When you walk to your favorite coffee shop, you pass a woodworking shop that makes custom furniture. You can watch them work through the large, glass doors. When the weather is just right, they even prop them open.
After admiring the creations for months, you place an order for the bookcase you've always wanted. They star Monday and it should be ready in two weeks.
You peer inside whenever you pass by. The first time, the shop is quiet, but you see a couple of sketches on a table and it looks like different cuts of wood are being considered.
A few days later, the doors are open and you overhear a spirited debate about dovetail joints.
On one morning, the view is obstructed, but you hear a saw over the music.
You glance through the window during the weekend and don't see anything that looks like a bookcase, but you do see a few cut pieces that may be related and notice that the floor is covered in sawdust.
After two weeks, they ring you to let you know it's finished. You pick up the beautiful piece and take it home.
Imagine passing each time and things are quiet. No sketches, no debates or music, and no sawdust. You'd suspect that something was wrong and you'd likely be right.
In asynchronous work, quiet is a positive. Teams should have the freedom and focus to organize the work how they see a fit.
There's such a thing as too quiet, though.
It's not the absence of work. Work is being done.
What's missing is progress.
What's missing is collaboration and communication.
Wheels are spinning, but the project isn't moving forward.
Assumptions led down a rabbit hole before they questioned.
The work is in progress, but not in sync. The next milestone isn’t clear.
Sometimes, all it takes is a single question for the project to break free from the gravitational pull. Updates are shared, which surface assumptions or misunderstandings, which spark clarity and a plan.
The once-blurry picture snaps into focus.
You don't need to know much about building furniture. You don't have to become a project manager.
Just listen for the sound of a saw,
and look for the sawdust.
After admiring the creations for months, you place an order for the bookcase you've always wanted. They star Monday and it should be ready in two weeks.
You peer inside whenever you pass by. The first time, the shop is quiet, but you see a couple of sketches on a table and it looks like different cuts of wood are being considered.
A few days later, the doors are open and you overhear a spirited debate about dovetail joints.
On one morning, the view is obstructed, but you hear a saw over the music.
You glance through the window during the weekend and don't see anything that looks like a bookcase, but you do see a few cut pieces that may be related and notice that the floor is covered in sawdust.
After two weeks, they ring you to let you know it's finished. You pick up the beautiful piece and take it home.
Imagine passing each time and things are quiet. No sketches, no debates or music, and no sawdust. You'd suspect that something was wrong and you'd likely be right.
In asynchronous work, quiet is a positive. Teams should have the freedom and focus to organize the work how they see a fit.
There's such a thing as too quiet, though.
It's not the absence of work. Work is being done.
What's missing is progress.
What's missing is collaboration and communication.
Wheels are spinning, but the project isn't moving forward.
Assumptions led down a rabbit hole before they questioned.
The work is in progress, but not in sync. The next milestone isn’t clear.
Sometimes, all it takes is a single question for the project to break free from the gravitational pull. Updates are shared, which surface assumptions or misunderstandings, which spark clarity and a plan.
The once-blurry picture snaps into focus.
You don't need to know much about building furniture. You don't have to become a project manager.
Just listen for the sound of a saw,
and look for the sawdust.