. . . Many of them Incompetent Boobs!

I have tried to find an image that encapsulates what I feel about 2020, and this is the one I settled on only after about ten seconds of deliberation.

I re-read Dr. Laurence Peter's "The Peter Principle," this year, and was going to follow up with "The Prince" by Machiavelli and "What Would Machiavelli Do" by Stanley Bing AND WHY AM I FINDING OUT JUST NOW THAT HE DIED THIS YEAR? These are the books by which 2020 should most be remembered, where we saw both the results of competence and incompetence at the highest levels.

I won't name names. That would just upset people, and lord knows we've had enough upset people on the Internet lately.

And while I'm not surprised to see incompetence and competence at whatever level they show, what did surprise -- or disappoint -- the most this year is how many people I know and care about supported the incompetents.

And this is where it gets complicated. Because I'm sure on other levels, I supported the incompetents. If we look on our bookshelves or in our closets or round and about the cafeteria of belief we store in our skulls, there's bound to be incompetence there, bound up in the fuzziness of love, memory, blindness, what have you.

I, myself, have proved myself incompetent more often than not. And probably have vast areas of incompetence I will yet explore in this thing called life. In fact, as I type evidence of my incompetence is being blared anonymously on social media. I won't own up to it; I am no fool. But it's there, and those in the know will recognize it.

Recognizing it. Maybe that's the key to getting away from our incompetence and boobery, if I can mangle a phrase from Homer Simpson. But that requires humility, and that's getting harder to come by.

I'm sure 2021 will be filled with additional incompetence disguised as whatever you want it to be: Truth-seeking. Bravery. Heroics. But if we're honest, we'll see it. Almost everywhere we look, even if we're looking into the bottles containing our most cherished beliefs.

This eye-roller comes a close second, though. Because "European newspaper" ALWAYS uses US state abbreviations because everyone there knows what they are. Particularly if they're used inconsistently (Ga and PA).

And if this were real, what's the name of the newspaper? They don't provide it because, oh yeah, IT DOESN'T EXIST.

This is the kind of incompetence that makes me chuckle, it's so clumsy.

It irks, though. Because we're going to see this kind of horseshit on repeat and repeat and repeat and REPEAT and I hope Donald Trump runs for president again in 2024 so he can LOSE AGAIN.

But I promised I wasn't going to name names. Oopsie.

The Peter Principle, or I Don’t Care How We Do References As Long As We’re Consistent and As Long As they Work for those Who Have to Read Them.

I could probably tighten up that title.

But It’s not important.

Which is why I don’t want to even apply for the supervisory position where I work.

The supervisor is supposed to care* whether we put the document title before or after the document ID. And about all I could do in the nearly two-hour meeting where this and other matters were discussed was make an occasional point but mostly try not to fall asleep.

Enter the Peter Principle.

I’ve written about this before, but for the uninitiated, the Peter Principle is thus:

“Members of a hierarchy are promoted until they reach the level at which they are no longer competent.”

I’ve been on that level before. And it’s not pleasant. My current job allows me the occasional frisson of competence, so why rock the boat? More money? Sure. But money isn’t everything. Or so I hear, says the guy with a side-gig teaching online English classes. Which kinda takes money out of the equation.

I know this does not computer in some minds. Let us refresh the thought that not all minds think the same, not every person is filled to the brim with sloshing ambition and talent and leave it at that. Besides, you uber-talented and motivated people need people like me to step out of the way and not mind getting bossed around, right?

Thing is, aside from the occasional twinges of anxiety, annoyance, and paranoia (which are going to come with whatever job I might take on) I’m happy where I am and what I’m doing there. Could I learn to be more excited about reference ordering? Probably. It’s not outside my skill set or the realm of possibility. But there are other aspects of the job that add to the unsavoriness. It’s a job that needs doing, so be it. But it doesn’t have to be done by me. There are people with more experience who can take the job. And I’m good with that.

*I should care too. And I do. I’m just not all that hot up about being involved in the process that gets us from speculation on what form the references will take to the finished product. Which is probably why I was so terrible at algebra.

The Dilbert Principle

If you want to read a funny, eye-rolling book about business and the silliness people get up to when they’re supposed to be working, read Stanley Bing’s “What Would Machiavelli do.” Or else read the reader-submitted emails in Scott Adams’ “The Dilbert Principle.”

