture. But as I did, my father cautioned me.

Don’t be so quick to wipe it away. That’s history in the making.

Indeed, the cavern we were traversing was formed by actions like this. The slow drip by drip of water eating away at a limestone core — over millions of years.

This all happened out of sight and out of mind. That is, until an intrepid explorer discovered the cavern this process had created.

That nearly finished product was what we were now witnessing. Its promise had lured us off the highway and compelled us to pay an exorbitant entrance fee. Its grandiosity was the selling point.

The methodical path the cavern took to this moment was hardly worth noting.

But perhaps it should have been.

On January 9, 2007, Steve Jobs stepped onto the stage at the MacWorld Conference in San Francisco.

The Apple co-founder quickly rattled through some of the company’s greatest innovations – the Macintosh and the iPod. Then, roughly two minutes later, he introduced the iPhone.

Some have called this moment transformative. They’ve framed it as a moment where the world as we knew it ceased, and better future entered the fray. A future driven by a breakthrough piece of technology.

There is some truth undergirding these claims. Smartphones have changed the ways we work, shop, socialize, and interact. And the iPhone will always be considered the original smartphone.

But make no mistake. Its launch was no moonshot. It was a master class in incrementalism.

Long before Jobs took the stage, iPhone components were in our hands. Plenty of people had cell phones. Many had portable music players as well. And Internet on the go wasn’t exactly scarce — assuming you had a laptop computer.

Some devices — like the Palm Pilot and the Blackberry — had already brought a couple of these features together. No one had offered the full enchilada, but the groundwork was certainly there.

The iPhone, then, was a next step in the cycle. A sleek, fancy next step. But a next step, nonetheless.

Jobs’ own presentation made mention of this. He first told the audience that Apple would be unveiling three products – a widescreen iPod, a mobile phone, and an Internet browser. Then, he mentioned that those three products would actually be one product.

This is how the iPhone made its debut. As incrementalism defined.

We’ve come a long way since the launch of the iPhone.

Technology has evolved. Apple has grown. Steve Jobs has left us.

And yet, we continue to delude ourselves.

We remain fascinated by the mirage of sudden breakthroughs. And we willfully ignore the incremental work that makes them happen.

The instant gratification, the quick fix, the answered prayer — they’re all big parts our lexicon. The gradual build-up is not.

This baffles me.

It’s no secret that the world around is evolving, just as our bodies and our minds are evolving. Why are we so tempted to hit Pause and Fast Forward on that process? Why can’t we let the process play out as it is?

Are we lazy? Fearful of boredom? Overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all?

I don’t know. But it’s time we say goodbye to this nonsense. It’s time to give incrementalism its due.

On the second day of my professional life, I strutted into the newsroom at a West Texas television station.

Day 1 had been a whirlwind, filled with onboarding and training. But now, it was Go Time.

Hopped up on adrenaline, I was ready to spend hours putting together the 5 PM newscast.

But it was a summer Friday in a small town. Action was light, and the newscast was fully assembled within 40 minutes. There’d be plenty of time to kill before 5 PM rolled around.

My co-workers started talking about their weekend plans. As the new guy in town, I had none. So, I started daydreaming about my future.

I thought about where I’d be in a month and in a year. I imagined that one day between now and then, everything would just click. The hard times would be over, and the fear buried beneath my bravado would evaporate.

It’s been close to 15 years since that moment. And none of what I imagined has come to pass.

I’ve made a ton of progress — both professionally and personally. I’ve established myself in a different career and put myself on a footing to live comfortably. I’ve made new friends, mastered new hobbies, and gained new competencies.

But none of this happened overnight. There was no breakthrough moment when everything just fell into place.

There was just a long, slow march.

Incrementalism has been the drumbeat of my life. And I’m better for it.

For it has allowed me to build, to grow, to iterate. It’s kept my gains from being unsustainable. It’s kept my mistakes from being catastrophic.

Accepting this subtlety has been critical. It’s helped me commit to better without obsessing over the goalposts. It’s allowed me to embrace the journey even more than the destination.

