Following on Jerry Weinberg’s point that ‘the money is usually the smallest part of the price,’ what other prices are to be paid, and how should a consultant approach these contributions?
The money is usually the smallest part of the price.
I see five contributions to successful consulting projects: money, effort, attention, memory, and wisdom. You’re going to need each of these to pull any nontrivial project off.
Knowing this, you are equipped to notice that a broad set of people might end up making these contributions. Not all of them will know or care about your work in advance. They may not even be associated with the organization that is hiring you.
Your direct client will put in a lot of effort and attention. But they may have a boss or sponsor who directly or indirectly approves the budget, and someone else might actually pay the money. Effort will come from many other people too: everybody you bring into a meeting or workshop, for starters. Spending time, paying attention. See these words we use?
Memory and wisdom are squishier. Some people know what’s what, what has happened, and how things got into the mess they’re in today. If you can find these people and learn from them, that is their contribution. Wisdom is sometimes embodied in memory, sometimes not. However you find it (hint: listen for the undiscussables), wisdom is the greatest gift of all.
My suggestion is this: consultants should attend to each of these contributions with the same level of care as they would pricing. I think a lot of us do this instinctively. But it’s good to do it deliberately, and to draw a picture as we go. In the same way we’d justify a monetary price by showing what we’ll give in return and why that’s important, we can justify each of these other contributions to the individuals and groups making them, and receive them with gratitude.
Appreciating circles that have been opened but not closed.
My favorite gatherings are all alike in a certain way: when they’re over, they’re over. Open space technology makes this an explicit part of the format, which I’ve experienced as permission to linger or leave early, to stick around or wander off, individually or in a group, as needed. Or to realize that even if an event has ended, it’s not over.
I was at a 4-day retreat last month with about 55 people, 10 of which I knew previously, and the rest I was meeting for the first time. On the last morning, I felt a familiar impulse: to rush around, collect contact information, get people signed in and signed up in various ways so that we could keep in touch. The twice-monthly beat of an e-mail newsletter. But for this particular gathering, of local and regional sanghas, that wasn’t the move. Instead, we were all part of a larger, looser network within which I might expect to encounter certain people again, down the road, for our next communication. Let the timing and context and contents be a surprise. Do you ever feel that? I certainly do with dharma friends. Something about sitting with people over any span of time makes for a durable connection, and I am always happy to re-encounter such people months or years down the road, in a different setting, perhaps at the farmers’ market or library, out and about, saying sometimes nothing more profound than ‘hello.’ And if our paths don’t cross, and that next conversation is not forthcoming, we are still contained within the same circle of having been there, being there, enacting the same projects and intentions. Some circles open at a certain time, and only close when we are done. Which is to say: when it’s over, it’s over.
This concludes the open space technology series, started in 2022:
Noticing responses to problems; there’s a whole set. The consultant’s reaction to each of these as they arise.
When people learn I’m a consultant, conversation often proceeds to problems and problem-solving. It’s true that I only get hired well after there is a problem. Typically a problem that has gotten so lousy that nobody wants to deal with it and it has therefore become worth the trouble—of spending time, money, effort, and reputation—to bring in somebody to sort it out.
That said, I like completeness. What other responses do I notice to problems? (Other than solving them.) I don’t know that any of these are universally good or bad. But I do see people having three additional responses, and acting based on them. These are:
Solving problems (the first response we think of)
Pushing problems around
Preserving problems
Promoting new problems
Let’s look at each of these three ‘P’s in turn.
No. 0001. Pushing problems around
When I was facilitating staff-led continuous improvement projects, this was the common outcome. Making things better here by making them worse there. This is what most problem-solving in medium and large organizations look like, because this is what local optimization looks like. This is fine, in a certain sense, and a huge waste of time, in another. A key point is to not blame people for pushing problems around. They’re playing the game in front of them, and playing to win. Instead, when you see this happening, look for their boss’s boss and fix the incentives and system view there.
No. 0002. Preserving problems
Clay Shirky wrote, in part of a 2010 blog post that is no longer online:
Institutions will try to preserve the problem to which they are the solution.
