There are old pilots, and there are bold pilots. But there are no old, bold pilots.

So goes the saying. It’s about risk, isn’t it? The idea that if you take risks, eventually your 9 lives are going to run out and you’re going to fail. If this is in a mission critical line of work, then that failure could be final.

In business, though, you can make the argument that if you’re not failing, you’re not moving quickly enough. Business – especially innovative, disruptive business, is about seeing the opportunity, moving quickly, executing and getting the timing right. You don’t have the luxury of endless iterations while you try and improve to the stage of ‘perfect’. Perfect doesn’t exist.

To have tried and failed not only makes you a better person, it makes you richer for the experience.

Take risks. Fail early, fail often. Then, when you do succeed, you’ll have succeeded quickly, before everyone else, and you have the right window to keep improving while you make hay.

That’s the the promised land for bold pilots, old and young, I think.

I’ll keep this post uncharacteristically short. I’m going to put it out there. It applies for work and play.

No meeting, session, presentation and so on should be longer than an hour. Anything more is too much, unfair to the audience, not a good use of anyone’s time. It’s a productivity and attention thing.

Do we really need longer than an hour? If we do, we should split it up into sessions, with breaks. Look at the educational system, which should be focused on learning, absorbing, retaining and using information. Classes are less than an hour, and double classes should have a complete break.

The exception to this is if you, the customer, the audience member, have paid for the privilege. A film, a show, or an evening with someone. Other than that, it should be an hour, max. It’s all you should need.

A while ago I talked about umbrella wars in London. Lots of jousting and potential for losing an eye in the daily commute.

Interestingly, though, you only see the wars when pedestrian traffic is moving in more than one direction. The other day I was walking from London Bridge train station into the City at rush hour in the rain. Massive swathes of people all heading into work. All heading the same direction.

We crossed north over London Bridge, about 8-abreast. You can’t actually move in the opposing direction, unless you want to jostle with the buses and taxis on the road. The rest of us are in a moving umbrella gridlock, sucked along at one universal speed. You can’t overtake anyone, you can’t slow down. You can only exit from the edge of the river of people. Diagonal or sideways moves, fuggedaboudit.

Everyone moves as one, a huge, multi-umbrellaed beast, a giant tank of black plastic pointiness. It’s a bit of an odd feeling actually, especially if you like to plough your own furrow, metaphorically. When you can’t do it physically, it seems to impinge the metaphorical side. Moving umbrella gridlock.

 

We’re forever trying to make sense of the business and leisure world we live in. It helps us clear problems and make the most of situations. It’s in our nature to do it.

Sometimes, though, it simply makes sense to realise that ‘it just is’ and move on. I’m not a big fan of the word ‘just‘, but what I really mean is that I don’t like certain applications of the word ‘just‘.

What we’re sometimes guilty of is drawing a conclusion on something that has happened, finding common threads with other events and inferring a pattern for the future. This is really dangerous, since looking back is so different from looking ahead in so many ways.

In these current times of political turbulence, people look to previous patterns for answers. Historians and economists are great at telling you what has happened, but they have no more clue than the rest of us about what will happen. They’re simply placing bets. Some come off, some don’t, so that’s not really that great a science.

Here’s an article that attempts to explain the ostensible recent lurch to the right with Brexit and the US election. It makes for compelling reading, but it’s still a bet that may or may not come off. For every instance where it has, there are several where it hasn’t.

Wars, referenda, elections, other macro shifts: stuff happens. It is what it is. It just is.