Is the best too much?
SIMPLE
I wrote last week about promises of simplicity that simply aren’t. But what about when simplicity is both desirable — and possible? My wife and I both love to cook, and our ‘go to’ cookbook over the past 2 years has undoubtedly been Yotam Ottolenghi’s SIMPLE. The title is an acronym:
S = short on time
I = ingredients (10 or less)
M = make ahead
P = pantry
L = lazy
E = easier than you think
Just before our most recent lockdown, I cooked a fish in tomato and tahini sauce that honestly took 15 minutes (9 ingredients, 5 of which are staples from the pantry). Our guests raved about it.
Ottolenghi’s gift is to lose nothing of the flavour complexity, but offer a process that I can perform with little time, even when I’m distracted.
And, that’s often the role that senior leaders have to play. We have to de-complexify — using good process — that which others are convinced is difficult, or even impossible. Right now, I’m working with a large (5,000 employee) organisation that is trying to reconcile a new strategy with 10 different divisional operating models, and over 100 ‘project bids’ that have been put to the executive team and board.
My work with them is to streamline their strategic directions (the WHY of the business) to a minimal (SIMPLE) number of elements. From those, we’ll do two things: (i) build a (SIMPLE) over-arching operating model describing HOW value is created; and (ii) build a (SIMPLE) prioritisation method enabling them to make intelligent strategic choices about where to invest effort.
Question: What can you simplify through good process?
The decline of formality
During lockdowns I read less, but watch more TV. This time, it’s been Flight of the Conchords (hilarious, quirky New Zealand comedy) and Belgravia (19th century costume drama, from the creators of Downton Abbey). The latter centres on upwardly mobile property developers, the Trenchards, who have aspirations of the landed gentry (and more money than most of them) but aren’t accepted into the social echelons of the Earls and Countesses who live in the houses they build.
What struck me was how in less than 200 years, we’ve moved from a society where precedence and rank determined everything (whom you could marry, who entered a room first) and clothing, modes of address, and accent signalled that rank. Today, with the spread of WFH (work from home) I’m noticing an almost complete discarding of these symbols.
Nearly gone are the suits, the pre-meeting formalities, the deference to rank. I see CEOs lounging in living rooms, directors leaning back with dogs in their laps, and executives interrupted (mostly cheerfully) by home-schooled children. One client today had a bed in the background of her Zoom call, scattered with LEGO.
But, this decline of formality was not caused by COVID, simply accelerated by it. One consulting colleague told me that, in Germany, sales of men’s business wear (suits, ties, formal shoes) had declined 80% in 10 years. When the history of the pandemic is written, I suspect much will be said about the re-shaping of social rules, the greater flexibility and social ease that came about in the 2020s.
Question: What formalities have you (happily) dispensed with lately?
The best
This year, I worked with a highly-regarded country health service to develop its vision of being “Australia’s healthiest rural community”.
Just think about that for a moment.
I wrote recently about how the best purpose statements have a hook, or causal question. Here, the hook is “healthiest” and it begs two questions: “Compared to who?” and “By what definition?” Their definition was to encompass many dimensions (e.g., obesity, mental health) and sub-populations (e.g., farmers, school kids). And, their comparator was all other similar-sized population catchments (below 50k). In short, they want to be THE model by which rural hospitals and community health services can operate.
But, there was a debate around this. In particular, a view that was more cautious, and said, “What if we say that we aspire to be amongst the healthiest rural communities? Wouldn’t that be more realistic?”
Would it? Flight of the Conchords (see above) have a (humorous) love ballad sung to a girl who is “In the top 3 most beautiful girls, at least in this street”.
When it comes to vision, you must be absolute, not comparative. Stake out territory in which you will excel, where you will even be unique, and lay claim to that territory.
Question: What is your absolute (not comparative) goal?
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Comment below, too, on what you think about ‘being the best’ and I look forward to seeing you next Friday.
Andrew