Work and isolation

On the same day that I saw a journalist in London seeking to speak with people about workplace isolation, a friend in California noted that she wanted to have a little social but found that her real world community was either virtual or non-existent.

My friend in California chalked her lack of community down to her being an entrepreneur, where long hours of work mean one’s options to socialise are mainly people who are employees or customers, both of which can be awkward.

When I mentioned workplace isolation to friends in senior corporate jobs, one quipped that this isolation malarkey was all down to people opting to work in the gig economy. Another noted, with a sigh, that the more senior one became in a large corporation, the more isolated one became, with fewer and fewer people seeing one as human, and fewer still willing to speak truths to power, so to speak. Indeed the story of António Horta Osório, the CEO of Lloyds Bank in the UK, and his spiralling into depression that led to a breakdown is well-known and one of the few honest stories of the impact of isolation to come out in public.

Without even reflecting over my own career of over 20 years, I know instinctively that the gig economy did not create workplace isolation. It is an existential condition of human beings to seek both camaraderie and company, and solitude: the former perhaps to generate ideas and to rejuvenate the self, the latter to reflect, create, and indeed, rejuvenate.

My experience of isolation in corporate life came from many sources. One  of them was being a gender minority. I even wrote a piece about my experience in Cosmopolitan magazine’s India edition around 1996-97. While my male colleagues were good people, it was tricky to socialise with them weekend after weekend. The city I lived in, Delhi, did not then have public transport so it was expensive, unreliable, unsafe, or all of the above to go across town to attend book readings or see films etc.  My solution was to start learning German on the weekends, which earned me much mockery but also a career break into Europe to open a new country office.

That unfortunately brought its own flavour of isolation. This time I was in Switzerland’s German speaking region, as a gender, ethnicity, and apparently age minority in the IT industry. My coping was hugely eased by my friendship with two others in a similar boat, both foreign to the German speaking regions in their own ways.

I then transitioned to a role in the UK where my team was spread across time zones. That was splendid isolation indeed as I began work at home at about 4.30am to catch my Asia-based team members as they began the day and the work day rolled on all the way to California. Going into the office was an option but I needed a few hours in the day unplugged. This is the bit of my experience now cited in this FT article the journalist mentioned earlier was writing.

You see, there are many ways the structure of corporate work and workplaces can be isolating.

My life as an independent consultant and advisor, an entrepreneur if you will, after the corporate stint, has been a solitary experience, save for meeting clients at lunch and sometimes friends for coffee. This fits the cliched image of the gig economy that I mentioned earlier.

Yet somehow we cope. And many of us continue to thrive.

My sense is that women cope better. Most women are socialised to seek and build communities, “to tend and befriend” not just in times of great stress. The web is helping break geographical barriers and enhance some sense of community. MumsNet is a well-known example of such a community. Several closed and secret groups of women founders and leaders thrive on Facebook. Some such as Blooming Founders and NOI Club have physical world components too. With the burdensome expectations of performance of masculine behaviour, men suffer silently — and alone — in their loneliness. This does not help workplaces or society.

Institutionalised solutions are emerging too. The gig economy worker, the entrepreneur and the small-corporate worker alike now have options. WeWork provides co-working spaces, designed to foster serendipitous and organic networking. The company has diversified into providing co-living in a few cities around the world too and it is branded WeLive.

Some criticise WeLive as an extension of dormitory or student halls living but really now! In the face of all this evidence of loneliness and isolation, that is the best criticism you can come up with?

As I said to Emma in that FT article, loneliness can have an existential quality. It forces us to examine the meaning of life in ways being surrounded by people all the time does not make feasible. From that isolation emerge creativity and ingenuity. But it can also foster mental health and addiction problems for many.

The real solution for us all lies perhaps in Goldilocks’s perfect porridge — not too much isolation, not too much cacophony of human company. Each person’s “perfect” however will differ.

What does all this mean for the design of work and workplaces? And indeed for our lives and societies?

