My third article for Chronicle Vitae went up last week. It is about how improving your personal productivity is both simple and hard. I’ve gotten a lot of nice responses to this one, which is always gratifying. Check it out, but- spoiler- it doesn’t offer any “magic” tricks for improving your productivity. That’s one of my main points in the article. There are no “magic” tricks, improving your productivity takes work.
If you’re looking for other things to read to improve your management practices, I recommend the series of blog posts Kate Heddleston is writing about aspects of work culture that impede our efforts to improve diversity. There are links to the individual posts at the bottom of the introductory post. She is writing with a focus on the tech industry, but her points are broadly applicable, and many of the cultural features she highlights in the tech industry are also found in other STEM fields. All of the posts are worth your time, but in particular, anyone who gives feedback should read her post about criticism and ineffective feedback.
Her post about the impact of “argument culture” really resonated with me, too, and prompted me to go get Deborah Tannen’s book The Argument Culture. I’m only a couple of chapters in to it, but I am finding it very interesting. In particular, it is interesting to read about how many of the problems that plague the internet were already evident in the early 90s, before the internet was much of a presence in most people’s lives.
I’ve been toying with the idea of using this space to take a deeper look at the research behind management practices. I want to read more of the original literature that is relevant to management, since, as I’ve discussed before, a lot of nuance can get lost when that research is translated into management advice aimed at a general audience. Perhaps I should start with a paper on the impact of communication styles, to see how that field has progressed since Tannen’s book came out.
I often say that I dislike conflict, but as I read more in this area, I think that perhaps I should be more precise. I strongly dislike conflict that serves no real purpose, i.e., arguing just for the sake of the argument. I don’t mind disagreement at all, and actually find discussions and dialog to be an excellent way to clarify my own thoughts on some topics and learn about aspects I had not previously considered. However, I want there to be some mechanism to resolve disagreements, particularly in a work setting. Sometimes, it is not possible to come to consensus. When that happens, I think there needs to be a way to resolve the issue, anyway, so that it is not a source of continual conflict.
I think I have seen this done well, and I know I’ve seen it done poorly. However, I can’t yet pin down any concrete techniques that I can discuss. So, clearly, I need to read and think more on the topic. I will probably eventually write more on this topic, too, since writing helps me work through topics and better understand them. In the meantime, definitely check out Heddleston’s posts. They are well worth your time.
Mirielle entered Madam Malkin's smiling contentedly at the scent of fabric, the sight of various colours, and the touch of different textures under her fingertips. Any clothes shop was heaven to her and she felt like dancing her joy away at stumbling upon this place.
She took her time, strolling down the aisle and letting her imagination run wild as she touched everything she could. Occasionally, when she thought no one was looking, she would lift the fabric to her nose and take a whiff of the cloth. There weren't as many un-cut fabrics as she liked. Most of the clothes displayed were already cut and sewn.
Although she did like shopping for ready made clothes, she preferred making her own from scratch. Her imagination and creativity would be put to the test and she relished the feeling of creating something of her own that no one else had.
The touch of a silky kind of material registered and Mirielle paused in her steps, turning her attention to what was in her fingers. The cloth was wine red and as she took it off the rack, she noted that it was already cut and styled - much like the rest of the clothes - and not in the most fashionable manner either. Once glance at the price tag told her why. It was on sale, and rather cheap. It wasn't something she'd ever wear, but it was something she could work with.
With a tilt of head, she pursed her lips and began surveying the piece, turning it around and talking to herself under her breath. "Maybe I could cut it here...and here...sew up this side. Then if I cut it here and do that...it'd make a nice collar. And if I add pearl buttons..."
Completely lost in her own world, Mirielle didn't notice that she was standing right in the middle of the aisle, blocking the way if anyone wanted to pass through.
Edan let out a soft sigh, rolling his eyes as his mother made a detour to the one place he hated most in the world – a clothes shop. Buying all his essentials for Hogwarts was fun, especially when he was allowed to visit his favourite joke shop (although he wasn't permitted to buy anything; he'd have to get one of his cousins to help with that once he was safely in Hogwarts) and given a small bit of pocket money to spend at the sweet shop.
