Author Archives: Sherri

What History Can and Cannot Teach Us

As I begin this essay, on 14 March 2020, we are in the midst of the unfolding COVID-19 pandemic.  Over the last few weeks, we’ve seen the stock market dive 30% over a two-fold uncertainty—uncertainty over the health impact of the virus and its global economic impact.  Every day we’ve been treated to numerous press conferences from all levels of government as well as a string of breathless announcements from the press about shut downs, shut ins and near constant significant news updates.  I live in what has quickly become the “hot spot” of cases in Pennsylvania, resulting in a near total shut down of business and civic activities, as well as run on toilet paper that I just don’t understand. 

As we have watched sections of China, then South Korea, then Iran, then Italy, then Spain spike in cases and undertake draconian measures to slow the spread of the virus, I have gotten increasingly queasy about the probability that we, the US, are next.  As testing becomes more available, the number of known cases of infection is going to shoot up and panic will only increase.  Being a bit of a history buff, I am drawn to discussions of what History can teach us.  As expected, there has been no shortage of parallels drawn with past events.  There’s the Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918; more recent “novel” virus outbreaks likes SARS, MERS, Swine Flu, Ebola; and, of course, comparisons to how previous administrations have handled a range of crises.

One must choose ones sources carefully, however, when using history to inform our present thinking.  A friend of mine recently turned me onto the daily blog of Heather Cox Richardson, a political historian and professor of history at Boston College.   I knew I’d like her when I read the “About” page on her blog, linked to above, in which she uses one of my favorite quotes: “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it does rhyme.”  This quote, attributed to Mark Twain, reminds us that we can learn from history—but we must be careful to remember that circumstances never completely replicate themselves. You must put the lessons of history in critical context with today’s situation.  Prof. Richardson brings in many lessons from the past in her daily review of events, which can be comforting or frightening depending on the situation.  Her writing has also driven me to think about something else:  the difficulty of putting today’s events into any confident context while events are still unfolding.

This situation allows me to use an excerpt I’ve been saving from Philip Roth’s The Plot Against America.  From the moment I read this paragraph, and underlined it, I knew there would be an essay in which I could use it!  It is one of those passages that you read and think, “Wow, that is so true!  But I’ve never thought about it that way before!”  Herewith, that selection:

“Turned wrong way round, the relentless unforeseen was what we schoolchildren studied as “History,” harmless history, where everything unexpected in its own time is chronicled on the page as inevitable.  The terror of the unforeseen is what the science of history hides, turning disaster into an epic.”

I have now lived long enough to see how crazy current events are treated by historical retrospection.  I remember the chaos of the morning of 9/11/2001.  We did not know or understand from one minute to the next what was happening!  We just stood in front of the TV at work, numbly watching the horrific scene, reeling as information came pouring in over time.  Over the succeeding weeks, months and years, a lot came to light about what led up to that horrible day as well as decisions that were made afterwards.  Whenever there is temptation to yell, “How could they NOT have seen that?!” or “How could they have made THAT decision?!” I try to remember the chaos, confusion and utter helplessness of that day and time.  It’s easy to look backward and calmly put the pieces together.  When you are going through it, though, nothing is clear.

Part of what makes us nuts right now is constant “arm chair quarterbacking” about whether or not this crisis is being handled appropriately—or even whether or not it is a crisis at all.  I have another “crisis memory”—the years leading up to 2000, forever referred to as Y2K.  Most of my readers will remember this time, but a few may be too young.  The concern was that the date in most computer code in everything from banking to control of the electrical grid was expressed with two digits for the year.  What would happen to time- and date-dependent tasks when the year rolled from 99 to 00?  Visions of a digital Armageddon circulated for a few years as companies pumped millions of dollars into analyzing and updating code to use a four digit year within dates.  Come January 1, 2000, there were some small blips but no major crises.  IMMEDIATELY there were pundits saying that this “crisis” was way overblown and millions of dollars were wasted.  However, maybe crisis was averted because we invested so much time and money. 

We can’t run the appropriate control experiment to know for sure.  Just like we can’t go back and NOT implement Roosevelt’s New Deal, or NOT implement the plans the Obama administration executed in response to the Great Recession. We cannot say for sure that a different course of action would have had a better or worse result.  Not that that stops pundits from trying.  And it’s very easy to cherry pick historical information to support your thesis, extrapolating from kernels of truth to assumptions that are risky at best and outright wrong at worst.

So what do we do during a time of uncertainty such as we find ourselves in today?  Well, here is what I’d like to see from others and what I try to hold to myself.  First, always try to remember at any given point in time what you know, what you don’t know, and if possible what you don’t know you don’t know.  And remember that there is a time vector to information—what you know changes constantly, including false information that pops up only to be corrected later.  Because of this ever-changing information environment, stay humble and be transparent.  State what you know and what you don’t.  Explain what information you have used to arrive at your conclusions and actions.  You can express competence (if you are in a visible role) without saying you have everything under control.  And for goodness sakes, don’t promise what you can’t deliver.

Second, remember that actions and opinions can and will change as more information becomes available.  Stay open to changing your position based on new data and own that change.  It is not a failing to change your position based on new information.  It is also not unreasonable to prepare for the worst while hoping for the best.  It IS unreasonable to lose sight of facts and go overboard about protecting yourself to the detriment of others.  If you need to stockpile 96 rolls of toilet paper for a possible 2-4 week quarantine, I think you have other issues.

Third, give yourself and others some grace.  We all have different situations, different risk tolerances and different experiences that may cause us to make different decisions.  But remember, also, how actions will affect others.  If schools are shut down, remember that there are kids who depend on school lunches and breakfasts.  If small businesses close, remember that many hourly employees will end up going without a paycheck—and these are often the people who can least afford to miss one.  Think actions through and mitigate impact.  If your tolerance for risk is high, remember those around you who may be immunocompromised or have to tend to someone who is in a high risk group.  Don’t belittle someone else’s fear; don’t sneer at someone else’s unconcern.

When this is all said and done and history has had its say, it is certain that some decisions will have been wrong and some will have been right.  Some of them may have just been dumb luck considering how little was known at the time.  Don’t heap blame or praise on the decisions themselves.  Focus on the decision process itself: how was information gathered and how were decisions made?  How quickly did response change based on new knowledge?  How well was information communicated?  We can learn a lot more from that than on our opinions about whether or not the decisions were “good”.

Take a deep breath.  Focus on the bigger picture.  And be safe out there!

The Ties That Bind

I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships lately.  What spurred me to write this essay is a particular type of relationship.  You know those people.  You smile when you think about them.  You can go months or years without seeing or talking, yet as soon as you are together again you pick up right where you left off; people you love unconditionally, yet you will not let them get away with any bullshit.

But first, a little of my general musing about relationships.  I’m talking all kinds of relationships:  family, friends, co-workers, acquaintances.  How people interact with each other has always fascinated me—remember, I’m an amateur social scientist.  In the workplace, it was all about influence: how can I convince someone to do what I would like them to do, be that a customer buying what my company is selling or another employee “buying” what I am trying to “sell” them about a project or other initiative.  In my personal life, it has often been around the question of how “out” do I really need to be: does the cashier at the grocery store really need to know that Trish is my wife?  Do I care that she or he may assume something totally different about who I am?  With family and friends, I am often thinking about communication.  I’ve written before about my Theory of the Half Life of Effective Communication and On Resolving Conflict.

