Tapestries-21 | Open Book: #2
Consistency, tipping, loss and creativity.
Consistency
25 September 2020
Whether it's investing, exercise, writing or building a business, gains can be small or imperceptible for a relatively long time. The lack of signal creates doubt, which can lead to a change in, or abandonment of, the initial strategy. Flexibility is key, but is hard to get right.
In the exercise or writing example, a change in strategy probably includes less risk. When practicing a skill, the pursuit is directional. The act of doing is arguably the most important element, so if you're consistent in a particular direction, then the detail of the strategy is less important than the act of doing it. If I exercise to increase my general wellbeing, and consider 4 sessions a week as my baseline, then the proportion of strength vs aerobic sessions is less relevant to my wellbeing than only doing 2 sessions.
Consistency is the key to unlocking the power of time, through the mechanism of compounding. If you employ a strategy, but don't do so consistently, or don't give it enough time to fulfill probabilistic outcomes, then the strategy may be "correct" but also not deliver the right results. Conviction and flexibility are two important traits, and depending on what your goal is, one may be more important than the other.
Tipping
24 September 2020
Tipping is an important part of US culture. I've probably got a greater awareness of the act of tipping because it's not something I grew up with. It's a pretty effective way for business owners to pass costs onto the consumer, which is sort of bullshit, but that's a topic for another time.
With the advent of large-screen point of sale (POS) terminals and in-app payments, the dynamics of the traditional transaction have changed. The tip was previously a somewhat public and considered act. But it's now (at times) a private one we either complete on-the-go or in absolute privacy. Given that tipping involves an emotional and personal decision on each occasion, how has the newfound anonymity of the transaction impacted our behaviors, if at all?
Let's assume that the standard tip percentage that we pay at a restaurant, pen in hand, is 20%. How does our behavior change when purchasing a ride through an app or buying a coffee at a POS terminal? Personally, I'm significantly less likely to tip an Uber driver than a restaurant at the end of a meal. Does this having anything to do with the nature of the interaction? I may have a stronger connection with the driver who's transported me for the last 15 minutes than the restaurant (or maybe you didn't utter a word to each other), although establishing rapport with a waiter can overrides this. Let's call human connection a draw.
What about the collector of the payment, in this case Uber (corporate giant) vs. restaurant owner (likely an individual or group of individuals). You could probably make the case that you'd prefer your tip going into the hands of the small business owner, but still, the act of tipping is usually a begrudging one, so I'm not sure this factors in very much.
This brings me back to the texture of the transaction. If there's no major difference between a corporate recipient and a small business owner, and there's no major difference in the depth of personal connection with the human service provider(s), then what's responsible for the difference?
I think the reason I feel comfortable tipping an Uber driver $0 (who may in fact be earning less than minimum wage), or not tipping for my coffee, while at the same time feeling like "only" tipping 15% at a restaurant makes me cheap, has everything to do with "shaming". The removal of the prospect of shame or disappointment has altered the nature of the transaction. It's not a judgment call, just an observation on how modern means of exchange and communication are changing our behaviors. I am unsure if there's a broader trend to follow, but at the very least, it's pretty interesting.
Chana
23 September 2020
The world lost an amazing woman last week. Today, we lost an amazing woman of the world. Chana Rubin was a special woman, and she passed away overnight in Melbourne.
Chana was a relative of mine, on my mother's side of the family. I don't know how she's related to us, and I never have. Vaguely, she's my maternal grandmother's cousin, somehow. She was a family member of obscure relation (at least to me), but of piercing significance. I loved her like a great grandmother. It was a rare relationship unburdened by formality, and filled with intention. I'm not suggesting we love our close family members flippantly or because we have to, I'm just suggesting that to love someone outside of that traditional role implies something special in the relationship.
The woman I came to know was one of tenderness, intellect, strength, resilience and love. I don't know where her wisdom and worldliness came from, but I know that they remained sharp and refined until the very end. I found her captivating; you could always tell there was a force within her. I was always drawn to her, and couldn't really tell you why, other than to say that if she was around, I wanted to be near her and pick her brain.
During my time in Melbourne this year, I committed to calling her every week or two to check in. I know how much it meant to her, but it also meant a lot to me. I loved every moment I spent with her, and will miss her greatly. I will carry her memory with me as an example to emulate.
Chana was family. I don't know what to call her, I'm just glad I told her I loved her.
Control and creativity
21 September 2020
I watched "The Social Dilemma" this week with Tali. I also happened to read a chapter in my book ("When Einstein Walked with Godel") that covered related subject matter. Both bits of content touched on something I contemplate and write about a lot: our interaction with technology and how it makes us think. Here, I want to elaborate on two elements of this discussion.
First, "control". Watching the documentary, a question re-occurred to me that I've asked many times: why don't we test the view that social media platforms must be a part of our lives? When did they cross the Rubicon and become a fundamental part of our moment-to-moment existence? I "quit" Instagram about 2 years ago upon realizing that (a) it was an extra type of anxiety I did not need, and (b) I had lost the ability to determine what should and should not be "shareable". Interestingly, when I told people about this, the general reaction was one of "who do you think you are" or "so you think you're better than us?"
These reactions were telling. Leaving the platform, where people invest so much energy and emotion in the curation of their avatars, was interpreted as a repudiation. If I wanted to stretch this line of thinking further, I could say that in an ideal world, maybe these people wouldn't be on the platforms either if they felt they had a choice. The implication here is twofold. First, posting on social media and remaining connected is a result of an expectation, part internal and part external, that you must and will be there. And second, the platforms are clearly addictive. This has been known for some time, but isn't met with the same response as smoking - "why don't you just quit?". Perhaps this follow-up question is never asked because it's outside the realm of perceived options. Perhaps it's naïve to consider that people could leave social media, but surely it's an approach worth entertaining.
The second element I'd like to touch on is "creativity". I've written before about the importance of intervening and unoccupied moments, to creativity and novel thinking. In discussing Einstein's propensity for taking long walks, an article I liked noted:
"throughout history, there’s a theme of great thinkers—leaders, scientists, entrepreneurs, writers, religious figures, artists—who regularly sought solitude to rejuvenate and refine their thoughts: Leonardo da Vinci, Martin Luther King, Nietzsche, Jesus Christ, Nikola Tesla, and Ernest Hemingway, to name a few."
The issue with increasing time spent online and on social media is that it changes the way we think, and changes our behavior. Creativity, while not well understood, does seem to require at the minimum, disconnected time. I am also personally trying to consume less content online because I believe consuming the same content as everyone else will make me think more like everyone else. Jim Holt, the author of {When Einstein Walked with Godel”, makes the following comment, which does a good job of summing up my view on this point:
"It’s not that the web is making us less intelligent; if anything, the evidence suggests it sharpens more cognitive skills than it dulls. It’s not that the web is making us less happy, although there are certainly those who...feel enslaved by its rhythms and cheated by the quality of its pleasures. It’s that the web may be an enemy of creativity".
Photo by ASTERISK