There’s something to be said about “There’s something to be said”. Actually, there is only one thing to be said, and that’s that the phrase should be avoided at all costs. There is always something to be said about anything; that doesn’t mean it should be said.
It’s almost as bad as abusing the phase “I think” (which–full disclosure–I do all the time). Use it only when it’s unclear whether you’re expressing an opinion or a fact.
There’s something really satisfying in getting to the end of things. In my dreams I would often get to the boundaries of my home town that I had explored in reality — past that boundary were areas I never went to, and they were fantastical.
When I go biking, I almost always take the same route — one that takes me south, from my house directly to the shore. It’s as if the end of land was magnetic.
I am also beginning to think that the satisfaction I get when I go through all my emails (I keep my inbox small; making it a de facto queue for things to do. I delete an email when I’m done with it) stems just as much from getting to the end as it does from getting stuff done.
When planning things such as a trip, there are two kinds of people: those who only think in terms of happy paths, and those that take into account the chance of things going wrong. I am learning to be in the latter group.
Now, of the latter group, there are two kinds of people: those who simply add buffer time, and those who have contingencies in case their Plan A doesn’t work out. While having some buffer is often a fine way to plan for things going wrong (for example, traffic on the way to the airport), it’s often ineffective. Be creative and think of your Plan B instead of defaulting to just adding more time to your plan.
A small hack I figured out at a concert where I got one such wristband. Of course, as with any hack, you should not use this technique to lie or enable others to lie.
The wristband is actually a pretty clever thing. It’s adhesive, but once you wrap it around your wrist, taking it off without pretty much destroying it is very difficult, mostly because of a pattern cut out at one end that prevents you from separating the adhesive:
The cut out pattern that makes it very difficult to take the wristband off
Suppose you have the wristband on your right wrist. The cut out pattern (seen magnified above) should be visible on top. This is the end that has the glue so the other end should have a few inches that are not glued to anything and kind of tucked in between your wrist and the band.
Trying to pull the wristband by pulling on the end of the band with the cut out patter separates the cut out pieces of paper which only bonds the ends together stronger. You end up maiming the poor piece of paper; there’s no way you can preserve the wristband.
Instead, press the part of the wristband just where the pattern ends (where the “V” is wide and not pointed) hard to the skin with your left thumb while at the same time slowly pulling on the free end with your teeth (or get your friend to help you), pressing it hard to the rest of the wristband (not your skin). Slowly unroll the end, moving your thumb down so it’s always where the adhesive is beginning to be released. As you do this, the pattern will stay intact but it will start sticking to your skin. It’s important to do this slowly and to apply a lot of pressure, especially with your thumb.
Once you separate the wrist band, pull it slowly away from your skin, starting with the same end of the pattern (the wide end of the “V”). Apply pressure so as not to separate the cut out pieces.
The diagram below should clarify the above.
One of the things I’m really good at is constructing mental models of concepts and complex objects. In fact, I feel really anxious if I don’t have that model–I can’t seem to remember facts about these objects, I’m finding it hard to make decisions that require familiarity with them, I feel somewhat paralyzed. But once I do have that model, I can do a lot with the concept because I have acquired a continuous, rather than discrete, understanding.
I think the ability to construct such models is equatable to conceptual thinking. A lot of people think in terms of checklists or procedures which are only approximations of such models. While they are easier to systemize, for example write down (a model of a concept is impossible to write down–which probably has something to do with the way our brain is superior to a hard drive), they are inherently limiting in what kinds of questions you can ask (or decisions you can make). For example, suppose you need to gather requirements. You can write a bullet point list of things your customer wants, or you can listen to your customer and create a mental model of the requirement space. The latter takes usually more effort, and definitely more mental effort–you have to know when to keep probing and digging deeper, and what areas to just gloss over. But now that you have a model, you can answer questions about the requirements even if you hadn’t known them before, while if you have bullet points, you’re limited to what the bullet points cover.
In a way, then, constructing a mental model is a kind of way to feel the concept.
How do I construct mental models? Often a useful technique is to concoct an exercise that requires me to become very familiar with the concept. For example, before I go on vacation, I gather information about my destination. I look at the maps, note good restaurants and places to see. As an exercise, I compile a large annotated map. While the exercise is time-consuming, I acquire the mental model that will be immensely useful once I go on vacation, but I also have something practical — a map I can refer to while I’m there.
The worst thing since the invention of Post-It notes are undoubtedly the Pop-Up Post-It notes (also perhaps unsurprisingly, the linked page welcomes you with a large-font “Convenient & Easy to Use” which I think should be the anthem for all badness in the world).
First of all, Post-It note dispensers attempt to automate something that’s incredibly simple to do: the action of taking one Post-It note and detaching it from the others. But adding very little value is nothing when you consider the costs
I was perusing some chain restaurant’s website and saw this on their “jobs” tabs, with a short form and a submit button next to it:
Apply for a career at this location
Sounds like an excellent example of rebranding, where the word job has been either abused or plain got boring and so it has been replaced with a more lofty word career, which, unfortunately, is not a precise synonym. As a result, in the context of that sentence, it sounds ridiculous. A career is an occupation one stays with for a significant part of someone’s life, with expectations of personal growth and progress.
While it is possible to have a career in the restaurant industry, I don’t think one “applies” for one at a particular chain restaurant.
I’ve heard it somewhere and it stuck…
Many of us fantasize of running a coffee shop. But in reality we simply want to sit in one, not run it. Running a coffee shop isn’t pretty.
What other misconceptions do we encode in our dreams?
On two occasions during my recent vacation I have noticed companies (my hotel, and the airline I flew with) offer ways to donate to a good cause. It’s great that companies do that, and arguably, a lot of people wouldn’t donate otherwise, but I really don’t like how the companies take credit for all the donations (“We donated $X million to Unicef…”). I also wonder how much tax deduction these companies get with our donations.
Words apparently get boring, which is why things get rebranded every so often. I find the rebranding of the titles particularly hilarious as the titles seem to be more and more impressive while the people holding them after just as qualified (and, due to not well-thought out outsourcing and insufficient training, actually less qualified and dumber). And so back in the day when I called an airline, I was speaking to a Customer Service employee. Later he became an associate, and a representative (implies exclusivity!). Most recently I started talking to Customer Relationship Managers, which is ridiculous because the people I speak to have no idea how to manage (anything), and I never feel like they actually care about our relationship and rather just care to follow the script — and repeat my itinerary back to me fifteen times. Ah, and in an ad on the radio I just heard that I can speak to a Customer Care Advocate. What does that title even mean?!
Similarly, stewards and stewardesses became flight attendants (which may have been fine back in the day, but now I don’t feel that they are tending to anything), and gardeners became landscapists.
What’s coming next?
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