But then came the dreaded robe shopping. It wouldn't have been all that bad if they went in, picked out his uniform, and then left. That would have been more than okay, in fact; Edan actually liked the green robe, so proud was he of being a Slytherin (only in his family, he would brag.) No, it was the fact that his mother had a fault - well, one among a few, but the one that irked him the most - and that was the fact that she couldn't enter any clothes shop without browsing.
And that meant half an hour of waiting around while she tried on robe after robe, shirt after shirt, dress after dress. At the very least, she no longer asked him for his opinion after he once told her (with as charming a smile as he could manage) that "The colour reminds me of that time my housemate threw up his pumpkin juice".
Wandering the store and trying to come up with the worst possible insults for the different pieces of clothing he saw, Edan did his best to stay 'un-bored', as his older brother had once told him. He turned a corner and stopped quite abruptly, noticing a girl his age in the middle of the aisle. She looked familiar, and it took him a moment to place her as a Hufflepuff in his year, one he never really spoke to before.
A light smirk touched his lips as he heard her muttering to herself and he stepped forward, so that he was right next to her. "Pearls are so last year," he said, tone mock serious, eyes shining in amusement. "Besides, I think you'll be hard pressed to find someone who'd wear ... that thing, with or without pearls."
She could just picture the outcome once she was done with it. It would be an amazing piece, perfect for a semi-casual dinner. Getting more and more excited with the master work that was forming in her mind, she continued with her analysis. "White lace here would be nice...or if not, maybe some scallops down here for a nice hem...and..."
As her train of thought was interrupted, Mirielle looked up and narrowed her eyes at the boy standing in front of her. She didn't know him but she knew that he was a Slytherin. Figures. From his insults, he couldn't be anything else but a Slytherin. Some of them could be pretty nasty.
"Well, someone peed in your breakfast this morning," she responded. Mirielle was usually a friendly person but she wouldn't stand and take insults to her face. "And insulting someone's fashion taste is so a hundred years ago." She lifted her head in a haughty tilt.
"And just so you know, once I'm done with this, people will start wanting one for themselves to wear," she added, a proud glint in her eyes. "It might not look like much now, but with the tweaks I have in mind, it's be amazing."
She'd been stopped multiples times as people gushed over her one-of-a-kind outfits. Their first question would always be: where did you get that? She would then inform them that she'd made it herself. If it already looked like what she'd pictured in her mind, she wouldn't have hesitated to put it on and model it for him. But sadly, it was still a nasty piece of cloth.
He had to fight back a grin at her response. It was always so easy - too easy, perhaps - to get a rise out of certain people, and he found a childish sense of pleasure from pushing buttons just the right way. He had ample practise during his family reunions, where he and his cousins spent most of their time trading insults and chasing each other around when no good comeback could be fathomed up. Of course, it was always in the spirit of fun and there were lines that they knew never to cross.
"I didn't eat breakfast," he replied, keeping his tone neutral. He paused, tilted his head in mock concentration and pretended to mull over something. "Ah, I see. And so wanting to change something entirely because you don't like it isn't insulting, right?"
The Hufflepuff has spirit, that was for certain. He'd seen her around Hogwarts, wearing (when not in uniform, that was) what was admittedly rather nice clothes. If what he'd heard on the grape vine was true, she had made them all herself. It was admirable, almost – if he had any interest in that sort of thing.
Very seriously, with a shake of his head, he said, "Not me. I can't be certain, but I don't believe a dress would bring out my best features."
"Ah, that explains it," she said, nodding her head. She had a feeling that he was playing around with her but wasn't sure. "People are known to get cranky when they're hungry. It's stupid to skip breakfast."
