Cylinders of Excellence

Print of a cartoon by M.K. Brown. I know her best from the National Lampoon in the 80's and 90's. We saw a show of her work at the Cartoon Art Museum in San Francisco, where I bought this print.

Nothing's better than waking up in your own bed after a long time away from home.

I woke up in my own bed this morning after spending a week at the White Oaks Resort in Niagara on the Lake, attending the Niagara Institute Leadership Development Program.

Readers may recall that just a bit less than a year ago, I sent dispatches from Kingston, where I was attending another executive development program. The only memorable outcome of that two-week stint was a case of the shingles.

I think I'll get a better result from this past week. I'm still processing a lot of what I saw and heard. But, the title of this post is something I wanted to share right away. It was how one other participants described the silos in which she works. It got a huge laugh.

Here we all are. The two course facilitators, Marc and Nick, are at the ends. Nick's the tall one. Of the twelve participants pictured here, six were from the provincial government. Three guys were from the same Maritimes-based blueberry-and-other-food processing company (and I'll never think of blueberries the same way again). The bearded gentleman fourth from the left was with the Bank of Canada (and we all wanted to work with him because he said they swim in vaults full of money). The woman in the yellow sweater worked for a Polish company operating a mine in Chile for Japanese clients (wrap your head around the linguistic/cultural challenges there for a minute).  There was also a guy from Hamilton who worked at a chemical company.

As is always the case with these courses, I had a lot of fun hanging with a bunch of exceptional people. As is less commonly the case with these courses (see Queens, above) I learned a lot about myself and will go back to work with the objective of making things better for me, my boss, my peers and my exceptional team.

Together we'll build even better cylinders of excellence.

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen

Disposable

Tree-discarded blossom - Fort Baker, Sausalito, California

Over the holidays I mentioned more than once that I'd seen two signs almost side by side, one advertising a seven dollar cup of coffee, another a nine dollar party dress. 

Among the range of reactions that observation brought - laughs, umbrage among them - was the cool calculation that people pay more for what they value. In the case of the cup of coffee, the value was in the person who served the drink. The dress was made far away, the comment continued, by people the purchaser couldn't see, so ....

I used to buy winter boots and coats that, although they were expensive, never really lasted more than one or two years. This year, I bought cheap, man-made-material-only boots that are all of warm, light, waterproof, durable and have a good tread. I paid for them about a third of what I usually do. They'll last as long as the ones I used to buy.

So, I'm paying less for what I value most in a pair of boots.

Same goes for my winter coat. 

I'll wear my coat and boots for two years and then, just like the expensive ones, either donate them to charity or throw them away.

If I donate them, they'll eventually make their way into a container ship and possibly be sent to the valuable people who made them in the first place.

Nothing is wasted.

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen

Your Tax Dollars At Work

Sidewalk sign on the Golden Gate Bridge. Men and girls in hats may walk here.

Returning to work after two weeks away is like waking up from a long coma. Everything may seem familiar, but there are important differences and they are hard to put your finger on.

This past week - my first week back after waking from my Christmas/NewYears/San Francisco coma - I struggled not only to catch up on the subtle differences in everything, but also to complete a very important task.

As always, these are confidential matters, so I will resort to a fanciful tale featuring our friend the ruler and her advisors.

***

The ruler of a small, pleasant realm was in the midst of doing some routine paperwork one day when a crowd of her advisors came to speak with her. She asked what they wanted.

"Oh great ruler," they said, "barbarians are at the gate!"

"Goodness," said the ruler, "what should I do?"

But before she had completed her question, the ruler's advisors had already nodded to one another, as if to say 'our work here is done,' and were gone.

Perplexed, but busy with other matters, the ruler hurried to finish her paperwork and get on with her day.

The next day, the ruler's advisors returned.

"Oh great ruler," they said, their tone betraying their need for patience, "we told you barbarians were at the gate; have you taken the appropriate steps?"

The ruler replied, just as patiently, "I asked you what I should do, but you were already gone."

Stunned by the ingratitude and arrogance of their leader, the advisors said, "you need to fill out these forms," and handed her a thick sheaf of papers.

The ruler looked at the forms. "But this is the paperwork I was doing yesterday, only about ten times more. Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?"

"You don't need to get nasty," said the advisor closest to retirement, "we're just trying to help."

