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During the Covid-19 pandemic, many of us will find ourselves working from home.

However, unless we are particularly motivated and strong-willed, this can be a tremendously difficult task to achieve with any degree of effectiveness.

In this article, I consider some of the reasons why and one or two strategies to help the crossover.

And it’s in that word crossover that much of the difficulty lies. We associate the physical environment of the office with work and the comfortable surroundings of home as a place of relaxation. Indeed, home is where we go to stop thinking about work, so when it follows us through the door, feelings of conflict will naturally arise.

The workplace, by its nature, is free from the distractions of the television, or the washing basket. While we would disagree that it is an influence, the presence of our co-workers gives us a certain amount of the accountability that we need. True, we might briefly look at the internet at work, but at home, we are free to indulge further. We begin to adopt, “I’ll just start when…” attitude, which, the longer it extends, the more difficult it is to break. This outlook is often coupled with an internal reward system, which argues that “when I’ve done two hours work, I will be allowed to watch this or do that,” substituting in whichever “home-related” activity we find appealing. Our one ally, structure, is lost.

As I have mentioned in these pages before, we are human, and it is okay that we are. We cannot, and should not, expect the same level of performance from those who are not acclimatized to home working. Yet, on an individual level, our work ethic haunts us and we ponder the curse of our own weakness. It is certain, we convince ourselves, that our colleagues are producing full, value-filled days. We will get found out. We must do something.

So, businesses find their people logging in at ever more obscure times, working deeper into the night and weekends. Our commuting times now become part of our working time, and we spread our tasks over a greater time frame to try and extract the core hours required. Who sent the email at four am, and who was around to answer it? Our structure is now further in the distance.

Those that are most successful at homeworking recognize the need for a strict and robust structure.

Their work is likely to take place in a designated “office space,” which they mentally associate with work. Perhaps it has work-related, or work-branded items in it. The space is even more successful if it is isolated, and out of view from family members, piles of ironing, or remote controls.

It is all about reinforcing the mind that you are in a working environment. One easy and effective way to achieve this is to wear what you would wear in the office, right down to the shoes on your feet. If your business has a uniform, this is an even greater bonus. Put it on. Put it on at the same time you would for a typical working day. If it helps, leave the house at the same time and drive around the town to simulate your morning commute. Every small strategy can help.

But most of all, when you lose structure, don’t beat yourself up for behaving slightly differently. You’re human, and you’re great that way. Simply pick up your knowledge of PDCA. Ask yourself what you learned today, and what you’re going to do differently tomorrow. Leave being a machine to the machines.

Stay safe and stay healthy.

Best wishes,

Simon.

Over the last week or so, I was fortunate enough to attend a course at work. Before going on the training, I aimed to see what parallels I could find between the topic and my lean knowledge.

The course centered around MTM, or Methods-Time Measurement. Primarily, MTM seeks to explore a process by breaking it down into its building blocks. Each of these building blocks, e.g., reach, grasp, move, position, and release, is given a standard time. This analysis allows for processes to be accurately planned prior to real-life deployment.

Each building block is designated a different code and a different time, which is dependent on distance class. For example, a reach of 80cm is given more time than a reach of 20cm. This seemed to make sense.

During the training, we were given different scenarios to analyze by using the appropriate code. I did not always do too well at these exercises and found some of them very difficult.

I reflected on this difficulty. Although I work primarily in lean, it had been a long time since I had had to think about quick, repeatable processes with such a degree of granularity. But it was in this reflection that the learning happened.

The course materials were deeply rooted in my mind. It was a weird experience, but I felt that I could actually feel my brain processing the new data as I slept. Indeed, on the last day of the training, we were given a video to watch and analyze.

Given some of my less spectacular efforts on previous days, there was every possibility that I would not do particularly well. However, I was pleasantly surprised when I began to perform with clarity and precision during the test.

Again, I reflected. Perhaps I had run out of ways to get it wrong? Maybe the strongest learning had come from the errors I had made?

I had started the course looking for lean parallels. It did not take me long to realize that I needed to put this thinking aside and concentrate fully on the information I was being given.