One of the companies that I worked for was a highly distributed, global organization, with 30,000+ employees around the globe but rarely more than 200 in the same location (most had staffs of less than 50). The development of effective relationships and communication norms was critical for these micro universes.  I wrote a “white paper” about this topic for a corporate Executive Leadership Program.  It went over like a lead balloon, but I still like the premise.  I asked people to think about relationships (and this holds for the work environment as well as your personal life) as a series of concentric circles—hence the visual that I posted with this essay. 

In your personal life, that innermost circle is a very few people.  Your spouse, children, maybe siblings, maybe parents and a few cousins.  If you are lucky like me, your BFF is in that circle. These are the people that are just IN your life daily and always at the front of your mind.  You know what they are doing and they know what you are doing—almost everything.

In that second circle, you have your posse.  The friends (and family members) that you generally interact with regularly.  Successive circles outward include acquaintances that you run into every now and then.  You usually remember their names and faces.  Farther out are those transactional relationships—cashiers, service people, the person you sit next to on a transnational flight.  How you communicate with people in those circle differs, as does the work you must put into developing communication norms.

What I want to talk about, though, is a special category in that second circle: those people who aren’t necessarily in your everyday life, but with whom you have a deep bond.  This is a bond that time and life changes don’t affect; a bond that may form under a particular circumstance but that grows past that initial basis.  That’s the group of friends I just spent 4 days with in Miami Beach.

We are a circle of seven women who went through school together at Goucher College, Class of 1984.  The group is not all equal in “closeness”.  Some subgroupings have stayed deeply involved in each other’s lives continuously since graduation.  Some are very close with one or two people yet less close with others.  The closeness has ebbed and flowed over the years.  And some, like me, dropped out of sight for a good part of the 35 years since graduation while I was trying to figure out my own life.  That took about all the energy I had and, since I really hate talking on the phone, I fell out of touch with them.  (Social media, the perfect work around for phone-phobes like me, is a comparatively recent development.)  However, we ALL always came back for the 5 year interval reunions and we slid right back into the easy rapport which was always there.  At our 35 year reunion last year, we decided to make our own “off” year reunion—hello, South Beach in February! 

The hotel staff were increasingly amused as an ever-larger “Greeting Committee” would wander down to the lobby as each person arrived.  Rooming arrangements were negotiated prior through some sort of organic process.  I, one of the most introverted in the group, roomed with the most extroverted in the group.  It worked because we have a strong basis of mutual love and respect.  And that underpinned being able to say whatever we needed to say to each other.  I could say, “Stop talking.  I want to go to sleep.”  And she could say, “No, you’re not going to sleep yet.”  (I can hear the gasps of those who know me after reading that line!)

That balance extended to the wider group.  Imagine trying to coordinate four days of activities, meals, whatever with six of your friends.  What made it work was the comfort level of knowing that no one was going to dominate, that no one was going to be voiceless, that if anyone tried to push something that the consensus was uncomfortable with that they would be called on it (mostly).  These are the kind of people who won’t hesitate to tell you there is spinach in your teeth or a booger hanging out of your nose.  We split each check evenly seven ways.  If I got an expensive entree one meal, they knew it would balance out another time.  If some drank water and others had three drinks, we didn’t care.  We trusted each other and wanted each other to have a good time.  This sort of deep caring is rare. 

There were beach groups and pool groups; power walkers and strollers; chatter and companionable silence times.  The last night we were all together, we took over the pool bar for a rather loud game of Farkle.  It’s a dice game that involves equal parts strategy and accounting, and us “Goucher Women of Promise” quickly picked it up.  True to form, we kept helpfully adding up everyone’s score for them each roll.  It just worked and was so comfortable!  I think what I liked the most is that while we did a little reminiscing about our college years, 95% of the conversation was about our lives since then.  Our years at Goucher, struggling through classes together and learning to be adults, formed the basis of our friendship.  But it has been what we have navigated through in the decades since, and how we have shared it and grown with it that have formed the ties that bind us.  You know, I don’t even remember ever officially coming out to this group.  I don’t think I came out to anyone while we were in school.  But they all knew and that part of my life just fit into the rest of our relationship.  This is the ONLY group with which that process has happened!

We have continued the group text that started as we prepared to travel down to Miami, sharing more of our daily lives with the group.  We have penciled in a week for next year to get together again.  Shout out to Goucher, since 6 of the 7 of us have retired (or essentially so) by 57 years of age, so this is more do-able for us now.  Trish and I are talking about some travel that will include stops to see some of the group.  (This was a spouse-less trip, so Trish missed out.)  Realistically, I know life will get in the way a bit and this tight communication will fade.  But I also know that when we do get together again, hopefully next year, we’ll pick up right where we left off, Farkle and all.  I treasure these friendships and these women.  I hope you all are lucky enough to have friends like this in your lives.

You Don’t Know What You Don’t Know

In February of 2002, Donald Rumsfeld, then Secretary of Defense for George W. Bush, was taking questions at a Pentagon briefing.  In response to a question around the lack of direct evidence supporting the presence of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, Rumsfeld gave this answer (in part):

“Reports that say that something hasn’t happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns—the ones we don’t know we don’t know. And if one looks throughout the history of our country and other free countries, it is the latter category that tend to be the difficult ones.” (Wikipedia)

Rumsfeld was highly ridiculed for this “unknown unknowns” comment, mostly in popular media, but the man was on to something.  The graph that accompanies this article, of the Dunning Kruger effect, was sent to me by my beautiful and talented niece who is in graduate school for Plant Pathology (and who clearly takes after her Aunt Sherri).  She sent me this graph following a vigorous text discussion around the frustrations of grad school in the natural sciences.  You started in an undergrad environment, in which you are taught sound theory after sound theory and then go into a laboratory to conduct well-designed experiments that are supposed to be neatly completed in an afternoon or two.  Everything is fact.  Everything happens as expected (eventually).  And you began to think you knew how the world worked (as you annoyingly explained to your non-scientist friends).  Then you got to grad school.  And facts were not so cut and dried anymore.  There was nuance and boundary conditions.  Theorems like Newtonian physics explained everything until they didn’t and it was only by recognizing that there were facts that did not fit the existing theory that other theorems like Quantum Mechanics were developed.  And then there was “real” research, when you explored hypothesis after hypothesis that your experiments could not confirm.  It was a lonely dark tunnel of seemingly dead ends.  But you kept searching for truth.  And eventually, you found some.  What an incredibly important lesson to learn—because that is how life works.

