Inventing Elephants

I thought my question was simple - “What do I do now?”

But I needed to go through 8 people and an evolution in my thinking to get an answer.

The answer was simple, but to answer my original question would have required an overall understanding of the process by one of the individuals I talked to.  Instead the answer was only gained by breaking the simple-sounding question up into many smaller and more basic questions which the employees were trained to answer.

For the last decade I’ve filed my own taxes using Taxcut and every year it’s been pretty simple.  Except this time I received an -INT form I wasn’t expecting, because I reported that income on my 2006 taxes.  Silly me, I thought that because I cashed the bond in 2006 that it was income for 2006.  Nope, the check from the bank said 2007.

So I called the IRS 1-800 number help line trying to figure out what to do.  I told my story to the lady who answered, received a moment of silence, and was forwarded to the area that she best thought could help me.  This happened repeatedly.

Each time my story got shorter, as I figured out the essence that the person on the other end needed to know.

Each time the person on the other end of the line responded to me I learned a new word or piece of terminology so that I could put my story into the language that the IRS used.

And then I reached one particular employee.  She kept trying to make me understand that if I received an -INT form then I needed to pay the taxes.  I’d figured that part out by then.  But she completely didn’t understand what I was trying to ask.  I finally had to stop her and say that she had done her job.  I understood.  Where should I go next?

This was when the concept crystallized about why my question hadn’t been simple.  It required higher level thinking.  Each of the IRS employees I talked to was trained in one specific area.  The rest was irrelevant. 

And then I reached my last worker.  I started telling my story and how I thought I needed to file an amended return and he stopped me.  He said - Let me ask you a series of questions and give me simple yes and no answers.  He ran through a set of special circumstances and confirmed that none of them applied.  Then he told me which form to fill out.

He understood that he knew one part of the tax code and had one specific job.  Even better, he knew how to get me focused on the part that he could help with. 

In the end, my answer was to pay the taxes in 2007 and file a 1040X for a refund of the overpayment in 2006.  The question I should have been asking was how do I get back the money I paid in error?  If I’d framed it that way in the first place I might even have been able to find the answer on the IRS website. 

The whole conversation stood out for me because of the disconnect between my original thinking process and the method that I needed to follow to solve the problem.  There was also a difference between what I thought were important details and what the IRS thought were important details.  The amazing thing was that even with all the people I went through this entire phone call only lasted as long as it took me to fix dinner.

The article Avoid Failure. Succeed. What’s the Difference? by David A. Fields really captures the essence of the shift in perspective that I had noticed and was trying to describe in my last post on low-cost vs. value-added. 

Even better, his word choice and examples made me realize that I should look for this dichotomy outside of work as well.  Too many times I am trying to keep myself from failing in one form or another, such as upsetting a friend, and too few times I am trying to achieve a success, or, more often, looking at the former as a means to the latter.

I found the article by reading Wally Bock’s Three Star Leadership Blog, which often points me towards interesting business related material.

I was working on a low-cost version of one of our products before I went on maternity leave.  The idea was that we would have access to more and different places to sell this product if it cost less.  My R&D manager and I were discussing the project on my return and he said he would much rather see the project change into a value-added project, encompassing many more beneficial options than just a lower cost.

Then he made the comparison that really grabbed my attention, although it was a little more expanded in actual conversation.

Why should we put time and effort into reducing the cost of a product of which we don’t currently sell much and isn’t even significantly differentiated from its better-known competitor when we can put time and effort into a greener, more effective, significantly new product that would open up even more options for marketing in a direction they’re already headed?

In other words, why are we thinking so small?

Marketing had good reasons for proposing and supporting the low-cost project.  But why not think bigger?  Why not try for something more?  In the process we should be able to make some short-term improvements on the current product as well.  We could even end up with a whole product line.

Last year, when we originally set-up the project, it seemed to make so much sense to focus on a specific and probably achievable goal with predictable results.  We had a cross-functional team meeting to identify what characteristics were important to the customer, and which markets were most available to us, and what technological aspects were most feasible to change.  Then we decided on the scope of the project.  It was a very effective and useful collaborative process.  But I don’t remember anyone ever asking something bigger, such as what would be the best version of this product in five years? 