"Can you help me now?" asked the ruler as she flipped through the complex forms. When she looked up, her advisors were gone.

Annoyed, but determined to protect her realm, the ruler set aside all her other responsibilities and applied herself to filling in the forms. No other work was done that week.

When she'd completed the task the ruler asked, "So, is my realm protected? Have the barbarians fled?"

"Oh no," said her advisors, astonished at how clueless their ruler could be some times, "they're still there. They're reading the forms. And if they find something they don't like, they will attack us."

"What are the chances they will find something they don't like?" asked the ruler.

"Oh, high," said her advisors, nodding their heads vigorously, "very high."

"So I spent all week, putting everything else aside, to fill out forms that will at best delay but not prevent a barbarian invasion?" asked the ruler.

"Well," said her advisors, looking sideways at one another, "They're accountants."

"Barbarian accountants?" asked the ruler.

"Yes," said her advisors, "The worst kind."

"Well, in that case," said the ruler, regretting how much effort had been put into fending off marauding bean counters, "could we just, in future, set out some simple rules for this paperwork that will both appease the accountants and take less time?"

Delighted by the wisdom and foresight of their great leader, the advisors set to work make the existing forms longer and more elaborate. 

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen

The Curse of the Panhandling Monk

We had a great time in San Francisco and environs. Here are the highlights:

Best Meal: After fifteen hours in transit without a proper bite to eat, the pub sandwiches at Farley's (the bar at our hotel) were without question our finest meal.

Most Interesting Person: The sixty-something pugilist we saw shadow boxing in a parking lot off the east end of Lombard Street who approached us to offer directions when he saw us haul out our map. He was sweet, friendly, sweaty and a teensy bit incoherent. We did not follow his directions to the letter (on how to get to the famous part of Lombard Street, the segment that zig zags back and forth down a short, precipitous, incline) but, in retrospect, they were 100% correct.

Conversation of Least Consequence: Killing time before the hotel shuttle came to pick us up at Union Square, I wandered into an art gallery next to Morton's Steak House to make idle enquiries after a particularly fine painting of three dogs in the shop window. The proprietor gave me the full press treatment, describing the technique the artist used, showing me other pieces of her work, and telling me that the doggies in the window would set me back twelve grand. I happily accepted the gallery business card and said goodbye forever.

Most Pleasant Surprise: I had selected our hotel on the single criterion that it was close to the Golden Gate Bridge. Cavallo Point has many other amenities -- stunning views, lovely rooms, remote-seeming-but-still-close-to-everything location -- but the one I loved the most was the yoga class every morning! 

Favourite Sight-Seeing Moment: On the Sausalito ferry, hanging around by the Angel Island dock, watching the pelicans amuse themselves with formation flying stunts. They rode the thermals rising from the hills warmed by the setting sun, carefree and golden in the late afternoon light.

Most Workmanlike Jazz: At the No Name Bar in Sausalito, after getting off the ferry, looking for some food and drink. We got the drink. The food was just not happening at the No Name Bar.

Longest Line Up: After the line ups at Pearson Airport first, to do our own check-in, and second, to have airline personnel check that we'd checked ourselves in, and third, to just stand in a line for no reason, and fourth, to scan our own passports, and fifth, to have Homeland Security personnel check that we'd scanned our passport correctly, and sixth, to go through Pearson security, and seventh, to line up for our plane and eighth, to line up for our second plane, the longest line up I stood in was the one to the ladies' restroom at the south end of the Golden Gate Bridge. 

Most Obnoxious Perfume Bomb: There were some doozies this trip, but, the prize goes to the thirty-something blonde woman in front of us at Pearson after we'd checked ourselves in. She must buy in bulk.

Most Panhandling Monk: On the way to the hotel shuttle rendezvous point by Union Square, I made the mistake of smiling at an Asian gentleman wearing robes. He was on me in a flash. He asked me to sign my name in a book. And then he wanted me to accept a wooden bead bracelet. And then write the word "PEACE" in the same book where I'd written my name. And then he wanted me to give him forty dollars. I had no US cash. I asked Bruce if he had any money. We gave the monk $5.

Most Obvious Evidence of a Curse: After an uneventful trip (just the way I like them), the last leg of our journey - a short hop from Philadelphia to Toronto - ran into a snag.

