Why Incentives Are Effective, Irresistible, and Almost Certain to Backfire | Fast Company
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Jill Geisler, faculty member at the Poynter Institute for Media Studies in Florida, points out this important article in Fast Company magazine. It clearly illustrates the law of unintended consequence. I also appreciate this piece because it drills down into some of the reasons for unintended consequences.
The article mentions research into a practice called "focusing illusion." Basically, that's when people assume they know how other people think, or how they will react. And you know that old saying about the word "assume" -- "it makes an ass out of you and an ass out of me."
No offense meant.
A classmate in my coaching certification class gave me the best counterweight ever to the practice of assumption. His motto: "When you meet resistance, do research."
John's motto is perfect because of its simplicity and efficiency. Compare the potential time savings from a few direct questions to develop a specific remedy, verses a course of trial and failure based on inadequate information, or assumption.
Research helps avoid the unintended consequences. And that should be a powerful incentive.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Size Matters
Fans of the HBO series "Sex and the City" may remember Miranda's "skinny jeans." The episode focused on Miranda's triumph when she successfully got back into a pair of blue jeans she favored before her pregnancy with her son. The jeans were more than a piece of clothing; they represented the pre-baby story she maintained about her appearance and her life.
Most women I know have graduated wardrobes -- clothes that reflect the passage of styles and sizes that match various periods of their adult lives.
One executive I know kept a picture of her thinner self in her home office with a PostIt attached which said "I Want This Body Back!"
Another entrepreneur I know had maintained a closet carefully coordinated by size so that she could retrieve whatever outfit she needed, no matter where she fell within her six-size spread (no pun intended).
Now, I like to save money as much as the next person. And despite the thrill of "retail therapy," I usually discourage the idea of shopping just for the fun of shopping. There are other, better feel-good remedies to be found.
However, the idea of retreating to old clothes and old body images doesn't work for me either.
When I asked the executive about her fixation with her 20-years younger self, she talked about how attractive she was back then. Indeed, the photograph shows a beautiful, confident woman; a show-stopper. She was, as they say in the venacular, FINE.
The passage of two decades had not robbed this vice president of her looks. She remains a beautiful woman, commanding attention whenever she walk into a room.
Does it make sense for any middle-aged woman to compete against image of someone 20 years younger? Even if it's your own image?
Think on that.
As for the clothing collector: can it be good to keep reaching back to old images and presentions? Even if the clothes fit the body, they may not fit the personality inside them now.
Millions of words have been written and spoken about weight loss and body image and fitness and self-maintenance. Those all are important issues, but secondary to this point of this essay. I am writing about self awareness in the present moment. Where you are now, and where you are going.
The executive acknowledged that her 20-years-younger self looked great, but lacked the awareness and experience she now brought to the executive suite. The entrepreneur knows she is putting forth a much different image to the world now that she works for herself.
It's not the garment, nor the number on the label, that determine the "fit." That comes from within.
Try that on for size.
Most women I know have graduated wardrobes -- clothes that reflect the passage of styles and sizes that match various periods of their adult lives.
One executive I know kept a picture of her thinner self in her home office with a PostIt attached which said "I Want This Body Back!"
Another entrepreneur I know had maintained a closet carefully coordinated by size so that she could retrieve whatever outfit she needed, no matter where she fell within her six-size spread (no pun intended).
Now, I like to save money as much as the next person. And despite the thrill of "retail therapy," I usually discourage the idea of shopping just for the fun of shopping. There are other, better feel-good remedies to be found.
However, the idea of retreating to old clothes and old body images doesn't work for me either.
When I asked the executive about her fixation with her 20-years younger self, she talked about how attractive she was back then. Indeed, the photograph shows a beautiful, confident woman; a show-stopper. She was, as they say in the venacular, FINE.
The passage of two decades had not robbed this vice president of her looks. She remains a beautiful woman, commanding attention whenever she walk into a room.
Does it make sense for any middle-aged woman to compete against image of someone 20 years younger? Even if it's your own image?
Think on that.
As for the clothing collector: can it be good to keep reaching back to old images and presentions? Even if the clothes fit the body, they may not fit the personality inside them now.
