The Ironing Board Faileth
Tuesday morning last week was an interesting one, made even more interesting by the purchases I’d made on Monday night. But first, a little backstory:
In January, as we moved from the temporary housing that we had spent the last three months in, I found myself in sudden need of an ironing board…and an iron. I guess I could have just gotten an iron and relied on the old kitchen-counter standby, but I wanted to go whole hog, especially because I had to iron my clothes everyday. Now, I’m not so much a fan of buying things new when there are perfectly good used versions out there waiting to be had. So I popped down to my local Breast Cancer Support thrift store and picked up a perfectly respectable ironing board and iron. Or at least I thought they were perfectly respectable.
The iron was the first to give me trouble, and it did so with evil glee. On the first day. I filled it with water, I plugged it in, it warmed up nicely, and as soon as I touched it to my shirt it glued a lurid greyish streak of accumulated minerals all the way down the front.
Scratch one shirt.
Through trial and error I found that if I paid near-constant attention to the surface I could scrape off the accumulated gunk before it left its mark on my defenseless clothing. I figured that after a few weeks the accumulated gunk would clear out and I wouldn’t have to mind it any more.
After a year I gave up. I decided to buy a new iron, and while I was at it I would also by a new cover for the ironing board, because the cover I was using had grown so threadbare that I had recently resorted to putting a towel beneath it.
Back from Target with a new iron for the heart-stopping price of $5. (I paid the same amount for the thrift store Super Gunker). I also had a new cover, which I fitted over the board in place of the tattered old—very likely original—cover. I was feeling pretty stylish…for about 5 seconds, because just as I snapped the last corner of the cover on…wait for it…
…the leg broke. Yep, both of the rivets that joined the back leg to the board just decided they couldn’t take it anymore and let go.
I figured it best to sleep on the whole thing.
When I got up the next morning I plugged in my new iron and tried to iron my clothes on the board…as it rested on the floor. Yeah, not so much. So back to the old standby: the kitchen counter. All that and only ten minutes late is a win in my book any day.
When I got home and had a little more time to think about it, I discovered that I could wedge the broken leg up against the support and voila! I had a functioning ironing board again. It’s the little miracles that make me happy. Someday, if I’m lucky, I’ll go out and get a whole shiny new ironing board. Maybe. If this one really breaks.
Quick question: why is it that something like this can make me laugh while it makes others cry, or tear their collective hair out, or curse the gods? It’s a serious question. Mostly.
Leadership, Leadership, Leadership
We’ve all heard the mantra of real estate: location, location, location. An alliterative analog in companies should be leadership, leadership, leadership.
The goal of HR is to make that mantra a part of every decision-making process and strategic goal. The question should be not only, “Do we have the budget, the capital, the equipment, the space?” But also, “Do we have have the leadership?” In fact, it should be the first question, because success is virtually impossible without it.
The Anachronistic Mindset
Are you ready for the next “War for Talent in Healthcare?”
Frankly, no.
I have little patience for superficial and inane slogans in general, and no patience for this slogan in particular. (An actual headline for a webinar, in case you’re wondering). In the context of healthcare, there is a jarring dissonance between the term “war” (violence, carnage, and death) and the term “healthcare” (care, compassion, and hope). Such thoughtless and lazy use of concepts marks a thoughtless and lazy mind. Unfortunately, I see it all the time. It just ain’t pretty.
Looking beyond healthcare to Talent Acquisition as a whole, I find this term is increasingly anachronistic and reflective of a tired philosophy, one that pits “us” against “them” in a “battle for supremacy”. Yep, it’s easy to use the terms. Yet false and misleading. And potentially destructive. No one benefits for long from a hostile mindset or a continuous escalation of competition.
A different and more progressive philosophy acknowledges competition but doesn’t attempt to destroy its competitor. In healthcare this philosophy allows for collaboration between talent teams within different companies as everyone seeks solutions for the shortages in nursing, rehab, and other critical skill areas. And this philosophy is not new, just overlooked. Maybe if we give it a new, hip name that will help raise its image. Let’s call it “open networking.”
Now that I’ve coined the term, tell me, what does it mean to you?
The Psychology of More…or Less
I find the video below fascinating. It raises some interesting questions for me about the employee value proposition, compensation philosophy, and the existential yearning for purpose.
I’d like to know what you think.