Yet, here, I was, on the final day of a fairly intense course, reflecting on PDCA and Coaching cycles. After all, I had gradually improved my MTM analyzing skills through a series of mistakes. Similarly, I felt my learning had not exclusively happened in the classroom. It had happened in the quiet times when I was reflecting at home. It had happened when I was moving around, observing the shop floor before the training day had even begun.

When we talk about the “learning enterprise,” we are not talking about sending everybody on courses. We are talking about the learning that happens when we are gently coached through our mistakes.

“What did you expect to happen?”

“What did happen?”

“What did you learn?”

“What are you going to do next?”

The role of the leader is to coach her people to do the things that they currently feel are impossible. This is the learning enterprise – a place where people learn in the moments of space and reflection.

As we have seen in previous articles, this constant re-examination takes a good deal of discipline, both on behalf of the coach and coachee. But the outcome, well, that can be spectacular.

It is worth stating, at the outset, that “The Empty Raincoat” by Charles Handy was originally published in 1994.

Therefore, to read it in 2020 is something of a joy. The book details Handy’s thoughts on the dilemma of the individual in the corporate world. Are we all to become anonymous? The titular empty raincoat? The book is very far-reaching in its scope but does not overstretch itself. Many of the predictions have come to pass. Some, like the idea of federalism, seem to have played out and be seeking out a second Sigmoidal curve.

This cyclical idea of renewal is certainly an interesting one. Handy talks of the need to begin the next upward curve, before the previous arc is complete. Naturally, the difficulty inherent comes in recognizing that the downward trajectory has started. This is one of the many modern business paradoxes that Handy explores.

As a lean thinker, I was particularly interested in Handy’s thoughts on belonging. Belonging creates engagement within the lean enterprise, and this topic features heavily in Handy’s work. Handy explores the concept of twin citizenship, both on the level of the large and the small. As humans, we engage with the goal of the department and the corporation. Handy did extrapolate this to the idea of the small community, inside the federal state. He hypothesized if this might spell the end of the nation station – with small, self-governing towns, orbiting a European centre. History has shown that the notion of the nation-state is still a strong one.

In the corporate world, Handy speaks of central hubs, granting subsidiarity to satellite entities. The success of this model, argues Handy, becomes the individual’s sense of membership to the centre and the unit where the work is done.

Handy speaks of the rise of the portfolio worker — a vendor of self, giving service to multiple companies via an invoice of skill, not time. Although the large organization has yet to degrade to this level, there are signs of Handy’s forewarning. The job for life has undoubtedly disappeared from our landscape.

“The Empty Raincoat” is a remarkable book, which certainly stands the test of time. The author, and his work, is an academic area I will re-visit in coming years.

Thoroughly recommended.

In previous articles, we have been discussing discipline as it relates to human psychology and the people aspects of lean.

We first looked at the need to delay gratification. In a business environment, this is manifest through the willingness to face problems head-on, rather than continuing work through a series of workarounds.

Last time, we explored the assumption of responsibility. In a lean enterprise, this surfaces in the determination to immerse oneself in cycles of continual reflection. Hansei is the beating heart of Kaizen and the learning environment. Once again, personal discipline is required to stick at it.

Now our discussion moves on to the “dedication to the truth of reality.” (Peck, p65.)

We, each of us, carry around a map of our reality. We build and tweak this mental map as we grow and gain experience in life. Our “work brain” evolves in the same way. Some of our colleagues will have defined their understanding of the working world before exposure to lean methodology. Changing this map is a mighty effort.

“We can revise our maps only when we have the discipline to overcome that pain.” (Peck, p.38.)

In this sense, one could conclude that we are almost predisposed to reject lean methods from the off. Rejection is far more comfortable than tapping into the discipline of learning something new.

It is in the face of this rejection that front line change agents and early adopters must be particularly rugged. We change our working environments, one mind at a time.

I used to know somebody who went to work and did the bare minimum. This guy’s only interest was to get to the end of the day, having expended the least energy possible. Then, one day, this individual was involved in a lean workshop. That couple of days was utterly transformative, and, in the face of this revelation, he rewrote his map entirely. I can write this with some authority because that individual was me.

Now, when I stand in front of a training room, or a team of colleagues at the gemba, I aim to replicate that feeling in someone else. But I must be mindful that I am asking people to change their maps. My revelatory experience allowed me to jump straight over the pain of change. We must realize, however, that others will travel by a more convoluted route.