I saw the Dunning Kruger effect play out over and over during my career as I coached young scientists.  The confidence they had!  OK, many times it was arrogance.  But they all learned, one by one, that they didn’t know as much as they thought they knew.  The best of them began with that sense of humility already; the most successful developed it.  Humility gives you not just a respect for what you can learn from others but a hunger to do it.  Enlightening someone to the fact that there is much they don’t know that they don’t know is one of the trickiest human interactions to navigate!  It wasn’t that hard when I was coaching those who were looking to me for insights already, but it was damn hard when I was trying to gently enlighten peers or superiors.  There is a very fine line you have to walk between embarrassing someone and convincing them.  And that line moves around as a function of their hard headedness and defensiveness.  I should know.  I’ve had to have my head knocked quite a few times!  Sometimes you just need to give someone grace because they have zero desire to be enlightened or you know they will come to it in their own time.  Sometimes you have to push forward because if you don’t there is the potential that bad things will happen sooner or later.  Regardless, don’t judge someone on their lack of knowledge.  Focus more on their willingness to learn.

I have mentioned before my love for non-fiction and how during my working years I kept collecting books, looking forward to retirement when I could finally READ to my heart’s content!  At first, it was wonderful!  I could read a little something, have a few questions, and then go down rabbit holes as much as I wanted to fill in my knowledge.  Very quickly, though, I learned that trying to be a Renaissance Woman in the 21st Century is a losing proposition.  The more I learned, the more I realized how much I didn’t know which made me want to learn more.  It doesn’t help that I get a daily email from Book Bub with discounted ebooks—I want every one of those histories and biographies!  Yes, it’s a virtuous cycle, but it’s also a little vicious.  I have gotten overwhelmed by how much I realize now that I didn’t know I didn’t know.

So, here is a look into my reading life.  Besides a shelf full of books like Biomimicry and The Sixth Extinction, a wish list with the likes of Sapiens and Value in Ethics and Economics, I am a faithful reader of The New Yorker and Longreads (which sponsors both longform journalistic efforts and curates a reading list).  I gravitate to longform journalism because there is the effort to go more deeply into a subject, turning over rocks and going past the quick assumptions about a subject.  Here is a sample of what I ingested just over the last week:  Returning Britain’s agricultural processes back towards traditional farming with a detailed look at the knock on effects of different farming techniques on the natural balance; the growing trend of participative Underground Railroad Reenactments and their impact on people of all socio-economic backgrounds; a profile of author Yuval Noah Harari (which is why Sapiens is on my wish list); whether or not Jeanne Calment really was the oldest living person at 122 or a fraud, with a deeper dive into how these investigations look from the perspective of different stakeholders; a comparison of the 1930’s concerns about democracy’s survival to those of today, reminding us that when we talk about “worst I’ve ever seen” it’s still only a “time drop” in the bucket of history; diamond mining in Botswana which gave a fascinating history of not just the industry and some key players but a nice primer on Big Diamonds of History; the search for a woman missing in British Columbia for seven years; and, how the CIA secretly sold encryption services to gullible governments around the world.  I learned something fascinating (and previously unknown to me) in each of these articles!  Each one has broadened my perspective on something I didn’t realize I needed some broadening on. And they all make me hungry for more.

I promise I AM heading somewhere with this line of discussion and it’s to emphasize this point:  you cannot know everything, but you can stay aware that there is always something more about a topic or a situation that you don’t know. Look for more perspective.  Remember that there is more to “truth” than your personal life experience.  As a scientist, I’ve been taught to almost never think in absolutes.  Situations are never as simple as they seem (or as simple as we want them to be) and it is critical to always want more information.  The Longreads articles, in particular, give me glimpses into lives so different from my own that I continually marvel at my good fortune for the life I was born into.  I’ve always had a lot to say on assumptions, and I’m guessing I always will.  I am humbled every day with new examples of incorrect assumptions I make about someone’s life or situation or background or knowledge.  There is so much I don’t know that I don’t know—only now, instead of scaring or frustrating me, it inspires and motivates me.  I hope it can be that way for you, too.

[Editor’s Note:  I read pulpy fiction novels and happily remain wedded to my simple beliefs. Sigh.  Trish]

On Resolving Conflict

First, I commend you for actually reading this essay.  I can hear the groans when you saw the title.  Conflict and conflict resolution are often among the least favorite topics of people everywhere.  Few people like conflict (save for those with a Character Disorder); fewer people still enjoy conflict resolution.  Yet the existence—nay, the preponderance—of unresolved conflict is, I’m convinced, at the root of a lot of emotional pain and suffering around us.  I would hazard to guess that unresolved conflict is at the root of a lot of physical pain, as well.  I mean this both of individuals who end up committing violence as well as those in leadership roles who start wars (that others fight and die in) because of their conflict with another leader.  (By the way, nothing I say below will apply to world leaders.  I have no clue what might resolve those conflicts.)

Before I begin my pontification, a little disclaimer.  There will be people reading this essay who have formally studied this topic and can speak with much more authority than I.  They, and you, may or may not agree with my views on this subject.  I am sharing with you my observations and strategies, which (sometimes) work for me.  Consider this food for thought in finding what works for you.

Conflict between humans is as old as, well, humans.  (I’m sure it also exists in the animal kingdom, but conflict resolution strategies of animals is outside the scope of this essay.  Well, mostly, since humans certainly can behave like small-prefrontal-cortex animals.)  Conflict also introduces itself to us at a very early age—“mine” is an existential statement of toddlers and usually kicks off conflict with anyone around.  For some reason, I have lately become very sensitive to conflict around me.  Maybe it’s because I am very lucky in that I don’t have a lot of conflict in my life these days.  I’m retired, so I don’t have conflict with work; I am in a wonderful relationship with someone who jumps on conflict as quickly as I do and communicates really well.  (I like to say that there are four of us in this relationship:  me, Trish and the “me and Trish” that are observing the “me and Trish” in the relationship and constantly talking about it.)  I also have weathered such intense conflict in my life that whatever comes my way these days feels tame by comparison.  So, I am very sensitive to the conflicts we, as a country, are embroiled in due to political differences (see previous discussions on yelling at the TV) as well as to conflict I see amongst family members and friends.  Hence the need to discuss.

Not all conflicts are alike.  There are conflicts with people in different types of relationships:  romantic, familial, friendship, workplace.  There are conflicts amongst equals and conflicts in which there is a significant power imbalance.  There are conflicts with those you know deeply and with acquaintances.  As such, there is no singular or perfect way to handle conflict.  But there is one thing all conflict has in common:  conflict that is not resolved never goes away.  It just gets buried, sometimes deeply and sometimes just under a thin veneer, and it will most likely rear its ugly head again.  Usually at a really inopportune time!  Until resolution, expect discomfort at some level with your conflictee.  The passing of time may lessen the awareness, but it is still there and it will color your relationship.  So, our first bold faced comment: Do not ignore conflict; ignoring it will not make it go away.

Are all conflicts worth wholehearted resolution? Frankly, no.  Since I will never be able to resolve the conflicts I have with a range of TV pundits, or with a stranger I overhear who makes a comment that really burns, sometime you have to just let it go.  “But, Sherri,” you remind me, “didn’t you just say that unresolved conflict never goes away?”  Why, yes, I did.  But if resolving those conflicts (which are really one sided disagreements, in all honesty) is not important to a relationship then the best response is indeed to let it go.  Simpler words were never written yet a more difficult act has rarely been undertaken.  I get so mad at myself when I lay awake at night, mulling over an interaction with someone I’ll never see again over something that I wanted to have handled differently, or thinking about things someone has said on TV or on some form of social tweety facegram.  Why do I let these people live rent free in my head?  This would be when we segue to a discussion of deep breathing and mindful meditation, but, again, subject for another time.  I want to discuss conflict that can and should be resolved.