The future is uncertain, and anxiety is inherent in uncertainty. But incrementalism has gotten me here. And I’m confident it will help drive me forward.

Eight years ago this week, I did something bold.

I established the publication now known as Ember Trace. And I published my first article.

This was as close to a breakthrough moment as I’ve had in my life. Ember Trace seemingly appeared on the Internet out of thin air. (In reality, I took some steps behind the scenes to make it happen.)

And that first article — that first time shipping my words to the world — that was indeed a cathartic moment for me.

But every week since then, I’ve made a commitment. A commitment to share fresh words, fresh ideas, and fresh thoughts. Whether my week has been good or bad, slow or busy, I’ve taken the time to add a fresh article — for 418 weeks now.

This exercise in incrementalism has built Ember Trace into a bona fide publication. And it’s built me up as well.

There’s no question that the words shared here are crisper, deeper, and more polished than they were eight years ago. I have grown as a thinker and a writer. You, my dear audience, have grown as readers as well.

What a testament to the power of incrementalism this is. Week by week, we’ve built this structure together. It’s stronger and more profound that it’s ever been. And it only stands to get even stronger over time.

I am grateful for your support, for your time, and for your subtle embrace of the incremental. Let’s see what more we can build together, brick by brick.

Load Management

Have you heard the news?

My colleague spoke in hushed tones, alarm palpable in her voice.

I wondered what this news could be. I was about to head to my first Milwaukee Bucks game, so it was probably basketball related.

Did the Bucks trade a player away? Did someone get hurt during practice? I brimmed with anticipation.

Giannis Antetokounmpo is sitting the game out, my colleague replied. So is Khris Middleton. Load management.

Antetokounmpo and Middleton were Milwaukee’s two best players. They weren’t hurt, but they were sitting out anyway – all part of a ploy by Milwaukee coaches to keep them fresh.

The upshot was that I’d still be going to the Bucks game, but not getting the full experience. What I would later witness was a narrow victory over an inferior opponent.

I did my best to take this in stride. I was only in town for a few days for work. There was no option to go to a different Bucks game.

Yet, something about the situation didn’t sit right with me. It still doesn’t.

More than a decade before that game in Milwaukee, a friend and I boarded a coach bus bound for a snowy parking lot in New Jersey. We were headed to see the Los Angeles Lakers play the New Jersey Nets.

The Nets were historically bad that year, and tickets were historically affordable. My friend and I weren’t going to miss our chance to see Kobe Bryant play in person for the first time.

Kobe did indeed suit up in the Lakers vaunted purple and gold uniforms. From the upper deck, we watched him pour in 29 points to lead Los Angeles to a road victory.

It was never in doubt.

And yet, if that game had taken place a decade later, it wouldn’t have been such a sure thing. With a winter storm raging outside the arena, an overmatched opponent across the court, and six days to go until a Christmas showdown on national television, maybe Kobe would have been held out of action.

Our tickets would have been devalued. The opportunity to see an all-time great stolen away from us.

This hypothetical is reality these days, as my Milwaukee experience showed. Load management is as much a part of basketball as the pick and roll.

The movement is driven primarily by math.

With half of all National Basketball Association teams making the playoffs each year, the regular season has become a formality. The teams who can rattle off 16 wins in the postseason get all the glory — no matter how many victories they racked up in the preceding six months.

Health and energy are paramount for this quest. And a challenging schedule — featuring several games on back-to-back days and long flights to faraway cities — threatens to deplete star players before the spring hits full swing.

So, teams turn the tide by sitting star players now and then. They hope the rest rejuvenates these key contributors without leaving them rusty upon their return.

The practice has enveloped pro basketball, and it’s shifted to other sports as well.

This pattern seems to map to those of corporate America. Employees in that world are encouraged to take time off ahead of busy season. That way, they’re rejuvenated for crunch time.

But corporate workers don’t perform their duties in front of thousands of paying fans. Their desks are not broadcast to the world. And their bosses are the only ones scrutinizing their off time.

The comparison is apples and oranges. But it all might be moot.

Back in 2007, the Dallas Cowboys had a dominant season.

