The power of saying yes

Without really thinking about it, I have started to search out opposing viewpoints whenever I read something. So after reading Getting Things Done by David Allen- the organization manifesto that has spawned a cult like following, I read A perfect mess : the hidden benefits of disorder by Eric Abrahamson and David H Freedman, which advocates useful messiness. True to subject, the book was a little messy, with supporting examples that didn’t exactly fit anywhere, and all sorts of odd examples (boxing vs cage matches?) It was a nice counterpoint, though, to the “everything in it’s place” view, arguing that the brain can actually work better with some kinds of mess.

A perfect mess had a story about a hospital administrator who decided to forgo the usual planning process and instead said “we’ll do everything.” In the process of planning for a new obstetrics wing for Griffin Hospital in Derby, Connecticut, the management team commissioned a survey asking new mothers what they’d like to see in an obstetrics wing. The results?

Mothers wanted not only their husbands in the delivery room during delivery, but also their children and their own parents. They wanted rooms that didn’t look like hospital rooms. They wanted double beds, so their husbands–or whoever–could sleep next to them. They wanted Jacuzzis. They wanted big windows and skylights. They wanted large, comfortable lounges where the family could gather at all hours. They wanted nurses who constantly paid close attention to them and doctors who always followed up on problems.

OF course, there’s no way they could possibly provide all of this, right? No other obstetrics wing offered these sorts of amenities. Plus, some ideas “like Jacuzzis, seemed downright dangerous, since it is widely known that bathing during labor carries a risk of infection.” No manufacturer made the double wide hospital beds the patients wanted. Nurses and doctors would balk at the idea of changing the way things were always done. (sound familiar?)

The CEO of the hospital, Patrick Charmel, decided instead of trying to figure out what on the list was feasible, they would give the patients everything they wanted- or come as close as they reasonably could. The board reluctantly agreed, but stipulated he “wouldn’t be allowed to spend more per square foot than any other spent on average on their facilities in the state.”

In the end, they did it. They found that while some doctors and nurses balked at the new routines and left, they attracted other terrific doctors and nurses who heard about the new and different wing. With a little research, they found that bathing wasn’t as dangerous as they had thought. They leaned heavily on contractors and saved money where they could (like buying secondhand furniture). They came in on budget. And the result was “immediate and enthusiastic.” It took some adjustment, to be sure-but they did it. Charmel decided to try and build an entire hospital that was responsive to patients needs, and that worked too. The last time went into a hospital, it exhibited many of these family friendly features.

I took away a lot from this story. It’s a nice counterpoint to the death by bureaucracy model that seems to be prevalent in a lot of large institutions.

I’m not advocating that all libraries be everything to everyone, but this approach might work for smaller projects, like a computer lab or a new children’s or teen area. You might not be able to provide everything, but with some creativity, you can get close to a lot of requests

I especially liked the example in the book of women who wanted Jacuzzis, which was thought to be dangerous. Instead of dismissing the idea out of hand because they’d heard it was dangerous, they researched and learned the danger was over hyped. How many times have we been told (or even told others) that we don’t do it that way, with no reason to back it up. Might there be another way?

As an example, at my job, I recently joined the display committee. It’s a good committee- we actually get to make decisions quickly and put them into action. At the first meeting, we were told “don’t even ask about moving the display cases, it’s not gonna happen.” That’s it. No explanation, no reasons, it’s a dictum passed from above, no chance of appeal. Now, I haven’t spent enough time to know if the cases should be moved, but the pronouncement was made in such a manner that I think someone has asked if the cases could be moved in the past. And it was somehow decided that they would not be moved. Are they bolted to the floor? Are there fire regulations? Will they simply fall apart? Or is it just that someone decided that they shouldn’t be moved and made a proclamation? (I have not asked yet- I’m curious, though.)

Meredith Farkas talked about transparency in blog entries and in her recent American Libraries column (August 2007). Being transparent about why we do certain things is important, but I think a lot of people resist because sometimes they don’t even know why we do things, or the only reason is “that’s the way it’s always been done.” (Which is, needless to say, not much of a reason.) I think a big hurdle for transparency in a lot of organizations will be to question “do we have good reasons for the decisions we make?” If the answer is no, things have to change, fast.

Speaking of transparency, I continue to enjoy our local police chief’s blog. Tom Casady talks with a lot of candor, and though the blog is semi official, still injects a lot of personality. I don’t agree with all of his policies, but at least I have a little more of an understanding as to why he believes those policies are best. He also exhibits evidence that he has thought through the other side of the argument, something that is not apparent from sound bites. Other people in Lincoln have taken notice, and want this kind of feedback from other publicly held offices. Transparency is indeed a wonderful thing.

(The picture is a sketchbook page of mine titled “yes.” – I painted it after reading about Yoko Ono’s “Ceiling Painting (YES Painting),” in which she had a ladder you had to climb in order to use a magnifying glass to read the word “yes” printed on the ceiling.)