marginally subversive

getting through the door...

One of the things that I learned is that one - as a manager or a leader - can only create opportunities for her followers.  She can only go as far as pointing to the right opportunities - the right doors - the potential next steps - the possibilities.  She cannot take on the responsibility of opening the door and jumping right in.

I for one have been dubbed by my peers from my leadership training in 2005 as the "guy with the superhero complex - who believes that no one should ever be left behind, no matter what".  It took awhile for me to realize that.

Perhaps, in these challenging times, that's what we need: people who can point us the right way, "burn the boats", and get people to move.

And trust that the people will move.

I - for one - will have a hard time doing the last bit.  But I will have to.

I - too - have my own doors to open and potentials to realize.

Thanks to IrishFlyGuy on Flickr.Com for the photo.

"if you were not doing what you were doing now..."

If I were not doing what I am doing now, I probably would have been this guy who studies pandemics, epidemics, and viruses and how they affect people.

When I was in high school, I read Michael Crichton's Andromeda Strain.  I loved it.  I started reading more about viruses - Outbreak comes to mind, but there were more.  My university library card was very much filled with biochemistry books (alongside maths and the required readings in psychology, philosophy, economics, theology, and a few other stuff called "Core Curriculum" in the Ateneo).

Why I am doing what I am doing now?

In the same way that pandemics, epidemics and virology has this certain beautiful, mysterious aura about it, so does marketing research.

When you ask why... ... ...

of failures, creating something, and Rilke...

There are different kinds of failures.

There are failures which are defined by not achieving or realizing the results one has aimed at. 

Then there are failures that result from being too much of a perfectionist - with the bars set so high that success was an impossibility.

Then there are those failures which are from mismanagement and misuse of the processes - too much reliance on the process - or not enough adherence to the process.

Or worse, using the wrong process.

Then there are those that Seth Godin wrote about:  Failures who are failures because nothing was ever started.  He writes: "The only thing worse than starting something and failing... is not starting something."

So is the solution simply doing it?  Taking a leap - and simply start?

Perhaps.

But I think one has to go deeper.

One has to know why one is doing something.  Why one is creating something out of nothing.

It's not so much about overanalyzing and nitpicking and creating scenarios and all that...

It's about knowing why - from one's soul - this is so important.

...

Rainier Maria Rilke once received a letter from a young poet for advice.  I think what Rilke said to the poet is still apt to the act of creating something - and taking a leap - and jumping in.

You ask me. You have asked others before this. You send them to (others for critique and suggestions). You compare them with others', and you are upset when certain editors reject your work.

Now (since you have said you want my advice) I beg you to stop doing that sort of thing. You are looking outside, and that is what you should most avoid right now.

No one can advise or help you - no one.

There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple "I must," then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your while life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse.

reminiscence of things past...

My system - I think - is undergoing a reset.  Ctrl-Alt-Del.  Or Force-Quit.

Whilst I am undergoing this system restart, I can't help but recall some movies that moved me in the past.  Either by their stories - or by their soundtracks. 

(At one time, I actually wanted to be a musician - and I did manage to pass the entrance exams at the University of the Philippines Conservatory of Music, with a focus on composition and orchestra.  But as Fate would have it, I went to a better school. [Eherm.] And decided that music probably won't keep me alive.)

I digressed.

One of these movies was BRASSED OFF.

It was marketed as a "love story with Ewan McGregor" in video rental shops.  (I am not even sure if it got shown in theaters.)

But I really loved it. Not because of the love story - but because it had a message - a message that still rings true till today:

The Human Spirit's Drive to Be Human - and Be Seen, Respected, Trusted, Felt, Experienced as Human

This scene is perhaps one of the most touching ones I remember.

Tomorrow, I shall be on a hunt across Singapore to find me a DVD (an original DVD, mind you) and a soundtrack CD of Brassed Off.

In the mean time...

of meetings and of questions...

I don't fancy meetings.

As much as I can, I try to avoid meetings.  My philosophy is - if it can be done through a 1pager memo, with 10.5-12font Arial font-type (or its equivalent in email), then so be it. 

