We have all had to write reports, prepare information and documentation, either to meet ad hoc requests or as a regular submission. Have you ever noticed that it usually takes far more time to prepare that information than it ever seems for the recipient to read it, or for any action or follow-up to emanate and drive activity?

I have always held that reports and information provided are pointless unless they inform a hypothesis, or serve an action or a decision.

I was explaining the delights of Occam’s Razor once again last week. For those who have never heard of it, according to an English 14^th Century Franciscan friar, when presented with options we are always better off selecting the simplest. That discussion gave me over to considering the volume of pure waste created within industry from preparing information that was not required. Picture it – Alps of real or representational paper, the frozen detritus of misrepresented requests, unchallenged requirements or habit. As Roethke put it:

Ritual of multigraph, paper-clip, comma,
Endless duplicaton of lives and objects

For the sake of argument, let’s call it guff.

I am as guilty as the next person, both of producing the guff without challenging the reason, and requesting others produce the guff and then not reading it properly, or at all.

It’s because in organisations, much as we loth to admit it, the need for information is almost always over-specified.

So how about a calculation to apply to all requests for information – the Guff Quotient:

Of course the Guff Quotient isn’t ever likely to be a real measure – but it takes a step towards understanding the sheer quantum of wasted time and effort involved.

If we all considered as both requestees – asking why information was needed – and as requesters – asking why we actually need the information and what might happen if we didn’t have it – we could possibly make an enormous contribution to collective organisational productivity, and free significant time for more worthy, valuable and creative activity.

What will you do next time you are faced with a guff decision?

Having been blogging (and loving it) for over a year, I asked myself recently when reading some tweets discussing how to maximise readership, at what point does blogging lose its innocence? When does the thrill of self-publishing, of sharing questions, ideas and views and generating a response from others – often people we don’t even know (yet) – make way for the addrenalin rush associated with sport, and the competitive urge?

When does blogging become sport?

Bloggers want influence. We want to know what we are saying is read, and to provoke thought and response. We want to be a source of reference, even to be quoted. Deep within the mix of excitement and nervousness at releasing a new post, our vanity desires a reaction.

Yet we (as in so many areas of life and work) are riders of the normal distribution – albeit refreshingly it is an ever-shifting population. It may not quite be a case of you only being as good as your last post, but a run of inspiring – or pointless – posts will shift your appeal.

As most who blog know, it is hard work. Garnering a readership takes time, thought, effort and persistence. We are often limited by the size and maturity of the field we are in or the subjects we cover, or of the composition of the network we have created. When we break out to other fields we are strangers, and it takes time once again to earn readership. “Here I am barbarian for men understand me not” as Ovid said.

But those stats packages are transfixing. So much rich detail. They look like a powerpoint slide the finance team create. Our mood and emotions react when we process what we find. We check them regularly after each post is released. And regularly thereafter.

Nietzsche, essentially a philologist, stated that “we think because we have named something that we have described it”.  In the same way, from data on the number of times a post has been viewed we have no measure of influence, and the extent to which our writing has reached deeply into our readership. We don’t know how many read the first two lines and gave up. Or got there by accident.

It’s the same with Twitter and followers – it’s not about the number, it’s about who they are, how they engage with you, and how they can add to the richness of your network – and you can add to theirs. It’s about the social relationship created. But you can see that for some, its sport too.

So when blogging is all about messaging tailored for the purpose of boosting readership , is it no longer genuine? Has it become in its own (generally non-remunerated) way just like the shallow business of music, authorship or the “popular press” – “blogsport”? Can the blogosphere, as a self-regulating, self-balancing community, detect this, and somehow correct it?

For those souls tortured by their data, when will the first stats-induced nervous breakdown occur, and when will blogsport counsellors emerge, to re-build the shattered egos?

As a contribution to the body of counselling that will undoubtedly emerge, I am reminded of Rick Wakeman’s response to a journalist who (quite rightly, at the time) savaged his latest offering – “it’s my f—ing album, isn’t it?”

I think these questions are important – so will be checking my stats later. And tomorrow. And comparing them to last week. OK, breathe, and relax…..do you have that counsellor’s number?

Never lose that innocence.

So that’s it then.

I have given in my cards. I have declined to renew my memberships to the British Council for Offices (BCO) and CoreNet Global (in reality CoreNet USA). And now that the Workplace Consulting Organisation (WCO) – on the brink of obscurity – has decided to charge for membership, I have left that too. That would just leave the British Institute of Facilities Management (BIFM), but I believe the corporate membership I was once included within was cancelled. So now I don’t belong to anything professional that charges a fee. Free. Or lonely?

I used to rely heavily on professional bodies and their organised events for the building of a network, in the days before social media (if there were actually days before). You proudly displayed the badge on your CV. You talked up your commitment to networking. You attended CPD events and marked them off in your diary.

True, there are some bodies whose professional exams confer the right to enter and practice a profession. I acknowledge their right to do so as examination boards. However even they, in their broader sense, lie within the scope of what I say below.

The contention of this blog is that their place and future of professional and trade organisations in our working lives is no longer assured. Here are some possible reasons why:

• They – like guilds – are internally focussed, committed to preserving the mystique and unique character of the trade, and creating real or perceived barriers to entry – yet the value of interaction is increasingly being derived from an all-encompassing open environment, where multiple perspectives and differing experience is valued… this is the essence of co-working, jellies, tweet-ups, unconferences, barcamps…. who only wants to mix with people who do similar things to you?
• “Structured” is now more likely than not instantly unappealing – it implies format, rigidity, constraint, format, authority, direction – all concepts that are anathema to free thought, tangents, inspiration and surprise
• The bulk of membership fees levied go toward funding and supporting a bloated self-fulfilling zero-value bureaucracy with rules, policies, regulations and other expected but unnecessary “services”
• They are inherently out-dated – there will always be those whose thinking and practices have moved on, while the organisations languish – by the time they are recognise trends that may affect themselves or their profession, and a committee or working group is formed to discuss them, the trends have matured, and new trends are emerging from them
• Younger professionals have already established informal networks made possible by social media, and therefore have already peeled away by the time they may be ready to join – or do so soon after joining, realising that the benefit is minimal at best
• They fund and issue publications that no-one needs, and claim ownership of knowledge and information – but the best stuff is already out there, freely available, as its published
• The credibility once associated with membership – on your CV, say – is now better expressed through your full three-dimensional identity – your wider networks, your blog, your social interactions – you no longer need the stamp of legitimacy that membership once conferred, as it is your broader activity that generates a greater credibility
• They rely on the energy, commitment, enthusiasm and IP of the individual members to create their value proposition, despite charging them to belong – and the members are realising that the same (and greater) value can be obtained outside the organisation, and without charge
• They confer a multitude of “awards” that are becoming increasingly meaningless as in a networked world success and achievement is transmitted quickly and appraisal almost instantaneous – and a far greater value is placed on experimentation and courageous initiative that wards do not recognise – the judgment of the organisation no longer equates to the value in the profession

So in celebration of all that is unplanned, unstructured, tangential, multidisciplinary and undisciplined, and of course free of charge, I thought I might create the Global Institute of Nowhere (GiN). A pointless, non-membership, ungoverned professional body for everyone. And everything has a lower case “i” in it these days.

Here at GiN we encourage active participation. It really is very easy. Get a blog, get a Twitter account, get off your backside and meet people. See you out there.