Week of 2021-07-19
People-keeping and mission-keeping
In a couple of conversations this week, this distinction between people management approaches kept popping up. I am pretty sure this is incomplete, but it seems useful, so here goes. In my experience, it feels like competent people management falls somewhere in the spectrum between people-keeping and mission-keeping.
At one extreme are the people-keeping managers who focus entirely on the health of the team. If you are their report, they always have your back. They will make sure that your career needs are taken care of, going to tremendous lengths to find a way for you to flourish. At the other end, the mission-keeping managers are aflame with the big idea and enlist followers to make it happen. They may zig and zag, and have setbacks, but every report knows where they’re going, no matter how long the journey.
I’ve known many great managers, and it doesn’t seem like there’s rightness or wrongness in this spectrum itself. I’ve seen people-keeping managers who over time build loyal followers who feel like they belong, having this almost perfect alignment with the others in their team. They make solid tiger teams, having a great time no matter how they are applied, with mission almost becoming a byproduct of being together. In this way, their specific mission may change, but everything they touch, they leave a little bit better than before.
I’ve also seen mission-keeping managers who set out on ambitious (and sometimes, truly quixotic) quests and attract followers. Regardless of whether they eventually succeed, their determination and clarity of purpose also acts as a magnet. These teams tend to be less cohesive than those led by people-keeping folks, but the folks who stick it out to the end tend to be highly resilient, and those who leave remember their time on the team as formative.
Most managers know intuitively where they are on this spectrum, and they are better off conveying that to their reports. If I am joining a team led by a manager with a strong mission-keeping slant, I know that my career mentoring will have to come from elsewhere. This is just not something my new manager will be interested in. The people must fit the mission. If I am joining a team of the manager who’s strongly people-keeping, I need to be prepared to have fluidity and uncertainty -- the mission will shift and change. Because here, the mission must fit the people.
🔗 https://glazkov.com/2021/07/23/people-keeping-and-mission-keeping/
The music we play
One of my colleagues shared this metaphor and I was mesmerized by it, expanding into this vignette. They suggested that if we could pretend that teams are playing music, we could imagine the kind of music that we would hear.
A team that’s persevering toward a milestone, gritting teeth and buckling down is likely playing a march: methodical, brash, simple rhythm that keeps them awake and aware of the pace. Bloody calluses be damned -- as long as you’re putting your foot in front of the other, you’re doing your part.
A well-organized team that builds intricate products plays a symphony: multi-faceted, polished, nuanced. There might even be an operatic diva whose voice makes your heart ache from beauty, bending reality and capturing your imagination. Everybody knows their place and time, structure rules everything.
Some teams don't quite know how their work will come together, but their shared faith in each other, backed by centuries of collective experience, hints that it will be marvellous -- and fun. This team plays jazz. Unpredictable, mercurial, brilliant and yes, sometimes frivolous.
Each kind of music asks to be held differently. If I only know that I am a second violin, it might be tough for me to endure a grueling march and be anxiously reaching for a non-existent score in a jam session. I’ve yet to learn how to pick the right marching boots, or let go of the rigid structure and fixed identity.
This metaphor gives me a new lens. When in a new environment (which is often in my line of work), I look around and listen. What music is the team playing? Who is not playing the same kind? Where are the confused marchers stomping on the delicate filigree of the symphony? Where are the sad jazz musicians making monotone sounds in service of a march? Frustrated divas trying to find their opening in the effervescence of jazz? In each mismatch, there’s an opportunity -- a starting place for gaining more coherence.
🔗 https://glazkov.com/2021/07/23/the-music-we-play/
Want, should, will
While spelunking my network of assumptions, I often find it helpful to understand what animates my actions. What are the underlying stories that shape how I behave? Over time, I ended up with this simple framework of sorting my stories into three buckets: want, should, and will.
The “want” is the bucket where cravings and aversions live. “I want ice cream. I don’t want to be alone.” The “want” forces are lightning quick. They’re here before I know it, impulsive and somehow innate. “Wants” feel urgent and important, yet they are indiscriminate: there are many specific ways to satisfy them. Ice cream might be swappable for reading a fun book.
The “should” bucket is occupied by stories learned from experience. “I should put away the food before it spoils. I should be a good neighbor.” The “should” stories represent my understanding of the rules that make the world go, identities imposed or uncovered. “Shoulds” feel rigid and immovable, but they are also full of errors and gaps. Some of these were learned very early in life and encased in the amber of my mind. The lack of subtlety in “I should be nice to others,” if left unexamined, can quickly get me into the trap of insincere manipulation.
Finally, deliberate and persevering stories fall into the “will” bucket. “I will work extra time to finish the task. I will do push-ups every day.” The “will” stories feel like exercising agency. Here’s where I need to pay special attention. More often than not, these stories are animated by other stories. Looking at “I will study hard for the exam… because I should be a good student” reveals that the seemingly deliberate choice to study (will) is animated by conforming to an identity (should). Whenever I find that a “will” is animated by a “should” or a “want,” there’s a chance that I am deceiving myself. There’s less agency in that causal chain than I’d like to believe.
This framework helps the most in situations where I feel stuck or caught up in a vicious cycle. Taking a quick breather and labeling the stories, I can turn each over and apply a corresponding move: discern the animating story behind the “will,” swap for a different outcome in a “want,” examine a “should” to enrich it with subtlety. Each move has potential to open up my option space even in seemingly hopeless situations.