Even if it's a brainstorming meetings: I believe that brainstorming is far more effective if everybody dumps their ideas on one wiki-like page with the same rules of "no deletions/objections", "no mistakes", and "quantity over quality" is done before an actual face-to-face brainstorm is done.

[OK, perhaps, it's true for numbers-orientated brainstorms where some form of pre-brainstorm analysis is necessary.  And some charts need to be at least prepared and interpreted superficially.]

Meetings, I believe, are a great time waster.

And in the same bucket of time-wasters are teleconferences - where everybody waits their turn to speak whilst someone else drones on on the other end of the line.

If it can be done via email, then so be it.

Seth Godin writes that:

Meetings are marketing in real time with real people. 

I agree that meetings indeed are marketing in real-time with real people.  (He cites conferences as an example.  And I agree with that, too.)

But not all meetings are "marketing" meetings.

Some meetings are merely a waste of time.

Work-in-Progress meetings - for example - are a great time-waster.  Can't it be done online?  There are a lot of collaborative software and systems available.  Why not use them?  Sure, building relationships - and marketing - is critical and will demand face-to-face meetings.  But every week work-in-progress meetings, I believe, are simply a waste of time.

If the object of the meeting is to build relationships, then the progress-check meeting isn't the right place.

To build relationships, one has to show up.

And showing up in relationships don't necessarily mean being just physically present - but really, deeply listening - regardless of whether it is in the form of face-to-face meetings and physical conferences, web-based brainstorms and communications, emails and even interactive webcasts.

[To show up means to give one's 100% attention (and something else!) to the person - in whatever form is appropriate - meetings or otherwise.]

You can schedule hourly meetings or weekly meetings or daily meetings - or even conference calls or web meetings or IMs every hour - and not show up.

And not showing up is not marketing.

Thanks to Eschipul from Flickr.Com for the photo above.

Seth Godin also suggests two types of questions:

1. Questions designed to honestly elicit more information.
2. Questions designed to demonstrate how much you know or your position on an issue and to put the answerer on the defensive.

I think that the first one is clear enough.  And I have encountered people who do want to elicit information - because they want to know, because they can use those new things that they would have been told to do something better with their life or their work, because these are things that stoke their curiosity.

The second one I think needs elaboration:

1. Questions designed to state what you believe in - and in all honesty, seek a challenging view with the hope that what you believe in could potentially be improved and be made better by a dissenting view.
   These are questions that has some tinge of "eliciting new information".
   I can name three or four clients who I admire for their sharpness - and their tough questions: They ask questions so they can see more clearly whether their preconceived answers are indeed correct - or could be improved upon - or downright wrong.
2. Questions designed to say "I know more than you do" - and "you better say the same thing as I think - or else...".
   I don't have data on this phenomenon - but most of the people I have met in the past - clients and peers - have this conscious or unconscious intent.
   They get into the meeting room with a predefined set of questions - and answers set in stone.  And if the answerer says a dissenting view, "you're wrong..."
3. Questions designed to introduce a soliloquy.
   These are the questions which border on the rhetorical and the philosophical ("Tell me, what really is a brand?  What really is brand equity?  And what do you mean by engaging the consumers in a very deep manner?  Why should we create brand ambassadors?") - followed by a monologue on the merits of branding, engagement, and brand equity - usually introduced with "When I was in university..." or "According to Malcolm Gladwell..." or "Chris Anderson thinks that..." or "<Insert management/branding guru's name here> believes that...". 
   And everything else that veers away from the topic at hand.

Almost all questions can put the answerer on the defensive - even those that honestly elicit information.  Because there is an element of "what if I don't have the answer?"  We can't outguess one another.  We can't read minds (yet).

But there are questions that put the answerer on the defensive - and yet feel confident and calm that the question is not being asked because of malice nor with the intent of "checking whether you - the answerer - are right or wrong".