At his words, she gave him a bright smile. "Of course not! I'm helping this thing - " she held up the piece "- realise its true potential. The material remains the same. The design just changes." She shrugged nonchalantly. "I mean, the creator of this thing might take it as an insult that I want to change how it looks but at least I don't go to his - or her - face and say 'I hate this thing. It's ugly.' He - or she - wouldn't know that I changed it. Unless we bump into each other in the street, which is highly unlikely. And it's not like he - or she - would recognise it once I've altered it."
A thoughtful look crossed her face and she took a step back, letting her gaze survey him. "Actually, a dress would suit you very well! I think it will bring out your best inner features." Turning to the rack, she plucked out a random dress and held it against his body. "There! Perfectly feminine!"
"It is," he agreed. "But that's why I had brunch instead." The grin he was hiding was starting to hurt his cheeks, but he forced it down once again. No point ruining a perfectly good setup by revealing it to be a joke. Besides, it was always more amusing if the person thought he was being completely serious; it was something that he took secret delight in, after all. People got wound up just too easily.
He raised an eyebrow at her barrage of words. "What if that thing doesn't want to reach its full potential? Have you ever considered its feelings? Perhaps it likes being an ugly piece of crap," he replied, as nonchalantly as she had. "Besides, doing it behind its creator's back is much more devious and insulting than telling him you don't like it to his face - trust me. I'm a Snake; I know devious."
His eyes glinted at her comment. Now this was someone who could dish it. Reaching out, he took the dress from her and held it against his body. "Hmm," he mused. "Orange has never really been my colour. Green, on the other hand, brings out my eyes."
Mirielle barely raised her eyebrows. Now she knew he was joking around, because seriously, who would actually say that they skipped breakfast just so her comment wouldn't have any grounds, then get told that it's stupid to skip breakfast, then say that they had brunch instead. But she didn't let on. She could be wrong, after all. "Well then, someone peed in your brunch."
"Do you like being an ugly piece of crap?" she shot back, though she had a feeling that he would reply in the affirmative. "And it doesn't mind being changed at all. I would know. They speak to me. And this has told me all the changes it wants." Though she knew she sounded like a lunatic to people - talking about how material spoke to her - she sometimes felt that they did. When her fingers glided along cloth, it was almost as if it was telling what it could be made into.
"Sure, it's more devious and insulting. I never said it wasn't," she replied. "But that's just the thing. I would go up to the creator and tell him exactly what I think - I've done it before - but I don't yet have the chance to meet the creator of this particular piece."
As he took the dress from her and made his own comments, Mirielle couldn't help the surprise that showed on her face. She'd expected him to get angry, or storm off, or call her all sorts of name. This she did not expect. But she couldn't deny that this was fun. "Nope. Your eyes are bland and not interesting. They're not worth bringing out," she began, of course not truly meaning her words. "I'm the fashion expert. What you need, is something so flashy that people wouldn't have a chance to contemplate your eyes. Neon pink!" Rifling through the racks, the found something garishly pink - this Madam Malkin did have some strange fashion tastes - and held it out to him.[/i]
"That's quite possible," he replied. "It did taste exceptionally salty. I'll have to tell mum not to let Chloe into the kitchen when she's cooking. Merlin knows that nine year old has a sick sense of humour." He was lying, of course; Chloe was most likely going to be a Hufflepuff like their older sister, but there was no denying she had caught the love of mischief that seemed to run in their blood.
"You mean all those times my grandparents called me handsome they were lying?!" he exclaimed, gasping in obvious mock horror. "Huh, that would explain the smell."
He considered her for a few moments, wondering if she was actually serious about hearing clothes talk to her, and then decided she was speaking metaphorically. Either that, or she was crazy. He preferred the first option. "Ah, I see. Has it told you its name, too? Quite rude to go about changing something whose name you don't know."
So she had spirit. That he could admire. He might have been a Slytherin and sly was an adjective used to describe his house, but he detested dishonest people. Why lie about something when you could be truthful? Sure, it might hurt more but at least then you weren't living a lie. (Of course, telling falsehoods in the name of pulling a harmless prank was different, because at the end of it everyone knew it was a lie to begin with.) He said nothing, though, instead shrugging.
