Notes

One of my favorite concepts from Dana and I's puppy training research is how dogs pick up on our energy.

When we're concerned or frustrated, they mirror us, and we create the situation that we're trying to avoid. For example, when the puppy is excited and you use a loud voice to try asserting power, the puppy gets more energetic. It picks up on your heightened energy and matches it. Instead, if you remain calm and still, it will eventually settle. Cesar Millan, a famous and fairly controversial dog trainer, uses the term "calm confidence" to refer to this energy.

I appreciate the sense of ownership this concept inspires, not pointing at the dog critiquing its behavior, but looking at ourselves and what we can do to create change. It is a metaphor for so many things in life; however, it hit home for me recently as related to meeting engagement.

There are meetings during a stressful project or centered on an uncomfortable topic (like 3-2-1 Growth) where I'm inclined to enter the conversation assuming the worst, aka low-to-no engagement or tension. Taking a deep breath and leading the meeting with the energy I want to create while expecting the best has proven to pay off.

Dog or human, my gut tells me there's a lot to learn when we realize we're all mirrors.

This post originally appeared in Edition No. 081 of my newsletter. Subscribe here.

In March of last year, I designed a new activity for our Monthly Team Meetings called 3-2-1 Growth. The objective was to engage the team in personal growth topics regularly. More on the origin here if you're interested.

Since then, I've tried several different activities and experimented with a variety of topics. This week marked another new iteration in format and timing. Rather than a 10-15 minute exercise at the end of Monthly Team Meeting, it is now the focus of the last Tuesday Meetup of the month, a 30-minute weekly meeting for the team to come together.

Instead of focusing on a topic, I thought it would be fun to frame the exercise around a relatable situation. Rather than ask "how do you handle client requests that are out of scope," I led with this:

The Situation: We're excited to present our design concepts to a new client after receiving sign-off on wireframes. When we get on Zoom, we're surprised to see the CEO since they've never been in a meeting before. After we present, the CEO thanks us for the work before asking if we can add a "Subscribe" button to the PDP and allow customers to customize their subscription. This is the first time we're hearing about subscriptions...

Once everyone had a chance to digest the situation. We went into breakout rooms and talked through this prompt:

Prompt: What thoughts are going through your head? How do we respond to the CEO? What happens next?

With 10 minutes left, we all came back and talked through our key insights. I was pleasantly surprised by how engaged everyone was, sharing tons of ideas for managing the situation. In my interactions for the rest of the week, it was also cool to see team members taking action on what they had learned or hear them talking about similar topics.

I did receive some good feedback, though. A team member asked me what we do with these insights, expecting that there were next actions everyone could take. When I get a question like this, I like to assume that at least a few other folks are thinking the same thing and there's an opportunity to better articulate to the larger group. I plan to do that in the next session.

For now, I explained that the intent is not for these meetings to directly change or impact the process in a matter of days. They're an opportunity for the team to think and reflect together. If we can all leave these sessions more aligned and 1% better than when we entered, I consider it a success.

The more we do it, 1% becomes 2%, 2% becomes 3%, and so on. Before you know it, we're all that much further along.

This post originally appeared in Edition No. 081 of my newsletter. Subscribe here.

Late last week, I had a flashback to my morning routine just over a year ago. I'd wake up then lay in bed for a few more minutes. Then, I'd look at my phone, probably check my email or look at social media, opening the flood gates to everything I'd rested from. In seconds, my dialogue with the world would begin again.

Looking back, I see that I was missing out on the most critical dialogue — the one with me. The opportunity to reflect on and understand my experiences, relationships, and ambitions more deeply.

Over a year ago, I got into a good pattern of waking up, reading for 30 minutes, and writing in my journal. I also implemented what I call social fasting where I cut off social media from 9 am to 8 pm. Admittedly, my routine took a turn when we moved to PA, but I eventually got back on track.

This time in the morning has become a game-changer for me. There's something special about welcoming the day on my terms. We all wake up with thoughts on our minds, but they're ours, not triggered by the outside world. We're in control.

Some mornings, I read first. Other times, I journal first. When I wake up with a thought on a pressing issue, capturing it immediately can often lead me to a new place. Reading has a similar effect. Opening a book when my mind is most clear can spark fresh ideas or a different outlook on current life events.

