Welcome
Welcome to the Foresight Newsletter, a free monthly publication of Prevoyance Group Inc. This newsletter shares tips for high performance IT organizations and observations that we hope will prove informative and enjoyable.
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Contents
CONTENTS
Foresight is published by the Prevoyance Group, and this month contains four sections:
Work
Life
Heard in the Hallways
Travels with Patrick
Work
While the old bromide that “the devil is in the details” seems like a trite way to start off this month’s newsletter, I was recently reminded of this saying, although not in the context that its author intended. I was recently speaking with Josh Jewett, the CIO of Family Dollar Stores, a $6.8B retail company headquartered near my office in Charlotte, NC.
We were discussing the tendency of different business units to focus inward, becoming consumed by the issues and challenges at the micro level, rather than focusing their efforts on improving the company as a whole. Mr. Jewett recalled a meeting with the CEO, where his colleague distilled the retail business into two simple transactions: buying and selling. At its essence, retail is all about buying products from suppliers and wholesalers, and then selling them to consumers at a higher price. Everything removed from this buying and selling process was ancillary to the company’s core business. Applying this lesson to IT operations, the potential for relentless focus on details could bedevil the work of the IT shop.
Mr. Jewett recalled that this message become a litmus test of sorts for setting the objectives of his staff. “I ask each member of my management team: ‘What are you doing today that will help Family Dollar buy or sell?’” After initial looks of bewilderment, this metric provided a tool to frame all of IT’s activities in terms of Family Dollar’s overall mission: “to be a compelling place to shop, work and invest.” Shifting from the micro level to the macro in this manner provided an easy test for whether IT’s objectives matches that of the larger company.
While IT and other business units are often challenged to determine where they fit within the overarching corporate strategy, distilling the core of your business into its simplest terms can provide a framework that guides decision making, prioritization, and managing and eliminating ongoing activities. When you encounter the devil throwing distracting details merrily about, look to the core functions of your business to raise your decision making out of the morass of the overly-detailed.
Life
Over the past several months, I have been examining fear and the role it plays in our everyday lives. On one hand is healthy fear. This type of fear preserves life and limb, and keeps me from doing things like putting my head too close to a running chain saw, or sitting down to a nice salmon dinner with a hungry grizzly bear, and a table set for one.
A more insidious fear is that which stems from self-doubt and fear of rejection. Most of us have sat on the fence of important decisions, contemplating the various possible negative outcomes and varying potential degrees of failure. This fear is debilitating and crippling, and as we sit worrying about the worst possible outcome, life and opportunities pass us by. While rejection may leave us bruised and battered, the long-term effects are usually nonexistent. We have all been admonished: “what’s the worst that can happen,” yet too often we make mountains out of molehills and let our self-doubt eliminate the fruits of our efforts and sap internal gumption.
I can think of no more powerful skill than mastery over the fear engendered by self-doubt. While I have yet to reach this level of fear-free Zen, imagine the opportunities and doors that are open to you when you have no fear of failure.
Heard in the Hallways
Silence is one of the most powerful tools in the conversationalist’s arsenal. Throwing out a bold statement or claim, then following with confident silence can draw out even the most stone-faced and guarded individual.
“Great leaders almost always exhibit the same two traits.”
Silence.
How can one not help but ask: “Well, what are they?” In most western cultures, we trip over ourselves to fill gaps in conversation, revealing unintended details, or backpedaling and muddying the points at the core of our case. In the example above, following with a description of the two traits of leadership is not as enticing as throwing out a comment, then ceasing the lips from any additional wagging.
Travels with Patrick
Perhaps due to some latent gene handed down from my grandfather, who owned a bar in the 1940’s, I am a fan of cocktails. My father stoked my cocktail affliction, getting me interested in the Manhattan (two parts bourbon, one part sweet vermouth, a dash of bitters and a cherry) while compatriots were drinking the cheapest beer they could find in the largest quantities their system could handle.
Friends roll their eyes when I rail against the current state of cocktail crafting, the tenor and drama of my diatribe usually directly proportional to the evening’s cocktail consumption. Stalwarts like the Gimlet, Negroni, Rob Roy and Sazerac have been replaced by overpriced vodkas mixed with schnapps. Hastily amalgamating Grey Pigeon Vodka and Midori and calling it a “Mellon Martini” insults the art just as my stick figure drawings being exhibited at the Louvre would insult Monet.
On a past trip to Chicago, my wife and I wandered into an aged and promising looking bar. The bartenders looked as old as the fixtures, and stood in white tuxedos behind the impressive mahogany bar. It was a bitterly cold day, and I ordered a drink I rarely try outside the home since it is so easily mangled: the Sidecar. Supposedly invented at a bar in Paris after World War I, the drink consists of equal parts Cognac, Cointreau and fresh lemon juice, and is named after a frequent bar patron who rode a sidecar-equipped motorcycle.
When correctly made, the cocktail hits the spot during a cool day, and the citrus flavors combine with the cognac marvelously. In the US, this cocktail usually ends up being sour mix and cheap brandy, a thoroughly uninspiring combination. I watched with dismay as the bartender, who appeared to be in his mid-70’s, pulled an unidentifiable bottle of brandy from the well, indiscriminately added some sour mix, and served it over ice. I took a few sips and forced a smile.
After a few moments another bartender came over and asked what I had ordered. When I told him it was a Sidecar, he gave me a suspicious glance and asked if it was okay. I mentioned that it was not what I was expecting, and his frown turned into a smile and he grabbed my glass, dumped its contents, and proceeded to make me a fine specimen of the classic.
As I enjoyed it, he once again eyed me suspiciously. Sensing my glance, he said: “What the hell are you doing drinking Sidecars anyway? I haven’t made one of those since the 1930’s!”