Now that I work on my own stuff, I not only get to choose what to work on, but also how I actually work on it. The what is my set of projects which includes Build in Climate and The Subletter. The how is the underlying style, rhythm, and technique. With work, I’ve realized that the context is as important as the content. The process is just as fulfilling as the final result. This is why I’m fascinated with how chefs navigate grocery stores, artists start their mornings, and basketball players tie their shoelaces.
An output of work, whether it’s a blog post or a startup’s MVP, is the culmination of direct effort combined with all prior habits, lessons, and failures. In that sense, the way we work today informs all of our future work. The law of compounding is often tied to examples of financial assets or healthy habits, but it also applies to process. The way I work today will shape how I will work when I’m older and have kids. This is what Annie Dillard meant when she said, “How we spend our days is how we spend our lives.”
Questioning the default
It’s obvious now that the old way of working is no longer desirable (or effective). The idea of commuting in traffic every day is unfathomable to those who have experienced remote work. During the pandemic, the pendulum swung to the other extreme. Workers stared at their laptops all day and additional work spilled over into what used to be commute time. The 9-5 became the 8-6.
Since then, expectations have been calibrated so that remote workers are not as burnt out as before. Workers have realized they can be just as effective with fewer hours and without having to leave home. I don’t know a single person who wishes they worked in-person everyday. Even the ones who live alone and get free lunch at the office.
At my last job, I (who was never based in the Bay Area) visited the office more often than my manager who lives in San Mateo. It’s understandable — he has three young kids. The sad thing was how empty the office was. Our downtown office had over 300 desks each equipped with two monitors, a standing desk, an ergonomic chair, and a weirdly large wireless charging pad. I never saw more than 30 people at a time. The company was too frugal to offer free lunch, but for a while we did have our very own barista (a nice guy named Kyle). At first he was in the office three times per week. Then two times. Then they got rid of him.
With three years of working remotely at large tech companies with teams spread across the US, Australia, and China, I’ve accumulated my fair share of “why do we do this?” head-scratchers. It was a common occurrence to be twiddling my thumbs staring at myself on Zoom while waiting for the other person to join the meeting. Like (broken) clockwork, they would join after the scheduled time and regurgitate something like “Sorry I’m late, I’ve been in back to back calls all day.” I was no better. I was frequently late to meetings, multitasked by prepping for the next call, and would do chores like fold laundry (camera off).
When a group of humans is machinized into a grid of floating heads with virtual backgrounds, work becomes more productive, but less joyful. With instant digital connection over physical trickling into the conference room, meetings skipped the small talk and got right down to business. As a result, I never got a chance to know my coworkers. Some engineers didn’t want to show their face and I still have no idea what they look like. On the surface, I never got to learn about their interests, hobbies, and families. On a deeper level, I never understood their emotions, desires, or motivations.
The line that separates work and life has been blurred. Today, everyone has work apps like Slack and email on their personal phone. The opposite is true too. I stopped using my own laptop once I had a nice M1 Macbook provided by work. Twitter, Youtube, and messaging friends were always just one tab away. The only profession left that truly has work-life balance are those with government clearance who can’t even bring their phones into the office. Even doctors who you would think do all of their work at the hospital have the Epic mobile app and respond to messages when they get home. I don’t think is necessarily a negative trend. It certainly is if you hate your job, but if you enjoy your work and like your coworkers, then hats off to you.
The definition of a full-time job has become muddled as we’re no longer able to measure how much we’re exactly working. I seriously doubt any of you actually work 40 hours a week. You might not even be able to answer the question because punch cards don’t exist anymore — no one tracks how much they work. Sometimes this worked in my favor. I felt like I was sticking it to the man when I played hooky by working out at 11am or better yet, skiing a few runs in the middle of the workday. I was technically supposed to be working, but with the reassurance of Slack on my phone and no meetings coming up, I knew I could get away with it.
Although underworking during the 9-5 time window was nice, overworking was more common and more than made up for my mid-day workouts. With my team of engineers based in China, I found myself compelled to immediately check Slack first thing every morning so I could “unblock” my counterparts before they went to bed. It was often their nighttime, but I knew they would still see it. The same thing would happen at night. Before I slept, I’d check email and messages again to keep the corporate machine running. By starting and ending my days with work, even with large breaks in the day, it felt like I was always online and always working.