Kevin Kelly named it ‘The Shirky Principle’ and wrote, also in 2010:
The Shirky Principle declares that complex solutions (like a company, or an industry) can become so dedicated to the problem they are the solution to, that often they inadvertently perpetuate the problem. … Because of the Shirky Principle, […] progress sometimes demands that we let go of problems.
A very easy thing to look for when there’s a problem are the people who depend on it. Who’d lose out if the problem were solved? You don’t have to agree with these people—the ones who preserve the very problems you’re working to eliminate. But you had better know who they are and include them in your plan.
No. 0003. Promoting new problems
Always ask this. It’s one of Neil Postman’s six questions about technology (from a 1998 lecture):
What problems do we create by solving this problem?
Once you eliminate your number one problem, you promote number two.
The ability to find the problem in any situation is the consultant’s best asset. It’s also the consultant’s occupational disease. To be a consultant, you must detest problems, but if you can’t live with problems, consulting will kill you.
Does this mean you must give up trying to solve problems? Not at all. It means that you must give up the illusion that you’ll ever finish solving problems. Once you give up that illusion, you’ll be able to relax now and then and let the problems take care of themselves.
People who can solve problems do lead better lives. But people who can ignore problems, when they choose to, live the best lives. If you can’t do both, stay out of consulting.
In my own practice, the primary way of dispelling this illusion is to get a good diagram going so that everybody can see their problems, agree on what they are, and pick a few that are actually worth fixing. More on that soon.
Two simple facilitation methods you can start anytime by drawing a single line on a sheet of paper. What these are and when to use them.
These two methods require you to draw a single line to start, which makes them very easy and portable. You don’t need to think of yourself as a facilitator. Just draw a line and move the conversation along.
Actions|Results
Bring Actions|Results out when people are talking about what to do next in a situation and things get muddled.
First, draw a single line somewhere everybody can see it. Write ‘Actions’ as a heading to the left side, and ‘Results’ to the right.
Then, as you hear specific proposals or ideas, start placing actions to the left side of the line and results to the right.
Leave plenty of space.
At some point, you may choose to explain yourself. The relationship between these two is like this:
We’ll take some action → to get to this result.
We want this result → so let’s try this action.
In most groups, you’ll hear some proposed actions (‘let’s train everyone on the new process’) as well as results (‘everyone needs to use the new process by XY date’). Keeping these two separated allows for structured thinking to arise. Encourage new connections or filling in of blanks on this basis.
At the end, a picture emerges that you can ask questions about. For any proposed result, there are probably several actions that could lead to the result—which ones are easiest, quickest, easily reversible, etc.? And for any proposed action, there’s an end result in mind—does everyone agree with the result, and how useful do we think the action will be in getting us there?
Use this picture to start choosing feasible or necessary next steps.
And the picture is helpful when looking for performance measures. Computers are usually better at counting actions than they are results. But the relationships you’ve identified between actions and results can hint toward a larger theory of change. I’ve noticed this is typically the most durable outcome of what can seem like a simple, improvised method.
+|Δ (Plus|Delta)
The second method, +|Δ, is a great way to wrap up or check out of a gathering. It’s a very popular method—you may have used it or experienced it yourself.
First, draw a single line somewhere everybody can see it. Write ‘+’ as a heading to the left side, and ‘Δ’ to the right. Maybe write out ‘delta’ or ‘change’ as a caption next to the latter.
Then, ask people for their feedback and write down what you hear.
Pluses: what’d they like? what should we keep doing?
Deltas: what should we change next time? For this, I encourage a ‘complaints with recommendation’ format, where any complaints are welcome, but a positive recommendation should come with ’em.
Now the important part: act on what’s there. For recurring meetings, I like to briefly bring up previous +|Δ board(s) while announcing any agenda, format, or logistical changes happening as a result.
An encouragement
I hope you try one of these, especially if it seems a bit out of character for you. Facilitation might seem arcane, but it can be very simple.
What’s fun about these methods is that they are easy enough to do with no setup and no ceremony. And you get much of the benefit of more complex methods: the chance to slow down, think in a more structured, communal way, and organize ideas spatially.