With another action-packed week at work, I've been grateful that I've created this space for myself to re-energize and welcome the day. It's been a powerful way to live proactively, manage curveballs, and make progress on non-urgent initiatives when everything else is vying for my attention.

This post originally appeared in Edition No. 081 of my newsletter. Subscribe here.

I'm sharing this idea because it was top of mind as last week came to a close. Right now, I notice a narrative forming on our team: the development process feels like a "black box," meaning we finish design milestones and then enter a cloud-like abyss, hoping we come out on the other side with an effective end product.

Sometime in 2019, I worked with the team to document and re-name many of our design milestones to get more alignment on the team. While many of the activities remained the same, it was amazing to see how far a new naming approach and onboarding deck went.

Like the predictable cadence of the design process, I'm curious how we can better brand and outline the development process for our team and clients alike. While it may feel like a black box, it's not. There are a series of activities and milestones we do every time. However, many of these activities aren't client-facing until they're at a level of polish worth sharing.

But, why wait? What would it look like to deliver something every week or two? What might get a client just as excited as sharing wireframes or two unique design concepts?

This post originally appeared in Edition No. 080 of my newsletter. Subscribe here.

When you think about the hierarchy within an agency, your mind probably goes right to titles and roles on a team. I know mine does or well... did. While team structure is critical, agency employees spend most of their time working on projects with co-workers from several other teams. When you look at it this way, one might argue that the structure of a project team should take precedence.

Several months ago, I started mapping out "org charts" for project teams but decided to de-prioritize it in favor of other initiatives. However, in light of our recent restructuring, it might be more important than I thought.

When you view project teams like mini-agencies, you start asking questions like:

• Who is driving the team toward a vision?
• Who is in charge of keeping finances on track and delivering under budget?
• Who reports to who throughout the project?
• Who makes the final decision?
• The list goes on.

As tempting as it is to answer these questions and roll them out among the team, my gut tells me that it will be more effective in the long run to work with the team to discover them.

This post originally appeared in Edition No. 080 of my newsletter. Subscribe here.

Several years ago, we developed a robust e-commerce audit offering. It is a lower bar to entry for clients who can't afford a website redesign and a great option for clients only looking to improve upon their current website. In the audit, we dig into website performance, UX, and tech, share our findings, and develop a roadmap to make optimizations and improve conversion.

What I find fascinating about a website audit project is the problem-solution mentality. We do our best to understand the client's business to be able to identify the website's issues and come out with actionable insights. Lately, I've been interested in the contrast of this approach alongside our process for website redesigns.

When working on a website redesign, the client's sentiment is often different than an audit. They're not concerned with fixing, so there's less focus on challenges and more focus on reinvention. "Our website doesn't represent our brand, don't look at it." We have to be careful of blindly throwing everything out. What works today? What doesn't? How will the new website tackle these challenges and bring added value?

I'm eager to experiment with different ways of bringing the spirit of website audits to website redesigns. I don't ever expect these two types of projects to be the same; however, I think there's a lot to be gained by anchoring ourselves on the same mindset.

This post originally appeared in Edition No. 080 of my newsletter. Subscribe here.

I remember applying to a designer role at Barrel almost nine years ago. Of course, I was excited about the work and what seemed like a tight-knit team, but the ping pong table, happy hours, exposed brick office walls, beer on tap, and dog-friendly vibe screamed "cool." If you asked me what culture meant back then, I would have mentioned those perks.

As my role has evolved over the years, Barrel has, too. We've created new positions and introduced services. We've sunsetted some of those same positions and services. When the ping pong table started collecting dust, we used the space for a content studio. We expanded our office, and under a year later, we started working from our beds and kitchen tables.

At this point, Barrel is a team distributed all over the world. Day in and day out, I work closely with co-workers who have no idea if I'm 6' 5" or 5' 6" (spoiler: I'm just under 5'8"). While I can't wait to get our team in one room, company culture is about more than perks and evening drinks.

An employee recently shared feedback that they see an opportunity to boost morale and strengthen connections with their co-workers. When I first heard this, my mind wandered to visions of Barrel circa 2013 - ping pong lunch breaks and karaoke happy hours, trying to brainstorm what else we can do beyond half-day Fridays, game nights, and team workshops. We'll likely have an off-site sometime this year, but will that really make this person feel better long-term?