He hated the colour pink. It was the worst colour in the existence of colours, but he put on the biggest smile he could manage and took the dress from her. It was larger than him, most likely meant for an adult, and he debated with himself for a few seconds, trying to figure out if what he wanted to do was really worth it or not. But he would do almost anything for the sake of humour and so, faking a contemplative look, he slipped the dress over his head and allowed it to hang loose over his shirt and jeans.
"Hmm, perhaps you might have a point," he said. It was at that exact moment that he heard his mother calling out for him, and his eyes glinted once again. "It was nice meeting you, Miss Nameless Hufflepuff. I am certain our paths will cross again in Hogwarts."
With that, he turned - still wearing the dress - and headed off to find his mum, calling as he did, "Mum, what do you think of getting me this? You always did say I needed more clothes!"
When he first mentioned Chloe, Mirielle immediately assumed that it was a dog. She had a good imagination - mostly utilised for fashion - but it wasn't wild enough to imagine that a human would pee in something. Besides, her comment was just a saying. But then he went on to mention Chloe having a sense of humour. And dogs didn't have a sense of humour. Did they? Not wanting to embarrass herself, she didn't say anything in response.
His words had her chuckling and shaking her head in amusement. This boy was funny. "They probably were," she said. "Grandparents are sometimes known for that."
With a very serious nod, though her eyes sparkled with laughter, she said, "Yes. This is Scarlett! Scarlett, meet Whoever-This-Is and Whoever-This-Is, meet Scarlett."
When he put the dress on, her jaw dropped in shocked. Not believing her eyes, she stared at him, his words barely registering in her mind as he scampered off. It wasn't till he was out of sight that she doubled over in laughter, tears of mirth filling her eyes.
On her list of things to do (or rather, on the list given to the servant by her parents) was a trip to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. At her age, she was growing more quickly than her clothes were, and while a simple charm could alter them to fit, there was just something about new clothes that she liked. Not the part where she had to try things on, because that was always so tedious and anything tedious was automatically written off by her brain, but the buying part.
Most of the time, things could be charmed to fit her anyway, so it didn't entirely matter if she could wear them straight off the shelf or not; most of the time she didn't even bother to try them on.
But Madam Malkin's had particularly bad taste of clothes, and the only reason she was stopping here was to get another set of robes for school, since her last one had mysterious stains on them. How she had achieved such remarkable barf green markings was beyond her -- and everyone else, too.
As her servant went off to purchase the necessary, Nora walked the aisles, touching the different fabrics because they were pleasant and, besides, what else was she supposed to do? Two voices caught her attention and she moved towards them. They sounded young, around her age, and she hoped that they were either her friends or people from Hogwarts that she yet to meet; either were fine, so long as it was someone to talk to.
But as she turned the corner, all she saw was a Hufflepuff she recognised from around school but never talked to. If she wasn't mistaken, the Puff was a year younger. To her confusion, said Puff was laughing, but at what, Nora couldn't figure out.
"What's so funny?" she asked, curious. "And why did I hear two voices earlier? Or was it just you, and you were just talking to yourself? Did you tell yourself a joke?"
Although any shopping occasion was fun for Mirielle, this was hands down the most interesting, most memorable, and funniest shopping tale to date. That Slytherin was one of a kind and Mirielle would definitely hunt him down once she got back to Hogwarts.
A voice interrupted her mirth and Mirielle briefly wondered if this was her meet-everybody-in-Hogwarts-at-a-clothes-shop day. Wiping a few tears that managed to escape from her eyes, she glanced up to see a a girl standing there. She'd seen her around in Hogwarts and knew her name started with E-something.
Grinning brightly, Mirielle said, "Oh, just a Slytherin boy wearing a bright pink dress!" Not able to help herself, she burst out laughing again, gasping for air. When she finally managed to get a grip on herself, she continued, "I'm sorry. It's just he looked so funny!"
"You did hear two voices. It was me and him. But he's gone off now. I would too, if I were a boy wearing a bright pink dress," she answered, giggling a little bit. "I wasn't talking to myself. But I do do that some times."