Simplicity is hard
If there's one thing I've come to value after the last 16 years full-time in the workforce, it's simplicity.
'Simplicity' is not the same as 'easy'. Something simple may still be hard. (Some of the hardest truths may be the simplest.)
Simplicity means you've removed as much fluff and as many layers of complexity as possible. It's taking a ten-step process and realizing you can get rid of four of those steps without losing anything of substance. It's starting your email with the action item or key takeaway instead of burying it somewhere in the middle of Page 2. It's reducing the number of handoffs between departments, thereby reducing opportunities for someone to drop the ball and leave the rest of the team hanging.
Simplicity is the secret ingredient for businesses looking to be more efficient. So why isn't simplicity adopted more broadly?
Because simplicity is the enemy of those who would rather brag about how hard they work over how much they get done.
But, Jake, who fits that profile?
Far more people than I'd like to admit. Search your feelings; you know it to be true.
Why would anyone want to work and live that way?
The same reason we often resist change in other areas of our lives: If we remove this struggle, what will we replace it with? Chances are another struggle awaits.
Or maybe we're scared of the resulting additional responsibilities. If you're free of grunt work, then you're free to do bigger work and make more important decisions. Do you really want that?
Simplicity isn't sexy. Saying you do this one thing in one market isn't as sexy as saying you do a hundred things in a hundred markets and you're open to taking on more. It's far sexier to automate complex processes than ask how many of the processes are needed in the first place.
Writing a 700-page book seems more impressive than saying you whittled all the crucial bits into only 100 pages (or less!). The work put into 700 pages is obvious. You can see the work. You can feel it. You can hold it in your hand. You can't say the same of the 100-page book, because all the work went into what wasn't included: what you can't see, what you can't feel, what you can't hold in your hand. But that 100-page book fits more neatly in your bag and doesn't weigh you down!
Steven Pinker has made the point that the world feels like a terrible place even when crime is at all-time lows, because no one gets credit for crimes that haven't been committed. A similar point applies to simplicity: It's harder to get credit for confusion and unnecessary work you've prevented.
Simplicity requires hard work. It requires focus, vision, and consistent messaging.
Simplicity requires bravery. You'll face resistance when you have the audacity to suggest there may be a simpler way. You may hear those dreaded words 'That's the way it's always been', or their cousins 'That's just the way it is'.
Who decided this is how it must be? Who made the conscious decision this is was good as it gets? Who has chosen to thwart progress that might benefit the whole team or department or company? Raise your hand now and take credit. Funny, I don't see any hands in the air . . .
That's because the company has grown to the point that people can hide behind the entity itself. The company is now the Company with a capital C, with a mind and wisdom all its own. It's like the Market, with its invisible hands and whatnot.
Simplicity is like that shot in the butt the doctor prescribed to the toddler who's deathly afraid of needles (yours truly, once upon a time). The medicine is right here. Yeah, it's gonna sting for a bit. But in the long run, you'll be better for it. Now, bend over and show your cheeks and don't you dare fart.