Workplace resolution can be the trickiest.  “Conflict” when there is a real imbalance in power (boss/subordinate or similar) is not something I really consider true conflict.  That is a “suck it up and deal with it” situation for the person lower in power, even when a more powerful person is trying to admit to a wrong.  Power simply wins.  You have the freedom to leave the environment but the choices for many are really limited and really difficult, so most are stuck with bad feelings and ruminating over the situation at 3 am (see: “let it go”, above).  And this is why so many people can’t wait for their workday to end.  Owning what you really control in situations like this is hard, lonely and requires a lot of intestinal fortitude.  Complaining is easier.  I’ve done my share.  I’ve ultimately been happier when I’ve owned what I can truly control, but that didn’t happen until very late in my career when the consequences of owning it were more to my liking.  We’ve discussed choices and consequences before.

So let’s finally talk about conflict resolution amongst equals, with people you know well and care enough about to want to continue an on-going relationship.  Damn, it’s hard.  And it’s hard for two reasons:  if there is conflict there is hurt; and, to successfully resolve the conflict you will need to make yourself vulnerable to the person you exchanged hurt with.   I’ve read a lot of Brene Brown’s work and if you aren’t familiar with her, I highly encourage a look.  She writes a lot about vulnerability and how being vulnerable with others is one of the hardest things you will ever do, yet is so necessary to any type of healthy relationship (including with yourself).  So much anger out there is masking pain that people refuse to acknowledge out of fear of being vulnerable.  It takes courage.  And, by the way, you need a willing partner in the process.  It takes two to tango in many things in life; conflict resolution is one hell of a dance.  YOU may want to resolve a conflict.  You may even reach out and ask for a sit down to resolve the conflict.  But if the other person isn’t ready to open themselves to the discussion, it won’t work.  And, unfortunately, the hurt will just sit there.  Sigh.  We’ve all been there.

If both of you truly want to resolve the conflict, then you both need to be able to practice good listening skills.  Yes, listening is a SKILL.  And you need to talk face-to-face.  Do NOT try to do this remotely if at all possible.  Before you start the discussion, you need to remember this:  Your goal is not to defend yourself and remake your point.  Your goal (“you” plural) is to listen to where the other person is coming from.  Understand the situation that caused the conflict from the other person’s perspective.  None of us are mind readers.  You need to hear what is in each other’s heads.  Each person needs to put the emphasis on understanding the other—not on being understood themselves.  Don’t worry about making sure you are understood.  If you are doing this right, mutual understanding will be the outcome.  If you really do this (and I have found it much easier to facilitate these kinds of conversations than to engage in them myself), then a solution/resolution is often easy to find.  If not, you agree to disagree, but usually the pain and hurt are lessened because there is mutual respect.  Remember, you DO like/love this person!

Even just writing this essay has given me a stomach ache.  I see so much pain in the world!  It just doesn’t have to be this way!  We don’t have to be angry all the time or uncomfortable around each other.  Take a deep breath.  Ask for help if you need it.  But be brave enough and kind enough to crack open your defenses and get that conflict resolved.

On My First Blogiversary

The day this essay posts will mark my one year blogiversary—one year since I hit Publish and started this blog.  This milestone has of course prompted much Fond Reminiscing and Deep Thoughts about the blog and why I write.  You, Dear Reader, now get to share in some of those musings.  Patience!  Next time we’ll get back into essays on the various bon mots floating around in my head.

As I look back over this first year, I must admit that I am quite pleased.  I have kept to my every-two-weeks posting schedule, save for the last Sunday of the year when I was painfully ill.  (I told myself everyone was too busy to read then anyway.)  I have a faithful stable of 50 or so subscribers, some of whom probably actually read the blog each week (mostly family members, my BFF and spouse), and an additional 80-100 people that access the essay in the few days after I post on Facebook and LinkedIn about a new entry.  My page views have crept up north of 3300 (which I do check excessively the couple of days after I post).  I have reconnected with several friends and former colleagues through the blog which has been a very happy by-product of the writing.  And every now and then, someone tells me that I made a difference.  All of this is to say that I am far from a viral sensation, of which I am quite happy. I know almost all of my subscribers.  A few unknowns have either undecipherable email addresses or came from referrals, which pleases me greatly.  A small but loyal readership is usually kind.  Almost all the comments I get are positive and supportive.  Since I have a very fragile ego, I like it that way.

While I do love you all very much, Dear Readers, I must admit that I don’t really write for you.  I write for me.  You see, I have always wanted to write (just like about 50% of the population and about 90% of middle age females).  I kept journals almost continuously until my 20’s and on and off since then.  I would get compliments on work memos.  Work memos!  Who gets suggestions that you should be a writer based on work memos?  Each compliment was filed away for later.  “I’ll write later,” I would tell my younger self.  “When I can devote time to it.”  Truth is, it wasn’t about time.  It was about fear.  I knew I could express myself well and a few people made some passing positive comments, but could I really write?  I kept telling people I wanted to write yet used busy-ness as my excuse.

It also was about the question of what to write.  Since we have well established by now that I have the attention span of gnat, the idea of writing The Great American Novel made me laugh.  We have also established that I am lazy and a procrastinator, so the idea of me creating a lengthy treatise with well researched material is also quite the stretch.  Through my reading-in-retirement, I found that I am a fan of the essay—something in the neighborhood of 1000-5000 words, around a succinct topic, often with a specific lesson or message to deliver.  THAT I could do!  And in terms of content, well, I laid that out in the title essay to my blog.  Once you’ve done a certain amount of living, learning, and mistake-ing, there is plenty to write about.

All that said, I actually DO write for you, otherwise why create a blog?  I am under no illusion that I am creating new knowledge or philosophy or thinking with my essays.  In fact, I’d be very surprised if anyone told me that they learned something completely new in what I’ve written.  You all know these things, these life lessons about how you evolve as a person.  However, we all need a bit of reminding now and then, don’t we?  And, we could also use a little reminding that we are not alone in feeling that we procrastinate too much, or judge people too quickly, or make a ton of unarticulated assumptions every day.  I have learned the hard way to give myself a little grace and one of the goals for this blog is to give you the permission to give yourself a little grace, too.

I’ve written before on the specific series of events that led me to start the blog.  There are two people in particular, though, that I must thank for their support and encouragement.  The first is Jill Harris Helmer, whom many of you know.  Jill is a friend and a colleague from my days at Air Products.  We always had an easy connection (although most people develop an easy connection with Jill) and she is someone I have always admired.  Jill has had her own blog for quite some time, A Little Bit of Everything, and I encourage you all to check it out.  She writes honestly, joyfully and sometimes painfully about life in a way which anyone can connect.  She is my blogger role model. 