In one of my leadership training courses, before we were to ask question to the facilitator or to someone in the group, we had to declare that we are asking a "clarifying question".  If we were to ask a "question that challenges", we were to declare it as such.  If it were a personal viewpoint, then - well - it wasn't a question, but an opinion.  And therefore was not allowed.

[Asking questions is a great avenue to learn, to improve, to widen one's knowledge - but it can also a veiled attempt to assert one's superiority, to flatter, to achieve something else beyond answers.]

Photo from Oberazzi from Flickr.

What I learned from school...

Seth Godin asks in his blog what school is for. 

Seems like a simple question, but given how much time and money we spend on it, it has a wide range of answers, many unexplored, some contradictory. I have a few thoughts about education, how we use it to market ourselves and compete, and I realized that without a common place to start, it's hard to figure out what to do.

He writes down a starter list of what a school ought to be in his entry - and I think all is good, though surely, there could be more what a school is for.

What a school's purpose is for me?  I guess I never really thought about it - but what i learned from school, all four levels of them (kindergarten, elementary, high-school, university) could point me to what school is about.

Photo from my_new_winter_coat

So what are the things I learned from school?

1. I learned that there are some things I could do on my own - like tie my shoelaces, solve problems in algebra and calculus, read and analyze the works of Gabriel Marcel and Immanuel Kant - and there are things that I couldn't do on my own - like understanding firsthand the dynamics of groups and social psychology, understanding what partial derivatives are and how I can visualize them, and how to explain in lay-person terms the philosophy of Socrates and of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin.
2. I learned that there are classes that one could take for granted - 'military training', where we spent all day marching around and being 'abused' by our 'superiors' for having the wrong haircut - and those that one should take seriously - philosophy, theology, biology, mathematics.
3. I also learned that teachers are human, too - and they can make mistakes.  However, the greatest teachers I have had are those who had the gumption and the courage to say "I honestly don't know" and "That's one way of putting it - and I see your point".  And they'd get back to you with a rebuttal - or further questions and thoughts - the day after.  (In other words, they took the time to have a look at your viewpoint and considered it!)
4. I learned that teachers who give their students "A's" way before the classes start and the exams are filed and papers were read and graded are the ones who get remembered.
   I had a teacher in Uni who saw in me the potential of being a "lawyer-doctor".  He told me on the final day of class that I would make a good lawyer-doctor, and I said, "I can't even decide what to be, sir!"  And he said, "Trust me - you'd be a good lawyer and a good doctor.  You'd do good."  And right before me, he wrote my final grade on that 'official form': an "A".
   I certainly believed I didn't deserve an "A".
   And he said, as I was on my way out, "Believe in yourself - I see the lawyer-doctor in you.  Try to see that in you as well.  You might find it - you might not.  It doesn't matter.  Just see for yourself."
   He was my favorite teacher (who gave me a hard time on my final oral exams in Anatomy).
5. I learned that friends do come and go.  And whether they go and disappear from my life - or whether they stay on as I grow old - is within my realm of choice. 
   I still hear of friends who see themselves every year or every month.  They are the ones I used to hang out with. 
   I don't see much of them anymore.  Because I have made a choice to live my life away from home - not a good nor a bad choice, just that I made a choice.  And it's all good.
6. The worst times brings out the best - or the worst - in people.
   While working on my theses with two of my closest friends - Tanya and George - the best in me soared.  I discovered theories and techniques that were not common or that were not being taught in the university curriculum.  I spent nights and days in the library doing the research  - and validating all the stuff I got.  That was the good side - and it was all because of the desire to hurdle that thing called a thesis.
   The thesis also brought out the worst in me: I almost got into a fist-fight with George.  And for one whole week - during that crucial one-week before the analysis of the data - I didn't speak with either George or Tanya.
   That was the worst in me.
7. "Education" does not just happen in the classrooms.  And the teachers, lecturers, and professors are not just the ones teaching.  We were all students of one another - classmates, friends, peers, barkadas, study groups, professors...  And in one way or another, we teach each other about things academic and of life.
8. I am - and we all are - the sum-total of the education that we received.
   If someone were to ask me what were the most important courses I took in college, I wouldn't be able to say with conviction which ones would they be.  I'd probably say Philosophy of Man (or Metaphysics, as they call it now, I think), Philosophy of Religion, Theology of Liberation, and my core Psychology classes.
   But then again, Comparative Vertebrate Anatomy taught me about shining through in the darkest of hours.  Zoology taught me the beauty of life.  Botany opened my eyes not just to dicots and monocots - but to the order that there was in nature.  Chemistry - both lectures and lab sessions - opened my eyes to the beauty of structures and disciplined approaches.  Computing sciences furthered that.  Calculus and linear algebra taught me to respect the numbers - and psychology taught me to go beyond the numbers.
   I really can't say.

