I was enroute from my home to the nearby train station on Wednesday morning, the first leg of my daily commute, and my mind shifted to thinking about the first email I would write that day. It would be to a colleague to share that a long-awaited deliverable was near completion—and that it would require several more hours of work, because I was not going to ship a half-assed version out the door.
No, I did not actually write those words because as soon as that version came to mind, my brain went full editor to pull out the essential message — “It’s almost there, with just one more turn to meet our standards and so that we can stand behind the work. It will be worth the wait and you’ll have it later today.” Better!
Then I started to chuckle to myself as my mind traversed down a new path of thought.
What’s the opposite of half-assed, anyway? Is more or less better on the assed-ness scale? Should we all aspire to be no-assed or is full-assed the way to go?!
I’m talking about getting to the bottom of how we measure things, the scales we use, and how they shape our understanding of progress and effort.
We live in a world that’s obsessed with measurement. Everything from our fitness routines to work productivity gets tracked and quantified. But here’s the thing—it’s not just about gathering data.
We must also choose the best way to measure what we’re up to, and go into that process with an understanding of what we want to learn. The right scale can make things clearer, but the wrong one can lead us astray.
Consider:
Should we use a 1-to-5 Likert scale to measure satisfaction?
Maybe 1-10 would be better? What if we start with 0 instead of 1?
How do we track progress with a more quantifiable approach?
These decisions might seem small, but they can dramatically shape how we view success, failure, and everything in between; often, they affect how we think about progress in our lives and work.
And just like a measurement scale, the way we talk about progress—the words we choose—plays a huge role in our perceptions.
The theory of linguistic relativity suggests that language shapes the way we think and perceive the world. While this is a subject of ongoing research and debate, I think we can all relate to experiencing negative feelings when something we’ve done is called a “failure,” only to realize later that it was a transformative “learning experience” that was essential to our success.
Sometimes, words just don’t capture what we’re trying to say. But the flexibility of language can also allow us to navigate complex situations without getting trapped by rigid definitions.
I think what all this gets down to is framing. Framing enables us to decide how we want to see things. But it’s also tricky because framing isn’t just about the here and now; it’s about the past and the future too.
While the past doesn’t dictate the future, understanding where we’ve been can help us contextualize where we’re going in a way that’s hopeful, realistic, and that enables us to know that we’re making progress.
How did we get here?
What choices led us to this moment?
What did we learn from our past experiences?
Having facilitated many group envisioning and strategy sessions over the course of my career, I can tell you that it’s very difficult for people to leap directly into talking about the future without understanding the current state and the past.
Part of my work as a facilitator in these situations is to help people retrace their steps so that they can see the narrative arc of their journey. That understanding of where they’ve been and how that led to where they are now prepares them to consider where they are heading next.
And while there are exceptional moments where giant leaps forward occur, progress often happens through small, steady improvements in the context of a greater idea or calling—and that is aided when we choose the right scale, use the right words, and frame things to help us know when we make real progress toward the goal.
If you’ve ever worked with me, you’ll know that I’m not a fan of creeping incrementalism, being overly cautious, or holding back on inspiration and innovation…and…while we should absolutely reject half-assed efforts, in many situations I believe we ultimately make more progress when we consider that compared to the current state, three-quarters assed might actually be pretty good.
Bonus Photo x3
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Last week I traveled to Missouri and made a stop in Uranus, where an enterprise known as the Uranus Fudge Factory and General Store has been making both kids and adults giggle—and spontaneously interrupt their trip along I-44 to check it out—since 2015.
After picking up a few treats, I stopped to memorialize the moment with snaphots of the garden gnome that I borrowed and took with me from my father’s front yard (with his permission, of course).
They prove the point that framing makes all the difference to the resulting image and takeaway.
Publishing note: There will not be a reflection published next week, so that I can focus on other work…look for my next Friday Morning Reflection on Friday, September 13. Enjoy your holiday weekend!