ESHARP.NET

Technology and life with Eyvonne Sharp

Working from Home, 2021 Edition: SheShed Retrospective

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It started when we had COVID. It was October 2020, and I was tired of all the moving.

As the pandemic disrupted the entire world in early 2020, our home was no exception. Our two college-aged kids came home for spring break and didn’t go back to campus. Our elementary-aged son and daughter were growing to need individual bedrooms instead of the shared space that worked when they were little. My 21-year-old son and 19-year-old daughter shared a bedroom for a time. My office space moved between four rooms in our house over the course of six months.

By fall, my oldest had his own apartment and a job 3 hours away. My second was back in a dorm on campus but frequently visited and slept in the same room as my desk. When either of them were home, I would have to invade their space, start my conference call, and shoo them away. I started looking at real estate listings and wondering what a house with room for all of us — and a few extras — would cost. The hassle, cost, and commitment of a new place, combined with some unique advantages of our current living arrangement, became my justification.

We could have managed without the shed and did for a long time, but I wanted a dedicated space. My new role at GCP is permanently remote, and I no longer wanted my workspace to be an afterthought. We started planning the shed.

Before I go further, I need to acknowledge all the work my husband has done. I did a lot of planning and dreaming, and he did most of the coordination and all of the hard work. I can’t remember a thing I wanted he declined or a task hec was unwilling to undertake. In many ways, my office is his labor of love — a mini Taj Mahal that is a tangible reminder of all he is and does for our family. A couple of decisions I made inadvertently made his job harder (like the number of outlets spread around the building). He didn’t complain and worked right on.

My approach to the budget was pretty open; I had a general idea of what it would cost but made a commitment to myself. I was not going to nickel and dime my way through this project. I wanted the space to be something I would enjoy. I did not want to look around the room and see areas of regret, places where I wished I would’ve spent another $100 to make life and work consistently easier. At the same time, I didn’t want to overindulge on items that wouldn’t matter. I think we struck the right balance.

I’m notoriously bad at spatial reasoning. I struggle to understand how items fit into three-dimensional space and because of that, I used the Home Room Planner app to experiment with layouts and floor plans. I combined this with the website of the shed company, which allowed me to design the shed how I wanted. I settled on a layout, and we ordered the shed in November of 2020. We chose exterior vinyl siding instead of board siding, which delayed delivery by five weeks. It was worth the wait to get what I wanted.

After a few weeks delay, the shed was delivered and placed on February 1, 2021. Before any finish work could begin, we needed electricity and insulation. Electricians were in short supply in our small town, and it took over a month to get the electrical work done. A friend helped with the internal wiring, and we had foam insulation blown in. The foam was slightly more expensive than rolled insulation, but we were glad to avoid dealing with itchy fiberglass.

As we considered the material for the walls, we didn’t want to manage drywall with all the taping, mudding, and sanding. Instead, we chose beadboard wood paneling which, when finished, created a lovely effect and opened up design options I did not initially consider.

Of all the decisions we made, I’m most pleased with the heating and cooling system. We chose a mini-split with a wall-mount unit inside and a compressor outside. The mini-split was significantly more expensive than our other options, a dual-function window unit or a PTAC, and required professional installation. It quietly and efficiently heats and cools the space. I’m so glad we didn’t compromise here.

We made a couple of logistical decisions that made the finish work easier. We sanded and primed the ceiling boards before installation. We primed and painted all the trim work before he nailed it in place. For the flooring, we chose the same type of vinyl plank we installed in the house. It’s relatively easy to install (compared to hardwood), is water-resistant, and durable. I chose a more rustic pattern and was nervous when we started putting it down, but I’m so pleased with the look now that it’s done.

When he began to install the bead-board paneling, I seriously considered a natural wood finish instead of the paint I had initially planned. After looking at designs in my app, I decided on a dark stain for the wall behind my desk, the same stain for the overhead beams, and paint for the wall and trim. I have no regrets.