Photo from m00by

Am I better person because of the education that I received?  I think so.  Had I been through something different, would I still be who I am now?  I don't know.  And I guess, I wouldn't know.

All I know is that what I am now - however I may be - is because of the education that I received.  And how I learned to learn.

step on the brakes. look back. reverse. there is hope.

The past few days have been very hectic - even toxic - ones for me.  The toxicity of the previous weeks was capped by my 1hour wait to submit my documents at the ICA - it wasn't a bad wait, but it was still a "wait" nonetheless.  And patience is not a virtue that I really have.

However, this video - posted by a former colleague from Microsoft SEA - put the week in a very different perspective: there is hope.

Obama - yes, I am still awed by the events in the past 4-6 weeks - was supposedly the embodiment of the audacity of hope.  That "Yes, We Can" - and that "Yes, I can" - and that "Yes, Anybody Can".

This video creatively captures that - and far much more.

Whoever created this video, thanks.  Indeed, there is hope.  And yes, we can still step on the brakes, look back, reverse.

Andrew Lahde's Towel on the Floor

This has got to be one of the best resignation letters I have ever read.  I  don’t know Andrew Lahde - unfortunately.  Apart from the things that have been written of him (he of the magnificent returns, he of the Lahde Capital phenomenon).  But some parts of his letters resonate with me. 

Some, I don't agree with.  Some, I strongly agree.

Here's his 'good-riddance, f-ing goodbye y'all' letter...

Today I write not to gloat. Given the pain that nearly everyone is experiencing, that would be entirely inappropriate. Nor am I writing to make further predictions, as most of my forecasts in previous letters have unfolded or are in the process of unfolding. Instead, I am writing to say goodbye.

Recently, on the front page of Section C of the Wall Street Journal, a hedge fund manager who was also closing up shop (a $300 million fund), was quoted as saying, “What I have learned about the hedge fund business is that I hate it.” I could not agree more with that statement. I was in this game for the money. The low hanging fruit, i.e. idiots whose parents paid for prep school, Yale, and then the Harvard MBA, was there for the taking. These people who were (often) truly not worthy of the education they received (or supposedly received) rose to the top of companies such as AIG, Bear Stearns and Lehman Brothers and all levels of our government. All of this behavior supporting the Aristocracy, only ended up making it easier for me to find people stupid enough to take the other side of my trades. God bless America.

There are far too many people for me to sincerely thank for my success. However, I do not want to sound like a Hollywood actor accepting an award. The money was reward enough. Furthermore, the endless list those deserving thanks know who they are.

I will no longer manage money for other people or institutions. I have enough of my own wealth to manage. Some people, who think they have arrived at a reasonable estimate of my net worth, might be surprised that I would call it quits with such a small war chest. That is fine; I am content with my rewards. Moreover, I will let others try to amass nine, ten or eleven figure net worths. Meanwhile, their lives suck. Appointments back to back, booked solid for the next three months, they look forward to their two week vacation in January during which they will likely be glued to their Blackberries or other such devices. What is the point? They will all be forgotten in fifty years anyway. Steve Balmer, Steven Cohen, and Larry Ellison will all be forgotten. I do not understand the legacy thing. Nearly everyone will be forgotten. Give up on leaving your mark. Throw the Blackberry away and enjoy life.  (Emphasis mine.)

