If You Give a _ a Problem
Recently I was asked to work with a large team to help with what was described as a space problem. Without much context, and as far as I could tell, it seemed the project came to be from pockets of internal frustration that, over time, grew louder and louder until, at some point, it demanded the attention of a division leader. Compelled to respond, and in the spirit of action versus inaction, a target was defined. A decision was made. We have a space problem.
It was an easy target.
After months of working together through spirited exchanges with stakeholder groups, one day, in the meeting after the meeting (you know these), the team representative conceded with exasperation, “...we don’t even know what our problems are...” That perhaps, in an attempt to proclaim clarity, an overly simplified view won the day. A well intentioned, conceptually clear categorization of how the problem was defined and, by extension, how it was framed, modeled, and guided to possible solutions. Driven by a restrictively narrow mental model pressed through an externally conceived rigid process. One that needed to grind off the rough edges in order to create clean categories and assumptions. Without the understanding that those rough edges provide insight, define the people, place, overarching systems - and differentiators. The willful inability to recognize, diagnose, and explore problems standing in the way of other problems, preventing them from being solved, or even defined.
There were clear signals along the way, ones that I am quite sure we all felt, kept hidden, and by inaction, chose to leave behind. After all, we were there to work on a particular problem, assembled a particular team who are particularly good at solving these types of problems. Particular problem solving that was driven on a practically maniacal course, even when it became so clear to the larger team that we could no longer even set meetings. The group simply stopped participating. I am sure you have seen this, and have even checked out yourself (sorry, I have a conflict - oh, I must have deleted that invite by mistake). Or maybe not so far as not showing up, but certainly as a check-the-attendee-box-and-then-get-back-to-your-real-job participant. We were being asked to solve the wrong problem, ask the wrong questions. We were wandering around in irrelevance. And we knew it. No one had time for that, yet we spent nine months pretending to be interested, pretending we were doing meaningful work and, by the way, spent nearly $300,000. We published a report. It now sits on a virtual shelf.
Deceptive action.
This may be the point where you are expecting this story to turn. Are you? To swoop in with an impassioned plea, a relevant fable, or an inspirational tale detailing the clever way in which we helped leadership see the real problem, change course, divert resources, and develop a plan for how we’ll dive in. How through perseverance and narrative finesse turned it all around and created something meaningful and impactful together. It never happened.
Sometimes you are invited to come in through the wrong door. And predefined parameters tell you not to open others. It's easy to say, either after the fact, or sometimes while you’re in it, that a problem was driven to specialization too early, defined poorly, or incomplete, and in many cases that’s true, but it can also be the way in...What will you do when you’re in?