Dear people who complain:
There was never a golden age in American politics. If you despair at how depressing our politics are, recall that in 1800 John Adams and Thomas Jefferson engaged in some of the nastiest PR campaigns against each other. Elections are about power, bringing the best and worst out of everyone who wants power, regardless of their motivation for wanting it.
While it is true that a singular nasty example doesn’t define the past, or the present, politics in a democracy is inherently frustrating. A government by and for the people includes your stupid neighbor, your weird cousin, the person with the religious beliefs you find absurd, everyone you stare at on the bus (or who stares at you), the people who own the company you work for and the ones begging for change on your way there. There is no way for a government by and for the people to function without forcing these diverse views, needs and desires into a dialog with each other. This is the system as it was intended to function. How much maturity and civility we bring to this inevitability is up to us to decide.
It’s really a miracle it works at all and for as long as it has. Part of why is a collective faith in the process and that everyone should get a chance to participate equally, even those we passionately disagree with. Power changes hands in this country with surprising frequency and civilized grace relative to the history of civilization and for all its horrors and disappointments it is still a wonder to behold.
A common refrain heard during election season is “voting is picking the lesser of two evils”, a jab at the disappointing quality of our candidates. This assumes we’ve historically had good ones, which, once you get past the 5 or 6 great presidents most American’s agree on, is increasingly disappointing the further you study it. And when people who make this complaint are asked personally if they would run for office, of any kind, they generally say “no way”. We know how undesirable life as a politician is, yet simultaneously we’re surprised by the low quality of the candidates we have. Yet these facts are directly related to each other.
We are not promised good candidates in the Constitution. Most of us invest little energy towards the process of picking candidates (which involves participating in a party months before an election), understanding how they’re chosen or even helping decide the winners in races: 58% of American’s voted in 2008. And that was just a vote, which takes only minutes: who knows how much time they invested in considering their choices. Complaints and apathy are dangerous bedfellows and we suffer both in great supply. If we are truly passionate, the system offers us countless local elections where our influence is far greater, and collectively, has far more impact on national elections that we tend to think.
I believe, more or less, we get the government we deserve. Paying close attention twice a decade isn’t paying much attention at all. We are an apathetic and divided nation and its those who are undecided the longest who curiously yield greater influence. And while voting is a right, there is far more to be gained in the long run by voting in the interest of the nation as a whole, which requires inquiring beyond the self serving echo chambers we love to pretend is the entirety of the world.
Sadly it’s only when things hit close enough to home that we start watching our representatives, senators, mayors and governors regularly, and participating at levels of government where our vote carries much more weight, where the kind of change we want is both deserved and possible.
Nothing is learned by throwing wrenches at the engine of an already struggling machine. Revolutions almost never succeed, a fact we deny since we are one of the few nations in history to be born from a successful one. It’s only by getting inside and dirtying our hands, or at least studying the system to see how it was designed to work, and was designed to be changed, that empty frustrations can be replaced by meaningful action. No matter how small those actions are, they have far more value to everyone than grandstanding, complaining or voting in protest.
Churchill wrote:
The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter.
It has been said that democracy is the worst form of government, except all the others.
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[Updated 10-31-16 – minor edits]
Dear college graduates:
I will share what no one told me when I graduated: live for yourself. Do not make life choices based on what parents, girlfriends, boyfriends or buddies will judge you for doing or not doing. Be wary of people who tell you about regrets – they are projecting theirs onto you. At 21 it is far harder to figure out how to live for yourself than you think. You probably haven’t yet discovered that you don’t know who you are.
Eventually you may find living for yourself hinges on living with and for others, but you’ll need to live for yourself first to find that out. Spend an hour a day believing nothing – it will be good for you. Some of the best things about college are what you unlearn.
Make bets. For every day since you entered kindergarten there have been safe choices waiting for you. Go to elementary school. Go to high school. Go to college. You’ve done all the safe choices already. Don’t die with a headstone that merely says “was safe”. Make some bets. Expect to lose some, and be open to surprise about which ones. Your profit in all outcomes will be to figure out who you are. If you were good at playing it safe, your mistakes and failures will be the first things in your life that are truly your own.
Move. Escape your house / town / state / country for a time. Every year that goes by in a career makes it harder to ever wander again. Work as hard as you have to, doing shit jobs, if it lets you get out of your hometown. See something else. Don’t complain about your old stomping ground as if it were the world. You’re still a kid – go see something before you decide anything. If you go somewhere you hate, you can always move somewhere else. That’s the upside of learning how to move.