But Bing’s book is funnier longer.

I’m sure some associate of Adams’ either re-read or remembered Laurence J. Peter’s “The Peter Principle” and suggested Adams write a similar book, based on his Dilbert comic strips. Such an endeavor could have been great. But it feels like Adams slapped this book together rather quickly and decided snark was a substitute for the sly wit and thought Peter put into his book.

That’s not so say this book isn’t funny. I’m almost always amused by Dilbert (and a little disconcerted that the character I find the most common ground with is Wally). But this book feels phoned in.

And the Dilbert Principle itself is basically a retread of one of Peter’s ideas.

Adams argues that companies move their least competent employees to middle management in order to limit that amount of damage they can do to the company.

Peter describes that as a “percussive sublimation,” a pseudo-promotion moving an individual from one unproductive position to another.

Oh well.

Still Marginally Competent, Still Happy

I re-read The Peter Principle about once a year, just to check in to see if I’ve hit my level of incompetence.

Ironically, it was almost exactly a year ago that I wrote about my last reading here.

Here’s what I wrote in 2009.

Recent research has validated the veracity of The Peter Principle, if this Forbes article is to be believed.

And when it comes to work, I’m still mostly happy.

Have NOT reached my level of incompetence working with Fluor.

HAVE reached my level of incompetence working with BYU-Idaho.

HAVE reached my level of incompetence writing novels (I’m struggling to edit, though I think by trial and error I may be getting better at it). Though this could be a display of Substitution as discussed by Laurence J. Peter, wherein an incompetent person finds something he or she is marginally good at and pursues that above everything else. Maybe this shows I’m more interested in becoming an author than moving up that ladder at BYU-Idaho.

The Peter Principle, illustrated. Here, Tom shows he reached his level of incompetence, accepted demotion, became happy (watch the entire cartoon starting here):



And yes, overall, I’m happy about where I’m at. That’s got to mean something.

I’m noticing the Peter Principle slipping into other areas of my life. For example, this weekend Michelle got fed up with me putting off fixing the ceiling fan in our bedroom and asked for screwdrivers so she could fix it herself.

Male ego and pride meant once tools were fetched, I was fixing the fan, albeit in a foul temper. And nevermind that the last time I tried to “fix” a ceiling fan, I ended up breaking it further than it had been broken, to the point we had to buy a new fan. Level of incompetence reached.

This time, however, I took note of what I did beforehand so when the fan suddenly decided it didn’t want to turn anymore, I was able to retrace my incompetent steps and get the fan spinning once more – and this time, WITHOUT the significant wobble and noise that made it impossible for us to use the fan on its highest settings. No matter it took three times of disassembly and reassembly to get the fan working again. Maybe on that particular fan ailment, my level of incompetence has yet to be reached.

Another point: Level of incompetence not yet reached on putting shingles on a house. This house is taller than what we had in Sugar City and had the added complication of solar panels, but as the solar panels were taken care of by competent people, I had no troubles. I look at others in the neighborhood with roof hip joints and steeper roofs altogether and recognize if that had been my roof, I’d have reached that level of incompetence.

A corollary: Thursday, I spent nearly three hours trying to loosen two nuts holding the main floor toilet to the floor so I could tile the bathroom. Finally gave up, bought a Dremel, and cut the bolts. Levels of incompetence may be vaulted via acquisition of technology, though it’s highly likely that $100 Dremel will now sit idle and useless for years until another toilet bolt needs cutting. Escaping a level of incompetence can be expensive.

Living the Peter Principle

I last read Dr. Laurence J. Peter’s “The Peter Principle” back in 2009 and made a vague reference in a blog post about the book to stretching/breaking myself in a new position. It took me a minute to remember what I was hinting at back then, but that was also the same year I began teaching at BYU-Idaho, so that’s got to be it. 

My conclusions, eight years on:

1.  I certainly did hit my level of incompetence as a newspaper editor. Never again.
2. I have not yet hit my level of incompetence as a technical writer, even after I was left as the sole writer at RWMC making me the de facto lead.
3. HOWEVER – No. 2 being said, I was leading a department of one. Myself. Me, myself, and I. Had there been others, well . . . I’m pretty sure I would not be reporting things as rosy.
4. I have reached my level of incompetence teaching at BYU-Idaho. I won’t be moving on to any higher position in Online Learning or anything else.