The Many and the Few
My last post reminded me of another Nova program I [re]watched recently. One that continues the complex/simple theme. This show involved robots, cars, and DARPA, so I was instantly engaged. (So was my son). DARPA issued a challenge to inventors: create a robot-controlled vehicle with the brains to navigate a 132-mile course all on it’s little lonesome. Dozens of teams assembled to take up the challenge, some as small as one, others as large as…many. More than I could count on two hands, that’s for sure. I tried.
Two teams in particular were the focus of the show: a huge team from Carnegie Mellon that actually had the funding and the headcount to run two heavily customized Humvees in the challenge, and a small team from Stanford that used a mostly stock Volkswagen.
The Stanford team won. Let’s get that out of the way, because I want to talk about how their philosophical approach differed and why it matters.
The differences were apparent throughout the show, but the epitomizer (alert: new term!) came on the night before the challenge. Each team received a CD with GPS coordinates for the course. The Stanford team downloaded the information into their vehicle and went to bed; the Carnegie Mellon team devoted a small army to dissecting and studying every detail of the data then painstakingly inputting very specific instructions to account for every twist, turn, hill, or bump.
I couldn’t help it: I thought about labor costs and efficiency. And the military. I’ve seen command centers before and this is exactly what CM’s tent looked like that night.
The CM approach reflected a philosophy of control: everything had the potential for failure; every contingency had to be accounted for; every variable controlled. From the hardware to the software to any externalities, every potential failure had to be mitigated and redundancies implemented. This necessitated swapping out and modifying a large percentage of the vehicles’ hardware and the design and construction of complex optics, as well as the creation and constant alteration of lines of software code. The result was a lot of people creating a lot of complexity.
By contrast, the Stanford team used mostly off-the-shelf components, including mass-produced laser range finders and a vehicle that was outfitted for disabled drivers. They decided to rely on parts that had been proven to work already and instead focused their energy on solving for the single unproven variable: the software. Their philosophy was one of acceptance: they chose to believe that components produced by others were of sufficiently good design and quality that they didn’t need to be considered as possible point of failure. And this philosophy allowed the Stanford team to produce a superior result utilizing a much simpler process.
Just for fun, I’ve guesstimated the labor cost difference for the two teams. This is totally pulled out of my…well, here are the numbers:
- Carnegie Mellon
- Headcount: 25
- Average salary: $50,000 (they get off cheap because many seemed to be students)
- Total cost for 25 FTEs: $1.25 million
- Standford
- Headcount: 7
- Average salary: $90,000 (many of them seemed to be teachers/researchers)
- Total costs for 7 FTEs: $630,000
We humans seem to be drawn to the complex like moths to a flame. I know I find complexity fascinating. (Which means I might also have control issues, but that is a different post). But, fascinating as it is, it’s often the least best (and most expensive) way to get things done.
In Simplicity is Beauty
Since I was a kid I have loved Nova. It appeals to the pocket protector part of my personality. Last night I watched an episode on Hulu (why yes, I do get my TV through the internets; ask me how) where a team of scientists tried to figure out how the ancient Egyptians raised obelisks that were carved from a single piece of granite, were up to 100 feet tall, and weighed up to 500 tons.
There were two schools of thought: one simple, one complex. The complex relied on timber frames, hundreds of feet of rope, intricate knots, more than a hundred laborers, and trigonometry. The simple relied on about a dozen people, some rope, a pile of sand, a few simple calculations, and patience.
The complex project was a frustrating, demoralizing failure.
The simple project worked. Beautifully.
Simple works.
The Capacity for Capacity
I attended the 1st annual UW Nursing Student Career Fair on Saturday. And got buried. Nearly a hundred eager and excited nurses, many ready to graduate, and many with their BSN.
Eager, excited, and…nervous. Even desperate. The recession has impacted every industry, including healthcare—despite the popular refrain on the 24/7 news networks that healthcare is a “bright spot” in the dismal job scene.
But the problem of too many new grad RNs is more complex than just a recession (isn’t it always?) The overarching issue is really one of capacity. Specifically, the capacity of…
- …hospitals to devote significant time and resources to developing efficient and effective training programs
- …hospitals to provide enough experienced RNs to train new grads
- …experienced RNs to be effective trainers
- …experienced RNs to accept and embrace new grads despite significant generational differences
- …new grads to adjust to the taxing routine of full-time nursing
- …new grads to effectively assimilate to the hierarchical structure of a hospital after years of collaboration and equality
There are other problems I could bullet out (and I’m sure you could, too), but those are the big ones as I see them. The future of nursing is graduating at unprecedented rates…and being turned away by hospitals incapable of creating the capacity to accept and train them. Meanwhile, those same hospitals have open positions that require “experienced” nurses. Can you say, “catch-22,” kids?
