Parkinsons Other Law: Bike Shedding

Why do we spend more time on the small stuff, and how can we avoid doing so?

Parkinson’s laws

A few months ago, I’d asked someone in my team to perform a task. I’d chosen them as I knew they had a relatively empty in-tray at that time, and I trusted them to do a good job. The task did not get completed, however, and as a deadline loomed, I mentioned it to another team member who was much busier. They took on the task, and it was completed on time. A good example of the principle ‘to get a job done, give it to a busy person’ (a quote variously attributed to many).

I then started musing (using the internet, as is the modern way) on its corollary, Parkinson’s Law: ‘work expands to fill the time available to do it’. This led me to discovering something I didn’t know about – but which instantly resonated: Parkinson’s law of triviality.

Cyril Northcote Parkinson was the devisor of both ‘laws’, described in a short book in the 1950s apparently. I’ve read that the tone and intent of the book was satire rather than a serious piece of organisation and management study, but many a true word etc…

Parkinson’s ‘Second Law’ describes an example of a committee meeting convened to discuss the design of a nuclear power station. The delegates spent the majority of their time discussing and debating how the bicycle shed at the site would be built and allocated very little time to discussing the complex issue of building a safe and effective nuclear reactor. The reactor design was complex, technical, required special knowledge. The bike shed was something that everyone understood and felt able to have an opinion about.

I remember literally laughing out loud as I read it. This is what I had observed at so many meetings, particularly in the latter part of my career where I was involved in those intended to address organisational or national problems, often characterised as ‘wicked problems’. Rather than get into detail and thrashing out some of those ‘wicked’ issues, groups would become sidelined on relatively trivial issues which were easier to grasp. But of little or no overall consequence.

Even if there were no trivial items on the agenda, someone would usually introduce a ‘squirrel’ that the group could chase instead. These squirrels were usually in the form of some innovation that a delegate had recently read about/ seen at a conference/ heard about on the radio while driving to work / been told by a bloke at the pub. Because it was a new and innovative thing, everyone felt much more able to speculate and get excited, and you could sense the mood lightening and frowns disappearing. The meeting would end in a sugar rush of bonhomie, with an inevitable comedown sometime later when the empty feeling of problems unsolved and knotty problems persisting returned.

I started to read articles about this phenomenon, looking for things that might help solve them. Some of the proposed solutions were things I had already tried to introduce to work I’d done previously, but what helped me now was having a label to apply to the thing I was trying to avoid. Mostly these ideas are ‘common sense’, but as we all know that’ not always as abundant as its name implies.

It’s worth remembering that many people will be read this list, nodding their heads in agreement, but ‘nodding heads row no boats’ [Irish proverb]. People will often revert to the familiar, so if you’re involved in transforming culture you will need persistence and energy in addition to good luck.

Construct the agenda with care.

Structure the agenda – devote time to the big issues but give an outlet for the small ones. A template I have used for years, with a degree of success, was how I structured monthly ‘strategic’ type meetings (Boards or Leadership Groups).

Item One would be the main item, and 50% of the time available was devoted to this one issue. Sometimes it was a ‘development’ item, to inform the group’s strategic awareness, sometimes it was an issue requiring a decision. Presenters would usually be external to the group.

Item Two (25%) would be information sharing of something a bit more tactical but discussing it in a ‘strategic’ setting would help ensure alignment. Presenters for this item would often be from a team being led by someone in the strategic group. It helped break down silo working and fostered a bit more collaboration and situational awareness.

Item Three (25%) would be a bring-and-buy sale of operational issues, squirrels and hobby horses. It wasn’t necessarily that this was the best place to discuss them, but it did give delegates at the meeting an outlet and was intended as a form of squirrel control. Importantly, each item would only get a couple of minutes, but it did enable some curation and signposting (I hate that word) to try ensuring the disparate items brought to the table were triaged and either tabled for future meaningful discussion or re-directed to a more appropriate forum.

I wouldn’t want you to think item 3 was unimportant, or that I’m trying to denigrate delegates who brought issues forward in that way. It’s a function of reality. Particularly in meetings with predominantly clinicians present, their attendance was often an ‘add on’ to their full-time work, so they didn’t necessarily have time to carefully consider and shape issues for discussion days in advance.

Also remember that people will still try to redesign your agenda at the last minute with operational issues or hobby horses, despite the Item 3 piece – if you are the meeting organiser you do need to hold a line.

Restrict the number of people at the table.

The more people at the table, the more likely you are to get bike shedding, along with grandstanding and can-kicking.

When I started to become involved in national level work, I was fascinated, and initially bemused by how often a ‘National Board’ would have a membership of 40 – 60 people. I eventually worked out that what was happening was each organisation involved (Health Boards, Trusts, Enabling Arms-Length Organisations) what lobby to have ‘representatives’ from the most prominent professional tribes, which would eventually add up to 40 – 60. Decisions were rare. ‘We need to bring this item back for further discussion’ was common, although not often with clarity on what would be done pending the item’s return.

There was nothing malicious happening here, and almost all delegates involved in these meetings seemed to share my frustration. I recognised that at least one root cause was a feeling that they needed to be at table to understand what was going on – better communication from Boards to other theirs might help address that. The other was the word ‘representative’. The use of that term usually implies and betrays a mindset that isn’t necessarily conducive to collaborative decision-making – but that’s a blog topic on its own for the future.

There’s a place for meetings like this – they are stakeholder engagement groups So maybe just call them that and position them appropriately? Chairing them in a way that avoids them becoming the Jeremy Kyle show requires another set of skills.

