Dave's Whiteboard

Series: Managing the White Space

In my leisurely amble through Rummler and Brache’s Improving Performance, John Cleese keeps intruding.  Cleese made training films, including the classic Meetings, Bloody Meetings, with the immortal line, “You don’t do work in meetings — you just meet.”

(The movie title links to a preview; fast forward to about 2:40 to skip the intro.)

Rummler and Brache, looking at the process level of the organization, say that processes (like meetings or the Energizer bunny) just keep going.  “In our experience, most processes do not have goals,” they say, which makes it hard to align goals with those at the organizational level.

If the organization chart is a vertical view, a process chart is a horizontal one.  And while a few processes exist entirely within one functional area, most extend across those areas: they span the white space on the org chart.

Rummler and Brache apparently developed the swimlane version of a process chart, with horizontal rows for the functions, like lanes in a swimming pool.  Here’s a simple example from this article (pdf) by Ken Orr of the Cutter Consortium.  (Click to enlarge the chart.)

Even this “straightforward order fulfillment process” involves a credit manager, a sales manager, the shop, accounting, and customer service — and, of course, the customer.

We fall easily into the habit of confusing a process with a group that has the same name.  If it’s the marketing process, then it must be Marketing’s responsibility.  And obviously if it’s the sales process, then Sales is in charge.

Rummler and Brache recommend “as is” charts as a tool for breaking through functional walls. They’re talking about process maps that show what groups take part in a process.

“All too often, a team finds that there isn’t an established process;
the work just somehow gets done.”

(Which takes some of the shine off “organization,” doesn’t it?)

Like behavior, process is a verb: it’s what’s happening.  Output is a noun: it’s the result of the process.  It’s vital, Rummler and Brache content, to make sure the process has goals, and that the goals align with those of the organization.

Process effectiveness and efficiency should drive a multitude of business decisions.  For example, a reorganization serves no purpose if it doesn’t improve process performance.  Jobs should be designed so that people can best contribute to process outputs.  Automation is a waste of money if it calcifies an illogical process.

The authors contend that the process level is the least understood (and therefore the least managed) level of performance.  “Viewing business issues from a process perspective often reveals a need to make radical changes in goals, in the design of business systems, and in management practices.”

If nothing else, a look at the business section of the paper might nudge you toward re-examining the organization you work with.

I didn’t use to think my family had that many veterans, though my brother was a kind of exception: an air force career, including service in Viet Nam. I only learned a few years ago that my dad wanted to join the Canadian air force at the beginning of World War II. They thought he was on the old side — in 1939, when Canada entered the war, he was 26 — so he rejoined his old outfit, the Mounties.

My mother was the real veteran — a lieutenant in the Royal Canadian Navy.

In the past few years, stories of aging veterans of that war have emerged, and the circle has expanded: Uncle Freddie, in the merchant marine. His wife Kit, whom I never knew, in the Canadian army. Uncle Danny, who died just last month, a gunner on a Lancaster bomber. His wife Olive was a war bride; they met while she was in the Royal Air Force. My aunt Billie was too young to serve, but one of her first boyfriends landed with Canadian forces in Normandy in 1944 and died four months later in Holland.

In a town filled with names like MacDougall, Gillis, Macdonald, MacLellan, there were two Jewish families. They lost three sons in the war: Nathan and Sam Feinstein, and John Levine.

Jean-Baptiste Massieu said that gratitude is the heart’s memory. For many of these people, memory is the only way we can express gratitude.

Here’s a nice example of applied technology and (fairly) straightforward how-to.

Twitter Vote Report is a vehicle for live updates (or up-to-the-minute tracking) of voting experience across the country.  You can report via Twitter (using the #votereport hashtag), by text (start with #votereport, text to 66937 [MOZES]), by phone (567-258-VOTE (8683) or 208-272-902).  More details at the site.

Also from the site, I got the code to modify for a state-level report:

Folks who haven’t used Twitter can start today, using the how to help page.  I’d never used hashtags before — keywords with # in front of them — but Twitter’s eager to have folks do so:

Including “#votereport� in your tweet is enough to get your report tracked by Twitter Vote Report. But the more details you can stuff in, the better. So, for example, include in your Twitter post:

• #[zip code] to indicate the zip code where you’re voting; ex., “#12345″
• L:[address or city] to drill down to your exact location; ex. “L:1600 Pennsylvania Avenue DCâ€?
• #machine for machine problems; ex., “#machine broken, using prov. ballotâ€?
• #reg for registration troubles; ex., “#reg I wasn’t on the rollsâ€?
• #wait:[minutes] for long lines; ex., “#wait:120 and I’m coming back later”
• #good or #bad to give a quick sense of your overall experience
• #EP[your state] if you have a serious problem and need help from the Election Protection coalition; ex., #EPOH

Since I work from home, I’m able to pick my time to vote… and with this nudge, I’ll report via Twitter when I do.

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An afterthought: last election, there were about 1875 voters registered in my precinct — I wonder how many of them are on Twitter?

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Afternoon update: We walked to the precinct. I checked the time as we entered the community center: 1:13 pm. I didn’t recognize a single election judge, so the whole crew may have turned over since I was a chief judge in this precinct in 2006. I stopped to chat with one of the chief judges on the way out; even with that, eight minutes, from entry to exit. We were back home at 1:31.

