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“Scope, Schedule, Budget. Pick two.” This unattributed quote is famous among people who manage projects for a living. The Triple Constraint, it is formally called by the Project Management Institute. I’ve been doing this so long that I often assume everyone understands the fundamental nature of this concept. It is pretty simple, but the nuances are tricky.

• Scope: What are we trying to accomplish? What are we building? What’s for dinner
• Schedule: When will it be done? When can I move in? When’s dinner?
• Budget: How many people will we need? What will it cost? Who’s buying dinner?

“Pick two” means that you can impose your will on two of the three, but I get to calculate the third. If you want a gourmet dinner by 6:00 pm this evening (scope and schedule) then I get to calculate the cost (probably a lot because I will have to pull some strings). If you want a gourmet dinner for under $30, then I get to calculate the schedule and will probably ask for more time to find some chef willing to work for free. You get the idea, right?

The nuance comes when your boss tells you they want a gourmet dinner tonight for under $30. Now, you have to figure out which of those three the boss really values the most. You might have to apply creative license to “gourmet” or you may be a little later than 6:00 or it may run a little over $30.

But what about the real world? The truth is executives often will try to impose all three on you. Usually in the form of cutting budget or adding scope during the course of the project. Do not, under any circumstances, throw your humble blogger under the bus. Simply add a prominent risk to your list. For example, if your budget was cut, the risk is that you will miss the date or not everything the boss wanted will get done. If scope is added, the risk is that you will blow your budget.

I could go on for hours about how to document and manage risks but then I’d risk missing my buss.

Scope, Schedule, Budget: Which two would you pick?

Sometimes it’s hard to be the adult in the room. I am at my best when I have a clear head and when I see situations as neither good nor bad. I am not at my best when I am frustrated/angry/sad. The steps to a clear head and neutrality are this:

1. Someone says something “dumb” or asks the same question (asked and answered) for the third time
2. The heat of frustration and anger rises from my chest, through my throat, and into my head. I’m like Lewis Black’s Anger in Inside Out.
3. Deep breath
4. Calm Down.
5. Don’t Panic

I don’t remember to follow my own advice . But it does work every time I remember to do it. Then, I’m in a better state of mind to deal with whatever I need to deal with. Instead of making it worse by being a hot head.

What makes you angry?

Mike Rowe has a new-ish podcast. The other day I heard one about a hispanic Elvis impersonator who moved to Hollywood to make it big as a pop singer. Producers figured he could be the next Enrique Iglesias. Only he wanted to be bigger than that. So he rebranded. Instead of a “me-too” Enrique Iglesias, Bruno Mars is now a Grammy winning artist.

Now, we are not all Bruno Mars (thankfully), but we can take a lesson from him. Despite Shakespeare’s claim about the smell of oddly named roses, there is power in a label. And for years I’ve labeled myself a project manager. For the past half a dozen years, I’ve called myself an IT project manager. It’s time for a re-brand. I’m not sure how that will end up looking, but I will become known as a guy who leads teams to get things done. Things that make a difference. Freelance project manager? Sure. Blogger with a twisted view of project management? Yeah. And, a guy who brings it all together when it matters most.

Who are you? What do you do?

You know that thing where you never see Corvettes until you buy one, then you can’t stop seeing Corvettes? Yeah, me neither. At least not with Corvettes. Nissan Rogues, however… Anyway, it’s called the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon. And I’ve got it bad.

The same enlightening concepts keep coming up and Baader-Meinhof or not, I’m going to use this momentum to make a difference. Who’s with me??

I told Paul my idea to put a sketch or photo on every post to attract attention. His response was:

That’s exactly what you have to do. Also, don’t waste more time drawing and less time writing.

With that advice firmly in hand, I sat down to write and spent 20 minutes working on the Trump sketch. What is it about humans that we can know the right thing to do, have it firmly in our brains, and when we sit down to do the work, we find some way of distracting ourselves?

When I’m leading a team, how often do I “waste more time drawing and less time writing?” How often to do I encourage my team to “waste more time drawing and less time writing?” Am I creating this Gantt Chart because it is the right tool to communicate tasks, timing, and interdependencies leading to inspiration for my team members to do the right thing at the right time? Or am I just doing it because it is a way to feel busy and hide from the hard work of inspiring people?

I am a story teller. It’s my thing. So how about if I always start by writing a story. During project planning it’ll be a story of the future. Here’s what we are creating. Here’s what will happen first. Here’s what will happen next. Here’s the source of tension and suspense. Here are the obstacles our hero will face. Here is how he will overcome them. Here is how much money it will take and how many people and how long. Once the story is written, then I can start finding ways to organize the information and communicate it to people who need to know it. Maybe I end up with a Gantt Chart, but maybe not. Maybe I end up with a formal Business Plan, but maybe not. Maybe I end up with all of the mainstream tools and techniques and 100% Project Management Institute sanctioned approaches, but maybe not. Or, maybe I will invent a brand-new-never-been-tried-before way of managing a project that will only ever be used once and only ever on this one project. And maybe it will be the perfect approach for this project at this time. Maybe that’s just too weird, but maybe not.

What is your favorite mainstream tool?

Nice family trip to Chicago for the weekend.  Looking out across the skyline brings up all the reasons I miss living here.  All the reasons I loved calling Chicago home.  This city feels like my home town.  The variety, the people, the energy, the lights and the design and the art and the endless  new things to try.  The big city is a place where anything seems possible.

