Whoops and Duke management lessons

Tomas Tunguz, a venture capitalist at Redpoint, has an old and interesting post about what a dog and a monkey that taught him about management.

When he was at Google, the 75 person AdSense Operations team used to gather every week for an All Hands. And, along with an update on how they were doing, the meeting always features two stuffed animals – Whoops the monkey and Duke the dog.

When Whoops the monkey was summoned, a handful of team members would retell stories about a mistake they made during the week – once or twice, these were million dollar mistakes. The group would then vote on a winner and that person would have Whoops in their cubicle that week. Then came Duke the dog. Now, team members would share stories about team members who went above and beyond their call of duty.

Whoops helped create a culture that value learning, openness and support and Duke ensured collaborative effort was recognized and celebrated.

I’ve seen variations of “Duke” in meetings over the years. But, I’ve rarely seen the equivalent of “Whoops.” I can see how it would be a powerful way to encourage a growth mindset. I’d love to give it a try.

Your own flair

I’ve been sharing passages and lessons I’ve been mulling from Josh Waitzkin’s “The Art of Learning” over the past few weeks. This is the final passage and it is about the importance of including your own flair in the learning journey.


Learners and performers come in all shapes and sizes. Some are aggressive, others are cautious. Some of us like questions, others prefer answers. Some bubble with confidence, always hungering for a challenge, while others break into a sweat at the notion of taking on something new. Most of us are a complicated mix of greys.

We have areas of stability and others in which we are wobbly. In my experience the greatest of artists and competitors are masters of navigating their own psychologies, playing on their strengths, controlling their tone of battle so that it fits with their personalities.

I have found that in the intricate endeavors of competition, learning, and performance, there is more than one solution to virtually every meaningful problem. We are unique individuals who should put our own flair in everything we do.


Many years ago, a good friend said the best way to learn from others is to copy what they’re doing first. Then, as you get the hang of it, customize and develop your own style. It was good advice. Over time, you find yourself developing a sense for what will work for you and what will not. Josh’s note about great artists and competitors being masters of navigating their psychologies is very true.

Knowing ourselves and understanding our own flair is at the heart of all learning journeys.

Power, company, and behavior

We lived near a person of power growing up. He is/was a wonderful human being.  It was fitting, then, that he always had a group of friends join him on his morning walk. They seemed to enjoy the walk and conversation.

I checked in on this morning walk routine recently. And, I heard that the group of friends stopped joining him on the walk. Their disappearance coincided with his retirement.

This story got me reflecting…

First, power influences the behavior of those around you. It is why folks in power who are self aware appreciate folks who speak truth to them. Telling the truth is a risk and helps folks in power stay grounded – assuming they want to be (and not everyone does).

Second, this story made me reflect on how I behave with folks around me. Our incentive to behave a certain way with folks who have a sway over us is strong. The question, then, is – how do we behave with folks who are no longer on that list? And, what about random strangers who were never on that list?

I think there’s a strong correlation between the strength of a person’s character and how they behave with folks who have no obvious sway over their behavior.

As we make progress along our journey, it is worth remembering that our character is one of the strongest leading indicators of our happiness through it.

How’s it going?

I’ve found 2 use cases for the “how’s it going” question. The first use case involves an asker who is moving at speed. This  is just the workplace hallway equivalent of “what’s up?” No response beyond a smile or some equivalent greeting is expected or required.

The more interesting use case is when the asker actually pauses to hear what you have to say. The general expectation is to hear that it is either a good/bad/“crazy” day.

And, this typical answer points to something fascinating about our default setting – our need to label and judge things. 

The challenge with labeling days is that we never know if a good day is a good day. A day that seems good may be a disaster a few months later. And, a day that we thought was bad may seem like a blessing in retrospect. 

Work relationships function similarly. It is always tempting to start out with a sweeping first impression judgment of your new manager or colleague. But, in truth, we never really know until we’ve been in the trenches with the person. Folks you never thought you’d like may end up shining in tough situations and vice versa. 

So, my takeaway over the years has been to delay the labeling process – both with events and people (this is harder) – as it is just a waste of time. My best response to the “how’s it going” question is, thus, to respond with – “It’s going.” I don’t know if it is going good or bad. But, the best I can do is to keep plugging away with my best effort. 

In the long run, things have a way of working themselves out. Doing the work will help that process. Labeling decidedly does not.  

Post smartphone era weekends – a way to measure success

A way to measure success in post smartphone era weekends is to ask – how many times did you forget where your smartphone was? 

I found myself forgetting about my phone for hours at a time on memorable weekends. So, I’ve begun starting weekends by leaving my phone in obscure places within the home (e.g. under the pillow). The more obscure the location, the less I check it, and the better the weekend.

10 years of A Learning a Day

Today marks the 10 year anniversary of writing here. I’ve been reflecting on this 4,494 post journey over the past few days and I thought I’d share what I’ve been most grateful for.

(1) Learning to show up. I decided to call this blog “A Learning a Day” because I wasn’t capable of discipline ten years ago. I remember someone I knew saying I’d shot myself in the foot with that name. Inevitably, I stumbled and missed names in the first year of writing. But, since then, I show up every day and do my best to share something of value. On some days, the learning sucks. On others, it is passable. And, every once a while, it is insightful. But, regardless, I show up, remember to breathe deeply, give thanks, focus on what I’m learning, and ship.

It is my daily meditation and I’m not sure what I’d do or who I’d be without it.