10 years ago today, I started Improve Something Today. I don’t intend to make a huge ceremony of it, but I would like to mark the occasion in two ways.
First, in the spirit of learning in public, I’d like to share 10 things I’ve learned while writing this site. I’ve been writing online a hell of a lot longer than that, but here—this site, this decade—is where some growth has occurred.
And second, I’m starting a series of 10 daily posts on the site—a series of topics I’ve wanted to deal with for a bit but haven’t been able to give their due. E-mail newsletter readers can expect a wrap-up of all these in the next newsletter, planned for June 2. In the meantime, check back to see what’s going on. Some of the most energetic periods of time for me were when I was posting daily, and I’d like to revisit that temporarily to mark the anniversary.
I am grateful for everyone who reads along, or listens to the podcast, or follows up with additional commentary or ideas. It’s my good fortune to know many of you directly because of our friendship or past and future connections, and it’s been a delight to have gotten to meet and get to know more of you along the way.
Spending a few minutes together in these words and pages is the biggest support a person could ask for. Thank you for that. As always, there are additional ways to support the site if you’d like—all voluntary, and most of them non-monetary.
With that said:
10 things I’ve learned in 10 years of writing
(No pressure.)
Thing No. 0001. Learning in public § sharing what I’m learning
I’m a perfectionist. I want to have everything dialed in before ‘going public’. But the outset is a great time to write about something, especially in a format as mutable as a blog. When I change my mind, I can write about that too. I can fix mistakes. I can remove the oldest, lousiest stuff entirely. And when I share what I’m only beginning to learn, others will share what they already know. What a treasure.
Thing No. 0002. Learning in public § sharing what I’m bored of
This is the curse of knowledge: the things we’re bored of are the things most valuable to others. Once I figure out how to do something, I’m onto the next one. That’s a big part of the forever appeal of consulting for me. People around me know how to do things that are amazing to see. The curse of knowledge is what keeps me from realizing that the same thing holds the other way around. So: when I’ve figured something out and worked out all the gimmicks, I gotta give it away. (Then I have a URL to refer back to or pass along to the next person who asks.)
Thing No. 0003. Learning in public § holding back on the middle
In between the previous two things: a big messy middle of learning, road-testing across client engagements, trial and error. This is my ‘apprenticeship to the truth’, where I take what I’m working on, perhaps somewhat Gollum-like, and hide it in some gross cavern for a while until it is ready to move along. I’m OK with that, at least for a while. You might have to come and lure me back out with some neat riddles. Feel free to do that as needed.
Thing No. 0004. A time-machine readership
It’s good to write the thing I, personally, would have benefited most from having read one, five, or 10 years ago. Also good to write the exact thing I’ll wish I’d written down in five years’ time. While I’d need a time machine to accrue these benefits directly, other people with the same curiosities and questions are out there today, right now. So I write for them, for you, and for me.
Thing No. 0005. Ignoring the numbers
Metrics, analytics, open rates, time-on-whatever. Turn these right off. Following the numbers has had a ruinous effect on the web. When I redesigned the site last year, I switched to this old-school mode where you go to the home page and read everything. Just scroll down. When you get to the bottom, it loads older stuff in. The reason this went away was to increase the fidelity of analytics (so that every little click, tap, and interaction could be measured) and to create more turf for advertisements. I don’t need those things. So if you’re on the home page you can… scroll on down. Start where you like, stop when you like. No ‘read more’ links, no pop-ups. It’s chill.
Thing No. 0006. Using media formats all y’all enjoy
I offer an e-mail newsletter because some people want to read it. I offer a podcast because other people want to listen to it. My preference would be to publish solely on the site and via RSS, and then, as the poem goes, to be ‘forgotten even by God.’ But giving you, my readers, what you want has only been beneficial. I’ve noticed that different people seem to follow along in different ways, which is such a delight.