Millions of words have been written and spoken about weight loss and body image and fitness and self-maintenance. Those all are important issues, but secondary to this point of this essay. I am writing about self awareness in the present moment. Where you are now, and where you are going.
The executive acknowledged that her 20-years-younger self looked great, but lacked the awareness and experience she now brought to the executive suite. The entrepreneur knows she is putting forth a much different image to the world now that she works for herself.
It's not the garment, nor the number on the label, that determine the "fit." That comes from within.
Try that on for size.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Post-Inauguration Insights
I'm blurry as I write this, after a day of goodbyes and departures as family heads home from the events of Tuesday, January 20, 2008.
I was down on the National Mall, in the thick of it. Freezing temperatures, overflow crowds, hours waiting, whatever. Didn't matter. It was history, and I wanted, NEEDED, to be present, even if I could barely see the West Front of the Capitol far off in the distance. I would have been there even without the huge Jumbotron screens placed strategically along the Mall.
As I've written before, on election night, my son sent me a text saying "I love this country." And as I looked at my cellphone, I realized that for the first time, as an African American woman who has spent a lifetime loving this country, I truly felt as though my country loved me back. That my skin color no longer qualified my country's love for me. Or my children.
The fact that I got to experience the inauguration on the Mall with my son and daughter and sister on either side made the moment that much more sweet.
I've never been in a crowd that large. I've never been a part of a crowd all focused so intensely on one moment, on one sentiment, on one collective feeling.
That afternoon, after hours of fighting the crowds and the cold to make our way back home, I called a childhood friend who had watched the days' events in her home in the midwest. Julie was bursting with excitment about what she'd seen during her channel surfing, and all the conversations she'd had and observations she'd shared. She even told people about me and my family braving the cold on the Mall.
Did I mention that Julie was home alone all day? And that she had warned people not to call or interrupt her on Tuesday?
My friend's viewing community was made up of people on Twitter. She was connected to people all over the world, tweeting and responding to each other.
Personally, I hungered for the chance to see and feel the reactions of the people surrounding me. The tactile experience of numb toes and chapped cheeks just added to my sense memory of the event.
If Julie had been in Washington Tuesday, we probably would have gone to the Mall together. Yet she was happy and elated to share her inaugural experience electronically through her international network of acquaintances and strangers.
As it happens, Julie is developing into a kind of expert on social media and its applications. She gives presentations to organizations seeking to reach new audiences. She "gets" it, and more importantly, she understands that people may chose diverse ways to take in information or experience the world.
The more Julie and I shared our views of the day, I realized I was hearing the difference between contact and solitude, between the effort of being around people on a regular basis and the satisfaction of being on your own. Julie has insight into a whole universe of people who adapt to new technologies precisely because they chose a variety of ways to interact with other people, within their comfort levels.
We each found our own way to experience and celebrate the inauguration. The right way.
I was down on the National Mall, in the thick of it. Freezing temperatures, overflow crowds, hours waiting, whatever. Didn't matter. It was history, and I wanted, NEEDED, to be present, even if I could barely see the West Front of the Capitol far off in the distance. I would have been there even without the huge Jumbotron screens placed strategically along the Mall.
As I've written before, on election night, my son sent me a text saying "I love this country." And as I looked at my cellphone, I realized that for the first time, as an African American woman who has spent a lifetime loving this country, I truly felt as though my country loved me back. That my skin color no longer qualified my country's love for me. Or my children.
The fact that I got to experience the inauguration on the Mall with my son and daughter and sister on either side made the moment that much more sweet.
I've never been in a crowd that large. I've never been a part of a crowd all focused so intensely on one moment, on one sentiment, on one collective feeling.
That afternoon, after hours of fighting the crowds and the cold to make our way back home, I called a childhood friend who had watched the days' events in her home in the midwest. Julie was bursting with excitment about what she'd seen during her channel surfing, and all the conversations she'd had and observations she'd shared. She even told people about me and my family braving the cold on the Mall.
Did I mention that Julie was home alone all day? And that she had warned people not to call or interrupt her on Tuesday?
My friend's viewing community was made up of people on Twitter. She was connected to people all over the world, tweeting and responding to each other.
Personally, I hungered for the chance to see and feel the reactions of the people surrounding me. The tactile experience of numb toes and chapped cheeks just added to my sense memory of the event.