…

I have no interest in any deals in which anyone would like me to participate. I truly do not have a strong opinion about any market right now, other than to say that things will continue to get worse for some time, probably years. I am content sitting on the sidelines and waiting. After all, sitting and waiting is how we made money from the subprime debacle. I now have time to repair my health, which was destroyed by the stress I layered onto myself over the past two years, as well as my entire life — where I had to compete for spaces in universities and graduate schools, jobs and assets under management — with those who had all the advantages (rich parents) that I did not. May meritocracy be part of a new form of government, which needs to be established.

On the issue of the U.S. Government, I would like to make a modest proposal. First, I point out the obvious flaws, whereby legislation was repeatedly brought forth to Congress over the past eight years, which would have reigned in the predatory lending practices of now mostly defunct institutions. These institutions regularly filled the coffers of both parties in return for voting down all of this legislation designed to protect the common citizen. This is an outrage, yet no one seems to know or care about it. Since Thomas Jefferson and Adam Smith passed, I would argue that there has been a dearth of worthy philosophers in this country, at least ones focused on improving government. Capitalism worked for two hundred years, but times change, and systems become corrupt. George Soros, a man of staggering wealth, has stated that he would like to be remembered as a philosopher. My suggestion is that this great man start and sponsor a forum for great minds to come together to create a new system of government that truly represents the common man’s interest, while at the same time creating rewards great enough to attract the best and brightest minds to serve in government roles without having to rely on corruption to further their interests or lifestyles. This forum could be similar to the one used to create the operating system, Linux, which competes with Microsoft’s near monopoly. I believe there is an answer, but for now the system is clearly broken.

Lest we start thinking of Lahde as a saint - and I believe he has no intention of being one - here's one commenter, Dude,who posted an 'open response' to Lahde at Portfolio.Com:

Way to go, Andrew. It's good to see some honesty. What you didn't say is that you realized that you flipped ten heads in a row and you were smart enough not to try again. I'll share a reefer with you any day, even if I am one of those Ivy League rich boys who took a few of your best. Surely you understand delta hedging. We didn't lose as much as you think since we hedge everything but a "transaction spread." It's the widows and orphans that funded your riches, not us.

               

late-bloomers and prodigies

Malcolm Gladwell writes about late-bloomers and prodigies in this New Yorker article.  He has an interesting take on how culture has shaped us to somehow be surprised by child prodigies - geniuses who seem to have an inborn talent to do something remarkably - and not so much by people who 'bloom into their newly-found geniuses within them later' in life.

I consider myself a late-bloomer in a lot of aspects.  I was forced at 15 to make a choice on what to take on at the Ateneo de Manila.  I was torn - what did I know about medicine, or being an engineer, or being an architect or a biologist? - and I was supposed to do this at 15?

That was how the educational system in the Philippines worked: at 15 - whilst in your senior (or junior) year in high school, you'd be required to declare what you wanted to study in the university.

Isn't it a bit too young?

Anyway, I ended up with computing sciences - then psychology - then a few more pre-med units.  But I guess the point really is "you're asking a 15year-old me to make a life-changing decision?"

Reading this article about late-bloomers, I can relate: it's only later in life (well, now...) that I have rediscovered my passion for for painting and sketching and doodling.  I remember that I used to draw a lot when I was in grade school - I drew at the back of my notebooks during long, boring lectures.  I even tried to do my own superhero comic-book.  In high school, I did pretty well in drafting class - and did pretty good in all those "draw this electrical circuit with this bulb and make sure that you have measured them correctly".

Then university came.

And there were books.  Lots of books.  Lots of readings.  Lots of numbers.  Lots of questions.

And doddling and sketching and painting became a luxury.

Until today.

I have just started painting.  I bought myself a 200-dollar oil painting kit - with two brushes, linseed oil, and turpentine.  I bought two canvasses - and ended up doing a pretty good start on one of them last night.

But there was this nagging feeling - someting at the back of my mind: "Am I really going to finish this?  Will the drawing really be good?  Will it be something worth hanging on the wall - or will it end up, like most of my other projects, in the bin?"