When I finally started to screw up the courage to start a blog, I asked Jill if I could buy her lunch and discuss blogging.  We talked about the mechanics of setting up a page, which have changed a lot in the decade since she started her blog.  We talked about content and length; about comments and trolls; about the basic “why” of having a blog.  But more than anything, she provided encouragement to DO IT (not dissimilar to how she coached me during our Air Products days).  The public accountability of having made this project known to Jill is what really gave me the push to make it happen.  Full disclosure: to this day, Jill, anytime you like or comment on an essay it feels like when you get kudos from your hero. (Blush)

The other person I must thank, of course, is my wife, Trish.  Trish, it must be known, is an exceptional writer herself.  She has not only encouraged me every step of the way but has been my editor-in-chief.  For each essay, she walks that line of “must put out well written and understandable material” on the one side and “jeez, she doesn’t take constructive criticism well, does she?” on the other.  The first few essays required a LOT of iteration.  I never realized how often my tenses wandered all throughout recorded time!  She has been careful to not necessarily argue content, but to make sure my message got through.  She still encourages me to inject more humor (I’m trying!).  Lately, her edits have gotten sparse.  I’m not sure if my writing is getting better or if she’s tiring of the process.  She promises it’s the former and I will choose to believe that.

So here we are! Ready to start Year 2!  How long will I keep doing this?  I don’t know.  I guess until I feel like I don’t have anything more to say (just like when I knew it was time to stop therapy).  Unlike my various rounds of therapy, though, I think I’ll always have something to say.  And that’s because you and life inspire me every day.  Thanks for hanging in there with me during this startup phase.  I can’t tell you how honored I am every time you choose to invest your time to read my thoughts.  My desire to make it worth your while is what keeps me writing!

When You Have No Voice

There are many times in our lives when we figuratively and emotionally have no voice.  These can be difficult times, frustrating and angering.  There is much I have to say on that topic and, oh, I will!  However, this essay is not about those times.  This one is about literally and physically having no voice, which happened to me at the end of the year.  While also frustrating and angering at times, I also found it somewhat freeing! 

Scene I:  it’s Monday afternoon of Christmas Eve Eve, the night our neighbors throw their annual holiday party.  I went to spin class in the morning and told Trish afterwards, “I think I need a nap.  And my eyeballs are sweating.”  The former statement is almost a daily affirmation in this household and caused no concern.  That latter, however, is my bodily signal that I’m getting a cold and is never a good sign.  Trish raised her eyebrows, no doubt thinking about the upcoming responsibility of dealing with a sick Sherri.  I get a bit whiney when I’m sick.  And moody.  I alternately cry and yell.  I prefer to be alone and most people prefer to leave me alone when I get this way.

I soldiered through the party and truly had a nice time.  We are lucky to live in a close neighborhood and enjoy each other’s company.  It was loud, though, and I felt like I strained my voice.  I complained as much the next morning and decided to cancel plans with my BFF.  I was headed to Atlanta the day after Christmas, for my Mom’s birthday, and I needed to nip this cold in the bud.

Christmas Day with the in-laws was another solid good time.  I had a glass of water in my hand the whole day and probably drank a gallon and a half of water.  My throat hurt.  I talked minimally.  I allowed no kissing and hugging (which no one minded once they knew my throat hurt).  “Eh,” I thought.  “A little Advil Cold and Flu, NyQuil at night and I’ll be fine.  This will pass quickly.  I’m pretty good at fighting off these viruses.”  I checked in for my flight the next day.

Scene II:  The dawn broke on Thursday and I felt like total crap.  I didn’t want to disappoint my Mom on her birthday (nor kick the can down the road on the To-Do list she had for me) and I knew I wouldn’t be coming home again until early April, so off to the airport we went.  I had a purse full of meds and pockets full of tissues and cough drops.  The person next to me on the flight gave me one of those, “Oh, gee, thanks” looks as I blew my nose and coughed for the umpteenth time in 3 minutes.  I took solace in the fact that I was not the only one on the plane that clearly should have stayed home.  Tis the season.

The Uber dropped me at my sister’s condo about one minute before she got home.  I was standing there dazed, looking at the bed in the guest room when she came in.  I pushed back on a hug and after a few minutes of catching up said, “I really just need to lie down.”  Two hours later I staggered out of the bedroom.  This was not good.  Mom was duly warned via text.

Scene III:  Knowing that I do way better in the morning hours when I am sick, I arrived at my Mom’s apartment in her retirement community by 9:30 the next morning.  We blasted through the electronics To-Do list, which involved the requisite list of iPad/iPhone/printer/FireStick/Soundbar questions (I can usually address half of them; I appreciate my Mom’s faith in my electronic prowess but my knowledge does not go much further than “turn it off and back on again”).  Off we went to Target to switch her phone to Consumer Cellular, then to a local hospital for compression stockings.  She blessedly suggested I just drop her off instead of taking her out to lunch.  I’m sure it was a mixture of concern for me and concern for herself.  Neither of us wanted her catching this bug!  I was back at my sister’s by 1:00 and in bed by 1:01.  My poor sister deserves a medal.  I can be a challenging house guest to begin with but add in my whiney, impatient sick self and I’m sure she was tempted to send me right back to Trish.  I most certainly owe her a set of sheets to replace the ones she probably burned once I left.

Scene IV:  I did not sleep.  I coughed all night.  The coughing HURT.  Searing pain, like I’ve never felt when coughing.  When I woke up Saturday, I had no voice.  None.  Not even a squeak!  And Saturday was the family lunch for Mom’s birthday.  There were 7 of us at a rectangular table for 8.  I sat on one end.  My one sister sat across from me, Mom beside her.  My other sister, her husband, son and his girlfriend took the four seats at the other half of the table, leaving an empty seat beside me.  At first I was a little pissed.  They couldn’t have left the empty seat at the other end of the table?  They had to isolate me like I was sick and contagious……oh wait.  I was!  Fairly quickly, though, I was grateful for the seating arrangements.  I didn’t have to participate in that lunch at all!  Call me a bad sister/aunt/daughter but I was very happy to sit there and partly listen, drink hot tea, and move food around on my plate.  I didn’t feel frustration at wanting to correct blatantly wrong commentary since I couldn’t have voiced my opposition even if I’d wanted to!  I didn’t have to make any small talk!  I zoned out, smiled occasionally, and pulled out my credit card at the appropriate time to pick up my share.  Sometimes, I realized, it’s very nice to not have to talk.

That carried over to the Uber ride to the airport on Monday and may have even helped me get on an earlier flight home (I think the gate agent felt really sorry for me.  And just wanted me to go away and take my germs with me).  No need for small talk on the plane.  I was able to ignore anyone I wanted!  I should not have been so happy.

The frustration returned when I got into the car with Trish and actually wanted to talk for the first time in days.  All told, my voice was completely gone for five full days and barely squeaky for another two.  I remembered when, after Super Storm Sandy hit and I lost electricity for 4 days, how I noticed all the little ways you never realized how much you took power for granted.  Paraphrasing Scarlett O’Hara, I vowed to never to take electricity for granted again!  (But, of course, I do every day.)  Similarly, I was amazed over that week at how much I took having a voice for granted.  But then I also was aware of how having no voice gave permission for a lazy introvert like me to just stay within my head.  There is something to be said for that.

One week later, I am back with the “voiced” albeit still a bit gravely.  I now have no excuse not to answer the phone when it rings (dang) and I can’t just stay in my head.  I’m back to talking back to the TV, which I’m sure Trish is thrilled at (this was a bit of a vacation for her, too).  But that week was a real lesson for me in both privilege and power—topics we will definitely hit on when I talk again about having no voice, but this time figuratively!

