Introverts and the ‘new groupthink’

Disclosure: I am a raging introvert. I’m here, I’m not particularly loud, get used to it. I can come off as aloof, uncaring and anti-social. Whenever I run or work out, I like to do so alone. It gives me time to think and clear my head after days that are all too often full of meetings, interactions and interruptions. I like to think about stuff. Sometimes I like to think about stuff more than I actually like doing stuff. Which drives my wife crazy on weekends, especially when I’m blogging instead of being, you know, productive.

I also digress.

Brainstorm-NYTimesAnyway. I tell you all of that so you will know why I come off as such a fanboy of this article, The Rise of the New Groupthink, which was published in this weekend’s New York Times Sunday Review. I can’t convey with enough enthusiasm my praise for this article. (Of course I can’t. I’m a pensive, analytical introvert. But if you would, please imagine this animated little guy inside my brain doing handsprings and screaming Squee! about this essay. Are you with me?)

(I have a feeling that most extroverts have checked out by now. Here goes Andy, all up inside his head again, with ideas and stuff, so no thank you. Next? So this may be preaching to the choir. But those extroverts in charge of things will need to know this stuff, too. So I hope you’ll pass these ideas along to them. You can bet that I will, in the same way that, back in 2003, I passed along photocopies of Jonathan Rauch’s great essay Caring for Your Introvert to every co-worker and supervisor who would receive it.)

quite-bookThe author of this article is Susan Cain, who is also the author of a forthcoming book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking. She too is an introvert and proud of it, perhaps even over-zealously so. (She advocates a “quiet revolution,” which comes complete with manifesto. To arms, comrades! In the solitude of your studies, that is.) Her essay resonates with my introverted self in many ways. But there are so many good ideas presented in that piece that anyone, introvert or extrovert, in higher ed culture — where meetings and face-to-face time can suck the energy from even the hardiest of marketing and PR minds — ought to heed.

What Cain calls the “new groupthink” is this idea, so prevalent in higher ed, as well as in many other types of organizations, that “creativity and achievement come from an oddly gregarious place.”

“Most of us,” she writes, “now work in teams, in offices without walls, for managers who prize people skills above all. … The New Groupthink has overtaken our workplaces, our schools and our religious institutions.”

Here are some ideas and takeaways from this piece that piqued my interest:

Privacy can aid creativity. In our higher ed marketing culture, where brainstorming sessions have become routine, we might think the opposite is true. But as Cain writes, “Research strongly suggests that people are more creative when they enjoy privacy and freedom from interruption. And the most spectacularly creative people in many fields are often introverted. … They’re extroverted enough to exchange and advance ideas, but see themselves as independent and individualistic. They’re not joiners by nature.”

Cain points to the success of Apple, and the quieter half of the fabled pioneering partnership, Steve Wozniak. Woz “who toiled alone on a beloved invention, the personal computer,” long before Steve Jobs entered the picture. True, Jobs deserves much credit for Apple’s success. But if not for the work of the lone engineer Wozniak, who knows what might have happened?

Takeaway: Don’t assume the most gregarious “team players” in your group are the most creative. Give people time to work in solitude.

Solitude can aid productivity. It isn’t just the creative types — designers, writers, etc. — who benefit from privacy, according to Cain. She cites one study of programmers at top-performing companies which revealed that the best weren’t necessarily the most experience or highest-paid. Instead, what distinguished the best from the rest “was how much privacy, personal workspace and freedom from interruption they enjoyed.”

In our workspace, the “front office” staff have little opportunity for solitude, and they probably suffer more than any of us from interruptions, office chit-chat, etc. Even though they aren’t designing websites or writing for the alumni magazine, they are engaged in projects and work — accounting, scheduling, organizing — that could benefit from some peace and quiet every once in a while.

Takeaway: Give all members of your team a chance for some solitude.

Solitude helps you learn. Often, “the best way to master a field is to work on the task that’s most demanding for you personally. And often the best way to do this is alone.” On the other hand, “brainstorming sessions are one of the worst possible ways to stimulate creativity.”

Takeaway: Brainstorming is great for generating ideas, but don’t expect the “great” ideas to come from those activities. And don’t rely on brainstorming as your only way to get new ideas or solve problems.

