“I’m cutting out carbs.”
“I’m going to the gym every day — no exceptions.”
“I’m emptying out my pantry and having perfectly portioned meals delivered to my door!”
It’s that time again, when Americans gather around the water cooler to discuss the drastic changes they’re adopting as of January 1. That’s right, the dreaded New Year’s resolution. And let’s face it, although some people make constructive pledges like taking up gardening or cleaning out the attic, most of these intentions involve diet and exercise (which is no surprise considering the amount of messaging we’re bombarded with by gyms, food manufacturers, and equipment companies).
While that might be a good thing, unfortunately the promises made are often unsustainable, unrealistic, and, in some cases, unhealthy. The human body does, in fact, require some carbohydrates, and it’s never a wise idea to drastically cut out a food group without consulting a physician.
I’ve made no secret of my opinion when it comes to New Year’s resolutions. And when I hear about someone’s plan to swear off chocolate, it’s a struggle not to roll my eyes — not just because most people abandon their promises after a few weeks (or days), but because I firmly believe that if you’re going to change something, you just do it. You don’t wait until January 1, and you don’t make it a point to tell everyone within earshot. And if you’re going to succeed, you need to outline a sensible strategy for making the change happen, and not abandon ship at the first sign of rough seas.
It’s a concept that a former manager of mine just couldn’t grasp. George was the king of New Year’s resolutions, but instead of hatching plans to lose weight, he was focused on improving productivity. Sounds like a good idea, right? It was — he always had great ideas. But when it came to execution, he always fell short.
With each new quarter, he implemented a new policy. Here were some of the standouts:
- Weekly one-on-one meetings between editors and sales representatives. This way, sales people could learn about the topics editorial was focusing on, and editors could learn how about the product was being positioned. Unfortunately, it only lasted about three weeks. Although both parties actually found it be very beneficial, George decided it took up too much precious time.
- Daily activity logs, which were to be completed by 4 p.m., printed out, and left on his desk. After two weeks, George removed the pile of papers from his desk and tossed them into the trash, having never glanced at them. No one was upset at this turn of events.
- Reverse reviews. Each month, we would each complete a review of our manager, providing honest feedback about what we liked about his managerial style, and what we felt could be improved. After the first round, the idea had been killed. Again, no one was exactly in mourning. But what’s really surprising is that when we discussed this as a group (without George), each of us insisted that we had been fair — and not harsh — with our reviews, but perhaps he didn’t like what he saw.
- Monthly, company-sponsored staff lunches. This was a no-brainer. It was a great team-building tool that helped underappreciated editors feel, well, appreciated. We had one lunch.
The worst part is that some of George’s ideas could have helped improve communication between departments, boost morale, and increase productivity. But he failed to map out realistic plans, and wasn’t willing to work out the kinks. As a result, he was left with a team that no longer took his ideas seriously.
And could you blame us? He’s like the guy who swears off bread, but is back to scarfing down pizza by January 3. After a while, it becomes too hard to hide the eye rolls.
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