Author: JP

Work-life balance. What a strange phrase. As if “work” is something that is distinct and separate from “life”, that the two are mutually exclusive, that there is a need to allocate critical resources (like time) between “work” and “life”, and that some sort of trade-off between the two must take place. One day someone will explain to me how and why the phrase originated.

But in the meantime.

One thing is clear:

If you treat work and life as mutually exclusive things, then you should not be surprised to have a work-life balance problem

Me, I like to think I’m on holiday all the time. And, as a result:

• While I’m on holiday, there are a number of things I have to get done. And it is important that I get them done as efficiently as I can, so that I can enjoy “the rest of my holiday”.
• While I’m on holiday, there are a number of things that happen, things that I have to respond to. And it is important that I respond to them effectively, knowing how to prioritise them when they compete for attention, how to manage conflict between them. As long as I have a clear view of my priorities, I can enjoy “the rest of my holiday”.
• While I’m on holiday, there are a number of things I think about, things that I discuss with the people I’m on holiday with. It is important that I have these discussions, because something very important depends on the outcome of the discussions. How to stay on holiday. As long as I have an answer to that question, I can enjoy “the rest of my holiday”.

Being on holiday is not a physical thing. It’s about where your head is at.

You can be doing your best to imitate a rotisserie chicken while on the beach somewhere, but if your head is in the office then that’s where you really are. if you’re on the slopes and all you can think about is how to solve the noises that emanate from your home heating system, then that’s where you really are.

You can be doing your best to imitate a “suit” while in the office somewhere, but if your head is in bed then that’s where you really are.

Being on holiday is a state of mind.

And the opposite of “being on holiday” is “not being on holiday”. Which is not to be confused with “being at work” and “being at home”.

if the only time you’re away from stress is when you’re on holiday, then maybe you should act as if you’re on holiday all the time. You will make better decisions that way. And if the only time you’re able to function properly is when you’re at work, then maybe you should act as if you’re at work all the time. Horses for courses.

Here’s one way to look at things: I have my personal life, and I have my professional life. They are not mutually exclusive, they overlap all over the place. People you know professionally can and do become your friends. People you know personally can and do become your colleagues. This is not wrong. It’s normal.

If I am at work, and I get a call from my daughter saying she’s at Waterloo Station, all shaken up, the victim of a mugging, then I drop everything and go to her. Because that takes priority over whatever else I am doing at the time.

In the same way, if I am at home, and I get a call from a colleague saying there’s been a major problem with a project and it’s all hands to the pump for the weekend, I drop everything and go in. Because that takes priority over whatever else I am doing at the time.

It’s a question of priorities.

Sometimes it’s not that simple. If my daughter calls me from Waterloo and I am in San Francisco at the time, then I can only “drop thing” virtually and vicariously. I have to respond to the stimulus according to the known constraints. I’m not going to get on the first plane back willy-nilly, I’m going to ensure that someone I can trust goes and meets my daughter, and remains responsible for her until she’s safely at home.

And if I’m in Jamaica with the family when the project call comes in, I’m not going to get on the first plane willy-nilly either. I’m going to find something that works within the known constraints.

So it’s a question of priorities, but clearly in the context of known constraints, both temporary as well as permanent. There is no point getting hassled about things you have zero ability to influence. It’s like getting upset because it’s raining. Or not raining.

I think “life balance” (as opposed to work-life balance) comes down to three things:

1. Be the same person at home and at work.

2. Have a clear view of your priorities: one list of priorities, including items from all parts of your life, principally made up of your family and work commitments, but explicitly including your values and beliefs, your community, your own dreams and aspirations.

3. Be consistent and transparent to others about how you prioritise in the event of contention or conflict.

That’s what I try. I don’t always succeed, but that doesn’t mean I stop trying.

In order to attract and retain my grandfather’s generation, a firm had to provide security of tenure. Since every firm offered security of tenure, it didn’t really matter. And since there wasn’t really a war for talent, it mattered even less.

In order to attract and retain my father’s generation, a firm had to provide quality benefits. The provision of quality benefits required scale. There was therefore a migration of talent towards firms that operated at scale. Since the war for talent was largely between a small number of scale firms, it didn’t really matter. [Except for the firms that bid up the talent using the benefits…. they’re paying some hefty prices now for the provision of those benefits. Witness Detroit.]

In order to attract and retain my generation, a firm had to provide challenging work. The war for talent had now begun, and those that were far-sighted enough to offer the right challenges attracted the right people.

In order to attract and retain the current generation, a firm had to provide equity. The war for talent was now intensifying, and talent moved to the place with the best growth prospects. But there was some harsh learning to come. People had to learn that options didn’t know how to swim.

In order to attract Generation M, a firm has to provide …. what? Values and beliefs that are congruent with the talent pool.

Security of tenure. Food, clothing and shelter. Challenging work. Ability to make pots of money. Values and beliefs. Hmmmm. Never thought that I could use Maslow to depict the motivation for people joining a company.

A friend brought to my attention that Confused of Calcutta had slipped down the overall Wikio blog rankings, from 25th to 31st. Now I didn’t know that Wikio had rankings, or that this blog was being covered there, so I went and took a look. [Once I realised that Wikio takes a rolling 120-day view, the ranking made sense, I’ve posted very little over that period.]

