If you have complete control over a project, the initial planning stages can be an enjoyable challenge, as you figure out how to best apply your limited time and resources to achieve the best possible outcome. But if the project is a group effort, it can be a frustrating and miserable experience as you jockey with other for authority, resources, and visibility.
The problem is that when you are in complete control, your goal is naturally the best possible outcome for the project. But when multiple people are involved their goals are all different, and the best possible outcome is generally not an overriding concern. Some participants are determined to have as much fun as possible. Some are determined to acquire as many perks as possible, in the form of gadgets and gizmos that they can use personally as well as on the project. Some are determined to take a path that will advance their career as much as possible. Some are determined to take a path that will require little or no work on their part.
When I was involved in large-scale software projects, it was fascinating to see project planners argue forcefully for taking a direction that just happened to satisfy any technological itch that needed scratching at the moment—newer, higher-powered computer hardware; the latest software tools; a new programming language; fancy ergonomic chairs and workstations; enclosed offices; high-speed internet connections at home; cell phones; trips to expensive conferences in large cities. Generally none of it was necessary to get the job done, and quite often it got in the way of getting the job done, because to justify the trappings we went off in directions that were impractical.
The heart of the problem was that we were spending someone else’s money. We didn’t have to actually justify the expense, we just had to persuade the person holding the pursestrings that the expense was justified. And we could do so by choosing paths that seemed perfectly reasonable while getting us what we wanted, while never mentioning the possibility of other, better paths that wouldn’t get us what we wanted. If it had been our own money, though, we would have been a bit more hesitant to play such a game.
We do still play such games, though, even with our own money. We convince ourselves that a cellphone would be much more efficient than having to make calls from at home or at a payphone—and then start filling our hours with calls we never would have made before, to justify the cellphone. The newest, costliest laptop computers are small and light and surely just the thing we need to get important work done while we’re in transit, rather than wasting our time reading a book or making notes on paper or thinking. We decide we need to run an single errand now that we could probably combine with other errands later, because it’ll get us out of the house. One of those personal audio devices would let us listen to edifying sermons or lectures (and our CD collection) instead of being held hostage to the radio. We pay an in-person visit rather than phoning or writing or emailing, because it soaks up time we might otherwise have to spend doing something we don’t want to do. We commit ourselves to projects that require us to be away from home so that we’ll be away from home long enough that we can justify eating out all the time, or paying to have the house cleaned, or hiring someone to do that home improvement project we could have otherwise done ourselves, or spending less time as a family.
I’m as prone to such rationalization as anyone; most of the examples I gave above are arguments I’ve tried on myself at one time or another. And so any time my plans dictate that I do something or buy something that is fun, I try to stop and ask: is there a better, cheaper, more efficient way to do this that doesn’t have those side benefits. Sometimes the answer is no, and then I go ahead and enjoy the side benefits while getting the job done. But too often the answer is yes—and then I do my best to stiffen my backbone and take the better path, looking for my fun somewhere else.
I recently faced that laptop temptation, since I’m spending most of my Saturdays in a library these days. But I realized that the last thing I need is more web access, and I’m taking books, paper, lists and catalogs with me instead. I think it’s been a good choice.
But I do like a few judicious in-person visits, and try to make time to invite people over occasionally. Most of my friends communicate logistics via e-mail these days, due to busyness, and what I’ve realized is that it’s tended to give our friendships a corporate (as in business) quality. The newest wrinkle is that our inboxes are flooded, messages get lost, and we’ve resorted to wikis. Few people answer their phones anymore now that we all have caller ID. We do meals for new moms via online grocery service, because there are lots of needs, we don’t have an entire afternoon to cook often, don’t want to take a meal on the subway if we did, and cabs are expensive. Some of this is good and sensible, but it also lacks a human touch. I’m trying hard not to overextend, so that I can pay full attention to someone now and then (even if it’s just my own family) rather than scant attention to many.