roll for initiative

I work, at least nominally, a 10 hour day. I say nominally because some days I work for 5 hours but on other days I work for 12; some weeks I work for 4 days but other weeks I work for 7 days straight. (I think my longest stint was 28 days straight, back when I was shipping a product.) When I’m on a normal schedule, I get to work around 7:30am and I leave around 4:30 or 5:30 (or later). Yeah my schedule is highly flexible and somewhat difficult to quantify but I think it’s safe to assume that on average I am at work around 8 - 10 hours a day.

One would think that 8 hours a day is plenty of time to get work done. I used to think that, too. However, I took a class at work a few months ago that put some things in perspective for me.

The class was an introductory class into project management. Overall, the class was pretty interesting and compelling enough to have me thinking of taking additional classes on the topic.

The instructors talked a bit about the Project Management Institute. It’s an organization whose primary focus is to research and present best known project management practices across various industries. One thing that completely blew my mind was that, according to the instructors, PMI says that when planning your project you need to take into account that a developer only works on code for 3 hours a day. That’s stable across multiple companies and across multiple industries.

So, if you have estimated that a certain component of your project is going to take 24 hours to code, you might think that it’s going to take 3 person-days (24 divided by 8 hours = 3 days). But it’s actually going to take 8 person-days (24/3 = 8 days).

As you can imagine, everyone in class was a bit skeptical of this number - and we said so to the instructors. But they didn’t budge and said that the numbers are consistent not only across our company, but across our industry, and across multiple industries. So much so that it’s an accepted figure in project management.

And that got me thinking about why I can’t seem to get anything done at work.

I think my problem is, aside from general apathy, is that I’m not the best planner in the world. I have a hard time estimating how much time it’s going to take me to do something. Unfortunately, I tend to underestimate rather than estimate, which makes making deadlines a bit “dodgy” (as the Brits would say). Not only do I have a hard time estimating how long it’ll take me to do something, I have a problem estimating how much time I’m going to have to work on said something. Astute readers will note that if you don’t have a good estimate about how long it’s going to take to do something AND you don’t have a good estimate of how much time you actually have to do said something, you really have no idea when you’re going to be done with aforementioned something.

Which is my point exactly.

In hopes of addressing this sad state of affairs, I’ve run a thought experiment to help clear up the 2nd part of that equation. Knowing how much time I have to do things will at least help me understand 1/2 the equation. I’ll deal with the other 1/2 at a later date.

Hours I have to do shit a day:

• 2 hours in meetings on average
• 30 minutes reading and managing quick emails
• 30 minutes in simple/quick email responses
• 1 hour in complex/strategic/tactical email responses
• 1 hour for lunch
• 30 minutes randomly talking to coworkers
• 1 hour doing “research” online
• 1 hour “short” work-related hallway discussions or impromptu-but-necessary meetings

That makes a total of 7 1/2 hours in a given day that I’m not actively moving my projects forward. Granted, some of that meeting and email time is project related, so let’s say that I’m spending between 6 and 7 hours a day on non-project related stuff.

Eating lunch at my desk helps free up some time, sometimes. As does cutting back on my online “research”. Though honestly, much of that is actually work related. In my job I have to be up to date on the latest games or latest consumer products and pop-cultural trends. So time spend on Gizmodo, Gamespot, Penny Arcade, Wikipedia, etc etc etc actually does make me better at my job.

But shit. That only leaves me with 1 - 4 hours a day to do actual stuff. Which don’t seem like a whole lotta time, if you ask me.

Now I’ve got to figure out how I can get better at estimating how long doing my work tasks SHOULD take. Then it’s all simple math from there, right?

Right.

Abstract:

In the first of an (hopefully) ongoing series, the author examines yet another topic about which he knows very little but has spent an inordinate amount of time over analyzing: the design Pringles™ Potato Crisps. True to form, he uses examples from other areas and disciplines (some of which he may know more than a little and others about which he knows next to nothing) to shore up his thesis.

Introduction

First off, I’ve got to admit that trying to continue with this pseudo-APA style for this entire post would have been needlessly cumbersome and probably quite annoying. So I’ll borrow the general headers, but the prose will be somewhat-less-than academic.

Some time ago I was eating some Pringles™ Potato Crisps and I started to geek out on what a company like Proctor and Gamble must go through to put a product like Pringles™ Potato Crisps on the market. I’m familiar with the whole putting-products-on-shelves bit as I do some of that in my day job as a “user-researcher” for a video game publisher. I know what it takes to get a game on the shelves and I started thinking about the user-researchers, marketers, product designers, and comestible engineers over at P&G.