As I see it, we may need a complete rethink of our shared and personal spaces. For workplaces, it could mean the provisioning of both open spaces to socialise and banter, and closed, quieter spaces to think and do actual work, sometimes energised by that interaction. Our living spaces need similar possibilities, if not within our own homes, then within the larger context of our neighbourhoods and cities we live in.

Politically and socially, we seem to be in an upheaval worldwide. Many are selling us the nostalgia of a glorious past, which, some argue, keep us from imagining better futures.

In this churn, could we hope to create a new order of things that are actually designed to serve the humans that use or inhabit them? Much like the Arts & Crafts movement’s thinking on spaces, a hundred years on?

I need to reflect on this. Alone. Perhaps you do too. Let’s convene later!

Of untenable CEOs

The positions of two CEOs are being discussed this week as untenable. One of them is the British Prime Minister Theresa May, fresh from the weak and wobbly win at an election where she campaigned as the “strong and stable” alternative. The other is Travis Kalanick, the CEO of Uber, who is currently running an organisation without a COO, a CFO, a CMO or SVP of Engineering, and is under pressure to take a leave of absence following an investigation by Eric Holder into the pervasive sexist culture in the company.

On first glance, there are no similarities. What can a British PM fond of speaking in tautologies possibly have in common with a CEO of an organisation widely seen as having “disrupted” public transport and valued at US$ 70Bn (though some disagree)?

On a bit of reflection, one key similarity emerges: a leadership style that fosters a toxic organisational culture.

On becoming PM first, Mrs May famously operated a kitchen cabinet of sorts, with a small coterie of advisors and throwing out anyone who seemed to be out of line with her authoritarian way of working. She called an election presumably buoyed by a 20-point lead over Labour in the polls to seek an absolute majority to enable her to negotiate a Brexit deal without needing the support of the Parliamentary colleagues. Having called the election, she did not discuss her manifesto with her party or her team, focused on “Theresa May” and not the Conservative Party, and uttered meaningless soundbites that earned her the moniker MayBot over the campaign.

Mr Kalanick, on the other hand, presided over an organisation that thought nothing of threatening journalists and “weaponising facts“, nor of accessing and sharing medical records of a person raped by one of their drivers in a country far flung from California. Privacy was not a thing to bother with. He also deemed it acceptable to issue guidelines on how to have sex with a colleague at an office party.

Culture, as the developments this week show, does eat strategy for breakfast.

In Britain, the electorate was able to challenge Mrs May so much so that at the time of writing, there is a scramble on, and many Tories do not see her leadership going unchallenged.

In case of Uber, however, the three co-founders own a controlling stake. That may appear, at first glance, to make the job of the board harder if they wish to ask Mr Kalanick to step down. But the board has voted unanimously to adopt the Holder report and is said to be considering the option.

However, much as deposing Mrs May and Mr Kalanick may give a sense of having done something, the real challenges remain.

Uber’s culture will not repair itself overnight. Nor will the company magically be able to attract talent* to fill the key roles. Bad reputation and the whiff of scandals can endure, as another organisation unable to attract talent is currently experiencing.

Nor will Mrs May suddenly become better at being collaborative, discursive, amenable to advice, and realistic about Brexit negotiations, although this is precisely the advice being given to her. To be fair, she has apologised to Tory MPs. But despite her apparent contrition, “I will get us out of this mess” doesn’t sound like a departure from me-centricity.

Whoever takes the poisoned chalice, or chalices in case of Uber, shall face the challenge to be a vigilant steward of the interests of investors, shareholders, and citizens alike.

After all, in this brave new world of breaking coalitions and disrupted industries, “Eternal vigilance is not only the price of liberty; eternal vigilance is the price of human decency.”

*Link dated June the 14th added two days after this article was published.

Brand leadership has to change

A few years ago, shortly after the 2008 crash, American Express in the United States paid many of its less profitable customers to close their accounts and go away. The move garnered much attention and analysis then. It was seen as a de-leveraging move. Whatever hubbub surrounded the brand then has since died down and in an unscientific survey of my business-savvy friends, few remember that this happened at all.

It was a story of a brand choosing its customers, rather than the dominant narrative that conventionally goes the other way round. The latter powers the nascent GrabYourWallet movement.  Another campaign, Sleeping Giants, is similarly holding brands and companies to account if they continue to advertise on extremist websites.