Learn to Speak Many Languages

I’m going back to one of my favorite coaching topics in this essay:  the importance of learning to speak as many “languages” as you can.  Why is the word “languages” in quotes?  Because I’m not talking about English and Spanish and Mandarin, although it would do most Americans well to learn to speak another language with some fluency.  I’m talking about, from a business perspective, learning to speak the “language” of other areas of the company:  finance, manufacturing, logistics, sales, research.  This topic is another of my famous “Tom-isms”—lessons I learned from one of my first (and still favorite) managers.  But like all Tom-isms, I have realized that this is a life lesson, not just a business lesson.

I spent about three quarters of my career in R&D, either at the bench or managing other researchers.  Here is a typical conversation I might have had with a sales person from my days developing resins for use in high performance paints:

Sales:  Hey, Sherri!  Customer Blah Blah really likes XF1234!  They’ve put it into one of their formulations and really like its performance!

Me:  That’s awesome!

Sales:  They like the pot life, hardness and scratch resistance of the paint and it performs really well on their corrosion resistance testing.  They just….

Me: (Uh oh)

Sales: ….need it to dry about 50% faster.

Me: (left eye begins twitching uncontrollably)  How about I give the customer a call and talk about formulating options to get them there?

Sales: (look on face that says they were dreading this response) They don’t want to change their formulation.  Can’t you just make the resin dry faster?

OK.  A few things about industrial paints: 1) they “dry” by reacting with moisture in the air or with a second chemical that is mixed in just before use; 2) paint formulations can contain 50 ingredients, most at well less than 1% of the volume, which means formulators never want to change their formulations; 3) change one thing about a resin to change one property like dry time and it affects pretty much everything else about the paint (see item 2); and 4) someone whose job is selling one chemical to a paint formulator typically knows very little about items 1-3.

Here, also, is a conversation I may have had with people from manufacturing:

Me: (speaking with excitement about my new development) Hey, we’ve got a new product we want to take into the plant!

Ops guy:  (silent, as he remembers the last product I introduced to the plant)

Me:  (looking at my calendar a week or two out) When do you think we could work it in?

Ops guy: (Wondering if this product will be able to be made in any of the plant’s systems) Do you have the spec sheet?

Me: Oh.  Well it’s just like XR6789.  Sort of.

Tom taught me that the frustrations work both ways.  Sales may not understand what research has to do to develop a product but research usually has no clue what is required to scale a new material from 100 ml to 1000 gallons.  We all just expect the other functions to do what they need to do and, hey, how hard could it be anyway? (See: If Something Looks Simple, It Means I Don’t Know Enough About It)  Learning to speak the “language” of the other functions has two major benefits.  First, you can explain ideas and issues in verbiage that will be understood.  Second, a healthy respect for their job will not only endear you to them (ensuring better response to your needs) but also allows you to take their needs into consideration in your own work—which just makes everything easier all the way around.  Whether your workplace employs 10 people or 10,000 people, you need this understanding of what others face in their roles.

As I introduced this lesson into my coaching sessions with younger scientists, I began to see the broader applicability.  What we are really talking about here is developing a sense of empathy.  Seeing the world through another’s eyes.  Walking a mile in another’s shoes.  After I “came out of the closet” at work, I got more deeply involved in Diversity and Inclusion efforts.  This concept of speaking many “languages” was equally useful in the context of trying to understand the microinequities that people can face—whether you are a woman, gay, Jewish or perhaps all three.  I have a lot more to say on Diversity and Inclusion, so I won’t belabor that topic here.

It leads us, though, into the discussion of how developing this sense of empathy is such a vital tool in navigating the world outside of the office.  Look, I know that the word “empathy” evokes candles, incense and eye rolls with many people.  And many also associate pleas for empathy with weakness at best and a stifling political correctness at worst.  That all misses the point.  In my opinion, very few people are truly naturally empathic.  I believe that many people have the capacity for empathy, but to really understand another person takes work and intention. 

The point I am laboring to make, here, is that it is incumbent upon all of us to actually ask questions of those whose life experiences are different from our own—be it a department in the corporate world or someone who has grown up with a different set of privileges.  If I wanted to “speak the language” of operations so as to smooth my working relationship, I actually had to go talk to someone in operations!  I had to spend some time at the manufacturing plant and learn how they do what they do.  If I want to better understand and “speak the language” of someone who grew up poor in an inner city, instead of a comfortable middle class suburb, I need to seek people out and listen.  I need to ask the questions that bust the assumptions that I inadvertently make about what their life has been like.

It seems these days that everyone wants to be understood, but few recognize the need to understand others.  We have no prayer of resolving differences if we won’t try to understand those with different points of view.  Remember the comment about work and intention? It takes no work at all to demand to be heard.  It takes a lot of work to listen just as I want others to listen to me.  And isn’t that what we all want?  We want to be heard, hopefully understood.  Not dismissed.  Not minimized.  Not “assumed” away.  This kind of learning is an active process and you will find yourself tripping over incorrect assumptions every day.  Don’t aim to be perfect.  Aim to be aware.  Be aware that there are many “languages” out there that you don’t yet speak.  But there is nothing stopping you from learning them.

It’s NEVER About Just One Play

It’s football season.  That wonderful time of year when I am constantly yelling at the TV.  Sometimes it’s about my annoyance with Pharma commercials.  Sometimes it’s my frustrations with poor clock management or yet another play up the middle that gets stopped at the line of scrimmage.  Trish will confirm, though, that my biggest rants are reserved for commentators who will replay one play over and over and over again and say, “This play will determine the game.”

The mother of all examples of this phenomenon, at least recently, was last year’s playoff game between the New Orleans Saints and the Los Angeles Rams for the NFC Championship.  The score was tied with less than two minutes to go.  The Saints faced a 3rd and 10 from the Rams’ 13 yard line.  Drew Brees floated a pass to Tommylee Lewis down the right sideline.  The Rams defender flattened the Saints receiver well before the ball arrived–blatant pass interference.  No call from the refs.  The Saints lost the game.  Saints fans lost their minds.  All through the off season and still into this season we hear about how that call lost the Saints the game, the NFC Championship, maybe the Super Bowl and, to hear the pundits talk about it, probably the chance to solve world hunger.

What I keep yelling back at the TV (or grumble more quietly when reprimanded) is that IT NEVER IS ABOUT ONE PLAY!  Are you telling me that the Saints played an absolutely flawless game up until that point and that one call is the only thing that kept them from winning that day?  If that was true, wouldn’t the Saints have won by something like 120 to nothing?  Of course they did not play a flawless game.  Any number of different decisions in the preceding 58 ½ minutes of play could have made a difference in the outcome of that game.  Several assuredly did.  But that one wrong call was really obvious at a really bad time, so it gets the press.  And the poor ref gets death threats.

My point?  In football as in life, it never comes down to one play.  Success or failure never hinges on just one decision.  Don’t get too proud of yourself when one thing goes right; don’t get too down on yourself when one thing goes wrong—no matter how big that one thing is.  This essay is a nice companion to two others I’ve posted:  “It’s not about the decision” and “Personal Accountability”.  And I feel another one coming on about the importance of developing good coping skills.