Not all group activity is bad. “Some teamwork is fine and offers a fun, stimulating, useful way to exchange ideas, manage information and build trust,” Cain writes. “But it’s one thing to associate with a group in which each member works autonomously on his piece of the puzzle; it’s another to be corralled into endless meetings or conference calls conducted in offices that afford no respite from the noise and gaze of co-workers.”

Takeaway: Don’t abandon team-building activities, but realize that sometimes we all need some time to ourselves.

In conclusion: We all should heed the immortal words of Billy Idol and, at the end of a long day, “sink another drink, ‘cuz it’ll give me time to think.”

I have pre-ordered Quiet, which releases Jan. 24, and plan to devour it as soon as I get a moment’s peace. Maybe I can even talk Susan Cain into share some insight in a Friday Five interview.

What do you think? Is Cain on to something here? Comments are open.

Gratitude

It’s probably a good thing that we have a federal holiday in this country designed to help us pause and reflect, just before we gorge ourselves, on all we should be thankful for.

It’s probably a good thing Abe Lincoln proclaimed that national day back in 1863, at the height of a bloody Civil War, “as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens.” (Talk about heavy-handed governmental interference. What would the party of Lincoln think of that? But I digress.)

It’s a good thing, I think, because when you get right down to it, most of us are ungrateful bastards.

Sorry if that sounds harsh. But you know it’s true.

That’s how I am for most of the year: Ungrateful for the many ways in which people enrich my life. It’s the least I can do to pause at one time of the year to say “thanks,” if not to that “beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens,” then to the people who should be hearing a thank you a little more often than once a year.

So, with a nod to Abe Lincoln for setting in motion a tradition that continues, somewhat, to this day, I want to thank all of you who take the time to read this blog. And now, I’m off to thank some other folks in my life for all they’ve done for me, large and small.

Happy Thanksgiving. Be grateful.

Extended break

We interrupt the inactivity of this blog to inform you that this blog will likely remain inactive for an extended time. This is due primarily to three things:

1. Work priorities are eating up a larger chunk of my day. (This happens to most of us during the beginning of a school year, so mine is not a unique situation.)

2. A pretty severe case of blog and social media burnout. (This, too, seems to be going around in higher ed circles.)

3. The St. Louis Cardinals made the post-season, which has accounted for some later nights in front of the TV and some mild distraction from my October routine. (This may soon end, however, as the Redbirds are down to the Phillies, 2-1, and if we don’t win tonight then it’s all over until next spring. But until then, #gocards.)

I’m sure I’ll get back to blogging. I’m just not sure when. In the meantime, I encourage you to follow all the dandy higher ed bloggers whose posts are aggregated on BlogHighEd.org.

See you soon, probably.

@hardees delivers

Update, Dec. 21, 2011: I cashed in the coupon for the Thickburger today. It was a decent burger. I still think I would have preferred a biscuit and gravy, which is what I originally ordered but didn’t get. Oh well.

For those of you wondering whether @hardees made good on the promise of delivering a Thickburger coupon, the answer is a resounding yes.

I received my coupon in the mail just a few days after posting about my experience with a Springfield, Mo., Hardee’s several weeks ago. (See Shankman got his steak, I’m getting a Thickburger: a tale of two tweets.)

Here’s photographic evidence.

Thickburger_coupon

I’ll let you know how the burger tastes.

Shankman got his steak, I’m getting a Thickburger: a tale of two tweets

thickburgerGizmodo probably won’t pick up on this story about how I may have scored a free beef product via Twitter. After all, the tale doesn’t have quite the sizzle as the one Gizmodo shared about how Peter Shankman got a free steak thanks to something he posted on Twitter.

But I still think my story is still worth sharing, if for no other reason than to let you know that:

  1. you don’t have to have 100,000 Twitter followers to get food from restaurants on Twitter, and
  2. you don’t have to tweet jokingly to score the promise of free food, either

But you should know that it isn’t always easy. And maybe you shouldn’t even try.

Before I begin my tale, I shall briefly recount Shankman’s. Shankman, a well-known social media maven (and also apparently an angel investor, according to Gizmodo), was about to fly to Newark from Tampa when he jokingly sent out a tweet to @mortons (Morton’s Steakhouse) that he’d love to have a juicy porterhouse awaiting him when he arrived.