We purchased unfinished cabinets for storage and painted them white. I’d planned on a Formica countertop — not ideal, but I could not justify the expense of a granite countertop. While shopping, we noticed the butcher block countertops and decided, on the spot, to purchase one. It was more expensive than Formica but worth the extra cost. My husband cut the countertop to fit, and I stained the butcher block with the same dark walnut color. I added a couple of layers of high-gloss polyurethane; I’m so happy with how it turned out.

But what about the tech?

From a technical perspective, the SheShed is a remarkably low-tech endeavor. I didn’t install any WiFi-connected home automation devices. We ran 5 CAT-6 drops which will terminate into the cabinets. I’ve installed wall jacks but have yet to terminate them in the cabinet. WiFi from the house reaches the building just fine.

We did not install plumbing in the building. The added cost and complexity of running water were more than we wanted to undertake — especially since the building is 12 steps from my back door.

Anything I would do differently?

First, I’m thrilled with the space and our approach. If, at some point, we no longer need an office, this space can be turned into a mother-in-law suite or used to provide sleeping space for people in transition.

If I were to undertake this endeavor again, I would make a plan for storage. Except for the cabinets, there’s no built-in storage space. It would have been nice to include closet space in the design. We will mitigate this with furniture as we go along. I’ve been slow to furnish the space until I experience it. I’m taking time to adjust and settle in.

My only design regret was using a high-gloss polyurethane on the back wall. Initially, I’d used a satin finish but added the high-gloss when I stained the countertop. The high gloss adds a glare that I don’t like on my video conference calls. My husband wholeheartedly disagrees with me here. I considered sanding down the high-gloss poly and re-applying the satin finish but decided I didn’t dislike it that much.

All in all, my SheShed office has been a rewarding undertaking. My husband has decided he likes woodworking, and I suspect he will take on more projects soon. I now have a peaceful and dedicated space for work. If you’re curious about the costs, here are the highlights below. Labor for electrical and HVAC are included in these numbers.

Building $8,300
Lumber $1,750
HVAC $2,500
Insulation $1,900
Paint / Stain $500
Electrical $2,050
Flooring $1,000
Cabinets $220
Counter $350
Fridge $200
  $18,770

We can’t all be right, but we can all be wrong

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A few weeks ago, I was part of a lively team meeting. We were discussing mission and purpose and trying to put words around our place in the world. Nearly everyone had an opinion, and they shared it. It was the wonderful kind of spirited conversation that happens when intelligence, passion, and snark collide on the other side of an open-ended question.

During the conversation, I saw patterns emerge. Some people prefer tactile work — they want to put their hands on the controls and understand a systems’ inner workings. They want to solve concrete problems and produce tangible results. I will call these people builders. Systems need builders who push envelopes, use technologies in new ways, and make connections that others don’t see.

Then, there are connectors. Connectors understand technology, but at a different level. They know all the essential bits, and they know how to fit them together. They focus, however, on a different level. They orchestrate people, politics, and all the intangible nuances required to gain funding, craft a story, or build a high-level executable plan. Big projects don’t happen without connectors. They are indispensable.

These categories are not all-inclusive, nor are they absolute. They provide a framework for my observations. All the participants in that spirited conversation can be placed on the continuum from builder to connector.

As we talked, I heard similar themes from individuals at both ends of the builder-to-connector spectrum. A builder would say, “The real work is…” and describe solving a technical problem that required deep expertise. A connector then said, “The real work is…” and talked about the connections between individuals and organizations and what was needed to complete a proposal.

Each individual perceived the “real work” as that for which they were most gifted. Each implied the other work was secondary, less meaningful, less necessary, less critical. It’s an easy trap to fall into.

Everyone fortunate enough to work in a high-performing organization wants to make an impact with their efforts. To do this, we frame our work as having supreme importance and, in so doing, minimize the contributions of our peers, other teams, or other parts of our organization.

I left our meeting excited about the varied abilities, ideas, and talents expressed by my team. I also noticed a subtle shift in my thinking. On any given day, I consider myself a builder. On another, I’m a connector. I, too, have made arguments about what constitutes “real work.” I’ve come to see that it’s all real work. Nearly any task worth doing requires a wide array of gifts and abilities. We none excel at them all.

