Tag: productivity

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.

The Productivity Paradox

For 17 seasons, he was a Major League Baseball starting pitcher. He won a world championship and was a two-time All-Star. All after escaping his home nation to get a shot at the big leagues.

The story, the accolades — they’re all impressive. But unless you’re a hardcore baseball fan, you probably won’t recognize Livan Hernandez’s name.

You might be forgiven for this omission. Hernandez was a competent pitcher who could field his position well and even hold his own in the batter’s box. But he didn’t have the dominant pitching makeup that some of the leading hurlers of his era did.

No, Hernandez’s greatest ability was his availability. Every fifth day for a generation, he took the ball for his team. He put his cleats on the pitching rubber, wound up, and fired that ball to home plate. Then he did it again, and again, and again – only yielding his perch in the late stages of the game.

Hernandez was what was known as a workhorse. A pitcher who could be counted on to last deep into ballgames, time and again. For three years in a row, Hernandez led the National League in innings pitched. In two of those years, he led all big-league pitchers in the category.

He gave his all. But he got a raw deal for those efforts.

Indeed, as some pitchers with lower inning counts got notoriety, awards, and Hall of Fame inductions, Hernandez is now relegated to obscurity.

It hardly seems right.

A hard day’s work.

It’s a hallmark of our society. A source of pride. A badge of honor.

We honor perspiration. We laud effort. We believe in determination.

Such values have inspired generation after generation to follow the script. So, we tend not to cut corners. We put in a consistent effort, time and again. We lift ourselves up by our bootstraps.

And yet, the rewards don’t always follow. Much like Livan Hernandez, we often find ourselves overlooked in the wake of productivity. And sometimes, the outcome of our exertion is even bleaker.

Overuse injuries are all too common in the world of athletics. Pitchers can blow out their arms by throwing the ball too many times. Runners can break down by taking on too many miles too quickly.

Manual labor carries similar risks. The miner, the mechanic, the factory machinist – they can all suffer crippling injuries as a byproduct of the work they put in.

Even in less physically taxing endeavors, we can suffer maladies. Our reward for performing at a high level in the business world is all too often burnout and stress. And there are countless other areas where getting after it carries a heavy toll.

It’s a cruel irony, this Productivity Paradox. The attribute that should be driving our success is instead dragging us down.

It’s hard not to feel as if we’re somehow being chastised for desirable habits. That irrational punishment stalls our momentum. And it makes the journey forward that much more treacherous.

A hard day’s work? It’s way more than we bargained for.

You should take a break.

I’ve gotten this advice often.

Those who know me well will often laud my work ethic. But they worry that the flame that fuels me will also consume me.

And so, they encourage me to shut it down. To take a weeklong trip to a beach somewhere and to recharge.

To them, such a solution seems like paradise. To me, it sounds like a death sentence.

For I am an active person. Active mind. Active body. Active spirit. I thrive when the wheels are turning.

Yet, I am also an introvert. And so, much of the activity that I crave comes in the form of routines.

Imploring me to give all this up — the activity, the routines — it spikes my anxiety. Even if I know such advice is coming from a good place.

And so, I attack the Productivity Paradox head-on. I charge full speed ahead, consequences be damned.

I’ve generally had good fortune in these endeavors. I’ve sustained only moderate cases of burnout at work. I’ve rarely lost motivation to write for this column. And until recently, I’ve been able to run competitively, free of significant injuries.

Still, the setbacks I’ve faced from my approach have been difficult to unwrap. I still struggle with the notion that good habits lead to adverse outcomes. And the lack of clear takeaways from these experiences still baffles me.

I’m in no man’s land. A purgatory of my own creation. And it’s a special type of torture.

I was just starting out in a new role when a co-worker gave provided three words of advice.

Embrace the gray.

I knew what this implied. Much of what I was to encounter would be ambiguous, foggy, murky. I would need to use discretion to succeed in my role.

In that moment, I felt chills creeping up my spine. Because discretion wasn’t something I did well.

I had traditionally thrived on consistency. I had depended upon clarity. I had relied on learning the ground rules acting accordingly.

This choose-your-own-adventure idea — it frightened me.

Yet, over time, I got more proficient at it. Instead of relying on external expectations, I let my internal compass be my guide. And I found myself thriving.