Guess what happened? He got off the plane and discovered a tuxedoed Morton’s waiter who was holding a bag containing a 24-ounce porterhouse steak, shrimp, potatoes, bread, the works. The dinner had been delivered to Shankman from the Morton’s Steakhouse in Hackensack, N.J.

It’s really a remarkable tale of exceptional customer service as customer relationship management. Anyone involved in social media should read Shankman’s complete blog post as a case study. Even though he has 100,000 followers, it’s pretty obvious that the folks at Morton’s are focused on delighting their customers, and use social media as an element in that effort.

Now, on to my own story:

It was another weekend in which my wife and I were hanging out in a hospital room with her mother, who was recovering from heart surgery and further complications, including stroke and paralysis from her thoracic region down. We’d spent many weekends over the summer at my mother-in-law’s bedside. Since this facility didn’t have a full-service cafeteria open on weekends, on many a Saturday or Sunday I would usually make a run to a nearby restaurant, typically a fast food joint, to pick up breakfast for my wife and me. (Not the healthiest thing to do, but convenient.)

On this particular Sunday, I went to a nearby Hardee’s drive-through. When I got back to the room, I noticed that part of my wife’s order was missing.

Normally, I would not make a huge deal out of it. It wasn’t the first time Hardee’s had screwed up an order of mine, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. (Usually I check the bag before I drive off but this time I forgot to do that.)

But this was not a normal day. My mother-in-law was awake for much of the night and, consequently, so were we. My wife and I were both tired and irritable. It felt like nothing was going right with life, and the fact that our order was missing hash rounds — greasy little fried potatoes that may have brought just a bit of comfort that morning — just added to that lousy feeling that life was out of control, that nothing was going right.

So I did what any other Twitter junkie would do: I tweeted about my plight to the corporate @hardees account.

It wasn’t a nasty tweet. All I posted was:

Thanks, @hardees on Glenstone in Springfield, for skipping the medium hash rounds on my to go order this am. Wife didn’t need ’em anyway.

A bit snarky at the end, I guess, but not vitriolic. Just a tweet to get the point across that I was disappointed. (I was also a bit rattled, as the Hardee’s I went to that day was on Battlefield, not Glenstone. But still.)

So, guess what I got from @hardees?

Silence.

@hardees did not respond to my tweet.

I’ve got to say I was a little bit disappointed. I’m not one of those people who frequently complain to brands in order to get free stuff or special treatment. And of course, the people running the @hardees Twitter account had no idea what kind of morning I was having, any more than the kid at the drive-through window did.

But that’s kind of the point, isn’t it? We don’t always know what kind of a day the people are having that we deal with. Shouldn’t we, all of us, do what we can to try to make their day a little bit better? When someone uses a social media tool to gripe at a brand, yes, he or she may be a chronic complainer. But he or she also may be someone who really needs someone to express concern, care and own up to a screw-up.

Anyway, so @hardees didn’t reply. So I let it go. That is, until I read about Morton’s exceptional treatment of Shankman. After reading that story, I thought I would bring my case before @hardees one more time.

So I posted this on Twitter:

Hmm @petershankman got a steak from @mortons (http://ow.ly/67zso) & @hardees didn’t even respond w/ “Sorry, dude” to http://ow.ly/67zvt

This time, @hardees did respond:

@andrewcareaga Wow, man. That one got by me. You’re right. Apologies. DM me an address so I can make it up to you.

I did, and a couple of days later (on Aug. 22) Jenna Petroff, Hardee’s manager of social media and PR sent me an email asking for my mailing address. “My sincere apologies for your recent Hardee’s experience,” she wrote. “I’d like to send you a free Thickburger to make up for it.”

Awesome. A free Thickburger from Hardee’s is now on its way.

Now, just as Shankman didn’t send out his tweet expecting a free steak, neither did I send out mine expecting a free Thickburger. But I will graciously accept one as a token of Hardee’s appreciation for my past business and as acknowledgement for the many times I’ve been short-changed at their drive-through windows over the years, and just accepted it.

Our email exchange occurred four days ago. I’m not sure if Hardee’s is going to be mailing me a coupon for a free Thickburger, or actually delivering one to my home. But so far, neither has happened. If Hardee’s is planning the latter, I suppose I should tweet them my work address, since I likely won’t be home when they decide to show up.

Or maybe nothing will happen at all.