Two years ago, a third of Basecamp (now 37signals) quit after the owners suddenly shut down the DEI committee and banned all political talk on their internal chat. I’m certain that number was inflated because they offered a generous separation package of up to six month’s pay to those who quit.
I’m not going to argue the merits of those decisions, but there are three lessons from the drama worth highlighting. Two lessons relate to our craft as Owner Project Managers, the third is a question that I ponder whenever I think about my career.
Communication
The owners should not have announced the policy change via a blog post. The staff would have objected to the policy change no matter how it was delivered, but it sure made things worse. The ham handed delivery approach blew any chance at keeping the benefit of doubt within the team.
As an OPM, I’ve had three calls with firm principals to discuss concerns about their teams’ performances. Each of those old heads knew how to play the game — I felt amazing after each of those calls. Smooth motherfuckers.
The Basecamp owners forgot that they owe the same charm towards their employees when instituting big, unpopular changes. An employee serves at the pleasure of the employer, but they can walk. The transaction cuts both ways.
Your farts *do* stink
As owners it’s easy to forget that people have to act like they enjoy your presence. They respond quicker and laugh harder at your jokes when you’re their cashflow. The mass exodus shows that Basecamp wasn’t as utopian or attractive as their owners thought it was; their business books were more aspirational than descriptive.
I’ve seen this dynamic as an employee. The boss deludes themselves into believing their place is more than a job. Mission—Family—Culture—Movement—etc. Let’s get real, a company is the owners’ playground, no matter what they call it. That’s the privilege they purchase when those checks clear every other Friday.
Strip away the collective fiction and you might find out that you aren’t actually best buds, especially after offering them three to six months wages to walk away.
Would you quit for half a year’s cash?
I love my job and I love my employer. But I got options as a skilled professional in a good economy.
Would I take the deal? In my current place, I don’t think so. I’m too far from retirement and I enjoy my colleagues too much. But could I live with dragging myself to the office for the next half year, knowing it was pro bono? What if my favorite coworkers quit?
That’s where meaning kicks in. It’s one thing to grab a fat check. But what next? I still have to work. Where? At a place where I might not enjoy the company? It’s been a privilege to serve my fellow citizens. Do I have the patience to serve pushy private clients?
Of course, we’re not tech workers so it’s all hypothetical (I’m not winning the lottery either). But fantasy challenges our assumptions about daily life. It pushes us through a series of “why’s”. Why do we work? Why did we chose this specific employer, this profession? Why do we stay? Why are we still in this game?
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Some Links
I’ve always been fond of electronica, starting with .mod files on the 16-bit Sound Blaster on our 386. I listened to Glitch Mob’s Drink the Sea on repeat while doing mad overtime in Houston and I’ve gone through a few other electronica phases in the past decade at Vegas.
Lately I’ve been working so hard that I can only listen to music with a strong beat. Last week, I finally stumbled across the term “Glitch Hop” on the title card to Defqwop’s Heart Afire.
Once I found a name, I dug into google. Here’s an hour long mix by Xefox, overview by last.fm, and a brief primer on Bandcamp. This music isn’t as highbrow as last week’s discovery of Ahmad Jamal, but it’s enough off the beaten path to be worth sharing.
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Thanks for reading!
Justus Pang, RA