Andy Lykens

Innovating and operating through growth

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A case for intuition

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You don’t always have the luxury of time, tools, experts, measuring devices and focus. Sure the engine doesn’t run perfectly, but then again you don’t need it to run perfectly – you need it to run well enough to do its job so you can focus on bigger problems. You’re also unlikely to ever know everything about a given problem, especially under constraints.

Intuition is useful in the moments when we need to act fast, and when we have the experience necessary to make something that’s good enough for now.

It’s also useful to determine when those moments are and what to do with them – because even if we don’t have any information about a problem, we certainly have plenty of information about ourselves.

(Hat Tip: Alex)

Do the legwork.

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Understanding how something works is complicated. Imagine someone gives you a car engine…ok, they give you a car engine and also take away your cell phone. Then they put you in a garage and tell you that the engine runs, but it doesn’t run as well as it should. You can tell when the engine is running correctly because you’re given a device that measures the number of times the engine’s pistons cycle in a minute (I don’t know if such a device exists, but humor me). You are incentivized to fix this engine with a significant reward (like ice cream).

You have all the tools you need, an instruction manual for the engine, and…ok fine, a cell phone, but one that only connects to an intranet with information on the engine and allows you to call some mechanics for advice. I repeat, the cell phone does not allow you to access the social medias.

After about 30 minutes of trying to login into Twitter and realizing its futile, you decide to get to work.

Given this task, most people who don’t have familiarity with an engine would probably spend some time on the phone with a mechanic. They’d peruse the engine schematics and instructions, and they’d probably also practice using the measuring device. There would also be other things to try like watching the engine run for a while. This is likely to occur in a different order depending on the person.

At some point they will have gathered enough information to make a decision about where to start. Should they take apart the whole engine? Focus on tweaking some part of the engine involved in the cycle time? Maybe they’ll just smack it with a wrench to see if that works? Where they start doesn’t really matter. The key is they have enough information to make a decision about where to start, they are unlikely to make a correct fix on their first try, and so they’ll need to measure the result and then decide what to do next.

Organizations are essentially engines within engines. The components work together in a specific way and you can adjust them and tweak them to try and change the result derived from the current arrangement of components. Similarly, you’re unlikely to nail it on your first try and the opportunity for perfection does not exist.

So then a question: if you have the tools, an expert resource, a manual, a way to measure your outcomes, and the ability to adjust your process after measuring, when is it appropriate to rely solely on your intuition?

Milestones

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Sometimes I get stuck in a trap. I think to myself: “Ah, once I achieve this next thing, then all will be well!” This is of course ridiculous.

Imagine pushing a boulder up a steep hill. When starting out on the journey, you can see some of the long, arduous path in front of you. You expect the other side of the hill should be much easier though you aren’t quite sure exactly what will happen between here and there. But you begin to push the boulder up the hill having a general expectation for the future.

Up and up you go, leaning into the boulder, sometimes changing positions to give muscle groups a break. Assuming no major unexpected events (which are entirely possible), at some point you get to the peak and think “It’s all downhill from here!” This too is folly – predicting a future that may never arrive. And then you can push once more, just like you did every step of the way to reach this point.

But the next thing that happens probably isn’t that you win the game of life and have everything you’ve ever wanted and feel completely fulfilled.

It may be that your journey is on a new course, that things are easier, or that you finally see something that your previous perspective blinded you to. Things could also be more difficult, or the next push may send the boulder on an unexpected turn. You may also get to that peak and decide you’d rather not push boulders anymore, and leave the boulder at the peak to pursue basket-weaving.

What’s certain is at the moment on top of the hill, ready to push the boulder down the other side, was only made possible because you already put in so much effort. In fact, the next push is only possible because you decided to begin in the first place and then kept showing up to push the boulder. The hill’s peak may seem like a significant milestone, and you may appreciate it as one, but it is no different than all the previous pushes except that you’re stopping to appreciate it.

No matter what happens, you reap at least some benefits of all the pushing (exercise, problem-solving, determination) even if you walk away from boulders altogether for the rest of your life. Even if you quit the boulder-pushing before you’re done, you at least know that boulder-pushing isn’t for you.

Most of the time, to achieve anything that is meaningful to us, it is a long, slow climb and we wind up at the end of the achievement (should we accomplish it) much the same as we were at its outset – perhaps even missing the scenery.