I think that something along those lines is what my manager must have been asking himself.  This is also what I’m trying to achieve.  I want to be the one who thinks to ask that question, at least about my own projects.  The bigger answer may not always be appropriate, and in this case the idea might not be approved at other levels.  But the question should be asked.  

There are some self-serving aspects to R&D promoting the idea since changing the project’s scope would help our divisional R&D meet some metrics which we report up to the national and international levels.  Although those metrics are there in the first place to stimulate and measure innovation…

Most guides to writing better blog posts suggest actions that boil down to one intent - making the content more relevant and easier to digest for the reader.

I’m not following most of those tips.  I don’t tend to add in links or suggest guidelines or other helpful tasks.  I do try to organize the subject matter logically and check for spelling and grammar, but there’s much more that I could be doing.

Instead I’m writing primarily in a narrative and self-reflective style.    And I have to admit that I do it because it’s easier to write this way.  Making what I’m learning and thinking about more accessible and reader-centric takes an additional level of thought and work.  Right now I’m struggling enough to think about thinking and put my thoughts in order that taking the next step seems more of a running leap than a simple hop. 

One of the most important lessons I learned from creating art was to just start doing.  I can dream about it and imagine what I want, but unless I start I will never reach my goal, no matter how inadequate my current efforts seem.  This isn’t a new discovery.  Each person learns it in their own time.  And now I’m applying it to this endeavor.

Someday I’d like to be able to make what I post more helpful to others without freezing during the writing, and thinking, process.  But I’m not there yet.  I need to write this way first.  I can move to another level of thought later.

On the other hand, I could frame the question of writing style very differently.  For example, I could have said that I am emulating a travel journal.  And in that case I would have a whole different approach to refine. 

On the other foot, I could say I am following an alternate set of advice to distinguish my blog by using a different style than the recommended one.  Although that would be stretching the truth way too thin.  Unless I took the thought as a starting point and developed an approach around it.

And now I belive I am rambling.  And avoiding that error is definitely a guideline that I want to follow, so this post is over.

Thinking feels good.

I received a presentation from a supplier via email that was related to a product I am responsible for.  I scanned it, confirmed there was nothing directly relevant to our product, and went to close the document.  Then I stopped.  I remembered my goal about thinking better.  And I started over.

I reread the presentation, asking myself about implications of the information.  I double-checked the formulas of our current products to ensure that I wasn’t just assuming that the information did not have a direct affect.  I examined the data charts, seeing how properties changed and wondered if these would affect our competitor’s products and how that could work for or against us.  I considered their research methodology and what I would have thought of myself and what was more novel to me in my formulation research, but that maybe I could use.

When I was done my understanding was greater and I had another set of questions.  These questions are more related to action items that could be of benefit to our product line.  In addition to feeling a deeper sense of satisfaction by doing the work I also had an idea that I wouldn’t have had before.

Thinking takes time.

My first skim of the presentation took only 10 minutes.  It took the rest of an hour for me to work through it again while questioning.  This isn’t always going to be possible.

When I’m more practiced at the thought process, then I expect it will take less time.  I have always thought about my own data and projects, but often there’s a significant amount of work that falls in between periods of thinking.  If I evaluate other sources of information more closely, I’ll be going through that process more often and it should become easier and quicker for me to do so.

I need to select which sources and ideas I spend the additional time on.  Most of the time it needs to be an investment, something that will produce a return in my primary areas of responsibility.  Although occasionally I’ll just need to stretch a little by doing something different, prioritizing is still worth keeping in mind.

 ”Lift the bottom end.”

I make adjustments.  “Okay, keep moving.”

“Aaaaargh.”

This was a snippet of conversation from the efforts of my husband and myself to struggle a wood futon down our steps.  The aargh was when part of the weight came down on his foot because I lifted up the wrong “bottom end.”

Somehow what I hear in a very simple sentence is not always what he meant to say.  And sometimes he looks at me and wonders outloud how I could possibly have interpreted his words to mean anything but what he had originally intended.  And I generally believe my interpretation made just as much sense as his did.

We think differently. 