Perhaps I can carry forward the lessons from that experience. Perhaps we all can.

After all, the road to prosperity is not always a straight line. We will face setbacks from time to time, even if we follow a winning script.

Such is the way of the world. Machines can break down after frequent use. And so can we.

When faced with this reality, we can bury our heads in the sand. We can let ourselves languish. Or we can stay the course, adjusting for feel.

We owe it to ourselves to take that last approach. To see the Productivity Paradox for what it is — a random flaw — instead of overstating its importance.

The circumstances we contend with might not always make sense. But we can still act sensibly.

Let’s make sure we do.

Taking Up Space

When it comes to impact statements, it’s all too easy to draw a line in the sand.

Are we making a difference, or taking up space?

This is a black and white delineation in a world of gray. Yet, the underlying message remains on point.

We’re obligated to make a difference. To contribute positively to our community. To leave the world better than we found it.

For our society is like an engine. The more its components help it run, the more efficiently it chugs along. The more those components sit idle, the more it drags.

To a great measure, this is unequivocal fact. Regardless our opinion of a social safety net or welfare, there is a cost that comes with providing opportunities. From paychecks to subsidies, nothing we receive to put a roof on our heads, food in our mouths or clothes on our bodies truly comes for free.

This cost is typically offset by the contributions we make to society, and specifically the economy. This could be 40 hours a week helping a company provide a service to the market. Or the generation of ideas or academic thoughts that allow the society to break boundaries and improve efficiencies. These types of activities provide balance.

But when we’re receiving this assistance while sitting on the couch, it could be argued that there is no balance. What we get is more than what we give in return.

Under this definition, we’re taking up space.

Now, opportunity does not always come equal. As such, we may be stuck on the couch not of our own volition.

Regardless, the optics of this outcome are not great.

So, our society often puts stipulations behind handouts. It requires all of us to at least make an honest pass at offsetting the costs behind them.

This could mean applying for jobs. Or filling out forms to explain disabilities that stand in the way of our opportunities.

The underlying message is clear.

As a society, we don’t tolerate taking up space.

 

I learned the mantra of making a difference from an early age.

I recall waving goodbye to my father as he got on the commuter rail in his business suit. Or how my mother dropped me off at school and then headed to her job.

Most acutely, I remember when my father switched careers and became a teacher. He hoped to make a bigger difference in the world, and make his own that much brighter.

A quarter century later, I’d say he has achieved that objective. And he continues to do so.

Following my parents’ example, I’ve worked hard in two careers throughout my adult life. I’ve taken nothing for granted. I’ve embraced each day with a sense of determination and purpose.

In the workplace and out of it, I’ve sought to make a difference. To be productive. Not to take up space.

This mission has guided the decisions I’ve made, both professionally and socially. My mantra of impact has led to my drive and my edginess. It’s filled my daily to-do list with a gauntlet of activities. It’s encouraged me to push my limits and take on more responsibilities.

Each and every day, I am following my mission. I am being productive. I am not taking up space.

But maybe I should be.

Living life as a productivity-holic has its own associated costs. (Is productivity-holic a word? I feel it should be.)

Most notable of these costs is burnout.

It takes a lot of energy to devote so much time to an agenda. Focusing on maximum productivity, on making the biggest difference I can — that constantly requires me to think of What’s Now and What’s Next.

The detritus of this focus can lead to exhaustion.

And exhaustion can weaken a mind. It can lessen its impact.

I have felt these effects loud and clear. Yet, whenever I have, another thought has come to my mind.

Suck it up. Keep making a difference. Don’t you dare take up space.

This is stupid.

Taking a breather now and then is critical. It rejuvenates us and unshackles our mind. It allows us to make our biggest impact.

Yes, taking up space causes a drag on society. But the short-term cost is more than offset by the long-term gain we can provide.

So, moving forward, I will start building these breathers into my life. I will stop viewing the concept of taking up space as heresy.

And I will continue to take up space here and there, as long as such endeavors are undertaken with a greater goal in mind.

While it’s blasphemous for one to prescribe the path they have not yet taken, I encourage you to join me on this journey. For it will provide mutual benefits.

Let us find our pause. And in doing so, let’s refresh our purpose.

The space we take up will not be wasted.