As time went on, I gradually started to work less. As I reduced my hours from 40 to 35 to 30, I felt guilty that I was working less than everyone else. I was also anxious that someone would notice I was working less. However, as I started to work less, I received more praise. This was mind-boggling to me since I was expecting the exact opposite reaction. It turns out no one actually works 40 hours a week. When we worked in offices, there were bathroom, coffee, and lunch breaks. If you also add the first 5 minutes of small talk in every meeting, walking between meetings, and the occasional shoulder tap convo from your neighbor, you’re left with only five hours of real work. By cutting out the least important parts of my job, I was able to prioritize what actually mattered without anyone noticing I was working less. This is what distinguishes effectiveness from efficiency. If anything, my perception as someone who produces high quality work improved because I was no longer tolerating bullshit tasks. Towards the end of my stint, I ended up working way less, but that’s a story for another day.
Once I quit my job and started to work on my own projects, I started to contemplate everything in its entirety. I didn’t just examine the subjects of work (i.e. climate) — I also deeply thought about how I actually want to approach this work. If I’m giving myself a blank canvas of time, then what kind of color palette and brush do I want to use? By structuring my work as a series of intentional experiments, I’ve been able to create a process that suits my inclinations and lifestyle. In doing so, I strive to balance non-negotiables and availability for new opportunities. To carve out time for structured focus and open wandering. To respect my need for no-interruptions deep work and space to collaborate with others.
By the day
I’ve been experimenting with new ways of working. As I experiment, I’m also reflecting to hone in on a daily rhythm that aligns with my personal rhythm. I think of personal rhythm as something like the circadian rhythm, but instead of relying on sunshine and melatonin to decide what to do, I listen to what I feel energized and drawn towards.
Large organizations (that don’t know how to work asynchronously) need everyone to be working at the same time. It might sound obvious, but if you’re a solopreneur, freelancer, or consultant, then you don’t need to work when everyone else is. Instead of the 9-5, I like to work in multiple, structured blocks. Each block is intentionally shaped based down to the time of day, whether it’s solo or social, and even what device I use.
Mornings are reserved for uninterrupted deep work. I wish there was a way to read or write without sitting in front of a screen, but until Steve Jobs gets resurrected and figures it out, I’m stuck with my laptop. In order to let ideas emerge, metamorphose, and cross-pollinate, I need to protect these sacred morning hours. The mornings must be protect from other people, distractions, and my monkey brain that’s fallible to the seductive nature of the digital equivalent of cocaine, social media.
During this precious time that I’m tuned out from the rest of the world, I use a few tools. I prime myself by walking outside first thing in the morning or stretching out my hips, back, and legs. Then I make a cup of tea and while I’m waiting for the water to boil, I let my mind wander. I might light a candle when I need a boost of creative fuel. I always keep a stack of printer paper next to me. There’s something about freeform scribbling on line-less physical paper that allows me to brain dump ideas more effortlessly than typing on a laptop or writing between lines. The only boundaries are the edges.
Afternoons are when I leave my peaceful cave and actually talk to people. While I was employed, all of our meetings were over video which was fine for the most part, but I always wondered if there was a better way. When you think about the modern marvels that we have today, it doesn’t make sense to spend all day staring at a screen. I came to this realization almost out of necessity. Two years ago, I had eye correction surgery which was mostly amazing. I’m no longer half-blind in the morning and I don’t worry about losing contacts anymore. However, one side effect has been additional eye strain. Now, my vision gets worse as I get tired. So in order to avoid eye strain, I experimented with moving some calls from video to phone.
On the surface, phone calls are just video calls minus the visuals. That’s true if you stay in the same place. But taking a meeting while walking around the park is so much better than sitting inside with a laptop. To take it one step further, with AirPods set to voice isolation mode, all of the noisy cars, dogs, and people get tuned out. This is important to note because I used to only feel comfortable taking phone calls outside when it was with a friend. Now, I take phone call meetings with everyone, including the more successful people that I want to make a good impression on.
I just covered how I handle meetings, but that was just for calls. Living in NYC comes with the benefit that so many people are here. So whenever I can, I opt to meet in-person. Meeting in-person is higher risk because of the additional cost in transit time and any coffee or food, but it’s also higher reward. Fortunately, "a blog post is a very long and complex search query to find fascinating people" and since my conversations stem from my climate newsletter or this blog, there’s already some shared context.