If Julie had been in Washington Tuesday, we probably would have gone to the Mall together. Yet she was happy and elated to share her inaugural experience electronically through her international network of acquaintances and strangers.
As it happens, Julie is developing into a kind of expert on social media and its applications. She gives presentations to organizations seeking to reach new audiences. She "gets" it, and more importantly, she understands that people may chose diverse ways to take in information or experience the world.
The more Julie and I shared our views of the day, I realized I was hearing the difference between contact and solitude, between the effort of being around people on a regular basis and the satisfaction of being on your own. Julie has insight into a whole universe of people who adapt to new technologies precisely because they chose a variety of ways to interact with other people, within their comfort levels.
We each found our own way to experience and celebrate the inauguration. The right way.
Monday, January 12, 2009
One Day At A Time
If you or someone close to you has experience with 12-step programs, you know the significance and the philosophy of the phrase "One Day At A Time."
In a nutshell, it says that every day offers the chance for a fresh start.
A friend of mine who has achieved a long period of recovery from a substance abuse problem told me that he does not believe in New Year's resolutions. He says that the time to affect change is the moment that you see the need.
That sounds a little harsh to me. The distance between recognizing the need for change and its institution can be pretty broad. It can look like a canyon even if, in reality, change simply is a step in a different direction.
But I do get my friend's belief that change doesn't require a special day. Heck, look at some of the unwelcomed changes we all have to bear. They come without announcement and we still adjust to them. Maybe not the best adjustment, but adjustment nonetheless.
We don't have the choice. Change happens, and we have to deal with it.
What about the changes that you'd like to make in your life? The changes that you get to choose?
I mean, you've already been thinking about it. The process has begun.
Today seems like a perfect day to start your change.
In a nutshell, it says that every day offers the chance for a fresh start.
A friend of mine who has achieved a long period of recovery from a substance abuse problem told me that he does not believe in New Year's resolutions. He says that the time to affect change is the moment that you see the need.
That sounds a little harsh to me. The distance between recognizing the need for change and its institution can be pretty broad. It can look like a canyon even if, in reality, change simply is a step in a different direction.
But I do get my friend's belief that change doesn't require a special day. Heck, look at some of the unwelcomed changes we all have to bear. They come without announcement and we still adjust to them. Maybe not the best adjustment, but adjustment nonetheless.
We don't have the choice. Change happens, and we have to deal with it.
What about the changes that you'd like to make in your life? The changes that you get to choose?
I mean, you've already been thinking about it. The process has begun.
Today seems like a perfect day to start your change.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Reflections on release
My first post of the new year is not new. Actually, I first explored this metaphor a few years ago while thinking about the process of transition.
A word of warning/disclosure: some of the language is a bit crude. And please forgive the euphemistic spelling. But sometimes you've got to use the perfect vehicle to deliver the message.
Reflections on Release:
As we consume food, our bodies extract whatever they need in the way of calories, energy, vitamins, fiber, fat and other key elements requires to keep the machine operating. Our bodies are wise enough to store what might be needed later (sometimes too much, but that’s another issue).
The rest comes out of our bodies through evacuation of the bowels. Feces.
In other words (and I ask patience here for my indelicacy), shyt.
Everyone knows the feeling of a good shyt. It’s release. It’s relaxation. And it’s totally necessary to keep functioning.
So why do we so often hold on to our shyt? You know, the things in life that aren’t good for us, the waste that’s left after our experiences good or bad, the debris that takes up space after we’ve extracted all the learning we’re going to get?
You know what it’s like to hang on to your shyt too long. You feel uncomfortable. Bloated. It takes up space and limits the ability to take in new nourishment.
Hanging on to shyt can slow you down. Distract you. Eventually, it will become painful. And eventually, it will find its way out.
Sometimes we think we don’t have to time to let go of our shyt. Got too much other stuff to do. So we wait. But it gets uncomfortable, so we make a quick pit-stop and drop a little bit of the stinky stuff. And we feel a little bit better. Unfortunately, the rest of the shyt is there, still taking up space, creating gas and other discomfort. Nagging us, reminding us that you still need to get rid of this shyt.
And there’s always more stuff coming in.
