Service Bartering

We recently had visitors from California stop by, one of whom is a talented seamstress. She can whip up garments from scratch and is very comfortable tackling all sorts of projects and alterations on existing clothes, too.

While they were visiting, she asked if we had any clothes that needed attention. Well, I did have a pair of pants with a hole-ridden pocket, along with a couple of shirts that needed sleeve shortening. She whipped through them in no time, and just like that, my clothes served me better. I thought, "What a talent!" I tried to think of a good way to repay her, but she would have none of it—she was just doing what she likes to do!

The next day, she said that she was experiencing a lot of frustration installing some Adobe software on her laptop. She asked tentatively if I could take a look at it. I quickly found what was causing the problem and went through the installation myself, and it successfully completed on the first go. She was somewhat in awe of the ease with which I was able to do this, and I admit that it is somewhat amazing.

What I learned from this exchange was that swapping talents with someone is an easy way to add value for both people, and to generate goodwill. It is surprising how bartering our services made me appreciate her talents much more, and made her appreciate mine as well.

Look out for opportunities to serve others in a way that is easy for you, but could be hard for them. You might find something there you weren't expecting.

Incremental "Fix-it"ing

I recently wrote about my adventures in fixing our front deadbolt with WD-40. When thinking about a problem, it is tempting to throw money at the problem. (If you have any extra money, anyway.) But instead of doing that, it can be useful to start small, then try progressively more drastic solutions to make it work. In tackling a problem, I try to make a mental list something like the following:

What could fix it? I list items that I might be able to use to fix the problem, starting with the simplest idea that might possibly work, and moving on to more complicated fixes. This might be tools, equipment, or products like WD-40. It could even be that I would need more know-how to fix it, and maybe a book would help.

How long would it take me to fix it? I'm no expert at handy work, so this is usually a haphazard estimation, but it is nonetheless helpful to think about—I don't have all the time in the world, after all.

How much would it cost for someone else to fix it? There are lots of tradesmen who are experienced in just about anything, from roof maintenance to plumbing. I might estimate a price, or maybe even call around for estimates.

What's the cost of replacing it? Figuring out the cost of a replacement (in terms of money and labor) is an important part of deciding whether fixing is worth it. Looking at Amazon for replacements is a simple way to evaluate this.

With these items in mind, I decide on a course of action. Most of the time I start out trying the simplest (cheapest) fix I can think of, then evaluate the other items on the list later.

For example, in recently looking at why our car wouldn't start reliably, I thought that simply disassembling the starter motor seemed a possible course of action, and it was free (though it did take an hour or two). So I acted on the "take it apart and put it back together" approach.

While this did provide me with some enlightenment about starter motors, it unfortunately didn't fix the issue. So I moved along the list.

Having the car looked at by a mechanic is always a pricey proposition, so I passed on that for the time being.

There was the remote possibility of it being related to the battery, and the battery was old, probably in excess of ten years. (We had actually been advised in the past that the battery needed to be replaced, but it seemed to start just fine! Most of the time, anyway.) We decided that since it could use a battery anyway, we would spend the eighty dollars for a replacement. I spent about an hour replacing the old battery with its new counterpart.

And it worked!

Instead of impulsively throwing money at a problem to "make it go away", try an incremental approach. It could save you a buck and teach you about how to solve future problems.

Dead as a... Deadbolt?

Our new house has several niggling annoyances that really don't detract from the house much, but one notices the tiniest things in one's own house. One that I tackled just today was the front deadbolt. The key has been sticking for some time, and this was worsened after an attempt to polish up the brass with... yogurt. (It worked pretty well, actually. At least, as far as the polishing went. The lock mechanism wasn't as happy.) We had thought a little about getting new door hardware, since it doesn't quite match our planned decor (for "someday"). This new stickiness compounded the original problem and actually made it impossible for me to get in the door one day. It seemed that something would have to go.

But I figured that maybe it could be fixed. Since I had some time and some energy today, I decided to give it a whack. I headed out there with the first-level attack—my trusty can of WD-40. I gave it a quick spray, wiped off the excess, then let it sit for a moment.

While it was sitting, I thought of the next step. What would I do to fix this thing? If I couldn't pull it off, we really would have to get a new deadbolt, or at least get this one serviced. It wasn't all too serious a matter, but I couldn't think of anything obvious that I would do at this point.

Oh well, I thought. I guess I should at least make sure that it's still broken. I attempted to insert my key into the lock.

It slid in like butter skittering across a hot frying pan.

I gave it an experimental turn.

The deadbolt flew shut in tandem with my impulse. It was unpleasantly like being a cyborg—here was this deadbolt hooked up to my body, and it obeyed my mental commands!

Okay, I'm hamming it up a little, but that's how exciting it was.

We now have a working deadbolt. We also have the same amount of money in our checking account as before the fixing.

WD-40 rocks.