Dallas won 13 of its first 15 games, wrapping up prime positioning for the postseason, including an automatic bye through the first round of games. With little to play for in the regular season finale, the Cowboys held out most of their star players — effectively giving them two weeks off.

Two weeks later, the Dallas Cowboys returned to their home field against the rival New York Giants, who they’d beaten twice during the fall. But the third time was the charm for New York, who looked sharper and more desperate.

The Giants took the game. The Cowboys were left with nothing.

In the days after Dallas’ playoff loss, the tabloids were buzzing. During the off week, quarterback Tony Romo had traveled to a resort in Mexico with his then-girlfriend — pop star Jessica Simpson — and two of his teammates. The ill-timed vacation had quashed the Cowboys intensity, dooming the season. Or so the pundits said.

It all sounded sensational. But this might not have been too far off track.

You see, for all the “conventional wisdom” about employees taking some time away before crunch time, there’s little evidence of its effectiveness. In fact, many employees return to the fray out of sync. They’re a step behind heading into a critical moment in their professional life.

Why should we expect this to be any different for professional athletes, who face off against elite competition week after week?

We shouldn’t. And the 2007 Cowboys show us why.

This is why I can’t get on board with load management. It’s not just the coddling of multimillionaire athletes that rubs me the wrong way. It’s also the ineptitude of the mission itself.

Sports leagues are finally starting to crack down on load management. They’re drafting new protocols for player rest, hoping the restrictions allow fans to witness the feats of stars in-person.

But why rely on a set of rules to set everyone straight? Karma itself is a powerful teacher.

The 2007 Dallas Cowboys are but one example of a top-billed team stumbling after a bout of load management. It’s happened at least seven more times in pro football since then, and three times in baseball.

And load management ultimately did in the Milwaukee Bucks. Not two months after I saw their “B Squad” in action, the “A Team” fell in the second round of the playoffs.

These are the outcomes we know about, of course. How many similar flameouts have taken place in corporate offices, after load management efforts went awry? Likely hundreds.

Have we not seen enough?

It’s time to recognize that rest vs. rust is a fallacy. It’s time to accept that load management is self-sabotage. And it’s time to chart a better course of action.

Whether we perform under the lights or far away from the glare, the world expects much of us. And it’s on us to deliver.

There are no shortcuts to success. Act accordingly.

The Motivation Play

It’s a scene that’s hard to forget.

Midway through the 2013 film The Wolf of Wall Street, the main character – Jordan Belfort – stands in front of a set of office windows, facing dozens of his employees. Belfort – played by Leonardo DiCaprio – is sporting a fancy suit and has a microphone in his hands.

In a raucous speech that would make football coaches blush, Belfort extolls the trappings of wealth status. Then he implores the stockbrokers assembled before him to pick up the phone and start dialing.

The brokers roar voraciously, and then they get to work. They relentlessly push the stock of a fledgling shoe company on their clients.

The brokerage firm – Stratton Oakmont – makes a hefty profit on the inflated shares. The brokers get the trappings of wealth status. And their clients? They’re left in the cold when the smoke clears and the share price drops.

This might all seem like a cautionary tale. Perpetrating securities fraud rarely ends well — and it didn’t for Stratton Oakmont.

But while the tactics in the film have largely been shunned, the speech at the center of it all has not.

And that’s a problem.

Every few months or so, I tune into an all-company meeting on my work laptop.

The core of this meeting has become familiar. There are financial results. There’s a refresher on the company’s core values. There are updates from key business units.

And there’s always a motivational speech from leadership wrapping the proceedings.

Yes, this tenet from The Wolf of Wall Street has made its way to my company. We might not be trading in penny stocks — or profanity — like Stratton Oakmont. But the messaging is directionally similar.

You see, Jordan Belfort was onto something. He might not have held a fancy business degree or consulting accolades before starting his brokerage. But he knew that motivation was key to boosting business productivity.

Job titles and paychecks could only do so much to unlock achievement within Stratton Oakmont’s workforce. To get the most out of his employees, Belfort would need to inspire them, to cajole them, and to fire them up.