Final assessment: I’m OK with this.

I’m happy. I’m earning a good living. I am close, still to that level of creative incompetence I talk about in my Goodreads review of the book.

I feel a lot more optimistic about things now, now that we’re past the bloated many writers stage at RWMC, now that the successive rounds of layoffs are over. I feel like I’m doing good work – a clear sign I have not yet reached that level of incompetence.

So today I was asked who the “lead” writer is at RWMC, a pertinent question now that we have merged with AMWTP and their bevy of writers, plus one from INTEC, are moving into the same building I’m in. I had to answer “I don’t know.”

This tells me a few things:

1. It’s not me. If It were me, I’m sure I *would* know.
2. I don’t really care who it is.

I took on the mantle of acting lead writer simply because there was no one left to hand it to. If Danny – who succeeded Greg as lead of the technical writers at the Site just about a month ago – sees fit to give the title to someone else, I’m not going to protest. I’m happy doing what I’m doing right now.*

*Side note: A little black beetle either just fell out of the ceiling or just popped out of my keyboard. I’m not sure which. Not sure I want to know, either. It’s now crawling happily along the cord to my mouse.

Feeling Even Stupider

I thought that yesterday I achieved the pinnacle of stupidity. Then came today. I don’t plan on talking about it here. Suffice it to say, I’ve lived two Dilbert cartoons today:

-One-

PHB: Alice, see me at the end of business today.

ALICE: (To herself) Ohmygosh ohmygosh, what corpse floated up from the ocean floor? I can’t wait seven hours! Gah!

(Seven hours later)
ALICE: WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT?!

PHB: Can you come back tomorrow?

-Two-

DILBERT: I significantly increased my visibility at work today, Dogbert. Yesterday, I was invisible to my management. But today I am known by all.

DOGBERT: You screwed up, huh?

DILBERT: Ooh yeah. Big time.

I can’t say what I did was a major sin, but it still makes me feel stupid when I make a mistake. I guess this is when it pays to have those puppy dog eyes and overall demeanor, since no one’s come a-yellin’ over what’s happened. Maybe it’s not a yellable offense. So I curse the darkness and my own stupidity, yet take comfort in the fact that my puppy-dog demeanor may have saved me from a bawling out. That kind of demeanor won’t get me promotions, but I suppose it’ll keep me employed.

Today, I embody the Peter Principle, in that I have reached the level of my own incompetence. I am, however, one of those of whom Laurence Peter describes as having recognized the fact, having learned to live with it and accept it and, in some perverse ways, take it to my advantage. I knew working at the last paper I worked for that, the longer I stayed there, the more incompetent I got. I think Peter talks about that in a sliding scale of the Peter Principle, in that over time, people who were once competent in a job slip into incompetence.

I joke here that I’ve seen the boss’ job and I don’t want it. Truth be told, I’d existentially pass my level of incompetence and emerge on the other side if I were ever offered the boss’ job. So I’m content to stay where I am, doing my incompetent best, and hoping that a combination of skill and puppy-dog eyes will keep me employed. I think it’s a credit, however, that I can at least recognize my position and seek out ways of making improvements, or at least make compensatory measures to ensure that my overall incompetence doesn’t force others to a breaking point.

The Peter Pyramid

Been reading an interesting book this week – “The Peter Pyramid,” by Laurence Peter. I’ve written about his first book, “The Peter Principle,” before on this blog.

In Pyramid, Peter proposes that as society advances, our propensity to develop hierarchies that protect themselves with busy work is, in part, what’s killing our society. He points out that companies that start small with a customer-focused base can, over time, evolve into companies that are more interested in preserving inner peace and structure than in serving customers, who provide the money to keep the company going but constantly interrupt the peaceful, non-productive flow that hierarchies tend to nurture.

To quote from a story he writes of such a company: Back near the beginning, Andy was in the grocery business. He did all the paperwork during the infrequent quiet periods in his thriving business. As his business developed into a working bureaucracy, he had less and less to do with groceries and more and more to do with paperwork. Most of the people who work for him now are not in the grocery business, but are rule makers, rule enforcers, and rule followers. The rules and regulations have become more important than the people and the products.