It’s easy to think back on decisions or choices you’ve made and think “If only I had….” I try really hard to not do that because you just don’t know what that alternate pathway really would have brought. I loved the play “If/Then” because its premise was exactly that: intertwining the stories of the outcome of a major decision based on the two alternatives. Not to spoil the story but the two pathways each had their pluses and minuses—just like life. As I’ve written about before, there is no one pathway to success and happiness.  No one pathway ensures your success nor dooms you to failure.

I think back to what I see as major inflection points in my life.  In fact, let’s focus on a couple of major “cringe worthy” ones.  The first one that stands out in my mind was a time in 5th grade when I confronted “the new girl” who turned out to be a bit of a bully.  It was not courage that made me stand up to her.  It was pain.  We were supposed to meet at the high school football game but she instead hung out with others she deemed more worthy.  I was 12! I was hurt!  I fought back at school on Monday and ended up getting shunned by everyone.  She was a bully but she was popular.  It was a painful time that lasted the rest of that school year.  Do I wish I hadn’t done that?  Do I think my life would have been indelibly altered had I held my tongue?  I don’t know.  But I do know this:  that time period helped me develop a strong sense of empathy for those who are pushed aside in this world.  And I believe that’s made me a better person.

Another cringe worthy incident?  (Believe me, I am choosing just a couple from a long list!)  I was 16 and driving home from my weekend stint at the local Hardee’s on a Saturday afternoon.  I was wearing my brown polyester Hardee’s uniform, including head scarf.  I was at a busy intersection, waiting to turn left.  I couldn’t really see well.  I thought there was a break in the traffic and started my turn.  I froze when I saw a station wagon barreling towards me and boom.  No one was hurt.  Traffic snarled while we stood there scratching our heads and apologizing.  And then I hear, “My baby!” and my Mom comes running over.  She’d been at the intersection in the perpendicular direction and saw the whole thing.  I think it was more traumatic for her than for me!  I played that scene out over and over again in my mind for years.  If only I’d waited for the light to turn yellow!  But you know what?  Having an accident like that when I was young turned me into a better driver.  It taught me the lesson that it can happen and you need to always assume the unexpected.  And I rarely make left turns without an arrow!

Final example:  my decision to take an international assignment in Mexico in the late 90’s.  This one is not cringe worthy at all.  Just the opposite.  It was probably the best decision I ever made!  I’ve alluded to that experience several times already.  It really boosted my career.  It really opened up my mind as a person.  It really opened up my heart and soul through the people I met.  But what if I had decided not to take that assignment?  What if I’d stayed in the US and followed a more traditional career and life path?  What if I had not had the chance to live in another country and challenge myself personally in such an existential way?  Who would I be today?  Undoubtedly, I’d be a different person with a different life.  Would it be better or worse than my life today?  I don’t know and, honestly, I don’t care.

I’ve tried very hard to take each experience that has come my way and move forward with it.  I know things could have turned out very differently but different does not mean better.  I have been so blessed all along the way and I know that had I made some different decisions here and there that I would still be blessed.  No regrets.  The key is to learn your lessons and move forward.  Don’t fixate on things you’ve done and don’t fixate on things others have done.  We all make what seem like bad decisions but good can always come from them if you choose to learn from them and move forward.  It’s just never about that one play!  Don’t forget that.

The Tyranny of the Algorithm

My last essay was about communication.  More specifically, it was about how technology has invaded and overtaken our ways of communicating with each other to the extent that it’s removed much of what makes humans really connect.  As I was drafting that essay, another theme began to come out around my concerns with all this computer code that envelopes us every day.  And that’s where we are going to go today.

First, a disclaimer or two.  Although I am 57 years old at the time of this writing in 2019, I do not consider myself a Luddite.  (For any of you millennials or Gen Zers out there who might be reading this, a Luddite refers to someone afraid of new technology.  Look it up.  A little history would be good for you.)  Over my lifetime, I have seen computers go from suspicious room-size machines to something you carry in your pocket.  Everywhere.  And use for everything from a calculator to a phone to a navigator to an entertainment source.  I’ve seen the Internet move from a military project to a ubiquitous, unseen force that invades every aspect of our lives.  And I’ve seen the world become connected in a broad, instantaneous, rule-less way that is equal parts amazingly beneficial and amazingly destructive.  I use a good many of these tools.  However, while I have Twitter and Insta accounts, I follow without posting and Alexa has not made her way into my home.  Why?  Because of my fear of the Tyranny of the Algorithm.

An algorithm, very simply put, is computer code that provides rules and instruction for some action and output.  Algorithms are how Amazon recommends things you may like, what you’ll see next on YouTube and NetFlix, the ads you see in your Facebook feed.  These algorithms take information you provide through your browsing habits and other publically (we hope) available information about you, and the code provides the output you see.  Those rules are influenced, as well, by advertising dollars.  We all get annoyed enough at ads that pop up on Facebook for shoes you were looking at on some website yesterday, but with the explosion in artificial intelligence it’s time to get very wary. (Another disclaimer:  I know just enough about coding and artificial intelligence to be dangerous.  If this blog had broader readership, I’m sure I would be slammed on my ignorance of nuance but I think I have the basics right.) 

Artificial Intelligence, or AI, is essentially machines (computers and what they control) learning to do things on their own.  Algorithms on digital steroids.  The beneficial side of AI includes anticipating your needs—everything from populating your grocery list to improving the accuracy of surgical robots.  The bad side is the tendency for AI to “suggest” you into deeper and narrower subsets of what life has to offer by assuming that if you like a little of something then clearly you would like a lot more.  And in the absence of other stimuli, we forget that there is more out there.

Let’s take an example as simple as browsing in a bookstore.  We all have favorite genres but most people are still willing to entertain picking up something totally new and different—if it catches your eye.  I have always loved going to bookstores and browsing their bargain bins.  Not just because I do love a bargain but because of the joy I get from stumbling across a book I never would have actively searched for based on what I had previously read.  And reading things I probably never would have actively searched for is a big part of how I have grown and learned and, most importantly, evolved my thinking over the years.  If algorithms had their way, though, I would read nothing more than Jody Picoult novels and non-fiction around social science.  Broaden this example to all of media—TV, magazines, news—and you get the sense of the source of my angina. 

This narrowing and deepening of existing thinking concerns me for everyone but mostly for people who have grown up in this age of the algorithm.  So many people my own age seem to have lost the ability to be curious and seek knowledge outside of their comfort areas but at least we had decades of broad exposure before the Age of the Algorithm.  What about young people who are forming their first impressions of the world?  If they just keep going narrower and deeper into their first perspectives, our current polarization on any given topic is just going to get worse.  Try an experiment.  Go to YouTube and watch the first video that pops up.  Then just let autoplay do its thing.  You might start on a video on how to grow tomatoes, then recipes with tomatoes, then things you can do with tomatoes and then end up a couple hours later on videos showing you how to build acid filled pipe bombs.  And then you’ll get a visit from the FBI.