So, I wonder to myself why I left Chicago nearly ten years ago. Left my home town to adopt a new home town in Indianapolis. The old thoughts being to creep in. And questions bubble up…

Did Chicago suck the energy out of me? A big city has an electric energy.  That’s undeniable.  But where does the city draw its energy from? From those of us too unaware to keep it from sucking our energy. I remember being tired all the time. Stressed all the time. Sad most of the time. Worried most of the time. With everything to do, there seemed never to be enough friends to do it with. There were people who drifted in and out and those I tried to grasp on to.  And there were very few close friends to draw energy from. So the energy mostly went in one direction – toward the city. Only seldom from the city or from friends back into my core.

Then there was the flight from the city. First Greg (actually Greg left before I got here).  Then Rob. Then Kathy (did she actually leave or did we just stop seeing her when Rob left?). Then Greg and Ann. Toni. Constance became close with here work friends at the same time that I traveled too much for work to become close with anyone.

Speaking of work. From one shit job to the next. What started as just a job to get out of Lafayette and into Chicago became a miserable, dirty chemical plant job and hour each way. Two hours in the car, 8 or 9 at work, tired when I got home. Phone calls from Lazy Bob at late hours. Drinking a bottle of vodka every 2 days and waking up late and hung over to start the whole process again. I didn’t need a big city to do all that. I could have lived in Indy and commuted to the dirty chemical plant job in Lafayette. At least that job was not a shit job. And no Lazy Bob.

My idea was to move to Chicago. But there were no chemical engineer jobs in Chicago. I finally was sick of waiting. I was going to move to Chicago and find any job. Bartending seemed good. I could tend bar and live in Chicago. Not exactly building for the future, but it would get me to Chicago. And in hind sight, I’d probably have close to the same net worth now if I had been a bartender all these years. And maybe a few less worry lines in my forehead.  But that’s an alternate universe. Instead, I was talked into the idea that if I were to get “just a job” then why not get a good paying job using my degree and experience? Unfortunately, Joe Rogan had not yet started his podcast or even his stand up comedy career and had not done his rant about the society trap. The problem with using your degree and experience to get “just a job” is that there is no such thing as “just a job” using your degree and experience. I am talking here about “a career” and not “just a job”. “A career” comes with different expectations. Different pressures. A different standard of living to strive for and hold onto. It comes with more to lose if you lose it. Get fed up tending bar for Southport Lanes? Go to Roscoe’s. Get fed up at Roscoe’s or with tending bar in general? Get a job at a hotel or a bike shop or a friggin bookstore or coffee shop for all I care. Point is, none of those jobs come with expectations of longevity. Or suckuperry. The bosses might turn out to be douchebags but at least they don’t expect me to not be a douchebag if the situation warrants it.

Okay, so maybe Chicago didn’t suck me dry. Maybe it was “the career” that sucked me dry. Or trying to pursue “the career” that I never really wanted.

If I sound regretful or melancholy or like one of those shows where some old guy with a face like a map of the Paris underground, it is probably because of all the emotions that come up when I look out across the cityscape. The same old feelings of excitement come up. It’s like I’m back in Grant park at the bandshell listening to Jazz on a balmy September evening. Sipping wine with friends. Knowing I had just moved to Chicago. As I took in the city skyline, I just thought, “I live here now.” And Dolores said, “you will have such a great time here.” And I believed her. See, the job was still just a job. I was in Chicago! And every dream and every walk through the city and every party and every exciting challenge and theatre performance and band and restaurant and every brush with fame and all the fun and love and deep, meaningful experiences were all in front of me.

The biggest difference between looking out across the cityscape nineteen and a half years ago and now is that now the excitement abates quickly, knowing that I don’t live here now. The fun and the parties and the experiences are now all behind me and they were not nearly as plentiful or as meaningful as I thought they would be. Not many of the dreams came true and the brushes with fame were just other famous people who I sometimes recognized.

It’s not all gloom and doom. I am a father. The most important work I could ever do is raising these two wonderful girls. I love it and I can not imagine anything more profound or deep or meaningful than being their daddy.

I guess it’s pretty common for things to turn out differently than you imagine. And as I  look out across the cityscape that was to be the empty canvass upon which I was going to create my spectacular, extraordinary life, I am wistful. Not for the life I have created, which I love. But for the life that might have been. That was supposed to have been. But that never got off the ground.

AFTERWARD

It’s important to point out – especially to those who love me – that I am not regretful of the life I have with you. I writing to understand my pensive feelings when I look at the city.  I love this city but I had gotten sick of it. I now love my life in Indianapolis. I don’t at all regret my time in Chicago. I found some fantastic people and had some absolutely great times.

Melissa, Danny, even Greg, Pam, Rich, Vince, Chainsaw, Anna, Pi, Erica, and everyone we used to hang out with (especially the ones I mentioned who left us): I love you and I love the memories we have together.

Constance, Elizabeth, Simone, Poppy, Strawberry, Button, and all my friends and family in Indy and elsewhere: I love our life together. The best is yet to come!

1. If I didn’t catch what you said, I will ask you to repeat it up to two times. After that I’ll make something up and answer the question I pretended you asked.

2. Nobody remembers anybody’s name. Let’s start speaking in third person and dispense with the fantasy that me remembering your name means I like you more.

3. I’m sorry I cut you off and made you miss your turn. But we don’t have a standard signal for “sorry. my bad.” So please put that finger away and let me continue ignoring you.

4. Thanks for holding the door for me. But since I was still 10 yards away from the door, I had to do that little fake jog thing to create the appearance of not holding you up, which really negated any benefit you holding the door was supposed to bring.

Feel free to add any I might have missed.