Meeting people face-to-face is just so much better. You get to see the other person in 3D, avoid any latency, and you can actually see how tall they are. Beyond those little things, it’s also just way more human. Just how we were meant to eat real food over processed snacks, we’re also hardwired to be together in reality, not virtually. For the sake of convenience, sometimes it makes sense to drink a protein shake or grab a Clif bar on the way out, but whenever possible it’s better to sit down and enjoy a real meal. Phone/video calls allow us to communicate beyond physical limitations, but they shouldn’t be viewed as nutritionally equivalent to quality time in real life.
I keep my evenings unscheduled for random dinners, meet-ups, and friends that might be visiting. While it would be rather idyllic to have a chill hobby like knitting or puzzle-solving, usually I’m back in front of the laptop. This certainly isn’t the dream lifestyle, but I see it as a necessary part of the day to ensure I can start my mornings without being pulled in a million directions. Before I go to bed, I respond to texts, check email, and take a peek at tomorrow’s calendar. Hopefully, it’s blank until 1pm and I can unwind for the night without setting an alarm or waking up too late — after all, there is no such thing as “too late’ anymore.
Beyond the day
I like to structure my weeks by front loading the most important things. I try to keep all calls within the afternoons of Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday so that Monday and Friday can be more like maker days. Fridays also tend to be a good half-day buffer into the weekend. I work in the morning and then might spend the afternoon cooking dinner for friends (what I’m doing today).
I also think about how I work on a seasonal level. In the corporate world, by default there are so many entrenched habits that make it difficult to orient your individual work in a seasonal manner. Most meetings are recurring meetings and quarterly planning cycles dictate the motion of the entire organization. The synchronized marching of the organization drowns out your tiny desires for a more intuitive cycle. Without the fixed rigidity of the system, I’ve identified that I like to work in seasons. If you’ve been following this blog, then it should be no surprise that working and living in seasons go hand-in-hand.
With just a couple more weeks left in NYC before I leave for the winter to ski, I’m prioritizing in-person things. I’d rather meet in-person over a call which I can do once I’m in the mountains. I’d rather catch up with friends over group dinners than over FaceTime. I’m intentionally socializing more than I’d ideally like on an average week because I know that I’ll miss the lively energy of the city once I leave. As the year approaches its end, it also feels natural to do more in early December before leaving the rest of the year to reflect.
The thing is, I’m less social during ski season not just because there’s fewer people living in mountain towns than big cities. It’s actually because in order to fully enjoy skiing, I need to have a relatively open schedule throughout the week. Weather forecasts are pretty much unreliable after two days out and you never know when a sleeper storm is gonna roll through and dump 6 inches of powdery goodness. Beyond just physical locations changing, I also sense my priorities shifting as well. This year was marked by transition and exploration. I expect next year to be about focus and depth. To do that requires retreating within and tuning out the noise. Doing so certainly means missing out on cool stuff. But that’s okay though because I already know what I want.
Some fun predictions
Purpose-built corporate retreat centers emerge that are designed for organizations to travel to and have their offsites. Airbnbs do a good job of bringing people together under one roof, but things can get awkward with room arrangements and shared bathrooms. Hotels do what Airbnbs can’t, but they lack shared spaces that are crucial for serendipitous brainstorming.
The reverse offsite becomes more common. Companies pay for their remote workers to come onsite to HQ once every few months. It’s not an offsite because the worker is coming into the office, but it still does require travel away from home. This won’t replace the actual offsite, which is more for team bonding and employee retention. Reverse offsites will be about pure performance.
VR makes video better, but that assumes the meeting had to be a video call rather than a phone call. As more people learn about the harmful effects of too much screen time, we’ll see more sitting video meetings turn into walking audio-only calls. Both hardware like AirPods and software like Otter AI will play an important role in enabling controls via gesture/voice and capturing information.
We will see the first seasonal hybrid company - a company that’s in-person for most of the year and then switches to fully remote for a season. I expect this to start out with a company that already makes a product related to the seasons such as OpenSnow or Surfline. This might sound crazy, but consider that many Swedish companies don’t work for the entirety of July.
Really resonated with your description of those Zoom call vibes.
Before you figured out your interest in climate, what was your primary goal with meeting folks? Curiosity conversations? Friends? Something else?
Loved the predictions. The first reminded me of companies like Selina and Cabin (built by a former WoP alum!): https://cabin.city/
The last point about seasonal hybrid companies makes total sense and appeals to me on so many levels. It will probably be precipitated by a shift in property leasing structures, as companies will have to navigate seasonal leases & accommodation. Though that may become easier with services like The Subletter... ;-)