The check-in judge did tell me that they’d been busy up to about 30 minutes earlier.

According to today’s Washington Post, some 30 million people have voted early in the 30 states that offer this option.  Maryland doesn’t (though voters today may decide to amend the state constitution and permit early voting next time), meaning that 3 million or so in my state are eligible to vote today, including 540,000 just in my county.

I’ve seen many discussions about problems at the polls, but little about the people who staff polling places.  These folks in Maryland aren’t called precinct workers; they’re election judges — and they’re all volunteers.  Though I didn’t volunteer this year, I’ve worked elections and primaries in years past, twice as chief judge (one of the two people in charge of a voting precinct).

Blogs and opinion columns have run paeans to the process of voting, which in recent elections has meant the process of waiting in line.   I do see value in voters taking time to collectively express their opinions, volunteers guiding the process, no armed guards or oppressive government presence.  I also see obstacles, not the least of which is holding an election on a work day.  Your employer may, as some do, allow two hours off to vote, but if you live in Maryland and work in Virginia, you could spend the entire two hours in transit.

Few of those commentators have worked at a polling place.  Until the politicians who control the process decide to improve it, in my opinion it’s the volunteers who deserve recognition.

Yes, I know that some workers seem slow or even confused by the job they’re supposed to do.  A few years back, the head of the Baltimore County board of elections said that the average age of her election judges was “deceased.” The thing is: they’re the ones who stepped up.

If you’re voting today, the people at your precinct likely did something like the 4,000 election judges in my county have to do:

• Complete a mandatory training class prior to the election (three to five hours).
• On the night before the election, set up the voting place (at least a two-hour task).
• On election day, arrive by 6 a.m. in order to open promptly at 7 a.m.
• After voting ends at 8 p.m. (or later, if extended by court order), complete reports, verify vote totals, secure the voting machines.

Not everyone’s able to put in a 14 – 16 hour shift.  In my last two outings, I didn’t finish my chores until 1:30 a.m., which tended to crimp my sprightliness the day after the election.

You dance with who brung you, though, and you vote with who volunteered. One reason I was asked to be a chief judge is that I could tell a USB cable from an Ethernet cable; with the advent of electronic pollbooks (devices listing every registered voter in the state and the correct precinct for each), judges needed a higher level of comfort than in the past.  And next election, the process will probably change again.

If you’ve got some public spirit, some patience, and a bit of stamina, think about a tour or three as an election judge.  As Bob Dole said of being vice-president, it’s inside work and there’s no heavy lifting.

Photo of election precinct workers in Alaska by yksin.

We took a walk this morning alongside a grim, green sea, with moody clouds and a persistent wind.  Almost any weather is good if it’s where you want to be.

I watched seaspray fly and felt the rasp of dry sand whipped by the wind toward the water.  And I thought of people for whom “knowledge work” meant “you can sit while working.”

So here’s a little mood music from the Maritimes (a few miles northeast of me, but a moveable feast).

Some of Arthur Scammel’s lyrics for The Squid-Jigging Ground:

Oh, this is the place where the fishermen gather,
With oilskins and boots and Cape Anns battened down;
All sizes of figures with squid lines and jiggers,
They congregate here on the squid-jigging ground.

Some are workin’ their jiggers while others are yarnin’,
There’s some standin’ up and there’s more lyin’ down;
While all kinds of fun, jokes and tricks are begun
As they wait for the squid on the squid-jiggin’ ground.

There’s men of all ages and boys in the bargain;
There’s old Billy Cave and there’s young Raymond Brown,
There’s a red rantin’ Tory out here in a dory,
A-runnin’ down Squires on the squid-jiggin’ ground.

There’s men from the Harbour and men from the Tickle,
In all kinds of motorboats, green, grey and brown;
Right yonder is Bobby and with him is Nobby,
He’s chawin’ hard tack on the squid-jiggin’ ground.

God bless my sou’wester, there’s Skipper John Chaffey,
He’s the best hand at squid-jiggin’ here, I’ll be bound.
Hello! What’s the row? Why he’s jiggin’ one now,
The very first squid on the squid-jiggin’ ground.

The man with the whiskers is old Jacob Steele;
He’s gettin well up but he’s still pretty sound.
While Uncle Bob Hawkins wears six pair o’ stockin’s
Whenever he’s out on the squid-jiggin’ ground.

Holy smoke! What a scuffle! All hands are excited.
‘Tis a wonder to me that there’s nobody drowned.
There’s confusion, a bustle, a wonderful hustle,
They’re all jiggin’ squids on the squid-jiggin’ ground.

Says Bobby, “The squids are on top of the water,
I just got me jigger ’bout one fathom down” —
When a squid in the boat squirted right down his throat,
And he’s swearin’ like mad on the squid-jiggin’ ground.

There’s poor Uncle Billy, his whiskers are spattered
With spots of the squid juice that’s flying around;
One poor little b’y got it right in the eye,
But they don’t give a damn on the squid-jiggin’ ground.

Now if ever you feel inclined to go squiddin’,
Leave your white shirts and collars behind in the town.
And if you get cranky without your silk hanky
You’d better steer clear of the squid-jiggin’ ground.