These are interesting times, as the Chinese curse goes.

As consumers, we profess to love brands that are “authentic“, never mind that in many cases, contrived authenticity, not rooted in values embedded into the business’s value chain, is all we are getting excited about.

What happens when “authentic brands” meet programmatic advertising? Unfortunate, inadvertent outcomes, that is what. Brands are left scrambling to do damage control.

What happens when “authentic brands” take a stand that is vastly unpopular? What happens when the brand’s CEO tells a customer she is free to leave if she does not like their philosophy? Isn’t that just the brand being authentic?

What when all signs point to the emergent challenges being bigger than the more popular political bugbear of the time?

Is authenticity malleable? Should it be?

What if a brand never had cause to reveal some of its stances before and is now choosing to do it in a way that consumers find abhorrent?

And when that comes to pass, should consumers force the brand to comply with their idea of authenticity, or choose to walk away with their wallets?* After all, wisdom says, when facts change, changing our minds is no bad thing.

These growing disagreements and schisms are why, more than ever before, brands need values at their foundation, in their DNA, embedded in their value chain.

Real, defensible, explicit values that the brand is willing to stand up for.

Not convenient values that change with the times or fads du jour.

It is then that brand managers will truly be able to use programmatic advertising as a tool to help them rather be helplessly enslaved by it, while they operate in a haze, whether it be about their brand values or technology.

It is then that “customer choice” will come to mean both that the customer chooses, or rejects, the brand and that the brand chooses, or rejects, the customer.

[* Switching costs for small businesses on a shopping cart platform are not negligible but then that is an economic argument, not one about values.]

 

The governance we need: a reflection

I have had both shared and personal reasons to have spent much of the last year reflecting on the nature of governance around us.

It was a year marked by sharp separation between opposing factions. This cleavage had long been in the making. The divide between the haves and the have-nots was growing with an empathy deficit. The difference between correct and manufactured reportage was lost. The political outcomes of both the EU referendum and the US presidential elections are being seen as a revolt against the soi disant elites, disconnected from the reality of the lives of many.

This is however not just an issue of national politics. A friend of mine informed me that today, January the 4th, the second working day of 2017, is “Fat Cat Wednesday.” Today the FTSE 100 CEO has apparently already earned the average annual salary of an average UK worker, a sum of £28,200.  The UK is one of the most unequal countries in the developed world. Even though the link between CEO pay and performance is “negligible” according to research, with 80% rise in pay delivering only 1% improvement in performance, the pay gap persists and is demotivating to over half the workforce. If we have learnt anything from the political seismic shocks of the year that just turned, we know this is an unsustainable state of affairs.

We are at an historical inflection point whichever way we look.

If governance is all about building stable organisations – whether national entities, for-profit businesses or non-profits, educational institutions or anything else – it is self-evident that we need a different kind of governance.

We need governance that reaches across the aisles and engages, to heal and possibly to collaborate – whether it is Hillary Clinton gracefully attending Donald Trump’s inauguration despite the bitter and personal campaign both fought, or business people such as PepsiCo CEO Indra Nooyi agreeing to serve on the economic advisory council in the Trump administration despite her criticism of the language used for women and minorities.

We need governance to listen and to understand one another’s concerns, which may necessitate learning how the other side uses the same words in the same language to mean different things.

We need governance that may seek efficiency but not at the cost of efficacy, because organisations are not dumb legal entities but living breathing ones, working within the ambit of their wider societal contracts.

We need governance to be anti-fragile, both in its intentions and its recognition of consequentiality of various choices, over time and not just in the immediate quarter that follows.

We need governance that is true, inclusive, collaborative stewardship for all.

If the last line reminds you of Edmund Burke’s view of social contracts, let’s not forget his words which may as well be about the governance we now need: “All that is necessary for evil to succeed is that good men do nothing.”

(Disclaimer: These are my own views and do not reflect the views of the boards of either JP Morgan US Smaller Co.s Investment Trust or BeyondMe, where I serve as a non-exec director.)

