Since we moved our office from Albert Park to West Melbourne we have learned a lot about the value of unassigned workspaces. There are a lot of freedoms and efficiencies to be gained from being mobile and ‘working light’.

Over the last couple of days I have been thinking about the next level … pushing the principle of mobility even further. One of the observations I have made from across a variety of organisations, is that mediocrity and even slackness in performance is usually accompanied by an unconscious attitude that once I have turned up and am sitting at my desk, I am 80% of the way to doing my job.

But turning up does not contribute directly to delivery. Delivery, execution, high performance or whatever we want to call it, has to do with focussed and disciplined work that is aligned with strategic priorities. So if ‘turning up’ is irrelevant to delivery, why turn up at all? Seriously.

(Now, I’m aware that I am speaking from a professional services paradigm and that this will not apply to say retail or manufacturing. But that doesn’t mean those who can apply these ideas shouldn’t push the boundaries.)

Maybe it is time we changed our language, because as postmodernism has taught us, language not only describes but also creates reality. So let’s eliminate the phrase ‘going to work’. If we are clear about the items that we need to deliver on any given day, our perspective would better be about doing those things, rather than going to a place. The fact that I might be able to do those things more effectively if I am at a certain place is irrelevant … infact we might assume we could do them more effectively ‘at work’, but maybe we should rethink this.

So, I hereby announce that I am never going to go to work again – at least not in the sense that I will get up on a weekday morning and press play on a routine that has me dressing up and ‘going to work’ as if that in and of itself is of any value.

And there is another side to this musing … that I have learned from yurting. If turning up is replaced by delivering, then when I’ve delivered I can do something else. No, not even that is right … there are some things that I need to do to keep my soul and body energised. Planning the ‘pause points’ in my delivery routine and filling them with regenerative activity is the go, I reckon.

What is that supposed to mean? (I’ve just invented more consultant mumbo jumbo!!)

OK.

“Delivery routine” means the disciplined and focussed workday rhythm that says no to anything that will prevent me from delivering my strategic priorities. (assumes I know what they are!)

“Pause Points” means the breaks I plan in. This is absolutely necessary because most professional work can be all invasive and apparently never ending. There is always too much to do, so unless we plan breaks we will never stop.

“Regenerative” means life giving and sustainable. Just stopping work is not good enough. I need to fill the break with stuff that energises and refreshes. Different for everyone. Some people haven’t figured out what it is for them … they are in trouble.

Let’s never just turn up again.

I moved to Melbourne the same time ‘Rocky’ bought a struggling pizza house in a little known strip in North Carlton. Someone had told me that you couldn’t call yourself a Melbournian until you had eaten pizza at Totos (Lygon St pizza house) after midnight. I still never have.

But I have vivid memories, not long after arriving in this city, of standing 3 or 4 deep in a crowded little pizza shop called LaPorchettas wondering what the ordering system was. It was noisy and completely chaotic. A short bloke who was slapping his thick hands onto lumps of dough behind the counter glanced up and caught my eye amidst the chaos. “What do you want?” I shouted my order from behind the shoulder of someone in front of me. Rocky barely acknowledged me. I stood there for 15 or 20  minutes in the bustle, wondering if anyone was remotely aware of my order, let alone processing it. I was completely flabbergasted when my pizzas arrived.

It was the first of countless visits. The pizzas were good, and cheap. Really cheap. Back in those days you could get a large pizza for between $5 and $7 bucks. The first time I went to sit down in the restaurant (the shop next door had been bought now had some tables and chairs in) I went to the register to pay for the group I was with and the same short bloke was behind the register. I handed over my plastic; “Sorry mate, cash only.” There was a queue behind me, I was bone dry of notes or coins. As I was contemplating what to say, Rocky just said matter of fact, “Pay me next time,” and shifted his eyes to the person behind me.

In those days La Porchettas had a thing going where if you spent more than $20 in the restaurant, you got to spin a wheel. Every slot had a prize; a free pizza, bottle of (cheap) wine, a carrot, glass of water. In the 90s we were lucky to be part of a wonderful bunch of people who met at our place every Wednesday night to talk about life and spirituality. Before getting to our house in Brunswick, dinner was at Rocky’s. Most were students, so cheap food was the go. We could all eat for 4 or 5 dollars. We got to know a waitress called Di who always made sure we had plenty of the pizza dough bread for free. We shared Margherita and Hawaiian pizza. We thought we were kings when we had spun and won free wine the week before. Sometimes people lashed out and got entree cannelloni or penne al burro which was pasta tossed in plain butter. We laughed a lot about al burro pasta.

The place was plastered with photos of Rocky with famous and beautiful people. Imagine Brian Brown and Rocky with their arms around each other, Rocky with his thumb up. He was a racing fan, so photos of bikes and F1 cars were everywhere. Every inch of the walls seemed to have amateur photos of him and his friends playing and having a good time.

These days I don’t go there often, but a few months ago we all (the family) went down for a weekend pizza/pasta dinner. Rocky was still behind the counter of this shop (which has now annexed 3 or 4 shop fronts) and I think I read recently that he has franchised another 80 La Porchetta stores around Australia. They all have the trademark bustle although nothing comes even close to the first experience I had back in the mid 80s.

Yesterday, on his way to the Grand Prix, Rocky died in a motor cycle accident at the St Kilda junction. He was a ‘colourful’ character; lets say he was not known for compliance. In truth, he was not the kind of person I admire, but my experience of living in Melbourne has been enhanced via his vision.

And I am reminded again of the vulnerability of life. Every day is truly a gift.

When MSOutlook crashes and you restart, Bill gives you the option of starting in ‘safe mode’. Safe mode opens the program with many of the non essential features disabled to allow it to give it the best chance of running effectively. For much of this year I have been running in safe mode.

It has been a rugged month. A number of circumstances have conspired to sap from me much of the enthusiasm and joy of life. In order to stay afloat, I have culled a lot of the non essential activity. This has included this blog. It is perhaps unfortunate that for me it is hard to reflect in this media when the going is tough.

A smattering of people have politely asked about my e-silence. Well, I’m back for now … but only briefly because tomorrow we shift modes again – back to yurting. We enjoyed blogging over summer here, and last night Maria got started again.

If you are inclined, you can share our yurting reflections over the next couple of weeks as we mix a slower pace infused with work. Now that I’ve ‘rebooted and enabled most features’, I look forward to talking here about some new projects I am doing when I’m back after Easter.

My apologies that the link in the previous post was broken – thanks Ross for the note  … if you are interested try http://www.duthie.net.au/

Some readers of this blog will know that Maria and I plan to see some of this great land before we get too old. Now that our kids are getting older and more independant, we have joined the congregation of grey nomads on the highways and in the caravan parks. For us, its not retirement. Its not even purely a holiday. Its more about a privileged experiment with learning to live in a slower, mobile, non-urban routine.

If you are interested, we will be blogging over the next couple of months on our yurting site; www.duthie.net.au

This blog will be on leave until I’m back in urban mode.

my breakfast view