Challenging What You Think You Know

One of the books I read a while ago, but that has remained on my mind rather tenaciously, is Craig Bohren's Clouds in a Glass of Beer: Simple Experiments in Atmospheric Physics (link). If you are interested in reading it, you will get a good view into lots of reasons that the world works the way it does. I find this book's ideas in my head whenever I see "steam" rising off cooking food, or when looking at the color of the sky. And some of the ideas that I previously held were smashed to bits.

Shouldn't all books be that way? What if you consistently read books that challenged the way you look at the world? Such mind-altering experiences are a good antidote for a mind stuck in a rut. After all, getting set in your ways and clinging to your opinion (even if it's a pretty good opinion) can block access to better facts and greater wisdom.

Try reading something new, something different, something challenging—you might be surprised at what you learn.

Duality, or How I can Justify Treating Myself Like an Idiot

I am a big fan of "systems"—that is, behaviors that help me be who I want to be. For example, writing all tasks in my Palm for later retrieval is a simple way to improve my memory—instead of having to remember all the actions I must complete, I must remember only to write down everything I need to do when I learn about it. Simple!

Automatic savings plans are similar. The idea is that if you automatically have part of your paycheck moved to savings before you even see it, you won't have to make that decision again and again.

Anyway, the point of all this is that I have heard complaints about such systems, stating that a system is fundamentally flawed because it treats a person like two different people: the planner (who is really smart) and the doer (who is really dumb). That is, the planner lays down the law, which the doer is expected to follow. The argument states, But it's the same person!

I think an example from computer interface design is illustrative here. One of the handy rules of thumb for designing software is to make it easy enough that an idiot could use it. Do software designers think that all their users are idiots? Of course not. But good designers know one fact: when you're using software, you're using it for something else. That is, when you're using Photoshop, you're not just using Photoshop—you're designing website graphics, or you're repairing old photographs. Good design ("so easy an idiot could use it") lets the product get out of the way, so everyone (even smart people) can get along with whatever task they really want to get done.

This is the way systems are to me. Yes, I am smart enough to save a little money each month. Yes, I can troll through my memory and recall every task I have pending. But I'm trying to live my life. I'm trying to solve problems. And frankly, I don't want to spare the energy necessary for the menial tasks I can take care of with a simple system.

So when I need to remember to take some forms to work in the morning, you bet I am going to put it right in front of the door. Tomorrow, I will be just as smart, but I know right now that I will be in a hurry and not thinking about it.

Admitting that makes both me and my future self smarter.

To-do Lists as a Motivational Tool

Since I subscribe (at least in part) to the Getting Things Done methodology, I find to-do lists extremely useful. They are my method for remembering active tasks that have not yet been completed, and they allow me to prioritize and otherwise order the mess of obligations that I have.

However, to-do lists have another important function for me—motivation. I don't know why, but the act of physically checking a box seems a mark of victory, and I will do silly things just o have that pleasure.

Utilizing this knowledge means that I often make one-time lists for what I want to do during a "sprint" of work. Today, I had a sprint (on the bus) where I wanted to write a couple of blog posts, catch up on my journal writing, and read in my most recent book. Writing down these entries in a one-time list gives me a built-in progress indicator, since it's easy to see how many boxes are checked and how many remain unmarked.

I often add larger tasks to my list, but to make them seem more manageable, I put down a number of check boxes next to the item, each representing fifteen minutes of work. Three check boxes next to the sizable task of "fix test automation" is an acknowledgement that while I may not finish the task during my "sprint", I can do good work on it for forty-five minutes and consider myself to have done a good job. That's liberating, and often, after spending that time, I continue working on it. What a nifty side benefit!

Tracking, Franklin-style (as in Ben, not Covey)

In recent reading, I ran across an interesting tidbit about Ben Franklin. As a young man, he drew up a plan for being better (or even perfect) in thirteen areas. To take himself to task on it, he made a big grid, with a row for each attribute (temperance, kindness, etc.), and a column for each day. At the end of each day, he checked off the attributes he had exemplified that day. From his autobiography:

I made a little book, in which I allotted a page for each of the virtues. I rul'd each page with red ink, so as to have seven columns, one for each day of the week, marking each column with a letter for the day. I cross'd these columns with thirteen red lines, marking the beginning of each line with the first letter of one of the virtues, on which line, and in its proper column, I might mark, by a little black spot, every fault I found upon examination to have been committed respecting that virtue upon that day.

(I track this sort of information using Reinhard Engel's excellent online tracking tool, HabitCal.)

Tracking, however you do it, serves two purposes:

First, recording successes and failures raises the stakes of the whole endeavor. If records are going to be kept, then your actions matter more, whether you followed through or not. This matters in the moment—feeling accountable makes you more likely to do what it takes to succeed at your endeavor.

Second, the record allows for later analysis. I keep tabs on how I'm doing with respect to past resolutions, as well, and it's interesting to note that when I fail in one tends to coincide with failure in the others. They are connected somehow, and the patterns formed by them are informative. (For example, when I don't exercise in the morning, I am more likely to also fail at staying on task at work.)

Keeping a record of your successes and failures is an integral part of effecting real change.