Boxing gloves. MMA gloves. In fact, a complete training set – pads, helmet, knee protection. A sports suit, even two – for summer and autumn. A guitar. A synthesizer. Dumbbells. Sneakers specifically bought for running. Wireless headphones, of course.
All of this is lying in my apartment. Formally, it’s all mine. But I don’t use it, as I bought it not for myself. Well, I did lift the dumbbells a couple of times, tinkered with the synthesizer, mastered the A chord on the guitar, attended MMA training for a month, and ran for the same duration. But one shouldn’t abuse someone else's goodwill, right? What if the owner of all these wonderful things comes back and doesn’t appreciate my impudence?
What do you think, who is he? Who did I buy all this for? Hold on, you’ll find out soon.
In the meantime, let me tell you about my old job – a factory programmer. In my articles, I often mention one thesis: almost everything that a factory programmer is asked to do is of no use to anyone. Not only does it not benefit the business, but it also ends up being unused.
While I was engaged in external automation, i.e., being on the integrator's side, enterprises usually ordered what they needed. Typically, it was a transition from one system to another, and accordingly, 'make the functionality no worse than in the old system.' A transition plan was drawn up, roughly estimating how the old functionality would be implemented in the new program, and something was done with all of this.
But when I started working at the factory, it felt like stepping into a fairytale. A person comes in – it doesn’t matter who, from production, supply, sales, economists, accountants – and asks for some ridiculous thing. I, from old memory, think that this person needs it, that they will immediately start using the results of my labor, feel its benefits, bring benefits, and so on.
I do it, roll it out, demonstrate it, refine it, perfect it – all done, the functionality is accepted. And… And… Pff… Nothing.
The person continues to work as they did before. They aren’t using the new thing they ordered. Not at all.
Moreover, this applied to both regular employees and managers, as well as the owner. The owner says – I want to see the company's performance indicators on one screen! Make it happen for me, this is exactly what I was missing! I can't dig through a dozen reports; I want it all on one screen, visually represented!
Well, I do it – after all, such a person wouldn't ask for something they don't need. But no. They get the charts on their monitor, play around for a couple of days, and then stop using it. I occasionally ask – are you using it? Yes, they say, of course! But I can see in their eyes that they are not.
I decided to check – both for them and others. Facts are needed, after all; they always come in handy. I created a small subsystem that tracks the use of any forms, reports, etc. I called it Usage Statistics of Automation Functionality (USAF).
I waited for some time, checked – wow, 90% of what was created is not being used. Ninety percent, Carl! I show it to the owner, and he's furious! After all, the programmer is paid a lot of money! I, of course, immediately gain the right to decide which automation requests to fulfill and which not to. Meanwhile, clients are required to utilize everything they ordered.
What drives a healthy, intelligent, responsible adult to ask for something they don't need? Moreover, if you think about it, the functionality is useful. It's particularly obvious when a manager changes. One didn’t use it, the second comes in, looks, and says – wow, what a cool thing, I'm going to use it!
And if you tell the new user that using it is mandatory – they won't even hesitate, they will take it up and praise it. And then they'll ask for something 'for themselves,' I'll create it (since I give new people a trust credit), and then connect USAF – the result is almost always the same.
The same happens practically with everything that people request at work. No, when a person's computer breaks down and they ask for a new one – there's no question, they will definitely use what they asked for.
For example, when a survey is conducted asking if we need a DMC program, a corporate gym/pool membership, or a personal fitness trainer at the office — most people eagerly raise their hands. However, once the requested program is implemented, within a month or two, the number of participants dwindles so much that no economic, corporate-cultural, or budgetary explanation can keep it running.
Looking at all this, I've intuitively come up with simple rules for myself — not to waste resources on changes until they are established. At least where it's accessible to me. Primarily — in my work and that of my subordinates.
For example, many managers want to have some kind of cool management system. This is a real problem for a factory programmer — another person comes in and starts listing what they need for effective management. After a couple of proposals, I stop them and say — that's it, I'm no longer giving the benefit of the doubt to new people, you’re on probation. Manage with the tools available. Prove effectiveness, then you'll get resources.
I act the same way. Need a task management system for several programmers? I put up a board with sticky notes. No board? No problem, we can stick some A4 sheets together. Need a notification system for new tasks? A Telegram chat. It’s even more convenient for task assigners.
Is there a chance to create my own system? Easy, we can put one together in a day. No frills, unnecessary analysis, conveniences, etc. Just the basic, essential functionality right now. But — without strict adherence to current processes. That is, the system contains atomic entities — tasks, users, timelines, queues, etc. And the algorithm lives in my mind — until it proves its effectiveness.
In short, I act exactly contrary to how managers behave in factories. I don’t ask for what I don’t need. I only use what is cheap, readily available, and I wouldn’t mind tossing out.
But, as I mentioned, this approach I came to intuitively — simply by observing the mistakes of my colleagues. That’s how I’ve been living for the past few years.
And things at home continued to accumulate until I applied the same approach to my personal life. Everything I listed at the beginning of the text was bought over a year ago — since then, nothing 'like that' has been added.