The longer you hold onto shyt, the harder it can be to get rid of it. It gets hard up in your bowels, sucking up moisture from other parts of your digestive system. It slows you down in every way.
Of course, some people like to hold onto their shyt. Maybe just because it’s theirs, or because they've grown accustomed to living with discomfort. Maybe it’s like the way some people like the smell of their own flatulence.
But eventually, you finally HAVE TO get rid of the shyt. It’s uncomfortable. Or it just flat out hurts. The very process of letting go of shyt can be painful. It can hurt so badly that you want to stop. But you’ve got to go through the process. Got to.
Because if you don’t let go of your shyt, it will make you sick. Or it can kill you.
Sometimes all we need is to be mindful of the need to let go. After all, it’s a natural urge. Sometimes it’s just a matter of allowing ourselves the time the let the process move naturally, and then we experience that release.
Sometimes we need help. There’s a multi-million dollar industry displayed every day on commercial television, offering all kinds of assistance to ease the process when things get backed up.
How many of us hold on to our shyt long past the point of discomfort? Don’t we all want to feel that release?
What shyt are you holding on to in your personal relationships? Your business? Your career? Is it the old hurts, the failures, the bad choices that cloud your view of the future? Is it the past success, the old patterns, the good choices that worked once but may not work going forward?
What do you need to do to let it go?
What would it mean for you to let go of your shyt?
A word of warning/disclosure: some of the language is a bit crude. And please forgive the euphemistic spelling. But sometimes you've got to use the perfect vehicle to deliver the message.
Reflections on Release:
As we consume food, our bodies extract whatever they need in the way of calories, energy, vitamins, fiber, fat and other key elements requires to keep the machine operating. Our bodies are wise enough to store what might be needed later (sometimes too much, but that’s another issue).
The rest comes out of our bodies through evacuation of the bowels. Feces.
In other words (and I ask patience here for my indelicacy), shyt.
Everyone knows the feeling of a good shyt. It’s release. It’s relaxation. And it’s totally necessary to keep functioning.
So why do we so often hold on to our shyt? You know, the things in life that aren’t good for us, the waste that’s left after our experiences good or bad, the debris that takes up space after we’ve extracted all the learning we’re going to get?
You know what it’s like to hang on to your shyt too long. You feel uncomfortable. Bloated. It takes up space and limits the ability to take in new nourishment.
Hanging on to shyt can slow you down. Distract you. Eventually, it will become painful. And eventually, it will find its way out.
Sometimes we think we don’t have to time to let go of our shyt. Got too much other stuff to do. So we wait. But it gets uncomfortable, so we make a quick pit-stop and drop a little bit of the stinky stuff. And we feel a little bit better. Unfortunately, the rest of the shyt is there, still taking up space, creating gas and other discomfort. Nagging us, reminding us that you still need to get rid of this shyt.
And there’s always more stuff coming in.
The longer you hold onto shyt, the harder it can be to get rid of it. It gets hard up in your bowels, sucking up moisture from other parts of your digestive system. It slows you down in every way.
Of course, some people like to hold onto their shyt. Maybe just because it’s theirs, or because they've grown accustomed to living with discomfort. Maybe it’s like the way some people like the smell of their own flatulence.
But eventually, you finally HAVE TO get rid of the shyt. It’s uncomfortable. Or it just flat out hurts. The very process of letting go of shyt can be painful. It can hurt so badly that you want to stop. But you’ve got to go through the process. Got to.
Because if you don’t let go of your shyt, it will make you sick. Or it can kill you.
Sometimes all we need is to be mindful of the need to let go. After all, it’s a natural urge. Sometimes it’s just a matter of allowing ourselves the time the let the process move naturally, and then we experience that release.
Sometimes we need help. There’s a multi-million dollar industry displayed every day on commercial television, offering all kinds of assistance to ease the process when things get backed up.
How many of us hold on to our shyt long past the point of discomfort? Don’t we all want to feel that release?
What shyt are you holding on to in your personal relationships? Your business? Your career? Is it the old hurts, the failures, the bad choices that cloud your view of the future? Is it the past success, the old patterns, the good choices that worked once but may not work going forward?
What do you need to do to let it go?
What would it mean for you to let go of your shyt?
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