The real story in India’s demonetisation saga

“Who benefits if we all go cashless?”,  asked a friend* of mine. This is indeed the money question in India’s demonetisation saga with its moving goal posts. “I am not here for the enrichment of Visa, MasterCard etc.,” she added.

Apart from convenience and fraud protection, the economic case for an individual consumer is near impossible to make. Many problems solved by card issuers are those related to card usage, not arising from the transaction or commerce itself.

The benefits of consumers going cashless accrue variously to businesses, who can reduce the cost of cash handling; to various players in the payments ecosystem — card makers, technology providers, POS terminal makers, card issuers and acquirers, wallets, and schemes such as Visa, MasterCard and RuPay — who make a fraction of a basis point on each transaction; and to society at large, in aggregate and in the long run.

My friend* remains suspicious of ideas where consumers were required to participate without having any agency, since, she argues, we do have agency in using cash e.g. when hoarding cash as vulnerable women do.

This is a fair concern. But consumers accept the notion of a state-sanctioned currency as a widely accepted means of value exchange within a territory. Consumers make trade-offs to get things they desire while accepting certain loss of agency even if they do so holding their noses.

As it stands, the state has unfair power in determining whether the currency has the value it is supposed to have. It is a power imbalance where the consumer’s agency is considerably less than the state’s. Consumers begin first and foremost with the belief that the state won’t mess with them and their stash of wealth. This trust is essential to exercising the consumer’s agency in stashing away hoards of cash. Acts such as the overnight demonetisation and the cack-handed execution of it destroy trust. The cash hoards of those vulnerable women have been destroyed in value overnight. Their agency is hugely reliant on the state’s benevolence in this instance.

What happens when the state does mess with consumer trust such as by demonetisation or overnight devaluation of the currency?

This is where the conversation veers into virtual currencies such as Bitcoin that remove state as the holder of power and distribute power to the two or more parties transacting. It would be the subject of an altogether different essay on why we are happier trusting an algorithm than we are trusting elected representatives whom we can bring to account.

The chatter about the demonetisation of certain currency notes and going cashless — the latter being some ways off in India, given the lack of infrastructure needed to make cashless work — is just a sideshow.

The main game is data.

When the economy goes cashless, a lot of data will be generated and the aggregate economic case for society will begin to emerge. At the very least, there will be new money brought into the system with convenience reducing the friction in commercial transactions and money.

Professional — and armchair pro-am — economists have wondered a while how India’s GDP would change if the unorganised sector, including the vast cash economy of domestic and unskilled workers, quotidian daily purchases like cigarettes and paan etc were to be recorded formally. The probability of such aggregation will increase with more data collection, though it remains to be seen whether this newly counted GDP growth will weather, balance or exceed the drop in GDP predicted by many due to the demonetisation.

“Who benefits if we all go cashless?”.

The key beneficiary of India going cashless will be whoever can make sense of the gazillions of exabytes of data that these transactions will generate, and that will enable the study of deviation from patterns to identify funds that may fail ATL/AML scrutiny. In an ideal scenario, the money that otherwise goes unnoticed while transacting in cash will be noticed and people in possession of it brought into the tax net, netting more money into the state’s coffers.

Money in all this is still the distraction. The real story is data.

As consumers, this real story should worry Indians because Indian citizens have no guaranteed right to privacy and India has no data protection laws to speak of. Despite a massive universal ID programme, named Aadhar, the government appears to have very little appetite for change in this regard. The Government of India’s open government data platform was launched in 2012 but is rightly criticised for incomplete thinking. A consultation on it  was opened to the public in July 2016.

My advice to my friend and to those watching the demonetisation story in India is quite simple:

If you want agency, watch the main game of data — and what unfettered, unregulated  access to data might enable — not the sideshow — of moves towards cashless society.

If this be the only lesson of 2016, so be it.

Here’s to not fearing the anomie of 2016 and to rebuilding in 2017!

*(Thanks are due to my friend, whom I do not name, for asking the vital question that sparked the conversation on November the 27th and 28th, 2016, and for permitting me to use her words in this post.)