Then Malcolm Gladwell offers this snippet from a researcher, David Galenson from the University of Chicago:

But late bloomers, Galenson says, tend to work the other way around. Their approach is experimental (as opposed to young geniuses, who tend to be conceptual). “Their goals are imprecise, so their procedure is tentative and incremental,” Galenson writes in “Old Masters and Young Geniuses,” and he goes on:

The imprecision of their goals means that these artists rarely feel they have succeeded, and their careers are consequently often dominated by the pursuit of a single objective. These artists repeat themselves, painting the same subject many times, and gradually changing its treatment in an experimental process of trial and error. Each work leads to the next, and none is generally privileged over others, so experimental painters rarely make specific preparatory sketches or plans for a painting. They consider the production of a painting as a process of searching, in which they aim to discover the image in the course of making it; they typically believe that learning is a more important goal than making finished paintings. Experimental artists build their skills gradually over the course of their careers, improving their work slowly over long periods. These artists are perfectionists and are typically plagued by frustration at their inability to achieve their goal. 

Where Picasso wanted to find, not search, Cézanne said the opposite: “I seek in painting.”

(Emphases mine.)

It sounded really... hmm, familiar.

But I guess that's how it works: tainted by pre-judgments - directly or indirectly said, or influenced by existing notions of what a good job and future is and what is not by others around us, late-bloomers (and I am not calling myself a late-bloomer just yet...) tend to build things slowly - and look at things critically.

With tainted, prejudging eyes.

Uncertainties within one's self exist - and questions abound: "What if I discover that I am not good enough in painting - and that my dad or my mom was right: had I chosen to do painting in college, I would have ended up penniless?"

Hmm.

As I pick up my brushes, the pallette, a tube of white, and of red (I still don't know if it is called red, indeed), I really don't care.

Perhaps, I was not meant to paint - and make a living out of painting.  And that is fine.  The questions and the uncertainties that I have learned throughout the years of dealing with sharks (and dolphins and fishes and crabs and shrimps) in the corporate world will still surely be there.  But what the heck. 

It's for me this time 'round.

I am painting for me.

Not to earn money.  Not to earn a living.

But to try it out.  And as Galenson said - to experiment.  And experience.

Besides, as Gladwell points out,

Late bloomers’ stories are invariably love stories, and this may be why we have such difficulty with them.

Leadership is about Quiet Strength

I have written about quiet strength and leadership earlier.  And I still stand by it:  Being a leader means being a quiet pillar of strength that others can build on.

It's not about a position.  It's not about being looked up to for advice.  It's not about being able to make decisions for others.  It's about empowering others to think for themselves and make decisions on their own.

Vineet Ayar, CEO of HCL Technologies, wrote this on the HBR blogs:

Unlike leadership in the command and control era, leaders today lead not from the front, but are the quiet strength behind their people. To go just a step beyond Ken Blanchard's four dimensions of leadership -- the head, the hands, the heart and the habits - we might need to add a few more dimensions: listening, learning and letting go! (Emphases mine)

He further writes that "...no matter where you look, leaders assume far greater relevance as allies and co-innovators than as a mentor or guide."

Leaders inspire - they do not instill fear.  Leaders listen - they don't talk.  Leaders manage processes - they empower people.  Leaders understand - they do not impose their "understanding" and comprehension and expertise on others.  Leaders question because they want real answers - not because they want to hear the answers they have in their heads repeated to them.  Leaders ask real questions that matter - because they are prepared to hear the real answers, not because they want to validate the truths they hold to be true within them.  Leaders play the "politics" because it empowers their people - not because playing consolidates power with themselves.  Leaders follow-through on their words and their intentions - they realize their intentions by being focused on what needs to be done and what gets done and what does not.  Leaders are intentional - they can change minds, but they are intentional.  They are visionary - but are also on-the-ground.  They are on-the-ground, but they trust their people enough to deliver.  And when their people don't, they are there to empower.

More than ever, we need leaders.