The reality is that perks and events may create deeper connections, but what carries the most weight? The work. An agency's company culture centers around the work. That's why we're all together in the first place — to deliver work we're proud of that drives results for our clients. When we can't achieve this and do it with a smile, that's a sign that the "culture" might need a boost.

In my essay "Conducting My First Upward Feedback Survey," I defined company culture as:

1. How we work (process)
2. How we work together (collaboration)
3. How we feel while we do both (camaraderie)

If I view our company culture through this lens, I couldn't agree more with the employee's feedback — there are clear opportunities to improve how we work. Right now, the blockers and communication gaps are making collaboration tough, and in the end, camaraderie suffers.

I'm not discounting the power of getting to know your co-workers through non-work activities. However, if we're feeling strained, uninspired, or unable to be effective at our jobs — happy hours, perks, and ping pong are not the solution.

I've enjoyed getting into the day-to-day projects over the last several months and am excited to continue working alongside the team to improve the way we collaborate. It's inspiring to see the team rallying around innovation and experimentation. In many ways, I think the challenges we're working through together now will make us that much stronger down the line.

With all of that said, I think it's important to remind the team that we're not performing heart surgery. Creating space to laugh together, take a deep breath, and sometimes, just hang out and talk can go a long way.

Speaking of my early days at Barrel, a developer who taught me a ton about development when I started is re-joined us today as Director of Technology. It's awesome to have Scott back at Barrel.

***

This post originally appeared in Edition No. 080 of my newsletter. Subscribe here.

One of the challenges we see on accounts is the time it can take to get back to a client on a request, especially when it is technical. There are different reasons for the delays, but a common one is how long it takes to estimate work.

Here is an example interaction with a client, along with the inner dialogue of the team.

• Client: We feel like we should give customers the ability to customize their bundle. Can we add that to this page?
• Team: (Uh oh, that is not in scope! Scope creep sucks. I could tell them it's not in scope, but maybe we can make it work. I'll feel better telling them when I know the effort). Interesting. That makes sense! It will definitely offer customers more variety. We can get back to you on the effort to add this feature.
• Client: Sounds good.

A client recently told me how often she and her team throw out ideas during our meetings. They do it to brainstorm, and when ideas seem worthy, they're curious to understand what's possible. In her words, "a gift message option seems cool, but not if it costs $10k."

When the above dialogue happens, it takes us days (hopefully not weeks) to come back with the $10k price tag. The client may decide to move forward or put it on hold. Sometimes, the client feels frustrated because they thought the work was in scope, having discussed it in a meeting. If I'm not closely involved in the work, this is where I end up getting involved.

Last week, this scenario came up. After chatting with the team, I realized that we're not estimating the work to figure out if it is in scope. We're estimating to get to an accurate number. However, from the start, the team knows whether the request is in scope and roughly what the effort may be. This is where the "gut check" comes in.

Rather than jump to estimation, there's an opportunity to dig deeper to understand the context of every request. Is it an idea or a business need? From there, we can use our gut to anchor the client if the request still makes sense.

• Client: We feel like we should give customers the ability to customize their bundle. Can we add that to this page?
• Team: Interesting, it would offer customers more variety. Is this a request you currently hear from customers?
• Client: Not really. We think that a first-time customer could benefit from a sampler vs. committing to one flavor.
• Team: Ah, a sampler makes sense. From a logistics standpoint, could you offer a sampler now?
• Client: We could. Maybe that would work.
• Team: Oh, great. Based on what you've told me, a sampler bundle seems like the right approach. However, let us know if adding bundle customization is a priority. It's not currently in our scope, but my guess is that it's at least a $15k effort.
• Client: Ah, I see. I thought it was fairly simple. Let's hold off on now. We'll let you know if we decide it's a priority.

In this exchange, the team and client know exactly where each other stands. By getting curious, the team understands the background of the request, so the scope discussion is that much easier. The team may not know the full effort needed to complete the task, but anchoring the client helps them align on what's important and what next steps make sense.

This post originally appeared in Edition No. 079 of my newsletter. Subscribe here.