This understanding is what built the template for the motivation play that so many companies use today — mine included. By boosting the promise of productivity, the quarterly pump-up speech seems to be an all-around win for businesses.

But looks can be deceiving.

There was a time when work was primarily a transactional pursuit.

Employees would put in their 40 hours each week. And the company would reward them with a paycheck. If the employee stuck around for long enough, they’d get a gold watch at retirement and collect a posh pension.

Those days are long gone. Now, employees are looking for more than pay and stability from their vocation. They’re committed to making the most out of their work.

Many employees enter the workforce intrinsically motivated. They’re driven to make a difference, and they’re committed to maximizing their effort to satiate their desire.

The motivation play from companies would seem to pair well with this ethos. By adding extrinsic motivation to the mix, business leaders could inspire employees to believe in the collective mission at hand. Execute on that, and inspired employees could feel compelled to run through fire for the company.

Motivation proliferates. Productivity soars. Success abounds.

Read between the lines, though, and the implied picture is darker. By motivating their workforce to give more, company leaders are also saying they’re not currently doing enough.

Perhaps that would be a needed kick in the pants if employees weren’t trying their hardest. But in the new world of work, that’s rarely an issue.

And telling the intrinsically motivated to crank it up more can be problematic.

You see, contrary to popular belief, there is an upper bound on effort. We can only give so much before we give out.

The fruits of that effort can certainly accelerate. But such improvements take time to manifest.

So, telling a group of intrinsically motivated achievers to try harder and do more can be counterproductive. Slamming a hammer more vigorously into a concrete bunker wall will only do damage to the hammer.

Worse still, such directives can foster resentment. For while some of those giving these edicts rose through the ranks of their company to reach leadership, many did not.

That dissonance can degrade trust. So, when an outsider drops mandates on their adopted workforce, it can seem elitist — and lead to blowback.

Yes, the motivational play has plenty of cracks under the surface. And if they’re left to fester, those fissures can swallow a company whole.

How can I help you?

This is more than an opening prompt from a chatbot. It’s a core question on many company’s performance review forms.

I’ve encountered this question, or something like it, while filling out dozens of these reviews over the years. And while others might have called for higher pay, more guidance, or more perks, my response has remained consistent.

Provide me the tools to perform my role to the best of my ability.

This response is illustrative. Both of what the intrinsically motivated are looking for and of what their employers are loathe to provide.

Resources, you see, are costly. Software licenses, physical tools, and seminar registrations carry costs for a business — costs that might not directly correlate to increased revenue. It’s a losing financial equation that’s all too easy to nix.

The motivation play, on the other hand, is free. Firing up the troops unlocks the potential for more business, without the company spending a dime.

But the hidden costs are far from trivial. Broken trust and burnout in the wake of these initiatives can fuel attrition. And the endless clamor for more can lead achievers to ration their efforts; that way, they have that extra 5 percent to devote to the next motivation play.

I’d argue that these costs are plenty high. Likely steeper than those incurred while preparing employees for success in their roles.

It’s time for companies to realize this. To understand that motivation is not a commodity for them to peddle. And that the carrots and sticks can only go so far.

Workers are not racehorses, subject to the edicts of their trainers and jockeys. No, employees are free willed thinkers. Achievers who are often driven by intrinsic motivation.

They deserve better than raucous speeches. They deserve more than pleas to work harder. They deserve to be given the benefit of the doubt.

Let’s provide it.

On Anticipation

The doctor made small talk as he procured his rubber hammer.

The chattiness was part of his bedside manner. A way to get through all the awkward tests that were part of a physical exam. All while keeping the patient relaxed and at ease.

I was playing along, to a degree. But I was also on guard.

So, as the doctor flashed the hammer in my direction, I jolted my right knee backward. The hammer hit nothing but air.

Impressive reflexes, the doctor remarked. But much like his hammer, he hadn’t quite hit the mark.

This wasn’t about reflexes. Not by a long shot.

It’s long been known that humans have five senses.

Sight, smell, sound, taste, and touch are each critical. They shape how we perceive the world. And they serve as guardians of our survival.