We were boarded, late, onto a freezing cold plane and sat shivering in our seats as the pilot explained that part of the electrical system (the part that heats the plane) was not working. This would also require some special tinkering to get the engines started. Oddly enough, every passenger was prepared to go along with this. However, after a couple of attempts, the pilot had to admit defeat. We were "deplaned" and a mechanic was sent for.

No one expected things to go well after that, but, within an hour or so, the plane was fixed, toasty warm when we re-boarded, and we were on the ground in Toronto only two hours later than we would otherwise have been.

I'm glad we had that five bucks.

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen

SimCity and the Low Carbon Economy

No, I did not pay Electronic Arts for the use of this image, which I found in the public domain, but neither have they paid me for the promotion of their product, so I think we're even.

This past holiday season, I dug even deeper into the Christmas gift dilemma. You know the one: "what-do-I-get-for-people-who-already-have-everything-they-need-and-anything-they-want-they-can-afford-to-buy-themselves (or-I-can't-afford-to-buy-it-for-them)?"

I used to give people Oxfam goats, and Daily Bread Food Bank donations.

This year, even more heavily influenced than normal by the grim outlook of climate change, and given a heads up by my cousin in Qualicum Beach, I gave everyone on my list laundry detergent for Christmas.

No word of a lie, this was the Best. Gift. Ever. So popular, in fact, that I gave out more boxes at the office than I had originally planned, leaving me short for the rest of my list. If through this regrettable and inadvertent excess, I failed to send any of my subscribers a gift, look it up on line. You'll find that it's inexpensive and can be ordered through the mail.

So what's with the SimCity thing?

Subscribers may recall that I lost a fair chunk of my fleeting and finite lifetime to Tapped Out, the Simpson-based app that combines game concepts - including a simulated city - into a monster of a time gobbler. After a couple of months of obsessive fussing - and considerable expenditure of real money - I came to realize that I was living the "it's life-ruiningly fun!" tag line, and deleted the game from my iPad.

But that was a while ago, and I fell into a forgetful state. I lost my sense of the evils of life simulation games. 

SimCity is the mother of all God games, and, just before Christmas, I fell for it. I loaded the no-cost app onto my iPad.

In many respects, SimCity is vastly superior to Tapped Out. In Tapped Out, you just have to hang around long enough to make fake money so you can buy stupid things like the Popsicle Stick SkyScraper. In SimCity, you have to wait around to make money to buy stuff, but there are consequences to your actions and things can go horribly wrong. There are fake-life city-planning decisions and fake-life costs for parks, policing, fire fighting, education and so on.

The truly evil innovation in this game is the international trade function. The game gives you factories to make goods such as metal and plastics. You can use these to make other goods, such as nails and furniture. You need these items to continue to grow your city, but, because of the cost of the police and firemen and other city necessities, you can't grow at a pace sufficient to use up all the stuff you make. So what do you do?

You trade your surplus goods with the thousands, no millions, of people playing SimCity on their devices at the same time as you. It is mind-boggling, plus addictive. 

And then there is the found poem in the names people give their cities.

Wabbyville 
Baky 
Ist World City 
Colina 
Rising Sun Valley 
Limoges 
Raub 
Bokcoch
Boss'Erb City 
Nicol's City 
kuktown 
Pisquenopolis 
WauWau Village 
Colitown
Riv City
g-town
Tortue
Karlandia
Camaqua
Rak Kishok
Clintonville 
jeppland
Mongagua
gta 5 opine 18
Zombieland

(These are the real monikers of everyone selling something right now as I type, and whose name is in an alphabet I recognize.)

Even more mind-boggling than the simulated economy of SimCity is the real money going into the game. It is possible to play the game without spending actual cash but about one in a million humans is wired that way. 

The rest of us will spend some real money to buy SimMoney, so we don't have to wait the hours it takes to build something, or the hours it takes for the cargo ship to arrive or the hundred attempts on the global trading market it takes to get that one thing - a tape measure, say - to finish building a new house.

So think about that. Let's say, conservatively, that one million people play SimCity. Let's say, conservatively, that five per cent of them spend twenty dollars a week on SimMoney. That's math you can do in your head. A million bucks a week.

Even if these conservative estimates are off by an order of magnitude, that's still $5.2 million a year.

Used to be, in order to make that kind of money, you had to throw a couple of hundred thousand tonnes of carbon into the air.

There's a thought for a happy new year.

Thanks for reading!

Karen