This was originally published 3/20/2020 on Reading Supply. Reposted here as I continue to aggregate some of my thinking about what will change with work after the world recovers from COVID-19.

Last updated on 2020.03.20

Primary Areas of Exploration

While I think that many types of work will be affected by the changes we see in the world, I'm not interested in exploring how things like grocery stores, primary care doctors, or civic infrastructure and services (police, fireman, etc) are going to change except where there is an overlap or a result of other changes. Perhaps this post should be titled "Knowledge Work in a World after COVID-19."

I am primarily interested in exploring how knowledge work will change. In that exploration, I want to define two (false) dichotomies that help categorize attributes of work:

D1: Communication AS Work vs Communication ABOUT Work

One of the most important distinctions in knowledge work is how communication flows and what communication flows around. 

Communication ABOUT Work (CBW)

Communication about work is communication that happens external to the object of work itself and where the communication does not directly become a part of the final work. 

An example of this would be Alice and Bob in Finance, working on an end of year report. Once Alice finishes everything that is her responsibility, she sends the Excel file to Bob and tells him “please update rows 1-2 with your information." This exchange is CBW because the communication that took place is not information that ends up in the spreadsheet itself - it has no representation as a cell of information. It is external to the document as an instruction for Bob to do his job. 

Communication AS Work (CAW)

Communication as work in contrast, is where the communication that takes place directly informs, and may be a part of, the work itself. CAW is often seen when people are working on strategic projects, where people bring together different data points or evidence from multiple sources, and their communication that synthesizes this evidence itself is the work. 

An example of this would be Catherine and Dave are working on a marketing plan for the following year. Through a series of emails (or messages in a Slack channel), Catherine and Dave both present evidence from recent market research and trend reports. Given their specific perspectives and experiences, the conversation that results — weighting this reports findings against another, bringing in business goals in conjuction with these findings — is communication AS work. The things that they decide in and through this conversation can be directly reflected in the marketing plan itself. 

D2: Objective vs Subjective Labor

The second dichotomy to call out is objective labor versus subjective labor. This dichotomy highlights the degree to which there is a specific outcome that is correct from a type of action. 

Objective Labor (OL)

I'm defining the term “objective labor” (OL) to refer to types of work where there is a correct outcome of the work that any individual who has awareness of a project would agree is correct. Regardless of who is doing the work, you would expect the SAME outcome. 

Bringing back the Alice and Bob example, parts of, if not all of, Alice's and Bob's labor would be considered OL, because the outcome of the work is a completed financial report, which has known and agreed upon parts (profit, loss, unit costs, etc). 

Subjective Labor (SL)

In contrast to OL, “subjective labor” (SL) is work where the process or path may be consistent, but the outcome of the work will differ based on who is doing it. In many ways, not just creative professions, but most professions where things are “made” (engineers, cooks, designers, etc) would fall into this category. 

An example of SL can be seen in the example of Catherine and Dave, where the marketing plan will vary by the people involved. Even though the same base material is used, the creative decisions, channel selection, and dollar spend may vary because Catherine and Dave are involved, rather than Evelyn and Frank. 

D1 X D2

The table below calls out what work looks like at the intersection of these dichotomies and helps us identify 4 types of work - Tactical, Strategic, Operational, and Veiled.

• CAW x OL ("Tactical")

  • Def: Things in this bucket should result in the same outcome, regardless of who is involved, and the communication should be seen in the work.

  • Ex: Behzod's Note - Need Example here.

• CAW x SL ("Strategic)

  • Def: Things in this bucket should result in different outcomes based on who is involved, and the communication should be seen in the work.

  • Ex: Design, Engineering, Marketing, PR

• CBW x OL ("Operational")

  • Def: Things in this bucket should result in the same outcome, regardless of who is involved, and the communication will not be visible in the work itself.

  • Ex: Accounting, Enforcement of Law, Data Analysis

• CBW x SL ("Veiled")

  • Def: Things in this bucket should result in different outcomes based on who is involved, and the communication will not be visible in the work itself.

  • Ex: Investing

(WIP) Effects on Each Type of Work & Worker

Written for the 4/1 MAEKAN Briefing.

As we come into the second year of this new, unsettling reality, I've been reflecting on some of the emerging practices that have been most enjoyable. One that stands out above nearly all else (besides not having a commute) is sharing music with friends.

I grew up playing in bands in a time when PureVolume links were a form of social currency. Sharing something you discovered with a friend was like opening up a part of yourself that you didn't know how to express.

Early last year — before Zoom fatigue hit — I did some "coworking" with friends which was effectively us working silently with video on, while someone had music running in the background.