Yet, on our first date, ten years ago today, we each ordered our favorite sandwich at a local restaurant with twenty-five different creative choices.  It was the same sandwich. 

My husband is always my most immediate reminder that not everyone thinks the way I do and that thinking differently isn’t just a matter of processing information in a different order but can be a completely different view of the world.  The first thing noticed in a scene differs.  The item remembered as “obvious” differs.  The words used to express the same idea differ.  And often in unexpected ways.

For the sake of loving relationships with similarities and differences and the frequent challenging of expectations and assumptions - Happy Valentine’s Day.

I had to wonder if I have a non-story or just a different story after reading this month’s Scientiae carnival, a collection of stories by and about women in science and technology.  Many of them focused on the differentness and difficulties about being a woman and pursuing careers in these fields, a situation that sadly still exists.

But that is not my experience.

My father encouraged me to pursue science or engineering as a career.  I told him in high school I was thinking about being a writer and majoring in English.  He pointed out how much I enjoyed my science courses and suggested that I start there and see what happened.

My male graduate advisor repeatedly tried to convince me to go after my Ph.D. in materials science.  I went to graduate school specifically to get only my M.S. to help me prepare for a research-oriented position in industry, which I did achieve. 

My first boss sent out an email the first week I was there, the first female chemist in an office of seven, reminding everyone that it was now a mixed environment.  One of the other chemists had made an off-hand remark in an email, something about grabbing a problem by its balls, if I remember correctly.

My words have been listened to in a variety of situations without being repeated or brushed aside by the men.  I’ve been invited to pick-up basketball games and out to drink when some of the chemists and plant supervisors got together.  No one has ever expected, or even lingered hopefully, to see if I’ll set up lunch or make coffee.

The closest I ever came to feeling “female” in a “male” environment was when one of the managers took a small group of us to a restaurant in Miami during a convention.  His choice had bikini-clad servers and dancers.  But I think that had less to do with him being unconsciously sexist and more to do with him being French…  One of the other guys did check to see if I was uncomfortable.

It is certainly possible that I’m being naive and a bit clueless.  For example, my husband says that when we go to the hardware store so I can get something for a household repair (my job, not his) that the clerks almost always look at him and try to talk to him.  He says he has to fade into the background and gesture with his eyes to ensure they talk to me.  All I remember is that I just go up, ask my question, fully expect them to answer appropriately, and they do.  So, maybe I’m just not noticing the gender issues.

I’m not completely oblivious.  I see the difference in the world between an aggressive man being considered strong and an aggressive woman being a considered a bitch, for example.  But I don’t recall my gender ever being an issue in my professional life as an engineer and chemist. 

I read Scientiae and a number of the contributor’s blogs on a regular basis because they have great stories, but also so I’ll remember what can and does happen out there.  I  want to keep my eyes open to notice if gender issues are influencing a situation.  It could happen to me or someone around me next.  Years of women and men noticing and talking about such things that made it possible for me to live my experience.  One where I don’t really have anything to say about being a female engineer or chemist.  Mostly I can only talk about being an engineer or chemist, without that modifier.

Do you think about the road or the destination when you travel?

When I drive in the United States I see signage that emphasizes the road or highway that I am on.  There are many street names and only occasional signs noting that this town is this far or that town is that far.

But when I drove in the Netherlands and Belgium during a visit in 2006 I saw signage that emphasized the many different places I could go from where I was.  The street I was on or turning onto was rarely mentioned. 

I spent most of the first two days of my trip getting lost.

Even though I had a map I had to shift the way that I perceived the map.  I learned to consider the places the roads I wanted were headed towards and the shapes of the route on the landscape without being too concerned over the name of an individual road.

The last three days of the week-long trip I didn’t get lost at all.

I remembered this process of shifting my perception while writing my previous post.  This one was gradual instead of a jump.  Even after I realized that my thinking and the environment were diverging and identified the difference, it still took time to effectively adjust my thinking.

As a side note, when I was editing this entry something about it struck me as familiar.  After a moment, I realized that this story was also an example that tied into a blog entry by Liz Strauss about changing your mind.  I had tried unsuccessfully to blog a response to her post a few weeks ago and now I wonder if it stuck in my head and influenced my decision to write this entry.