“The feeling associated with giving up something loved – or at least something that is part of ourselves and familiar – is depression.” (Peck, p.57.)

By contrast, those who are struggling to give up a familiar map find themselves exposed to the energy of those who are full of joy at lean methods. These flag bearers have a dedication to the new truth.

“What does a life of total dedication to the truth mean? It means, first of all, a life of continuous and never-ending and never-ending stringent self-examination.” (Peck, p.39.)

Is this not precisely what we strive for in a continually learning, Kaizen environment? Now, we have an understanding of why it is such a tough assignment.

The same is true of our leaders. We assign to them a curious crown of serenity and all-knowing, but they too will struggle with the same doubts and pain.

“The best decision-makers are those who are willing to suffer the most over their decisions but still retain their ability to be decisive.” (Peck, p.64.)

In the end, it is caring that drives us. When we care about our colleagues, our product, our business, and our customers, we will face and endure the pain of our dedication to reality. We will delay our gratification and assume full responsibility for facing and resolving our problems. In short, we will grow. And, growth, both personal and organizational, is a beautiful thing for which to strive.

That is the human essence of Kaizen.

In our last article, we began to think about the importance of discipline and how it relates to the success of lean within our organisations and personal lives.

In this article, we pick up the baton once more and press on with our exploration of human behaviour within lean systems. As we have already seen, you cannot take the human out of lean.

Over the years, I have had the opportunity and privilege of training lean methods in many companies and businesses. Every so often, I would encounter the “it cannot work here” response, often voiced like this:

“They voice their belief, noisily or subtly, that their difficulties represent a unique kind of affliction…” (Peck, p3)

The above quotation derives from the feelings of those entering psychotherapy. They compare their travails with their perception that those around them have life easy. Life should be simple; they hypothesise, and when they step into work, that feeling prevails.

Such a simple premise has startling implications for lean in particular and business in general.

If I believe that work should be simple, then am I more likely to discard that which requires a degree of effort and learning? Surely ‘difficult’ means something is not working? Consider the following quotation, also by Peck:

“Whenever we seek to avoid the responsibility for our own behaviour, we do so by attempting to give that responsibility to some other individual or organisation or entity.” (Peck, p.30.)

And here is a key point in our thinking. Lean has, for a long time, sought to place responsibility for change back into the laps of the process experts, those that do the job every day.

To begin with, many will flourish in that sense of fresh, new empowerment, but that empowerment must be total, and it must be everlasting. The empowerment puzzle can be a definite drawback of “Event Kaizen.” For a couple of blissful weeks, while the kaizen focus is in my area, I feel incredibly supported, and my outlook changes vastly:

“The feeling of being valuable – ‘I am a valuable person’ – is essential to mental health and is a cornerstone of self-discipline.” (Peck, p12.)

I begin to perform. I begin to highlight and implement positive change in my working environment and processes, because I am temporarily inspired to self-discipline. Life is good, and, perhaps it can be simple. I feel content.

But then the focus shifts to another area, and my day returns to normal. At this point, I must make the conscious decision to remain disciplined and assume the pain of responsibility. Unless the daily drumbeat of improvement is apparent to me, perhaps through the receipt of coaching, it will be easy for me to go back to where I was comfortable. Again, Peck describes this in the context of those who gain the most through therapy:

“We must possess the willingness and the capacity to suffer continual self-examination.” (Peck, p.25.)

Peck goes on to state that this is by no means an inherent trait in people. But it is more prevalent in lean professionals. Most lean experts that I know do not even consider themselves to be experts. Most are engaged in a lifelong study of the subject. When lean gets you, it gets you like that. The problem arises when the lean professional forgets that those around feel differently.

As we mentioned in our first article, lean is difficult. And we must recognise this. When we, as change agents, evangelise and beat the drum of empowered kaizen at the lowest level, what we are essentially asking for is this: “delay the gratification of doing what is easy now (your work) and except the pain of improving it. Then assume the responsibility for continuing this task with the training that we have given you.”

The sudden onset of responsibility then gives rise to confusion:

“If we are to cope with the turbulence of life today, we must start by finding a way to organise it in our minds. Until we do that we will feel impotent, victims of events beyond our control or even our capacity to understand.” (Handy, p.22.)