One of our recent initiatives is rolling out more stringent hours reporting across our retainer contracts. The goal is to make sure the client understands where their time is going, and we can get ahead of potential overages. However, hours reporting doesn't matter if we don't set the right expectations on hours from the start.

When we're working with clients who have a lot going on, it can feel like we're constantly getting hit with last-minute requests. Under the pressure of time, we rush to get it done. If this results in overages or delays on other tasks, the conversation with the client is not easy because it's after the fact.

As we continue to introduce hours reporting, there's an opportunity to better align with clients on their initiatives each month. We're currently experimenting with Asana to get that alignment, but we're open to seeing what format works best for clients.

No matter the tool, imagine a 50-hour retainer planned like this: 10 hours for product page updates, 20 hours for landing page, 15 hours for email designs, 5 hours for content population. Maybe I'm optimistic, but if the client knows this plan, I believe we can minimize last-minute, urgent requests. Clients won't blindly ask for something new without acknowledging how it will fit and how priorities need to change.

This post originally appeared in Edition No. 079 of my newsletter. Subscribe here.

This section title is probably no surprise for anyone who has been following my newsletter for a while. In a world of text messaging, Slack, and social DMs, I find the casual nature of everyday communication to be often more challenging than it is helpful, especially in a team setting.

There's no distinction between urgent and non-urgent messages. Important decisions get lost in threads and conversations that look more like a CVS receipt. In the end, people lose focus, consumed by a never-ending Slack exchange that goes nowhere. While at the same time, mission-critical questions get missed. They jump on Zoom to sort it out, and suddenly, the workday is over.

What I love about email is how it promotes slowing down and thinking.

You could

sned an

send*

email that

looks like

this.

But you don't.

You prepare what you want to say. You consider how you want your recipient to feel when reading it. You aim to strike the right tone. You try to deliver a clear message. You write, you re-write. Sometimes, you ask someone for a second opinion.

Getting involved in all kinds of moving parts on projects last week, I took to email to keep the team aligned and on track. I realized I'd been promoting the power of email among the team, noting how it would become contagious when people saw its power. It was time to practice what I preached.

After every meeting, I forced myself to write a follow-up within 1-2 hours, documenting key topics and decisions. I also captured follow-ups and delegated the next steps with deadlines. Sometimes these emails were long, but they were clear. They could also act as a reference for any future decisions or questions.

Throughout the week, key project team members who couldn't attend some meetings I was leading shared how helpful these emails were in keeping them aligned. In one case, a team member did research to prepare for our next meeting without talking to the team, not on Slack, not on Zoom, not even on email. By the end of the week, it was great to see others taking a similar approach, documenting decisions, and moving other follow-ups to email.

I ended up closing out the day at 9:45 pm on Wednesday. Writing an email was the last thing I felt like doing, but the alternative looked more painful. I knew that if I didn't take the time to capture my thoughts, the team would be ill-equipped to keep going. They'd end up reaching out on Slack, and if I didn't catch myself, my recap and follow-ups would end up spread across DMs. We may even get stuck in a back and forth for another hour!

Sending an email may seem simple, but it takes effort, and the lure of a sloppy, quick message on Slack is real. But once you get in the groove, the effort upfront is a game-changer, not only saving you time but everyone else time down the line.

This post originally appeared in Edition No. 078 of my newsletter. Subscribe here.

What started as a joke early in the week became a phrase I rallied the team around. Act Natural. Too often, we get caught up in our heads, worrying about how a client will react to a conversation or a co-worker to feedback. We enter the interaction full of anxiety. We stumble over our words, and in the end, we create the reality we hoped to avoid.

There were moments last week when I saw myself heading down this path. But it wasn't until I saw others in the same boat that I recognized the pattern. "Act natural" was a fun catchphrase to say lead with confidence, enter situations with poise. Offer recommendations, not options.

In one instance, we discovered that a client needed to upgrade one of their accounts to launch the work we completed for them. Without understanding all of the features yet, we didn't know this at project onset. The team was concerned that the client would be unhappy with the price of upgrading and started concocting a Plan B, which required compensating hours and rebuilding the work. In the end, we held off on sharing Plan B; instead, we recommended the upgrade and explained the long-term benefits. The client was understanding and agreed with our recommendation.