Thing No. 0007. Avoiding social media or proprietary networks
I remember fondly the period of time when I’d cross-post things from this site as Twitter threads. What was wonderful about that is that people would reply to or favorite individual sentences. It was the most fine-grained writing feedback I ever got, and I liked it. It was super helpful in discerning what was useful and for whom and how so. My sweetheart Liana is a writer, and I notice that her ideal reader would be one who pauses after each sentence to recite detailed, specific adulation about the glories of those words before proceeding on to the next. (I think Liana’s writing is great, but even I tend to round up feedback to the paragraph or even scene level. Sorry, sweetheart.) We find ourselves in a strongly non-ideal world. Twitter is gone, the horrible blue web sites remain horrible. So I make the web site home. I can cross-post and promo elsewhere as much as I like (which is very little, and only in a few places).
Thing No. 0008. Making it easy to sign up for the e-mail newsletter
I’ve learned that if you have an e-mail newsletter, you have to actually make it easy for people to sign up for it. I’m not an expert in this area, but I know the person who is, and here is their detailed advice. I wish I’d done this years earlier.
Thing No. 0009. Finding you & not losing touch over the years
There are people I’ve met or gotten to know even a little bit as a byproduct of writing this site. And then there are people I’ve managed to keep at least somewhat in touch with over the years via this site. That means so much to me, and the secret is that I’m pretty sure I benefit from it more than anybody else.
Thing No. 0010. Residing in gratitude
I’m grateful for the moments we’ve shared together, for the links and corrections and ideas and jokes and whatever else. I’m grateful that even in the degraded state of the internet and the awful state of the world in 2026, there are fussy, calm, weird places like this where we can be in communication. I’m grateful for your attention, even if you’re just flitting past. And I’d be most grateful if you could take an idea or method you find here and use it to improve something today.
Mandy Brown is accepting applications now through April 22 for the next cohort of her speculative fiction workshop, which will meet weekly from late May to early July. I participated last year and hugely benefited from the experience. Mandy’s pitch:
Join a small group of people to practice new ways of thinking, being, and acting through your work, using the power of speculative fiction. Each week, you’ll write and play with stories, scenes, and notions about what work could become—unburdened by the practical realities of your day-to-day—and then reflect with fellow workers about what that writing tells you about your environment, standpoint, needs, and dreams of the future.
One idea I took from Mandy’s workshop is far-fetching. As I received it, far-fetching is the practice of reaching far out into a desired or necessary future and finding some piece of it—however far-fetched—to bring (‘fetch’) back into the current moment. Something practical to do with hope, in hope. There are, and have been, many small things I’ve far-fetched in this way in the year since. All this to say that I’m grateful for Mandy’s hosting of the workshop previously. And you have my strongest encouragement to read through the invitation and consider applying.
I’m now going to do something very rarely do, which is to recommend a book I haven’t read yet, because it comes out April 16—tomorrow, as of this writing. The book is information architect & community convener Abby Covert’s third:
‘Timeless Sensemaking for Modern Sensemakers’ is a book for people doing real work with real people, where making sense actually matters. It borrows quietly from the idea of a spell book. Not in the sense of fantasy or mysticism, but in the older sense of a grimoire: a working collection of practices, observations, cautions, and tools, refined through use. It is written by a practitioner who has also walked alongside and taught thousands of people to make sense.
The basis on which I recommend even before reading is that Abby’s work is both remarkable and durable. And I want her to have a big first day of sales.
Abby’s first book is one I refer to weekly. It’s available in full online at howtomakesenseofanymess.com, which means I can point you directly to page 57. Her second book was also great. And I have high hopes for the third, which I’ll order as soon as it’s available tomorrow. Get your copy here:
Finally, my friends and neighbors Shannon & Jamie, the ‘synthpop spouses,’ are releasing their second album of 80s cover songs this Friday, April 17. They’re also on tour—Liana and I caught their hometown show last year, and had a blast.
My favorite track is their cover of The Human League’s Don’t You Want Me, a lovely-but-weird song that is totally rehabilitated by their performance. Now, you might ask: why music, I thought we were being all gloomy and serious and knees deep in the work until we’re done. Art, culture, goofy-ass fun: we have to hang on to these as the structures by which we far-fetch—bringing from there back to here—the stubbornness and other energies needed in our shared project of universal liberation. So get listening. Can’t wait until Friday? Start with Dancing in the Dark from the first 80s kids album.