And so, we are right back to two fundamental misconceptions that we will begin to address in future posts: i) that others are to blame for our work situations, and ii) our thinking comes from external events.

While the spotlight of the joy of continuous improvement success may bring temporary relief, it will eventually give way to frustration when the pace slows, and the buzz of results become more difficult to find. At this point, it is easy to think that the problem is actually lean and conclude, “I knew it would never work here!”

If we can genuinely weave the antidotes to these mistaken beliefs into our lean thinking, then perhaps we will be getting somewhere.

Bibliography:

HANDY, Charles: “The Empty Raincoat” Arrow (2002.)

PECK, M Scott: “The Road Less Travelled” Penguin Random House UK (1978.)

Read the first in this series here.

I have been on my lean journey for ten years now. While I still consider myself to be something of a novice, I have begun to ask some sharper questions of the body of knowledge that we all call lean.

One development in my understanding is the notion that organisational systems, such as lean, only begin to live when they populated by living, breathing people.

Without the organic input of people, these business systems are merely frameworks at best or abstract, potentially non-existent constructs at worst.

It seemed, to me at least, prudent to think more about the people. I began to get interested in psychology.

I must, at this stage, point out that my studies are only at a very preliminary standing. However, my enthusiasm for what I am learning is such that I would like to share some initial ideas with you now.

I hope that this will become a series of articles, perhaps that I will eventually pull together into a book. I am sure that other, more qualified thinkers are doing similar work, but here, at least is my own input into the debate.

During this series, I will be drawing almost exclusively from one text. I include the appropriate referencing throughout. The book in question was suggested at the end of an online Neuro-Linguistic-Programming (NLP) course that I did a year or so ago. It is the remarkable “A Road Less Travelled” by M.Scott Peck. Early on, Peck states:

“Life is difficult.” (p.3)

Such a quote is a wonderful starting point for our articles. How easy would it be to paraphrase and conclude that “lean is difficult?!”

Our job, in both cases, is to attempt to rise above that difficulty through constant examination and growth. As Peck says, “Problems are the cutting edge that distinguishes between success and failure.”(p.4) Successful lean systems are reliant upon how well we develop the people that give life to that system.

“It is only because of problems that we grow mentally and spiritually.” (p.4)

And herein lies the real meaning of lean. When we fundamentally respect the people that work around us, we create an environment where we all strive to learn, improve and solve problems. As we individually grow, the group grows, and the system and the business grow. But this requires real effort and commitment. Peck calls it out in one word, which is the title for the entire first section of the book – discipline.

“Discipline is the basic set of tools we require to solve life’s problems.” (p.3)

Whether it be a waste that we see in our process, a quality or time issue that we are aware of, we must draw upon discipline. This discipline requires that we create the time and space to look the problem square in the eye. However, this is where the difficulty arises.

Without discipline, we will seek to delay the hard work of reflection and problem solving and settle with the instant gratification of continuing where we find comfort. Typically, this lies in continuing to deliver the work that we like to do, irrespective of outcome. We apply the sticking plaster, in the hope that we will never have to explore the real reason of why we got cut. Peck illustrates this paradox with a case study from a patient:

“The solution of the problem represented gratification to her, but she was unable to delay this gratification for more than a minute or two, with the result her problems were usually inappropriate.” (p.17)

The example sounds very much how we seem to work. We can lack the discipline to stop and solve our issues once, at their root cause. We keep going in the pursuit of a target, unwilling to delay our gratification in achieving that target. Let’s feel good today and solve the problem tomorrow. Maybe it will even go away by itself.

We reassure ourselves by stating that “this is business” that “the target must be reached.” But tomorrow, we will climb that mountain all over again, and find the same boulders on the way up.

When we were children, we learned that if we did our homework first, the joy of our play was all the greater. As a collective group, under the umbrella of the lean enterprise, we still find the notion of delaying gratification difficult. It is this difficulty that leads to a fire-fighting culture.

In this sense, lean becomes a people system charged with holding up the mirror and doing so in an environment of respect and constant learning. Where we work around problems, we are not showing ourselves respect, nor working in a way in which we will know the joy of improvement.

Discipline, both personal and organisational, it seems, is the necessary starting point.

This post is the first in a series. I hope you will join me for the others.