When we were designing our rough template for the National Clinical Networks ecosystem, it was the issues described here that led to us embedding an Amazon style two-pizza principle into the Clinical Networks Leadership Groups*. If the group would need more than two metaphorical pizzas to provide a mid-meeting snack, then it was too big. We knew it would be contentious, not least because of the apparently glib characterisation – but that would also help it stick in people’s minds.

*Eventually, the Network Leadership Groups will probably start to self-identify as Boards again – can’t win every battle.

Have an effective chair.

The chair should facilitate, not do all the talking, and not necessarily be ‘the most important person in the room’. Hands up – I’ve fallen into this hubristic trap in the past. I learned to take counsel from others. If they’d observed me talking for more than 20% of the time, I’d failed.

Making a considered appointment to chair the meeting is important, but not easy. I’ve experienced lots of different styles and formats and haven’t arrived at a template. I think that’s because often, the best chair is determined by the make-up of the rest of the group.

I chaired a newly established group a few years ago. There were a few characters at the table who I could colloquially characterise as ‘Billy Big-Bollocks’. Sadly, the gender specificity of this puerile epithet is generally true. The meeting was difficult to manage, and my personality type and baggage with those characters wasn’t helping. I asked someone else to chair, whose different approach and lack of history with those stronger voices didn’t get in the way. It was much better for everyone, including me. More importantly the meetings became more productive.

Buckle up.

Maybe this is the most important one? I hesitated about using the phrase ‘buckle up’, as it might hint at a macho or confrontational style, but I also wanted to attract the reader’s attention and stick in the mind. It is a call for people to be prepared to have robust and honest conversations. That definitely doesn’t need to be aggressive, hostile and rude. But it might mean being uncomfortable, and even shaken by a little turbulence. Without this, the big issues are skirted, and the bike shed becomes the focus of attention.

What this does require is a culture led by the Most Important Person in the Room (MIPR). In the context of attending meetings in my leadership roles, the most soul-destroying phrase often precedes the proper meeting, in the ‘pre-meet’: “we can’t say that in the meeting, MIPR doesn’t like bad news”. That is often followed by me muttering in Anglo-Saxon that MIPR might not be in the right job if they’re not prepared for bad news.

Some time ago, I was beckoned aside after a meeting by a particular MIPR. I thought I was in for it, as I had brought bad news and contrary views to the table that day. To my surprise, MIPR explained that they valued my presence, recognised my behaviour as professional and courteous, even as the messages conveyed were difficult, and also complimented my ability to live with decisions I didn’t support – provided I felt the relevant issues had been aired and meaningfully discussed. They then went on to explain that it was particularly welcome, because the engrained culture in that setting was not one that traditionally welcomed dissent. I felt validated as well as valued, but it also made me aware of the scale of the change in culture that might be needed: this was a definitely the MIPR, but even they were reticent about a more open declaration of their desired culture.

I’ve worked for a few MIPRs like the one illustrated in the anecdote, but I’ve worked for many more who seem to want to hear reports of calming waters despite the obvious storm clouds on the horizon.

As for any MIPR who ascribes to the ‘don’t bring me problems, bring me solutions’ school – deep sigh.

If the intent is to make decisions, then make decisions.

It’s important to signal this in advance, requiring people to have done the reading and familiarised themselves with the issues before arriving. But easier said than done.

I would fairly crudely characterise those meetings as one where coffee would be provided, but doors would be locked until a decision was agreed.

A senior medical colleague, experienced in leadership positions told me of their experience in working in a private healthcare concern in relation to this. The CEO of the company would indeed signal in advance, have a one-item agenda, and provide coffee. There would be a group of two-pizza size or less, and each member would be asked in turn to speak for a maximum of 5 minutes on the issue, giving their opinion on the decision. After everyone had spoken, if there was need for further discussion, it took place but was focussed and relatively quick because everyone was by now well briefed. My colleague found it challenging initially, but quickly adapted and embraced it as a very efficient use of time and effective mechanism. Sadly, that colleague resisted my attempts to bring them back into a senior leadership role in the NHS, so I was never able to try out this approach.

Squirrel Patrol.

Essentially, if you see a squirrel, call it out as such, but don’t chase it.

If someone persistently introduces squirrels, they’re at the wrong meeting – allocate them to something more appropriate.

I’ve worked with some colleagues who, to mix my metaphors, have a tendency to whistle the last tune they heard very loudly. It’s often an attractive melody, but it does change from day to day. Some of them are absolutely brilliant in an innovation/ start-up space. I don’t need to expand on this – horses for courses (three different metaphors in a couple of short paragraphs is poor style – time to wrap up probably).

Why I wrote this.

Everything I’ve written is a reflection of real experiences, but there is a little pastiche, partly to entertain, but also because I am not trying to point the finger at particular individuals or organisations.

The fact Parkinson wrote about this in the 1950s, has provided rich material for articles and opinion pieces for decades and still resonates today suggests it to be ‘a truth universally acknowledged’.

My main intent is to stimulate some reflection for those involved in the business of ‘Boards’ and ‘Leadership Groups’. If you dissent from the views expressed here, that only enriches the conversation.

Post-script: An actual bike shed story

When I was Clinical Director of Child Health, I chaired the Project Leads Group for the move into the new Children’s Hospital that was being built. We did have meetings where we discussed an actual bike shed. I was a regular cycle commuter and cycling evangelist more generally, so for me this was a non-trivial issue.

In the end, no bike shed was built, and a couple of metal posts were installed just beyond the limits of a sheltering overhang above, leaving the bikes (usually just mine) exposed to the elements. My workaround was to buy a titanium frame.

Fortunately, the construction of the Children’s Hospital went well, ran to time and came in on budget.