Tag: commuting

  • Bottlenecks, rubberneckers, and other people who slow you down

    Every commuter in Chicago is familiar with the Hillside Strangler. Prior to the early 2000s, this section of interstate where two major 6-lanes of highway merged onto a 3-lane onramp to a 5-lane city-bound highway doubled the commute of everyone. 11 lanes of traffic don’t merge into 5 lanes very well.

    The Hillside Strangler was a bottleneck. Everyone had to go through the bottle neck to get work done. Truckers. Commuters. Tourists. School busses. All of the pressure of the cities west side was placed on that 3-lane onramp each morning.

    People left an hour earlier just to sit and listen to the radio and sip coffee while they waited their turn.

    Conversely, on the ride home everyone hated rubberneckers. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat in traffic for up to an additional hour just so people in front of me could slow down and watch AAA change a tire or watch two people who got into a fender-bender fill out paperwork.

    Both are aggravating and all-too-common for commuters.

    And both are aggravating and all-too-common in organizations.

    Organizationally, bottlenecks are people, teams, or systems that slow things down at the point of decision making. While a legitimate part of the bureaucratic process they are frustrating to deal with for those who like to (or need to) take action quickly. For people on the front lines bottlenecks always take too long and  the mantra “It’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission” takes over. Which is why those who are the bottlenecks describe their job as herding cats.

    Likewise, within every organization there are rubberneckers or gawkers. These are people who like to talk about and look at things more than they like to do them. Sure, they claim it’s all human nature to want to talk about what is going on. But in the meantime they slow everything down.

    Every organization I’ve ever worked in has these two problems which slow everything down. Bottlenecks of decision or execution and rubberneckers who slow down to talk. (Or study, or hire a consultant, or pray, or wait for the board to meet, etc.) In many ways these are just the ebbs and flows of work life as you try to balance going about your everyday balance while trying to push forward to grow.

    Some organizations solve this by dispersing their teams

    Plenty of companies, some Fortune 500, are dispersing their staffs and closing offices to remove rubbernecking while dealing with the obvious issues of bottlenecks, internally. Working remotely, while once laughed at, has become en vogue as a way to keep people working and happy by eliminating the commute and office life altogether.

    Would this work in the church? Absolutely. Most church staff members I know look at their offices as more a liability towards reaching their community than an asset. No one went into ministry to be a desk jockey… but that’s most of what we do.

    Why aren’t we doing it? Perceptions and trust.

  • The woman at the well and me

    Headphones in, volume up, helmet strapped on, I mounted my bike with a lot on my mind. Already running late and frustrated that my air compressor was not working, I peddled down my block.

    With my rear tire nearly flat I knew I’d have to stop at the nearby gas station and fill it up.

    As the first segment of 60 Minutes played into my ears I pulled up to the air compressor at the corner station, quickly jumped off my bike, propping it up against the machine, took off my backpack, and started fishing around for three quarters.

    My hands were shaking. A quick glance at the time on my phone revealed I only had 6 minutes until the next train and I was at least five minutes away. But I couldn’t go another day riding around with this tire so low.

    I put the coins in the machine and it roared to life. My fingers fumbled to get the rubber cap off and the tire in the right position. All the while listening to the story of Julian Assange cooly tell his side of the story about Wikileaks on 60 Minutes. He’s a character from Superman. But is he Superman or Lex Luther? Seconds go by until I finally got the nozzle attached and squeezed the handle to start pumping air.

    I exhaled a sigh of relief.

    Just then a hand brushed across my neck and shoulder. I instantly cringed and almost fell over into my bike. The hair on my neck stood on end. Who just touched me?!? The fight or flight instinct stood me straight up, unsure which option to take.

    Startled, I looked to my right. Instantly I was put back at ease. A woman, homeless, bent over to grab the spicket to the water nozzle on the air compressor. As her friend looked on with other bottles in hand she began to fill up her water bottle.

    She and her partner live in the bushes behind the gas station and saw me pull in. They know that the water only flows from the spicket when the air compressor has money in it and were simply taking advantage of the opportunity.

    My heart sank back to its normal position. And I tried to act as cool as Assange answering those questions on 60 Minutes. We were both kidding ourselves.

    I kneeled back down to finish filling my tire. As I put the rubber cap back on my now-full tire I looked to my right one more time. Yes, I’d just been startled by a frail, strung out, and harmless woman doing what women for centuries have been doing… fetching water.

    Ashamed, I put my backpack on, mounted my bike, and peddled off.

    Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water.” John 4:13-15

    Just another day, reminded early in the morning, that Jesus is King and I’m just a jester.