Bibliography:

PECK, M Scott: “The Road Less Travelled” Penguin Random House UK (1978.)

On 12th October 2019, in the Austrian capital of Vienna, Eliud Kipchoge ran the 26.2 miles of the marathon in 1:59.40. This was the first time that the distance had been completed in a time under two hours. It was a truly historic moment in athletics, sport and human history.

In my upcoming book, “First Time Lean for Small Businesses,” I discuss a similar event to help uncover some of the foundational elements of continuous improvement. In that instant it was the first four minute mile, run by Sir Roger Bannister on 6th May 1954.

That Kipchoge managed to run twenty-six consecutive miles at an average of four and a half minutes each, is nothing short of sensational, and he is to be rightly lauded for that remarkable achievement. But, like Bannister, his was not an individual achievement. It was the achievement of a focused enterprise.

Like any focused enterprise, it began with a goal. This goal was embodied in the Ineos 1:59 Challenge and a project team was assembled to work on the attempt. With the goal in place, all of the actions could be identified to achieve success in the shared vision.

As of 2014, Kipchoge’s compatriot held the World Marathon Record, with a time of 2:02.57. This meant that 177 seconds needed to be shaved off the time. Over 26.2 miles, this meant that each mile needed to be run, on average, 6.76 seconds quicker. The team had their goal and initial measures in place.

Next came selecting the runners. As the pre-eminent marathon runner in the world, and current Olympic champion, Kipchoge was the obvious candidate to spearhead the campaign. However, on the 12th October, he was joined by an incredible forty-one pacemakers. These included World and Olympic champions from many distance running disciplines. The right people had been selected for the team.

In a previous attempt, the pacemakers had run around three participants in a diamond formation. This time, they ran around one participant in a “V” formation. The Ineos group were applying the PDCA cycle. Having failed in 2017, they used the learning to try out another experiment and hypothesis. Furthermore, they employed sophisticated Visual Management techniques. The pacemakers were laser guided. At any time, there was clear information as to whether the runners were ahead, behind, or on target. The enterprise knew were they were at any given time.

In true 5S spirit, the surroundings were carefully planned and chosen to maximise Kipchoge’s potential to meet his target. Vienna was a city at the optimum temperature and sea-level. It could also offer a relatively flat course that was in the same time-zone in which Kipchoge trained. Therefore the runner would be able to work comfortably and achieve the standard splits required to stay on track.

Further support from the environment came in the shape of spectators. It was reasoned that this would further motivate Kipchoge when the going inevitably got tough. Effectively, Kipchoge had hundreds of managers offering him support in his workplace. Whilst it is difficult to measure the overall effectiveness of this measure, it certainly didn’t do any harm.

In Kipchoge, the team effectively had a running machine. This machine needed to be looked after to prevent breakdown and sub-optimal performance. As part of the planned maintenance, Kipchoge was given fluids at frequent intervals, which were delivered to him by a colleague on a bicycle. Kipchoge’s running shoes were also of the very latest technological design – and were thought to be 4% more efficient than their predecessors.

With all this co-ordinated and focused activity, the enterprise gave themselves the best chance possible to reach their goal. True, they needed an exceptionally talented individual to deliver the triumph, but Kipchoge was able to produce his best only with the support of a team of individuals aligned in totality to the task of beating the two-hour mark. Rightly, it will be Eliud Kipchoge’s name that enters the history books, but his colleagues will have a remarkable story to tell.

In the businesses in which we all work, we are gifted to work with whole teams of talented individuals. Like the collective behind the Kipchoge success, we need to align our efforts to the goals that the customer sets for these teams. How can we support our value-added colleagues to do the best that they can, at all times? If we know where we are and where we would like to be, the rest is just about pulling on our trainers and joining the points – even if they are twenty-six miles apart.

Have you ever been to a beach and written your name in the sand? Then, have you relaxed back, in the sun, and watched as the waves gently lapped the impression away and returned the sand to its smooth, original state?

That is what reading the non-fiction title “Results,” by Jamie Smart, is like.

It could be that this book will become part of a canon of classics in a generation’s time. One of those works that has helped to future-proof the way we interact with the world.

