getting it right

At the company where I've spent my last two summers, alignment is A Big Deal. At the end of every fiscal year, upper management for each group gets together and makes a set of commitments, which are then announced to the next level of management, who makes another set of commitments for their group that relate to the overall organization's commitments, all the way down to each individual employee, who makes a set of commitments for the year that (supposedly) align with the commitments of every sub-group that he's a part of, all the way up the chain.

Even as an intern, it was my responsibility, within the first two weeks of my arrival, to come up with a set of goals for the summer that aligned with the organization's greater aims. (Typing it out like this sounds a little bit creepy, and maybe like the "company" I was working for was actually a cult.)

The first summer that I worked there, I was approximately three degrees of terrified about writing these commitments. I didn't know if they'd be good enough, make sense, get approved, yadda yadda yadda. After all, they were my first real assignment at my first real job, and I had no idea what to expect. There was even a fancy form that we had to submit these goals of ours, and they were sent off somewhere that seemed incredibly official and important sounding. Pretty much every intern that arrives and has to write commitments for the first time freaks out and probably stays late at work at least one night making sure that everything they write is perfect.

The second summer is a lot different. I started at the same time as a couple first-time interns, back in May, and while they were frantically gathering advice from anyone they could find, I was telling them not to worry. Because as far as any of my other returning intern friends or I could tell, that form went into a big, scary, official-sounding void. Nobody had to okay them, except your manager, who, in all likelihood, was going to, because they didn't really have a solid handle of what you were going to contribute that summer either. And besides, they could be changed. They were just a piece of paper, a consequence of working at a multinational, multibillion dollar, multi-thousand person company.

So I scribbled (actually typed) something down a half hour before the meeting where my boss was going to okay my commitments, and they were okayed, and they went off into the void, and I continued working on what I was already working on, and that piece of paper really did nothing for my "alignment" of my goals with the company's.

Until something went wrong. Not bad, horrible, somebody died wrong. But both of the projects that I was working on turned out to be six month projects instead of six week projects, and both of the groups I was working with thought that I should devote my remaining time solely to their project, and that the other one, was, of course, far less important. So I was left with a choice: Work myself to the bone and not enjoy the summer at all, or make a choice on my own about which project I should actually dedicate myself to.

I decided that I wasn't ready to give my entire summer up, and so I was left with (yet another!) choice. And for this one, I didn't have a whole lot of data. Certainly, my commitments were worthless here. They just said I'd work on both projects, and gave me no help with the prioritization question.

Luckily, not everyone had spent as little time writing commitments as I had. Somewhere up the line, there was actually an established set of goals. A couple of themes that we really wanted to come across strongly in the next release of our product, a couple of objectives for the improvement of the organization. And seeing those commitments, my choice was easy.

One of my projects spoke directly to the larger goals of the organization. Besides being something that I'd said I wanted to work on, it was a core component of something my grand-grand-manager had set out for all of us to accomplish. It made the decision easy, and it was also the perfect justification to the group that I ended up leaving.

The next question to ask is, "Was I right?" Were the goals that had been set up for us almost a year in advance still the most applicable? Was designing a system of alignment like this really the best way to remain agile in a fast-paced market? I want to say no. I want to say that such a rigid structure, passed down through an organization that is not known for being particularly flat, made us lose sight of what was really important, and just grab some low-hanging fruit. We couldn't have known about the opportunity that my second project ended up fostering. It was supercool, and supernew.

But if I'm being honest, I have to say yes. The project I ended up putting most of my time into the last few weeks was somewhat boring and tedious. It also tied up a lot of loose ends on a project that was already halfway out the door. It meant a polished product with less features, but in a time where we were being heavily criticized for poor product quality, it was exactly what we needed.

Now that we've got that solid base, the organization's commitments for the new fiscal year are to get cooler. Try things that haven't been done. When I go back, I hope to pick up the work on the fun project that I had to let slide. Because this is the right time for that. And someone with a lot more market knowledge and business experience and seniority already knew that. Also when I go back, I'll put some thought into my commitments. Because I'm realizing that this alignment issue is a lot bigger deal than a couple meetings a year. And our commitments are one of the best ways we've got for making sure everyone's got the same goals in mind.

(For reference and humor, the other things I wanted to be cheeky and write this "alignment" post about: How much my back and neck hurt, how hard it is to get a document to look nice, and my D&D characters.)