So, the next time I see this false dichotomy in action, I will acknowledge it, first in my thinking, then collectively. There’s too much work to do and too many problems to solve to do otherwise.

People, Garbage, Farming, and Friendships

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People have garbage. If you’re going to build enduring professional relationships, never forget this fact. Just like the systems we implement have technical debt, people have relational debt. And unlike our technical systems, we don’t have the tools we need to understand our colleagues’ inner workings. In truth, we shouldn’t try. People are sovereign over themselves, and many coworkers relish the relational distance and clear objectives of work. Many enjoy respite from otherwise chaotic lives and have no desire to build relational ties.

The analogies we embrace have a powerful impact on how we view the world. Professional relationships are more like farming and less like engineering. Farmers do their best to create circumstances in which crops can grow. Well-timed fertilizing, planting, harvesting, crop rotation, and care increase the chances of a bountiful harvest. However, even if the farmer does everything right, crops fail. Drought scorches. Waters rise. Pests invade, and fire rages. Just as a farmer cannot force crops to grow, we cannot force great professional relationships.

What tools do we use to create space for meaningful professional interactions? Begin with reciprocity. Reciprocity is a relational give-and-take whereby individuals come to know one another and understand the relationship’s boundaries. To be effective, you will need a degree of self-awareness, patience, and careful observation undergirded with competence and respect.

It’s not about you

Pay attention as you’re interacting with colleagues. When you ask a question, how does your peer respond? Do they offer a simple one-word answer, do they keep it strictly professional, or do they respond with personal detail? These are clues. Follow them and mirror the behavior of your peer. If they are strictly professional, stay professional. If they share stories about their cats or their kids, respond appropriately. The key is to respect your peer’s cues and to allow any relationship to build organically.

Focus on reciprocity more than you focus on being heard. You will have a chance to make your case — eventually. Interact with peers at the same relational level they interact with you. Know where you’re comfortable and where you’re not. Don’t overshare, even if your peer does. Stay in a realm where you can be authentic. You’re growing a garden rather than digging a trench.

You are not in control

Another important quality you need to build lasting professional relationships is open-handedness. Open-handedness is the act of accepting a person and relationship as-is. It’s a willingness to have productive interactions with a person on the level with which they’re comfortable. Open-handedness resists the urge to control, force, or manipulate. It comes to every conversation clear-eyed.

Most importantly, open-handedness doesn’t demand any relational depth at all. If your peer wants to do their job and go home, you’re okay with that. You don’t expect anything other than excellent work. Let people be and don’t judge them for it.

To be genuinely open-handed in your relationships, you must relinquish control and expectations. Engage with others in ways you are comfortable, do your work, and let the seeds that will grow, grow. Many won’t.

Don’t look for short-cuts

For those of us who spend our careers working with systems that behave prescriptively in every conceivable scenario, people are hard. We rarely understand ourselves, and we certainly do not understand our colleagues. We may want stronger relationships or more indirect influence within our organizations but do not know where to start. There are no short-cuts. We can begin today by building a respectful foundation for growth with reciprocity and open-handedness.

This post is part of an ongoing series on professional relationships.
See them all here.

Peopling: A Series

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This post is first in a series on professional relationships.
See them all below:

Of all the topics that captivated my thoughts during 2020, the power of professional relationships was at the top of my list. Many have expounded on the value of a personal network to build their career, their business, their brand. They’re right to do so. My thoughts, however, have taken a different path. I’ve had the gift of great friendships that have grown out of my work life. How do we, as individuals, work well and cultivate productive, healthy, and flourishing relationships in the context of our professional lives?  I have some ideas.

I’ve seen two opposing themes as people consider work relationships. The first elevates working relationships to holy grail status, believing that one must be great friends with as many people as possible such that friendships extend beyond work. The second can be described as an I just work here mentality that includes strict professionalism and cold distance and can lead to unhealthy isolationism. Between these poles are scenarios as varied as each of us driven by background, culture, the nature of our work, and previous work experiences.