We'd chat occasionally, but the goal was to simulate the environments we used to be in - offices, coffee shops, each other's apartments, etc. As the pandemic crept on and I wanted to show my face less, a different habit emerged - sharing music recommendations.

This is not the typical "check out this album that just came out," but something that felt more akin to making a mixtape for each other - friends would recommend me a song or artist based on an activity that was coming up. "I have to head out to cook" was followed by "here's something I've enjoyed playing in the background at dinner." "I need to really focus on this project" was met with "this playlist has been the best thing for me late at night to hit a deadline."

Sharing music became a way to support each other when the options felt limited. It's a small gift in a time where gifts feel anything but small. It's something I've come to treasure and try to practice more on my own.

If you want a rec, or have one to share, visit us in #music on the MAEKAN Discord.

Another piece I’ve written for the MAEKAN Briefing.

I recently moved back to Seattle, where I grew up and spent the majority of my adolescent and adult life. Being back here and out of San Francisco — has been a strange experience on a number of levels.

On one hand, it's the first real "travel" I've done in a year, except for the prior visit up here to find an apartment. I enjoy traveling because it disorients me just enough to make me reflect on my life. The flight home from any trip inevitably finds me asking questions about what I missed when I was gone (and what I didn't) and what I want to bring home with me.

When leaving San Francisco and returning "home" to Seattle, I thought a lot about what I was leaving behind (and had made peace with) and what I wanted to bring with me. I also thought about what I was "coming home" to, given that I hadn't lived in the Seattle area in almost a decade.

The other strange thing about being back is how much of myself I see reflected back at me from the city. While I "did less" of my favorite things when I moved away from Seattle — some by choice (photography), some by circumstance (I didn't have a drum set anymore) — being back has invited those parts of me back out again. I live within walking distance of the venue where my high school band opened for our then heroes. I can bike around the campus where I went to graduate school and stop by the first classroom I taught in.

Being back - and having these parts of me invited out — makes me wonder to what extent I let my environment shape who I was when I was in San Francisco. I think it's easy to blame things that are external to us - our friends, our jobs, our environments — rather than accept our own role in change. But what I'm realizing now that I'm back in Seattle, is that while the city has changed, I am the thing that is both foreign and familiar. Seattle is simply a catalyst for that realization.

Accepting that I muted parts of who I am is the strangest feeling of all, because I don’t necessarily want to accept that I could have been fully me the whole time. Being home, I feel as though I'm reacquainting myself with myself. Maybe this is all a function of growing up, and now I can think even more intentionally about what I want to leave behind and what I want to bring with me in the months and years to come. Maybe being "home" is just enough disorientation for now.

I wrote this piece as an intro to today’s MAEKAN Briefing - a patron-only email that goes out on Thursdays.

—

For the last decade plus, probably thanks to the thousands of pages of academic papers I consumed earlier in my life, I've preferred reading digitally. My favorite way to read these days is with my iPad on the couch, where I use an Apple Pencil to highlight passages, and I take notes on my iPhone.

Yes, I literally switch devices to take notes.

I'm sure many of you who are productivity-oriented are shaking your head at me right now. Even though I have the exact same apps on my iPad, I lovingly put down the device and pencil and pick up my iPhone to tap (or swipe, more likely) together my thoughts. I do this because I want meaningful friction in the process of taking notes. I'm reading a book to read the book, not to have read the book, so I'm in no rush to finish it. Taking notes is, for me, an act of conversation.

By switching devices, I'm creating a moment of intentionality in which I ask "What is worth making note of here?" Doing this has made reading more enjoyable and helped me remember things better. It's also encouraged me to ask where else meaningful friction may create more intentional habits in my life.

Because no one relies on me to respond immediately as a part of my job (and because I check my phone often enough throughout the day), the search for meaningful friction has nudged me to enable "do not disturb" across all of my devices. In the same way that I ask myself "What is worth making note of?" I find myself asking "What am I drawing my attention to?" when I pick up my phone, since it no longer summons me on its own.

I recognize that this is an incredible privilege, and perhaps it won't stay this way forever, but it has been a wonderful experiment over the past few weeks - a recalibration of sorts where I've learned to listen to myself a bit better.

While I'm in no way encouraging any of you to join me on this adventure, I would leave you with the question: "Where might meaningful friction be welcome in your life?"

I’d love to hear from you on Discord — even if you don’t hear back from me right away!

Inspired by Lauren Serota’s words we don’t have, this is a list of terms and phrases I find myself using on a regular basis. I imagine this will ebb and flow - as language does - but I wanted to make a record of these here. 

2022

“Relationshape” - drawing attention to the fact that the relationship is dynamic and has evolved over time.

