Work – Page 24 – Achilles & Aristotle

Against Idleness

A friend and I discussed yesterday whether ‘perpetual activity’ is simply a function of my work and life stage – or is it my underlying temperament. In a previous conversation, he put to me, that the ceaseless activity I observe in my daughter might suggest ‘the fruit never falls far from the tree’.

I think of myself as basically liking my rest. I’m just not allowed any. My family all seem to feel me sitting down means they need to spur me to action. Sitting down for them is me signalling a desire to be reactivated. I routinely stay on my feet at home, to keep them from ‘tasking’ me further.

Similarly at work, keeping busy is my way. If things are in good order, I instinctively seek some ‘new’ things to make happen – at times to the chagrin of those around me.

I blame the Emperor Vespasian as quoted by Montaigne in his essay ‘Against Idleness’ which I read the other day:

The Emperor Vespasian, being sick of the disease whereof he died, did not for all that neglect to inquire after the state of the empire, and even in bed continually despatched very many affairs of great consequence; for which, being reproved by his physician, as a thing prejudicial to his health, “An emperor,” said he, “must die standing.”

A fine saying, in my opinion, and worthy of a great prince. The Emperor Adrian since made use of the same words, and kings should be often put in mind of them, to make them know that the great office conferred upon them of the command of so many men, is not an employment of ease; and that there is nothing can so justly disgust a subject, and make him unwilling to expose himself to labour and danger for the service of his prince, than to see him, in the meantime, devoted to his ease and frivolous amusement, and to be solicitous of his preservation who so much neglects that of his people.

Never sitting down and avoiding any whiff of ‘ease’ or ‘frivolous amusement’ in my domestic and working life have become habits. We are what we repeatedly do. Just need to keep standing.

Psychology, Work

Pain

Interesting to read, this week, that our recollection of painful surgery records only two coordinates – the peak of pain, and how much it hurt at the end. Duration is curiously absent, as a significant part of our recollection of pain.

This certainly fits with my memory of the handful of times I’ve been operated on. All I remember is the ‘peak pain’ of the sharp, intense – and after several repeats, increasingly unbearable – pain of multiple local anaesthetic injections going in, before they start to work.

As for the end, just a curious mixture of dull and sharp pain – like a cross between a paper cut and a bad bruise. It is as if we remember the horror moment. And how the story ends. But nothing in-between…

I was talking to someone this week about painful relationships between organisations – and I wondered out loud, if it’s the same. You remember the worst they did to you, and how it was last time you saw them, but – as with pain – not much in-between.

This is an interesting thought. At work, is it your worst behaviour – personal or organisational – which scars the deepest? And is how you ‘are’ next, your considerable opportunity for major salvation.

It might mean worrying a lot less about situations and relationships which have been bad for ages. Only attend to them when you can do something significant to change how the ‘story’ ends.

Dysfunctional relations between organisations and people are part and parcel of the world of work. Treating them like pain might be an interesting approach – mitigate the worst pain, worry less about the duration of discomfort. And attend to them, only, when you can make things a lot better.

Life, Odysseus, Poetry, Work

Canary Wharf

Artificial light
Glittering goods
City folk
And ordinary bods
Expensive calories
And consumer excess
People walk at you
Through hunks of metal
Steel and glass
Artificial climate
Escalator rides
Look out the window
Drizzle outside
Holes in the ground
Building on every acre
A miracle of mammon
Flattening nature.

Every time I go to Canary Wharf I feel a strong sense of alienation. I had a meeting there today. I worked in Docklands when it was a building site, in the 1990s as Canary Wharf went up. On the face of it what’s not to like? Efficient high quality office and retail space on reclaimed land.

I can’t put my finger on it, but something feels wrong. It’s like a glossy ad or the guff you read in an in-flight magazine. Lifestyle, grooming, money, power and status and posh nosh. It lacks the class of New York or the crush of Hong Kong. A soulless place.

Achilles, Odysseus, Poetry, Work

Shirty

Suckered in to fronting up
It’s my job, but it’s other people’s too
It brings admin, stress and cortisol
But also profile, contacts and stories to tell
I feel shirty
But perhaps I should get over it
Writing this has helped, a bit.

Fronting-up at big events has never been my favourite occupation. I’ve got more sanguine with age and experience, but the worst part is the uncertainty: what’s the format, how many people, who’s talking first, speech Q&A or panel.

It all takes time to bottom out and you never really know what you’re going to get until you show up. Being lumbered makes me shirty, but I probably shouldn’t be. A poem helped – a bit.

Aristotle, Ethics, Life, Odysseus, Philosophy, Poetry, Work

In Praise of ‘Prudentia’

The virtue of ‘Prudentia’
In Aquinas’s teaching,
Is ‘practical wisdom’ in
Choice and decision.

It’s a Bayesian thing,
Not just logical stages.
Which a life of experience
And virtue engages.

Grounded in reason
But felt in the boots,
You can’t teach Pudentia,
We must find our own routes

Each person’s is different,
Our wisdom’s our own.
When we try to describe it
The words struggle to form.

But don’t deconstruct it,
The details mislead.
If you try to explain it,
Confidence bleeds.

Invest in Prudentia.
Your gut’s not often wrong.
Thought, experience, emotion
In symphony belong.

I’ve spoken in praise of ‘Prudentia’ twice today. The first time was inviting someone to really use their ‘practical reason’ in designing something. That meant acknowledging complexity, personalities and what we’re trying to do – and really, based on their experience and judgement, coming up with something that has a fighting chance of working.

The second was in acknowledging and appreciating a way forward I’d not thought of. On the face of it I had ruled it out, but on reflection it had a good deal to commend it.

Not everything in life is rational, simple or binary. As someone said to me yesterday, probability is rarely 0 or 1. ‘Prudentia’ is our Bayesian gift for dealing with complexity – practical wisdom.