I look back on this situation and can't help but cringe when I think of what might have happened if we ran with our Plan A/B approach. We'd take responsibility for an issue that wasn't an issue. Not to mention, we would have overwhelmed the client with options. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that clients hire us to be their guide. We mean well when we give options, but options put the onus on the client. They often want to say yes or no and move on.

I'm not suggesting that we should not have a backup plan if a situation goes awry. However, there's a difference between having a backup plan and entering situations expecting the worst. Act natural. Remember that everything happening is happening. Act with current facts, not where we once were, to provide a path forward and shape the desired future.

This post originally appeared in Edition No. 078 of my newsletter. Subscribe here.

It's been about five months since our move to Pennsylvania, and finally, we have a bed. No more sleeping on a mattress on the floor! The short story is that we found a bed we loved, but it arrived damaged. Twice. So, we gave up and looked elsewhere. We finally found a different bed, and it got delivered last Tuesday. We couldn't be happier. So, why am I sharing this? Let me explain.

When the delivery showed up, I asked if the guys would wait for me to unpack the items before they left. I didn't want to get stuck with a damaged bed for weeks again or make them come back.

Before I knew it, the delivery guys were unpacking the bed in the driveway, bringing in each piece one by one. It seemed like this might have been a common practice, but I couldn't help feeling like I was making things complicated.

As they left, I wondered, when else have I approached situations with the baggage of past negative experiences? Different bed. Different brand. Different delivery company. Yet, I didn't feel comfortable taking my chances with them.

The whole situation reminded me of a client who seems to question every suggestion we make. Or a stakeholder's request to print out websites designs and mail them to their office (true story). To us, these situations may seem odd, annoying, or crazy, but there's always more to the story.

In this case, I offered up my context, sharing why I made the original request and how much I appreciated their help. I didn't want the delivery guys feeling confused and thinking, what is up? Unfortunately, not everyone offers this context openly. Sometimes, we have to dig.

Once we do, we find the questioning client got burned by a past agency. Why are we sending websites in the mail? The client likes to be hands-on and finds it easier to give written feedback (and send pictures of mockups cut up and pasted back together).

I find there's freedom in this understanding. It helps us stay focused on the work, free of judgment, and opens the doors to new ways to create value. Maybe it's inviting the nervous client into a workshop where they can feel more involved or showing the print-loving client how to annotate on the web. These small actions can go a long way and set us on the path to a long, fruitful collaboration.

There's a saying among motorcyclists that goes something along the lines of "the bike goes where you look." It's a phenomenon that I wasn't on board with until I experienced it firsthand while learning to swerve. Luckily, I was going 10 mph in a parking lot.

When you're on the bike, making a turn, or just riding along, the path you follow will be the one you're looking down. On a beautiful day without many vehicles on the road, this concept may seem pretty straightforward and easy to master. However, the windier the road or more vehicles around you, the more surprises to encounter, the harder it gets.

Let's say a deer walks out in front of you, or you make a sharp turn and notice a giant tree close to the road. Often, in these moments of panic, our instinct is to look at the obstruction while we contemplate how to react to it. When this happens, our hands unconsciously steer the bike in the direction we're looking, and well, you can assume the rest. I don't have any scientific explanation to share but trust me — you go where you look.

Whether or not I'm riding a motorcycle, I've caught myself fixating on roadblocks, not the way forward. While it is helpful to get clear on the challenge, letting it dominate our focus gets us nowhere. When everything is calm and going our way, there's no way to look but ahead. Then, our plan doesn't work out, a client expresses concern with our work, or an employee is underperforming. In these moments, it's all about where we look. As a leader, I've learned the power of keeping myself and others centered on where we want to go, not what's getting in the way.

I recently had a conversation with a manager on my team about one of their employee's performance. The manager was in the process of writing this person's semi-annual review. They shared some concern that elements of the feedback were the same as the last two reviews. Here was an otherwise stellar employee who could not shake this one piece of feedback.

As the manager told me more about how past conversations about this feedback had gone, it became clear that the manager had become fixated on the deer, not the way around it. Rather than help the employee see what they were capable of, they continually reiterated what was getting in the way. This fixation created anxiety for the employee, constantly caught up on the roadblock, not seeing where they wanted to go. I worried that, at some point, this would become a self-fulfilling prophecy, and we'd lose a great talent.