Well, that's how I lived. Until I read Kelly McGonigal's book "The Willpower Instinct. How to Develop and Strengthen It." That's when everything fell into place.
So, are you ready to find out for whom I bought boxing gloves, Kolya ordered a cork board for the office, Lena bought a CRM system, and Galya installed two massage chairs?
Not for myself. That is, for myself. But not for the present self, rather for the future self. For my future self.
It turns out that every person fundamentally separates the current self and the future self. So fundamentally, in fact, that these two selves are analyzed by different parts of the brain. When a person thinks about the future self, the part that perceives the current self simply shuts down.
The future self is a Stranger. That self, which exists in dreams. He looks nothing like me.
He is always exercising – jogs and attends martial arts classes. It's for him that I bought all this sports equipment – what do I need it for? The future me knows all the guitar chords, plays the synthesizer well, and his dumbbells don't gather dust. Of course, he doesn't smoke, doesn't drink, doesn't swear, and his articles are awaited like miracles. If he even writes articles – why would he need that? No, he probably lives somewhere by the sea. With boxing gloves, a guitar, and dumbbells.
All those 90% of automation ordered for me at the factory were also not for the customers, but for their future selves.
After all, who is the current me? Well, the same Vasya. Just a local prince, a collective farm manager who knows no management methods apart from "get to work quickly!", has no idea where to go if he gets fired, doesn't read books, does not improve the department's results – just barely stays afloat, hoping to not end up under "special control."
And his future self? Oh, he's a brilliant manager! Always in control, knows all aspects of the department in countless ways. It was Vasya who ordered the Supply Manager Monitor with a ton of metrics (which I had to come up with). Vasya's future self is the soul of the company; all the other managers just admire him. It was for his future self that Vasya came up with the weekly manager meetings at a restaurant, even managed to organize one meeting, but didn't show up for the second (although others came). Vasya's future self is, of course, very educated. It was he who Vasya secured company-sponsored MBA training for, even attended a couple of classes (instead of his future self), but Vasya doesn’t really need it himself, so he dropped out, and paid off the 400k debt in installments.
Experiments studying the future self confirm that we regard it as a completely different person. For example, psychologist Emily Pronin from Princeton University asked students to make a series of self-control decisions. Some chose what to do today, others chose tasks for the future, and the third group made decisions for 'that guy'.
For instance, they were asked to drink a disgusting mixture of ketchup and soy sauce (being told that it was a very important experiment, and the more they drank, the better for science). For the current self, they chose a couple of tablespoons.
Meanwhile, similar obligations were placed on the future self and 'that guy', which were twice as much as for the current self.
They did the same when asked to carve out time for a good cause – helping other students. In the current semester, they found only 27 minutes, for the future self – 85 minutes, and for 'that guy' a full 120.
And, of course, one can mention the famous marshmallow test. The same students were offered a small monetary reward now, or a larger one later. Most grabbed the small amount, because why does the future self need this money? They'll earn it later on.
Between the current self and the future self can lie an entire chasm. Of course, everything is individual, but it can get amusing – subjects were asked to describe the traits of their character in the present and future, and a brain scan revealed a rather strange picture. When people contemplated the character of their future self, they thought not of themselves, but of Natalie Portman and Matt Damon.
Hal Ersner-Hershfield, a psychologist from New York University, also conducted research on the future self. In the context of retirement savings, he wanted to find an explanation for why fewer people worry about it as the years go by.
Ersner-Hershfield suggested that it has to do with something he called continuity — a measure he invented to assess the relationship between the current and future self. In simpler terms, how aligned they are.
People with high continuity save more and take on less debt — therefore, they better secure their financial future self. The less aligned the current and future self are, the worse the financial situation.
Indeed, Ersner-Hershfield went beyond simple research; he sought to increase continuity. He collaborated with professional animators, and in a program that simulates aging, they created three-dimensional avatars of the participants. Students interacted with their aged avatars while sitting in front of a mirror, achieving a high sense of presence — the reflection mimicked their movements and expressions. As the students examined their reflection, Ersner-Hershfield asked questions, to which they responded — and the mirror also answered, simulating the future self.
At the end, students were given $1,000 each and were asked to allocate it — for current expenses, entertainment, and a retirement account. Those who "met" their future self saved twice as much for retirement as those who "received a placebo" — simply chatted with their reflection.
In short, things are bad. The gap between the current and future self is widening, and people no longer know what one needs and what the other needs.
My future self needs me to quit smoking. My current self might also benefit from that. And I want to give it dumbbells, a guitar, and boxing gloves.
At work, my future self requires leaders to at least lift their heads a little and see how their work can actually be done. Instead, they order pointless automation for their future self, yoga courses, or who knows what else.
Overall, I think the separation is very clear. The current self seeks immediate pleasures. The future self takes responsibility for the consequences.
I'll be smoking, eating burgers, buying all sorts of nonsense on credit, watching TV, ignoring the kids, drinking more often, scrolling through Facebook, and staring at YouTube. Well, why not? He'll come and fix everything. But what should I do while I'm waiting for Him to arrive? I'll just have fun.
And what about him? He'll manage.
Source: habr.com