While sending you down a narrow and deep pathway is scary enough, remember something else:  While algorithms may seem like highly complex gifts from the gods, they are code written by humans.  Yes, they can learn, but the rules they use for “learning” are those written by their human creators. There are already concerns about bias unintentionally built into today’s algorithms by the highly homogeneous “bro” coding culture.  And unintentional bias can be insidious.  I remember crayon boxes when I was a kid.  There was a pale pink color named “skin”.  Imagine being a non-white kid with that crayon box.  There was no intention of disenfranchising non-white people by putting that label on that color, just as there is most likely no intention of coding bias into algorithms, but the effect is still the same—creating barriers for some and advantage for others.

So, we’ve seen that algorithms can take you down a narrow and deep pathway without your conscious knowledge and they can pave that pathway with rocks of micro-bias.  While few of us will let these algorithms take us so far as to result in a visit from the authorities, I fear that these algorithms are already taking away our creativity and curiosity about new thinking.  And creativity and curiosity are the backbone of our innovative culture.  Take that away and we are on a slippery slope of decline as a nation.  In the scientific community, a patentable invention is defined as “something unexpected to someone skilled in the art.”  If we let algorithms encourage us to ignore and discredit anything outside of our narrow comfort zones, how are we going to continue to make the sort of breakthrough discoveries that keep our country and economy strong?

What is it that I want you to do?  Don’t give up your phones or your Alexas.  They are wonderful tools!  But also don’t just accept their output.  Be curious.  Search out answers outside your comfort zone or area of expertise.  Go browse the bargain bin at a bookstore.  Chemists can put all the “ingredients” of life into a flask and put them under the conditions of “early earth”.  Amino acids and simple proteins will form.  But we can’t make life.  There is something more to it that the parts and the rules—more than the algorithm.  Similarly, AI and machine learning may be starting to approximate the mechanics of thinking, but they are not human.  Far from it.  Remember, though, that you ARE human.  Stay human.  And beware the tyranny of the algorithm.

The Half Life of Effective Communication

Half Life of a Radioactive Element

I have been forming in my mind a series of essays called “Everything I Ever Needed to Know, I learned in Freshman Chemistry”.  As I was working on my PhD, I taught freshman chemistry every semester.  I truly enjoyed the teaching but also began to see that virtually every theory you learn in that survey course has an element (pun intended) broadly applicable to life.  They don’t call it a Doctorate in Philosophy for nothing.  From the Laws of Thermodynamics through Quantum Mechanics, there is always something important we can learn about life if we think about that theory in a broader context.

Today, I want to share one piece of advice about communication that I often gave to mentees (still do, in fact).  It is related to the concept of the half-life of a radioactive element.  Really.  Let me explain.  All radioactive elements decay over time, meaning they release subatomic particles and energy and become a more stable element.  If you control this process, you can use that released energy to generate electricity.  If you choose not to control the process, you can level cities in seconds.  The graph that accompanies this essay demonstrates how this process can be viewed:  the amount of the element remaining over a period of time drops exponentially; how fast this happens–the rate constant–is characteristic of that element.  The time that it takes for half of the starting quantity of the element to decay is called its half-life.  This concept is very useful, actually, in thinking about human interaction.  I call this law the “Half Life of Effective Communication”. 

When I first formulated this theory, there were limited means of communicating with someone.  You could meet face-to-face, of course.  You could talk on the telephone or leave voice messages.  You could send letters, emails, faxes.  That was about it.  Texting came later, as did video conferences and now virtual and augmented reality.  I began to realize that it was those face-to-face meetings that drove the quality of the relationship between individuals and my theory took shape:   the effectiveness of communication via telephone, email, etc. decays exponentially since the last time you met with that person face-to-face.  Additionally, the rate constant—or how fast that effectiveness decays—is a function of the relationship depth between the two individuals.  If I’ve known you for a long time or if we worked next door to each other for a while, then one face-to-face visit will mean fun phone calls and preferential email attention for quite some time.  If I’ve never met you or barely know you or it’s been ages since I saw you, then don’t expect preferential response.  You are just less on my radar.  While I admit to being very face-to-face oriented, I have found that most people are like to this at least to a degree.

Here is one way this plays out for me and this requires a bit of a confession:  I really, really hate talking on the phone.  I hate calling people I don’t know.  I hate calling people I do know.  I hate the phone.  Whenever I want to be a really good partner to Trish, I volunteer to call and order the pizza.  I’m still trying to convince her that is an effort worth recognizing.  If you get a phone call from me, know that I’ve had to work up a certain amount of courage and/or overcome a significant amount of “eh” to dial you.  If I actually answer the phone when you call me, consider it a small miracle (unless we’ve arranged a time for a chat and I’ve had a chance to prepare myself emotionally).  I just hate talking on the phone.  But if I recently saw you, I still have warm fuzzies from that personal interaction.  Picking up the phone feels like continuing that recent face-to-face.  It’s easy.

When you think about it, this theory makes sense.  We humans have at least five senses (many consider intuition a sixth sense and who knows what else our bodies may be doing that we don’t yet know about).  However, in phone calls we are using only one of those senses—hearing.  You have the advantage of hearing tone, but you get no body language.  In the written word, which we have become increasingly reliant on, we are using only sight in the form of reading.  Not only are you not getting body language, you are not even getting tone (no matter how many emoticons someone uses).  And we wonder why there is so much miscommunication!  In person, we use sight, hearing, smell, touch, maybe even taste as an adjunct to smell.  And our intuition is in overdrive, pulling on data from these senses and more.  Relationships are built on all these data.  In fact, they require all this information to get a holistic picture. 

What happens if you are only using sight (in the form of reading) and maybe sound?  Your brain fills in the gaps with assumptions.  And you all certainly know how I feel about assumptions!  How many times have you begun a relationship with a colleague by phone or email and when you finally meet them they are totally different from what you had pictured in your mind?  Or a long distance working relationship seems rocky but YOU HAVE NEVER EVEN MET?  There IS no relationship yet.  How many times have you tried conflict resolution by email?  Did that ever work for you?  This phenomenon is even worse in our personal life, either on-line dating or social media, when people purposely try to show you only a small part of who they really are. 

When video conferencing first came out, it was marketed as a way for companies to save money on travel since it would be “just like being there”.  Except that it isn’t, even while increases in bandwidth have smoothed out early jerky movements.  I worry that virtual and augmented reality are being touted anew as substitutes for being there IRL (in real life).  We rely so much on social media for connection, but even Facebook is most effective with those with whom you have a deep personal relationship.  There truly IS no substitute for IRL for honest relationship building.  These other tools are all wonderful for extending the effectiveness of getting together face-to-face, but they can’t replace it.

I remember a commercial many years ago for some airline.  The Big Boss had called his subordinates into a conference room and talked about how doing business had changed.  They were doing so much more by phone and email and less in front of their customers face-to-face.  In fact, he had recently gotten berated by an old friend and longtime customer for that lack of attention.  He then tossed airline tickets on the table to each person, sending each out to see a key client.  He held up his own ticket—one to go visit that old friend.  Corny and self-serving to be sure—but with a big dose of truth.  We MUST get face-to-face to build and maintain relationships.  Don’t shy away from calls, emails, texts, video conferences, VR/AR–but remember the Law of The Half Life of Effective Communication.