Over the next several weeks, I want to explore the topic of professional relationships. We’ll talk about foundational topics underpinning healthy, productive, and meaningful working relationships. We’ll discuss mistakes that I’ve made and how I would do things differently given an opportunity. We’ll talking about coping under challenging situations and how to decide it’s time to move on.

All told, I want to flesh out a mental model for how we think about professional relationships and how we can be most productive and most fulfilled in our professional lives.

Competence First

Simply put, nothing else matters without professional competence. If I were to create a hierarchy of professional fulfillment modeled after Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, professional competence would be the foundational pillar. Competence is the bedrock on which all professional success rests. Without it, no honest, long-term success is possible. Of course, we all know incompetent people who have risen to high levels of influence, but that’s not who we want to be. 

If you’re like me, your inner monologue will immediately begin to scrutinize your accomplishments and failures and perform several comparisons with those you admire and respect. In my experience, if you care about these questions, you are already further down the path of competence than you realize.

Competence does not require expert-level capability. You do not need to be an expert to be competent. In truth, one can stay too long as an “expert” in a single discipline and experience diminishing contributions over time. Real competence requires character as much as skill. In technical roles, competence demands habits of character: effort, mental engagement, documentation, consistency, attention to detail, and growth. You must have the capability to solve problems, to learn new things, and to communicate clearly. With the commiserate level of time and effort, expert skills will emerge. It takes years. If you’re in a role where you’re stretching, learning, and contributing, that is enough.

Why does competence matter so much?

In the absence of competence, professional relationships devolve into cronyism, disdain for others, rejection of great ideas, and a painful embrace of mediocrity. Rather than the work, the process becomes the primary focus and only the mediocre participate.

In the early years of a career, the lion’s share of effort must be focused on building skills, learning the industry, and understanding how you can contribute. You will build relationships in this time, some of which may endure your entire career.

In truth, some professional relationships will always suffer strain. You will not have great relationships with everyone with whom you work. There’s a degree of personality match, skill alignment, and mutual respect required. Many times, these pre-conditions will not exist. You will have to do your job and do it well anyway. If you want fulfillment in your work life, start and end with competence.

Next week, we’ll talk about reciprocity in working relationships and an open-handed approach that fosters growth organically.

On Working and Riots

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On 9/11, I had a baby. The day the towers burned in chaos and over 3,000 people died in terror, I gave birth to a 9lb 4oz bundle of joy. There is no urgency greater than childbirth, and the distraction of my personal life insulated me from the destruction and mayhem on the TV screen.

Some have aptly compared the emotional toll of this week’s events to their responses to September 11, 2001. I understand.

Like many of you, I continued to work — one eye on my news feed and the other on Google Meet — as rioters stormed the United States Capitol and desecrated the practices and symbols of our country. We carried on. What else could we do?

On Friday, I blocked out a few hours on my calendar for in-depth study. I found that I just couldn’t do it. My inner voice railed about my laziness and intellectual weakness. Still, I could not make the wheels turn, and I could not get more than a sentence into the documentation. Eventually, I shared my struggle with a friend, the most productive person I know. He affirmed the same challenge.

I am not a rabble-rouser. I’m not a fighter, and I’m not a torchbearer. I would be a terrible judge or prosecuting attorney — I love mercy, and I do not want to inflict pain. I’m happiest when people see their wrongs and turn away from them. I’m not naïve (I don’t think.) The world that I desire is not the world we have. Most days, I live on decent terms with this reality. I believe in acknowledging good when I see it and in looking for the best. We ought not ignore injustice. I believe we have systemic problems that require system-wide solutions, but I don’t pretend to know what those solutions ought to be.

What I do know is that I have my life, my family, and my circle of influence. This time will pass — one way or another. I have grave fears about the future. In some ways, though, that’s neither here nor there. I am in no position of power over anyone but myself.

So, what now? I will spend some time processing. I will find an easy Netflix series to binge, and I will pull myself together. I will carry on. I’ll love my husband and kids, and I write some words and do my job. I’m sure in the eyes of many, this is not enough. Yet, as I look at our fractured world of mayhem, fear, disease, and uncertainty, I believe it’s exactly what we need.