“Return on Hassle” - a better framing (IMO) for the expected value of an outcome, taking into consideration the cost and friction of achieving it. For me, ROH has been one of the most helpful heuristics to think about what opportunities I pursue. It’s not about avoiding friction, rather ensuring that the friction is meaningful.

“State versus Trait” - the idea that some things are temporary/situational rather (state) than characteristics of a person/thing (trait).

2020

“Surface Area” - a reference to the amount of exposure that people share. I often mention that “Person A has a lot of surface area with Person B” indicating that they may have more data points, experience with, etc to that person.

“Directionally Correct” - This is perhaps my own attempt at something akin to a “yes, and…” where I agree with the spirit of what’s being said, but want to tweak it slightly.

“In Orbit” - I wrote about “Being in Good Orbits” for Yet Another Newsletter Issue 002 as a way to describe the relationship between people:

The idea of people orbiting each other appeals to me because it acknowledges that each of us have our own gravitational pulls - things that draw others into us - and that there’s room for many people to exist within these orbits at different distances. It also acknowledges the creative collision or serendipity that exists when people’s paths intersect.

In this morning's Critical Business Salon, Nitzan Hermon posed the above question to the group. The two things that came to mind for me in our brief reflection period were: 

• 1+1=11

• "Tapping a tuning fork and hearing a harmony" (the idea of resonant frequencies)

1+1=11 

This was perhaps my cheeky take on 1+1=3, but I wanted to capture the idea that you can still see the original contributors in the collaboration (both 1's are in 11), but through their collaboration, they've become something much greater. 

"Tapping a tuning fork and hearing a harmony" 

This was a a play off of Kevin Kwok's description of Twitter. What I liked about it is that collaboration in my mind is about amplifying each other - providing a lens, perspective, skill set, etc that enhances those who we are working with. The best collaborations I've had changed how I see myself and created outcomes that I couldn't imagine on my own. 

The concept of harmony is very alive for me right now, as I've thought a lot about the ways that data needs to be harmonized not just triangulated. By that I mean that you want to use different sources of data that don't just reinforce the same story, but work together to create a new perspective that neither has on their own.

What does collaboration feel like for you?

I have a hard time saying no. Period.

When I started Yet Another Studio, one of the first things my coach and I worked on was defining criteria that made it easy for me to say “no” to a project or a client. Some of this had to do with the industry or business model that they had (I don’t work with organizations whose economic prosperity depends on exploiting, endangering, or harming individuals) or the working relationship with the client. 

This was helpful for me because it was an important muscle for me to build, and it allowed me to spend less time on things that were not going to benefit me or the business. Having a clear set of criteria of what I didn’t want to do, how I didn’t want to do things, or who I didn’t want to work with, made it really easy for me to identify hard no’s and do it fast.

It also helped me make decisions about how I talk about the business. A clear example of this is that I only work on a project or retainer basis. I don’t have hours that are for sale at a standard rate. Knowing this means that I decided not to put any cost information on the studio site because my time is not for sale outside of the scope of a project or retainer. This felt like a small thing at the time, but when I saw it in the broader context of what I didn’t want, it made perfect sense. 

Four months into running the studio, my fast and hard no’s have been one of the most beneficial operating criteria. They’ve probably saved me dozens of hours at this point — both of my own emotional energy and time and calls that I would have had with clients who were not a great fit. 

If you find yourself starting down the path of consulting, or even find yourself on that path and feel like you’ve been spending too many hours following bad leads, I’d encourage you to make time to be clear with yourself about the criteria that get you to that hard no, quickly. I promise it will pay off down the road. 

I used to ride my bike a lot - much more than I do now.

If you follow me on Instagram, you’re probably wondering how that’s possible. In junior high and high school, if I wasn’t working after school, I was probably on my bike. Being on a bike was never about the destination, and most of the time I never knew where I was going. I simply enjoyed the ride. I picked a direction and I would wander. This was easy because I had a bike that embraced both dirt and concrete features as just that - part of the journey.

After living in the Bay Area for the past 6+ years, I’d lost that sense of wander when it came to biking. I’ve spent so much time on the same roads, I can visualize every twist and turn and found it harder and harder to get out of bed in darkness and dress for a ride.

Recently, I picked up a new bike that more eagerly embraces a journey off road. Part of me wanted to explore a new style of riding and a part of me wanted to go back to my roots of simply getting lost. Inspired by some beautiful adventures that Tyler and Naz have been on lately, I decided to get lost and catch a sunset in the Headlands last week. I had snacks, layers, and lights, but no agenda or clear sense of where I was going.

It was the first time in years I felt that same feeling from high school. I wasn’t on the bike for any purpose or direction, I was simply out there to enjoy the ride.