I was imaging that they deal with the same issues we do in games – the constant balancing act between the marketing forecasts, the designer’s vision, the end-user experience, the engineering challenges, etc. etc. etc., that we go through when we’re developing and publishing a product. As I’ve said before, “making games fun ain’t all fun and games”. Maybe the good folks of P&G have a similar saying … “Making tasty treats ain’t all … treaty and tasty-y” … hmm needs some work.

In any case, I picked up a new flavor of Pringles™ (well, new to me, anyways) today: Chipotle. Clearly, someone in the New and Emerging Markets Group of the Demographics Analysis Department at P&G’s Savory Tuberous Product Division noticed that the Latino population in the US increased up 57.9% between the 1990 and 2000 censuses and is expected to grow another 71% between 2000 and 2020. Excited by these numbers, they called a meeting with other bigger marketers and executives and some savvy up-and-comer greenlit Project Chupacabra to “Investigate the feasibility and desirability of Latino-themed snack lines”.

Thusly greenlit, a crack team of product designers and (hopefully) user researchers were brought on board to work with the marketers to create a new product that would “introduce the growing Latino population in the US and abroad to the exciting and rewarding active Pringles™ Lifestyle™”. Because, as we all know, Potato Crisps products are not just a snack, they’re a lifestyle choice.

At the kick-off meeting, the Chupacabrans realize that their work is cut out for them: designing a snack line that celebrates the joie-de-vivre, work ethic, and family values of Latino culture while still being sensitive to regional and national differences is going to be a challenge. The project timeline is another complication as everyone knows that summer is THE snacking season. Kids are out of school and parents are struggling, juggling work and keeping the kids busy, trying to keep Dylan out of juvi and Madison out of Planned Parenthood. So sales of both savory and sweet items in the Portable Foods category spike during the summer months.

Rolling up their sleeves, the Chupacagbrans begin planning their first steps – ethnography, consumer focus panels, competitive testing, and other types of user research to help inform the design process.

Coming soon: Project Chupacabra Part 2 – Know thy user.

First of all, I’m normally a pretty good typer. The most useful class I took in high school was touch typing and I use it every freaking day, 10 hours a day…

But man, not having use of my ring finger really impinges on my ability to type, so forgive me for the errant puncutation mark or typo.

Truthfully, I always thought the ring finger was a bit redundant … I mean, sure, I am a big fan of the thumb - the workhorse of the hand, prehensile and all. And you have to respect the index finger for its finesse and agility. Working together those two account for 80% of what makes us human.

And we’re all familiar with the middle finger, a constant companion since middle school when we first learned to move it independently from its neighbors. One can’t help but to be awed and inspired by its strength and righteousness, even when standing alone and resolute against any perceived slight or injustice.

And the pinky wins us over with its daintiness and finesse; even the name suggests a certain degree of charming femininity. If the thumb and index account for 80% of our humanity, the pinky accounts for 95% of our civility. Perhaps that’s why one extends the pinky when dining in high society - an attempt over-emphacize the pinky and thus appear more refined and civilized. Also perhaps why the Yakuza punish dishonor to the clan by chopping off the offenders’ pinkies; the loss of their pinkies breaks the facade and we can see them for the uncultured and uncivillized thugs that they are.

But the poor, hapless, underappreciated ring finger. Its only nominal purpose to serve as a manequin for gold and diamonds. Most of us, if asked which finger we’d be willing to loose would most likely offer the ring finger. Sure, some would first volunteer the pinky, but after only the slightest contemplation the value of the pinky would become undeniable and its neighbor would be martyred instead.

The beauty of the ring finger lies in its sublety and its dependability. Like the pleasant singing of songbirds in a summer afternoon, the ring finger goes unnoticed and unappreciated, until it’s taken away from us. When contemplating our figners, it’s easy to think of the ring finger as somehow subservient to the middle finger and even the pinky. When moving our fingers, the ring finger can’t help but to move with the pinky and the middle finger, as if it has no volition of its own. But this weakness is actually its greatest strength. What at first we mistake for a lack of individuality and independence quickly reveals itself to be a deep sense of support and dedication to the other digits and to the integrity of the entire hand. Its apparent subservience is actually a deep sense of duty, honor, altruism, devotion, and sacrifice.

So I salute thee, ring finger! Too long have you gone unnoticed and underappreciated! I ask that all of us raise our left hands in silent salute to the ring finger. I propose the missing man formation as a fitting tribute to the tireless service our ring fingers have provided us all these years. Raise your left hand, palms out, finger raised. After a moment of silence, slowly lower the ring finger to form the missing man formation. Pause to contemplate how well your ring finger has served you.