In some ways, I can feel this happening to Uncharted. Elsewhere in the book, Peter writes about companies that become so proficient at making rules, writing memos and status reports and such that they forget to maintain proficiency in what got them into the business in the first place. In Uncharted’s case, it’s getting to the basics of sharing our love of writing about our adventures with the rest of the world. I haven’t written an Uncharted story in a long time. Jason has pointed this out, and, at first, I felt pretty defensive about it. (He pointed out our wavering from what we love.) But he may be right. We’re in that nebulous, evolving stage.

So there’s something we need to talk about. I see Uncharted in a lot of what he writes:

(Page 96) Bureaucrats are not lazy do-nothing; they are busy people. They attend meetings, write memoranda, plan budgets, organize and reorganize departments, and do many of the other things that administration of thriving enterprises do; but they do them with a different purpose.

They write memos because writing memos demonstrates that they are busy, and because once written the memos become documented evidence that the writer has been busy. Bureaucrats attend meetings because doing so gives the appearance of importance and useful activity, even if meaningful action is seldom taken. Rushing from meeting to meeting, and particularly traveling great distances to attend meetings, gives the impression that participation is of great importance.

This comes a week after I wrote en editorial plan and a memo, and traveled to Logan for a meeting that, really, I didn’t have to attend, but that I wanted to attend so I would be seen attending. I feel soooooooooo stupid right now.

Not that Peter says that everything that hierarchies do is bad. He points out that many things, such as the shipment of good throughout the world, the development of jet aircraft, and the invention of the ballpoint pen had to, necessarily, go through their stages of complexity, but in the end, these things are saving vast amounts of time and money. So I suppose what we need to do is grasp the good in what we’re able to do, but throw out the bad, ensuring that we don’t develop a pyramid that’s inverted, like the ones Peter preaches to avoid.

The Peter Principle

Over the weekend, I began re-reading The Peter Principle, by Dr. Laurence J. Peter and Raymond Hull. The basic premise of this book is that in any hierarchy, an individual will rise to his or her point of incompetence. We all have things that we’re good at doing – but as we’re “rewarded” for good performance through promotion, Peter and Hull say that eventually we’ll get into a position for which we don’t have the skills. I’ve seen that in my own life. I was a fairly competent newspaper reporter, but when I was promoted to a newspaper editor, I reached my level of incompetence. I recognize that it’s leadership and proactivity skills I do not possess. I’m happy now as a technical writer, because the job I have does not call on those skills. Were I to be promoted to tech lead, I’d be in trouble. So I’m content to stay where my competencies can shine.

Can a person learn to overcome his or her incompetencies? I believe so. I’m not sure Peter and Hull believe that, but then again I’m infected with the Alger Complex that they fear leads to a false sense of hope and security among the upwardly-moving class.

Anyway, the reason I bring The Peter Principle up is because of its application to politics. As Dr. Peter writes (page72): “Even if a majority of the nominating committee consists of competent judges of men, it will select the candidate, not for his potential wisdom as a legislator, but on his presumed ability to win elections! We hear this going on in both the Republican and Democratic parties this year as various candidates vie for nomination to run for president. Each side is talking about electability as primary motivators to support so-and-so candidate. Yes, they give lip service to other qualities, including legislative and executive ability, but the linch pin in the whole process seems to be “who can we nominate who’ll beat the other party?” This illogical push is aided and abetted by the media, who come up front with the question: Can Democrat X beat Republican Y? With the sublimation that if, yes, that can be done, then Democrat X (or if you want to flip-flop, Republican Y) will be the best one to pick. No one, not even the public at large, seems to care what other abilities these people have, whether they’re good at building consensus, good at coming up with innovative solutions to problems, good at anything except looking good in a suit (and I include Hillary Clinton in this; makes no matter if the suits are conservative blue or feminine pastels (unless, of course, John McCain were to wear a pastel suit. That would get attention.))

I’d like to continue this discussion further, but my thoughts are being drowned out by two of my children, who have dragged their toys into the study to continue their dolly dialogue:

Isaac (playing with a Superman doll): Hey, where’s Superman?
Lexie (playing with a bevy of Disney Princess dollies, and, I think, a Barbie doll): Isaac, I will do my own words, you do your words!
Then lots of blah blah blah but VERY LOUD.
Now they’re leaving.

What was I talking about again?