I couldn’t help wryly noticing that my blog was classified as “other”. Over the years, I’ve been “banned” at work many times, as list-makers classified me in very strange ways, ranging from “gambling site” to “adult content” or words to that effect. So I’ve always wondered who assesses the blogs and awards these categories and classifications.

And so I lived with “other”, I’ve been called worse. I did wonder, however, at what Hugh Macleod would make of Gapingvoid being classified as “Technology”. I’ve always thought of Hugh as unclassifiable. Come in Alpine, are you listening?

It appears that the Assessment and Qualifications Alliance, (otherwise known as AQA), in its infinite wisdom, has decided to offer Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone as a set text. AQA is the UK’s largest exam board, and the text has been set for a module called Themes in Language and Literature.

After all the kerfuffle about Potter lexicons, I can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen when Cliff starts writing his famous Notes about the book. Or are we actually going to see the author publish her own version of Cliff’s Notes?

I’m known to take contrarian views, but I don’t really try to be contrarian per se. I’m just not hung up about following the herd.

The herd, whoever they may be, have been Terminal 5 (and BA) bashing for some time now. And for many reasons. It’s a big ambitious project with space for many things to go wrong, and many things have gone wrong. After all, if you build a terminal with more shops than Bluewater, you’re not building a terminal, you’re building a shopping centre.

Instead of complaining, I’d like to tell a story about something that worked well. About someone who worked well. Exceedingly well. So, if you have a few minutes, fasten your seat belt and come with me on a little journey.

I returned from an all-too-brief business trip to San Francisco this morning; came home, showered, changed into fresh clothes, and prepared to leave for church. Yes, church on Saturday. We had some visiting pastors over, there was a special meeting with them, and my wife was already at the church offices, waiting for me.

Keys. Change for paying the cab. Phone. Wallet. Wallet? Wallet!

It was only then I realised that I’d left my wallet behind, on the plane, carefully placed in the drawer, under a newspaper.  I wasn’t 100% sure, but that was the percentage play. [I’d already replayed the relevant sequence in my head. Got on plane. Emptied pockets into drawer: keys, change, phone, wallet. Slept. Awoke. Emptied drawer contents into pocket. keys, change, phone… but not wallet. I couldn’t remember picking up the wallet, it must have been hiding in the back of the drawer].

I’d landed just after 11am, a couple of hours earlier. It was now nearing ten past one. I really didn’t want to go through the palaver of cancelling all the cards, not if I had a sliver of a chance to get the wallet back. So off I galumphed on to the web. Tried to find a number that might actually lead to a person at British Airways, without bankrupting me in the process, and on a Saturday afternoon as well. After hearing the same tape at the other end of a series of different numbers, I had a rethink. Time to call a cab and get to the airport pronto, at least I’d be dealing with live human beings.

I didn’t need much, just a minor miracle or three. Or four. Or a lot.

• I needed to get to the airport quickly.
• When I got there, I needed to find someone who really had a heart to serve customers.
• When I found this person, I needed him (or her) to (a) know how to find out which aircraft I came in on and (b) know how to find out where that particular aircraft had got to (or was en route for)
• In fact, I really needed that aircraft to have stayed where it was; I didn’t want it to have been moved or towed away from the gate.
• If cleaners had already got there first, I needed them to have missed my wallet somehow.
• And, to top it all, if I wasn’t asking for enough miracles, I needed to have found a person who was willing to then go to the aircraft, look for my wallet and then bring it back to me.

God was looking out for me. Because I found such a person. Actually on the floor of the terminal, not stuck behind a desk. With a real heart for service. She listened patiently to me, walked with me to a desk, entered a whole bunch of hieroglyphics into a computer. All she was trying to do was to figure out where my flight had come in, which gate I’d disembarked at. But she got nothing. Nada. The information was no longer on the screen, it was now three hours since I’d landed.

So she went and found someone else, told her the story, was advised to try something else, came back to me. Tried that something else, and bingo, she was into the archives, and she now knew that the aircraft I’d been on had come in to gate 32. Then off she went again, to try and check whether the aircraft was still at gate 32. It was.

Then she said to me “Wait here for me, I’m going to go to the aircraft and take a look, see if I can find your wallet.” She warned me that it could take 20-30 minutes, and off she went.

I waited patiently. And expectantly. Twenty-four minutes later there she was, wallet in hand, beaming. It transpired that I hadn’t actually left my wallet in the drawer as I thought. I’d emptied the contents of the drawer on to my seat before transferring them to my pockets, and hadn’t noticed that the wallet had slipped down the side of the seat.

She’d checked the drawer, found it was empty, and decided she would check the seat and its environs, just in case.

Many miracles. None of them would have mattered a jot or tittle unless they’d been made real, made real by a person with a real heart for service. Service with a smile. Going way above and beyond the call of duty to help a customer. Because she felt it was the right thing to do, without any expectation other than a satisfied customer.

Her name? Sarah Wilson. So, Sarah Wilson, I salute you. For reminding me that customer service is not about what firms do. It is what people do. People who care for customers. People like you. [I will be writing to BA about this, I am sure there is room for the odd letter of praise at BA HQ. It’s the least I can do for people like Sarah Wilson].