It’s not like we’re creating too many nurses, either. This is not a question of saturating the market. The demand is still critical, and the projections still say shortage for the foreseeable future. And the future is looking elsewhere for work. Those new grads won’t (and simply can’t) wait. Hence the desperation I saw at the nursing event. They will take jobs outside of nursing to make ends meet. They will begin to forget their training. Their licenses will lapse. And very soon we’ll be back in the position of having no nurses at all, new or otherwise, to fill critical needs. Think I’m being alarmist? I hope I am.
So, how do we fix it? The solution is simple: increase capacity. The application of the solution is, of course, incredibly complex. But the alternative is not at all attractive. Kind of like asking for a latte at Starbucks and getting a cup of Folgers.
The Authenticity Paradox
I’ve just picked up a book from the library entitled Authenticity: What Consumers Really Want, which also happens to be the thesis. From the inside jacket I gather that the authors are trying to demonstrate how businesses can appear more authentic to a consumer who is increasingly desensitized by and cynical of attempts to induce him to buy a product or service. Authenticity, it seems, is the new black.
However, the very title of the book presents a paradox: you cannot consume authenticity. If authenticity is defined as that which is fundamentally real and without pretense, then manufacturing the pretense of authenticity destroys the meaning. Pretending to be authentic is a nonsensical idea, and attempting to sell authenticity is itself an inauthentic action.
Here’s a real-world example: the corporate mission and values statement. They’re flashy; they’re ubiquitous; they’re often effectively meaningless. I’ve worked for a company that used the statement as a cover for poor business practices, and I’m currently working for a company that seeks to embody it’s statement as fully as possible. The difference is striking: one company advertises authenticity, the other lives it.
Wow, that’s a big response for a book I haven’t read yet. Now to see whether I’ll have to eat this post. (I like my blogs with a bit of pepper and a handful of salt).
The Return
I’m back. With a new job and a fresh commitment to explore the relevant and important happenings in recruiting (aka “Talent Acquisition) as it relates to the real world and the pursuit of happiness (or satisfaction or fulfillment, which are perhaps better words for what we seek, but I digress). I will be writing and posting here every other Wednesday and hopefully contributing to the conversation around recruitment, business, and the philosophy that undergirds both. Because at heart I’m a philosopher: I want to know how things work, why they work and why we think that work is good or bad.
I hope you’ll join me and contribute as I return to this investigative journey. And I hope you’ll contribute your astute observations and ideas when you feel compelled to do so. Onward, brave souls!
Overcoming the Credibility Gap
Amanda Picton doesn’t like disillusioning nursing students about their first job out of school, “but I want to be honest with them.”
So when she tells the students who call her for career advice to look in Texas and expect $50,000 a year, rather than in Missouri for $100,000, she’s not surprised that some of them tell her she’s wrong. “In nursing school they are misled to believe they are going to be making $50 an hour and are in demand everywhere,” says Picton. “We do this (recruit and place nurses) everyday. We know what the market is like.”
Amanda knows it’s tough to be authentic. For her and other recruiters, being authentic doesn’t always get the quick win; in fact, it can result in a highly-qualified candidate deciding not to apply. For those who have a myopic view of success, losing a single candidate is tantamount to failure.
Only it’s not.
Recruiting is not about sales. Many recruiters and experts will disagree with me on this, but the fundamental nature of human interaction in recruiting precludes the use of a sales methodology. To put it bluntly, candidates place their livelihoods on the line with a recruiter. They’re not buying a computer or a car—objects with no intrinsic value—they’re determining their financial emotional, and mental fate. And in order to do that, they need to trust that the recruiter who is presenting the opportunity to them is doing so with honesty; they need to know that the recruiter is authentically concerned for their well-being.
With this expanded view of recruiting we define success not simply as positions filled, but as positions filled with the right person.
With this in mind, here’s my simple prescription to recruiters for building credibility through authenticity:
- Always follow the Golden Rule