(2) Learning to think and learn. For many years, the tag line of this blog – “Never failure, only learning.” I started writing here because I was short of confidence after an incident where I’d found myself incapable of failing gracefully. I thought writing about my failures may change the way I think about them. And, if I did so long enough, maybe it would change my approach to learning. I hadn’t heard of Carol Dweck’s research on fixed and growth mindsets at that time. If I had, I’d have recognized myself as someone living in a fixed mindset and as someone who was incapable of a life of learning and fulfillment.

Asking myself “what did I learn?” every day 10 years has helped me understand what it means to live with a growth mindset. I still don’t do it every time – at least not at first. But, I do it a lot more often than I used to. And, 3653 daily attempts later, I’ve begun to appreciate its power.

(3) Learning to make and keep commitments. Matt Mullenweg, the founder of WordPress, says that we blog for two people – ourselves and one other person who we can picture reading what we write. While I could always count on my mom and wife to read my notes, I’ve also met many wonderful people along the way.

(An aside – someone recently wrote in sharing that her excitement about an upcoming change. It was the first time she’d written in and she wondered if the email would just go down some “dark hole” of unread messages. I explained to her that A Learning a Day mail is what I look forward to when I open up my email every day.)

Aside from hearing about your perspectives, counter points and notes, the most powerful effect the notes have is to remind me that I’m making public commitments. So, when I share an aspirational note and say I intend to do something, I feel the pressure to do it. Thanks to this, I’ve begun to grasp why Stephen Covey defines integrity as making and keeping commitments. That’s because we feel whole as we become consistent in what we do and say. And, integrity comes the word integer – which means whole.

The process of habitually making these commitments and following up has helped me experience this wholeness. And, once you get a taste for it, you hope to continue being worthy of that experience.

I started writing here because I thought I’d learn how to write better and think better. And, while I hope I’ve gotten better at that, I am certain that this process has taught me how to live. And, I couldn’t be more grateful.

Thank you for being part of the journey.

Butterflies and Erosion

When we talk about change, we often talk about the transformation of caterpillars to butterflies. We’ve all heard a version of this analogy at some point in our lives. It is the ultimate story of dramatic transformation.

We are drawn to dramatic stories – ergo the entertainment industry – because they provide the escapism we crave. But, these stories are the exception and not the rule.

Most change, for example, is akin to erosion. Erosion is the process by which rocks are gradually worn away by flowing water or the wind. You can’t erode a piece of rock in a day and there’s definitely no beautiful transformation story. Instead, a stream might effect the change it desires over a period of months and years. And, it can only do so by showing up and keeping at it every day.

Maybe more of us would stick with our plans for change if we thought of change more like erosion?

It probably doesn’t need force

There’s an unsaid rule when you are assembling an appliance or a piece of furniture – the right tools and technique work much better than force.

If you’ve tried applying a lot of force to align edges or to ram screws into pre-drilled holes, you’ve experienced this. When force seems to be the only way through, it is likely you need to go back to the manual or find a different tool.

It turns out that solving people problems isn’t all that different. While there is the rare occasion when force is useful, for the most part, it serves as an indicator that you are doing something wrong. Technique in working with people is making the effort to understand those you are seeking to influence and employing a combination of humor, care, systems and thoughtfulness.

When in doubt, choose tools and technique over force.

Tai Chi and breathing

I’ve been sharing “meditations” from Josh Waitzkin’s “The Art of Learning” in the past few weeks. I’m down to my last two passages. Today’s note is about Tai Chi and breathing.


In William Chen’s Tai Chi form, expansive (outward or upward) movements occur with an in-breath, so the body and mind wake up, energize into a shape. He gives the example of reaching out to shake the hand of someone you are fond of, waking up after a restful sleep, or agreeing with someone’s idea. Usually, such positive movements are associated with an in-breath – in the Tai Chi form, we “breathe into the fingertips.” Then, with the out-breath, the body releases, de-energizes, like the last exhalation before falling asleep.


It is Chen’s opinion that a large obstacle to a calm, healthy, present existence is the constant interruption of our natural breathing patterns. A thought or ringing phone or honking car interrupts an out-breath and so we stop and begin to inhale. Then we have another thought and stop before exhaling. The result is shallow breathing and deficient flushing of carbon dioxide from our systems, so our cells never have as much pure oxygen as they could. Tai Chi meditation is, among other things, a haven of unimpaired oxygenation.


This is such a practical and, yet, fascinating thought. I plan to think about it further and see how I can integrate this idea into my day. More when that happens.

Thanks again, Josh, for a fascinating insight.

Ask advice better – replace the generic question with a hypothesis

The typical approach to asking for advice is to ask generic questions like – “how can I get a job in xx?” or “how can I do well in my x admissions interview?” 

Aside from being hit and miss if you are the person asking these sort of questions, they can be very frustrating if you are on the other end of these questions. They showcase no thoughtfulness and feel formulaic.

A better way is to replace this question with your hypothesis or approach. For example, you could lead with – “I realize it is challenging to make the switch to xx. But, my research points to other folks who’ve done it by doing yy. So, as a first step, I plan to do yy. Second, I am thinking about taking a course on the side or working on a side project to prove I can do it. I’m curious to hear your feedback on my plan?” 

This simple change in approach can have a magical effect because it showcases your preparation and thoughtfulness. In conversations where people don’t know each other well (and, let’s face it, we don’t have such conversations with people we know well), showcasing interest works much better than saying “I am interested.”

Show, don’t tell.