However, I believe there’s a sixth sense out there. Not in an M. Night Shyamalan movie sort of way. Rather, something more tangible and impactful.

I’m talking about anticipation.

Anticipation is more than a gift or an attribute. It’s an acute sense — with a twist.

You see, anticipation takes our traditional five senses to a new level. It mixes their recorded inputs with situational awareness. All in a manner that can prime prediction.

Anticipation puts us on the front foot. It allows us to think a step ahead, and to act accordingly.

This is more than a nice-to-have. In a world full of lethality, the signals of danger often arrive too late for us to avert them. We need to see the flames, smell the smoke, and feel the burn before first spark ignites. That way, our fight-or-flight response can activate in time to save our skin.

We need anticipation, plain and simple.

And like a fine wine, anticipation gets better with time. With more data in our brains, and more experience in our bones, our power proliferates. We’re less likely to be caught off-guard, and more likely to jump into the fray in a flash.

This was the case when my knee jolted at the doctor’s office. After all, I’d been through a physical or two before.

I understood what that rubber hammer meant. I knew how it would feel when it slammed against my kneecap. And I wasn’t inclined to sit around and let it happen again.

It was a display of anticipation. One by design.

He’s playing 4D chess.

We’ve heard a phrase like this plenty before. Often when a master tactician, such as a military leader or a football coach, takes strategic execution to another level.

The implication is that these masterminds have unique ability. They’re able to think several steps ahead and process dozens of hypotheticals in real time.

In other words, they have uncanny senses of anticipation.

How did this come about? Were these hallowed leaders born this way?

No. In their earliest days, these feted geniuses were just as feeble as the rest of us.

But as they grew up, their paths began to diverge from ours.

They put their minds to the test, time and again. They paid meticulous attention to detail. And they set themselves up to seize opportunities before they happened.

Make no mistake. Anticipatory dominance is built, not bequeathed. It’s forged with tools available to all of us.

I don’t believe enough of us realize this fact. I sure didn’t.

For years, I drifted through the roaring rapids of reality. I was never quite prepared for the jagged rocks, the dips and drops in my path. I would react to life after it happened.

This pattern continued into early adulthood — a time when I could least afford it.

I had just started my career as a TV news producer. It was a position built on elite anticipation and quick decisions. But I had neither in my arsenal.

The results were predictable. News broke across town late one night, and I was slow to react. My station’s coverage was subpar. The competition wiped the floor with us.

This colossal meltdown wasn’t all my fault. But it wasn’t a good look. And I took this failing hard.

I knew I couldn’t let my colleagues and my viewers down like that again. I needed to be ready for the next big story — which could break at any time.

This was the inflection point. It’s what spurred me to hone my focus, to stretch the limits of my senses, to sharpen my resolve.

It’s what taught me how to anticipate.

These days, anticipation is my most treasured attribute. I relish the opportunity to initiate the action. To remain prepared and to put myself in position for success.

It took a while to get to this point. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Several years ago, I attended a boxing match.

A headline bout hogged the marquee. But several undercard brawls led up to it.

On one of those undercards, a fighter connected on a vicious cross — his oversized glove battering the top of his opponent’s head. He followed up that blow with a hook to the jaw.

The one-two punch was too much for the other fighter to absorb. He dropped like a rock. The fight was over.

The crowd gasped in horror, stunned by the flash of brutality they’d just witnessed. But I was less stunned than perplexed.

How was the stricken fighter so unprepared for what felled him? Why did he not have his hand up to protect his face?

This was a basic tenet of self-defense that even I knew about. Yet, it had gone begging.

The lack of anticipation carried a brutal toll for this brawler. But the cost is steep for us as well.

Make no mistake. Anticipation is not a nice to have. It’s a need to have.

We cannot expect to get ahead in life by waiting for the action to reach our doorstep. Heck, we can’t even get by that way.

We need to steel ourselves for what lies ahead. To synthesize our past and predict our future. To make moves before the picture comes fully into focus.

This is hard work. It’s uncomfortable work. But it’s necessary work.

Sustainable success is within our range. Let’s prepare ourselves to grasp it.