Jamie uses the phrase VUCA to describe that world. It means “Volatile, Uncertain, Complex and Ambiguous,” which aptly describes the environment in which many of us survive. “Results” is a wonderfully soothing piece of work in the face of this outlook. And, best of all, you don’t have to do anything special to enjoy that release.

“Results” is a difficult book to describe without hinting at the message. So, in that sense, I will not try. What I can say is that the book is written in a wonderfully straight-forward and friendly style. If you have ever encountered any audio or video of Jamie Smart, you will find that it is impossible to read the words without hearing the soft hug of his voice. It is, simply, a wonderful piece of work.

To summarise, would I recommend this book? Yes. Without hesitation. I would not put the reader off its predecessor either, the classic “Clarity,” on which this work builds. In my experience, both books have a knack of finding you, at the moment when you are ready, so, if you are reading this, there is really only one decision to make. Please buy this book and thank yourself later for making such a great investment!

An easy 5 out of 5!

Please find a link to purchase this book here.

I recently participated in my first flying lesson. It took place at a local airfield on a glorious autumnal Saturday. The lesson had previously been cancelled, due to high winds, so I was grateful for having so much luck with the weather.

After some ground instruction as to the controls and general operation, I followed James, my instructor for the morning, to one of the hangars near the Control Tower.

Inside was a wonderful craft – the Ikarus C-42 light aircraft. James removed one of the side panels, revealing the simplicity of the structure inside. The plane was a long, aluminium tube, around which the composite shell sat. It was beautifully straightforward. The cabin was neat and compact, with just enough room for the two seats; one for the pilot and one for the passenger and was fronted with surprisingly few dials on the instrument panel. It was a perfect exercise in functionality and simplicity; designed to do a job and to do it well – over and over again. Unsurprisingly, my lean mind came to the fore. I began to admire the design, with its tightness and focused accuracy. I had been drawn into the thinking that a plane must be an incredibly complex thing, but the Ikarus C-42 was stunning. There was no superfluousity, no contamination of the vision. It was clean, clear, simple, and I loved it!

With absolutely no effort, James pushed the plane out of its hangar and onto the concrete. The time was rapidly approaching when we would take to the skies. I climbed in and was instructed in how to strap myself into the seat. James did the same and soon the engines were started. With headsets donned, we radioed the tower for a take off slot, and trundled out onto the runway.

It was as we picked up speed that the lightness of the craft came into its own. Take-off was achieved with the minimum of fuss and the minimum of runway. Once again, I found myself marvelling at the efficiency of this brilliant flying machine. We began to climb and, the landscape with which I was so familiar, receded into a patchwork of miniature mappings. I was beginning to think that I was hooked.

Soon, we were heading out across the sea and it was my turn to take the controls. This now, is the thrust and the theme of this post. Whilst the plane was equipped with a tail rudder, all of the ascent, descent and direction is controlled through the central joystick. Moving the stick left or right controls the ailerons on the wing, banking and turning the plane in the desired direction. Pushing the stick forward or pulling it back controlled the elevators on the tailplane. Forward pushes to the nose down, causing a descent, backwards pushes the nose up causing ascent. Simple enough I thought and set about controlling the plane, pulling this way and that, much like a television or film pilot.

But this effort was not required.

I found, much to my delight, that the joystick only needed the merest of touches to change or correct the direction. Just the slightest nudge. In fact, the plane was happiest when you did nothing. As the car drivers amongst us will attest, this came as something of a revelation. I pondered on this as the sunlight glinted off the cabin. What was the difference?

We had come above the obstacles of the road.

Whilst we were flying back to our starting location, we were flying for pleasure, not the goal of the destination. We had risen above the obstacles of daily life on the ground and were free to enjoy the journey in the moment.

I am reminded of one of the presuppositions of NLP. People aren’t broken. By extension, people and organisations (of people) aren’t broken. All they need is a little nudge on the joystick and they will come back on track.

The natural state of that little Ikarus C-42 was to fly. Our natural state is wellness, clarity and connection, through the principles of Mind, Consciousness and Thought. When we have these things, we too can fly, like the little plane that I had so come to admire.

I cannot wait to go again and reconnect.

(If you would like to learn more about the Three Principles, head to the shop where you will find links to books by Jamie Smart, Sydney Banks and Michael Neill. I thoroughly recommend them all.)