The manager and I left our discussion with a commitment to change. Rather than attempting new ways to give the same feedback, they would align with the employee on their desired future. As the manager, this approach helped them be a better guide. As the employee, it showed them what was possible. They could breathe and focus on doing their best work, not trying to solve a problem.

"You go where you look" has become a bit of a mantra for me — on the bike, in my work, and in life. It's a pleasant reminder that there's always a brighter path ahead, it's just up to me to see it.

Since I started riding a motorcycle, the most popular comment among friends and family is: "I'm not worried about you; it's everyone else on the road." I remember hearing the same when I was learning to drive a car. Had I not gone through the motorcycle training course, I may have shared this sentiment. Now, it feels like a hopeless outlook. 

I get it, though. It's another way of saying, "I trust your ability, but not the million other drivers out there." But at the same time, it suggests that I am the victim of my surroundings, and if something goes wrong, there's always someone else to blame.

I prefer to adopt a different perspective: I am in control.  No matter what comes my way, the outcome will come down to what I did or didn't do. ‍

When I flick the starter on my bike, I'm encouraged by this mindset. It invites me to do everything in my power to ensure a safe ride. Taking this level of ownership also provides an opportunity to learn and improve, rather than blaming conditions that are "out of my control" and repeating the same unwanted outcomes. It's the difference between blaming the driver ahead of me for stopping abruptly and admitting that I was following too closely behind. The former teaches me nothing. When it comes to leadership, I believe in the same approach.

Leadership means taking ownership over your decisions and actions, and as a manager, those of your team.

The other night, I took my wife, Dana, to try a local restaurant to celebrate her birthday. We ended up chatting with the rmaître d' who was filling four or five roles at once due to being short-staffed. He and just three other employees were serving 100-some guests on their own. He mentioned that they have had a tough time finding experienced help and went on to tell us a funny anecdote about a young kid they recently hired. Let's call him Sam.

On Sam's first day, the maître d' asked him to go around the restaurant with a pitcher of water. So, that's just what Sam did. No, not filling any cups — simply walking around with the pitcher.

It's no surprise that the maître d' was frustrated. He vented to his manager, who replied with this: what did you ask Sam to do? The maître d' realized it wasn't Sam's fault; it was his own. He hired Sam with little experience. Eager to do a good job, Sam loyally followed the maître d's instructions to a tee. 

The maître d' sat in silence, regretting the harsh feedback he had already given Sam. By taking ownership over the impact of actions, the maître d' saw an opportunity to improve his communication with all the wait staff, chat with Sam and help him get better.

I can empathize with the maître d' on many levels. Whether it's an employee poorly handling a client situation or a project going off the rails, it's easy to place blame and analyze everyone else's behavior. However, when I stop and look at my involvement, I always find there's more to gain.

As a manager, I sometimes struggle with navigating conversations where a direct report shares their experience dealing with an issue that I know is an issue but is large enough that it will take weeks or months to feel progress. I don't want to leave them hanging or downplay the situation to try and make them feel better. So, I listen. But, at times, I feel helpless. It can feel as though bricks are piling on my back one at a time, then soon enough, it's hard to walk.

I shared this experience with Chris, my coach, earlier this month. He responded with this: the person who offers the most hope is the one with the most influence.

All month long, I've carried this statement with me. I've even shared it with some folks on my team. It's a reminder that I don't need to provide a quick-fix solution to be a leader for my team. Nor should I become consumed by seemingly urgent issues. Instead, I can acknowledge the current reality then anchor the conversation on the future vision and provide hope. 

Hope helps us see that our challenges today are temporary, and frankly, the journey to overcome them is worthwhile. It means we'll achieve a brighter tomorrow. Without hope, we lay in bed at night, sleepless, asking ourselves: what's the point?

In keeping with the brick metaphor, Chris urged me to take the brick off my back, look to the future, and ask my direct report, "How can we lift this together?" It's no longer about me solving the problem alone or asking them to go figure it out. It's about working together to see what small steps we can take today to ensure long-term progress tomorrow.