Stay in touch. The surprise of my degree was the people I met – my education could have been obtained elsewhere, but the collection of insane and wonderful people I met would be hard to replicate, many of whom I’m friends with today. Had I been less of a fool, I’d have stayed connected to more of them. Don’t be shallow – don’t use people. But do stay connected with the people you have bonds with. You’ll lose most, but you can help pick which ones you’ll keep.
Accept the Paradox. The confusion you feel about what to do or where to go may never leave you, and that’s OK. Don’t wait around expecting it to resolve itself. Graduation does not guarantee clarity. Most people twice your age don’t know what to do with their lives either – why believe you should have it all figured out now? Certainly try, but know the odds. Make commitments and work for goals, but never believe their utility is persistent or guaranteed.
Believe in work. All things equal, those who put more in, get more out. If you can’t find the job you want, make it. Do it for free, and do it better, and you’ll find someone who will hire you. It may not be easy to get what you want, but if you swallow your pride and put in more passion than the slackers, you’ll be rewarded. Not by the universe, but by your self-respect.
Best wishes.
Dear Micromanager:
Owners of thoroughbreds never stop their horses mid-race, every ten seconds, to remind the horse and jockey how to run, where the finish line is, or that it’d be good to finish first. Why? It would slow them down. Only an fool would do this.
If you’re a manager, you must assume you have thoroughbreds working for you. Your job is to give them what they need to win their respective races, agreeing with them on goals and rewards, but then getting the hell out of the way. Until they start jumping fences or attacking other horses, you must let them run their race.
Even if you are 30% better at a task than someone who works for you, the time it takes for you to check on them every few hours, and demand approvals over trivial decisions, costs more in lost morale, passion for work, and destruction of self-respect among your staff than the 30% you think you’re adding. No one works well if they feel they are being treated like a confused child. Having two people involved in work that should only require one wastes everyone’s time.
Perhaps you don’t think you are managing thoroughbreds and that your horses need lots of help.
This is possible.
But if you are in fact a micromanager, you started over-managing the first day others worked for you. You have no idea what they are capable of. You’re probably treating at least one potential Seabiscuit as if he were a toy pony at the county fair.
A healthy, confident, well-adjusted manager knows their job is to do three things:
- Hire thoroughbreds, point them at the finish line, and get out of their way unless they truly need help, or ask for it
- Coach, teach, encourage and position ordinary horses to maximize their potential and approximate thoroughbreds in some of their work.
- Fire those who can never do the work needed without your constant involvement to make room for those who can.
If you don’t do these things, the responsibility is yours alone. Good managers achieve all three. Mediocre managers at least are working towards good ends. But bad managers are too distracted by their own egos, paychecks or insecurities to recognize how self-destructive they are.
An easy test of micromanagement is to let your team know you are confident in their ability to do their job, set clear goals and then tell them you are available if ever they need help. Give them more room to perform. Tell them you are available if they need you, but otherwise you will put your attention elsewhere other than timely check ins. See what happens. Hold your tongue. Don’t demand to review that email. Don’t insist on regulating who can meet with who. Take one small step backward and see what happens.
Odds are good the world will not end. Your best employees will be happier and more productive, giving you new energy to invest in the rest of your work or more afternoons where you can head home early. Some of your team might surprise you, and thrive with more autonomy. And for those who fail to improve or make mistakes, you’ve lost nothing, as you can step back in where it’s actually needed and now know where to focus.
If you are terrified of trying this and have a list of excuses why this is a bad idea, the only thing you are managing is your ego. Perhaps you’re afraid to admit your people can function quite well without your approval or input on every little thing. Or it could be you are proof of the Peter Principle, and would be happier and more useful if you stopped managing and worked solo. A bigger paycheck is not a healthy trade for making yourself and your staff miserable.
Good managers are brave, and generous with trust in their people. They want them to mature in their judgment and grow in their skills, preferring to err on the side of trusting too much than trusting too little. They take pleasure in letting go and giving power away to their staff, accepting that when someone who works for them shines, they shine too.
But if you do not enjoy these things, and struggle to trust your staff, or can’t bear to see a decision made or reward earned without your name all over it, you should stop managing people. You and everyone who works for you will be happier if you did.
Hugs and kisses,
Signed,
The people you are micromanaging
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
See this response, an open letter to the micromanaged
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