  • Forgetful

    My travel companion

    I’m forgetful. I hope people find it endearing. Who am I kidding? It’s annoying.

    I never know where my keys are. I say at least 10 times a day, “Where’s my phone?” I can be so absentminded that I miss appointments, only to discover them when the person I’ve stood up calls me. That leads me to schedule things that are either close to me in proximity or meetings I can do on the phone or online. It also makes me neurotic about putting things in iCal. If I don’t write it down right away, it’s in one ear and out the other. I’d forget my own birthday if my calendar didn’t remind me. If I didn’t get billminders, I’d go to jail for never paying a single bill.

    Kristen, my saintly wife, is forgiving of my absentmindedness. I hope she finds it endearing but I fear she loathes it. Let’s just hope she finds it cute.

    Yesterday was a typical mistake. I lost track of my morning and suddenly realized it was 7:50. To catch my train I need to mount my bike at 8:00 to get to the trolley in time. So I’m rushing around, packing up my stuff for the commute. And trying my best to be social by having a cup of tea.

    I take a few gulps of tea and look outside. It’s cold. A glance at my iGoogle homepage, which tells me the high in San Diego was going to be 63. Too cold for the shorts and t-shirt I was wearing. But riding my bike in pants is a drag, so I put my stuff down and head to my closet. Right before I went to Haiti I bought a high-end rain jacket. That will work perfect. I zip that up, put my headphones in, select the latest episode of The Moth, start the clock on Runkeeper, push my bike to the curb, and off I go. It’s 8:01 and I’m on my way to work. One minute late is no big deal.

    I get to the SDSU trolley stop, turn off Runkeeper, and take the elevator down to the platform. Just before the train comes at 8:17, The Moth ends and I switch over to This American Life. As Ira Glass narrates a beautiful story about the downfall of the NUMMI plant in Fremont, California, I flick open the New York Times app, and catch up on the news.

    Fifteen minutes later, now closing in on the Gillespie Field stop in El Cajon, I stand up and wheel my bike over to the door. I press the button, tuck my iPhone back in my pocket, and wait for the train to stop. Just as the doors open I realize… I forgot to turn on Runkeeper. I get off the train and start Runkeeper. When the GPS turns on, I hit the start button, tuck my phone in my jacket pocket, and begin my ride.

    I’m lost in the story on This American Life as I huff the .75 mile up the hill to the YS offices.

    Nearly to the top of the hill it dawns on me.

    Where’s my backpack? I said it out loud to myself, “Dude, where’s your backpack? You idiot!”

    My backpack is my constant companion. That thing has been with me on countless road trips. It’s been everywhere with me. Yet, in that moment, I suddenly realize that I’ve forgotten my friend somewhere between home and the hill. But where?

    I made a u-turn and speed down the hill. The trolley is long gone, but it only makes one more stop in Santee before looping back towards Old Town. If I hustle I can make it in time. For some reason I had caught a glimpse of the Trolley number. I’m looking for train #72. That has my backpack. (And all my work stuff, including my Macbook Pro)

    Annoyed at myself, I get to the trolley stop about 7 minutes after I got off. I look down at Runkeeper. Yeah, I’m done with that. No need to log this journey.

    As  I wait for the trolley to come back, my mind wondering if the last 2 people left on the train would take my stuff, I start to think back.

    Where was my backpack? When did I last see it? I’ve forgotten a lot of stuff in my life. But never something quite so valuable. This was a lot different than leaving my keys at home, or being late for lunch with a friend, or having no idea what I did with the book I was reading on the plane.

    Looking down the tracks to the east I decided to give Kristen a call. Now that I thought about it I couldn’t be certain I ever had my backpack that morning. Maybe I had just left home without it? Either she was going to find it and make fun of me or I was going to ask her to look and she’d know I left it on the train. Either way, she was the right person to call.

    I call home and ask Kristen to look for it. Sure enough, it was sitting on the kitchen table, packed and ready to go.

    In the rush to finish my tea, find a podcast to listen to, and put something warm on… I had forgotten my stuff on the kitchen table.

    Busted. I couldn’t play it off. It was another moment where I had simply forgotten something important. I hated my absentmindedness in that moment. It’s a quirk. It’s part of who I am. But it’s not something I’m proud of.

    Fortunately, Kristen had the flexibility to stop what she was doing, wake up Megan, and bring daddy’s stuff to work for him.

    I huffed up the hill to work for the second time. With no meaningful way to start my day, (90% of my work is done online!) I had to admit to Amy that I was… indeed… an idiot who left his stuff at home. She laughed at me and with me. Yup, I’m that guy.

    Just another typical day with forgetful Adam.