 I’d never seen ads in a book before, actual color ads.  The text of 1000 Books to Change Your Life was illustrated with book covers, drawings, and paintings - but occasionally those color illustrations were ads for book stores, restaurant guides, and other such things.  I wasn’t sure what to think.

At first it felt a bit like a violation.  This is a BOOK.  Those aren’t supposed to be there.  Which only revealed how differently I viewed the book as compared to other reading matter….

But why not in a book?  Advertising is everywhere else.  The ads were relevant to the audience.  They weren’t any more obtrusive than in an average magazine.  If I lived in London, where the book was published, I would definitely be interested in going to some of the book stores.

I can even see how ads for online games could fit in a cyberpunk fiction novel, or perhaps relevant suppliers in a book on manufacturing.  The biggest issue would be that of timeliness - books are expected to last longer and be kept more than magazines.  Would readers accept finding these ads years later?  Would that really matter to the advertisers unless the books were not purchased as a result?

I was curious about the author, but there wasn’t one - just a buried editorial credit and a larger graphic showing that the book was a Time Out Guide.  So I visited their website.  This book was just one offering from a UK group that published travel guides and also a handful of magazines about specific cities, primarily in Europe.

And my view changed.

It was still a book, but the bound pages became less of a BOOK to me.  The hold of a reverence that I hadn’t even realized that I held lessened.  Instead this guide to many different books somehow became a really thick magazine, while still remaining a book.

Context mattered.

This is certainly a lesson repeated and not a new discovery.  I’ve reframed questions and writings to influence the perception of information.  But this time the emotional jar of it stood out for me.  I’m curious if I can remember other times when I’ve actually felt perspective change suddenly instead of gradually.

The best article on how to name your blog is Darren Rowse’s Choosing the Domain Name for Your Blog.  For myself, I began with a goal of finding a name easy to say and to remember.  As I brainstormed I was influenced by scarcity, the idea of “concrete”, and generous use of a thesaurus before I chose Inventing Elephants.  This post rambles through the iterations of my thought process.

My first idea was thinkbetter. 

That was what my goal boiled down to, after all.  But it was already taken.  For a while I thought of seekingsynthesis, referring to the idea of bringing more than one idea together and coming up with something new.  The alliteration was pretty neat too.  But then I read up on the philosophical concept of synthesis and the name didn’t seem to fit well enough, in addition to looking complicated.

I played with all sorts of word combinations about improving thinking.  I mined the thesaurus and used a couple online tools.  But nothing impressed me.  The closest I got was seekingthinking, but that was disturbingly hard to say.

Concrete.  Concrete.  Concrete.

The word just kept popping its head up, based on a recent reading of Made to Stick by Chip and Dan Heath, and none of my previous ideas met that criteria.  I turned my thoughts towards that direction and with a little mental ”click” I remembered the metaphor that I had used a couple years ago in trying to write an artists’ statement a couple years ago. I saw the fable of the blind men in the elephant in a different way and how well it could fit into what I wanted to say. 

I could call my blog seeingelephants!

When I searched for the phrase and its variations I found some interesting, but not unpleasant, connotations related to traveling long distances and having an unusual experience.  I also found a blog with a similar name, and some claimed domain names.

I decided to see if I could vary the concept to include a little more originality.

I considered taking concrete a step farther with a name such as fiveelephants of justoneelephant, but they seemed so blah.  I wanted something that conveyed a sense of process and action. 

So I pulled out the thesaurus again and started running through verbs, jotting down a substantial list.  I discarded some intriguing options that almost made it such as visualizing, envisioning, engineering, and imagining because they didn’t quite fit.  Inventing seemed to have that aspect of making up something original, but implied taking the concepts a step beyond into reality in a way that imagining did not.

I waited a couple days to let the idea of inventingelephants bounce around in my subconscious until I was sure I wouldn’t find an objection to it.  Then I bought the domain name and directed it here.

Inventing Elephants it is!

I would have lost out if my earlier ideas had been available and I had stopped pushing the creative process.  How many times do any of us do that?  What else might I have missed doing better because I didn’t take one or two steps further when they didn’t seem necessary at the time?