“MY WORD! THE pig wrestler returns!” boomed the old barista from his counter as the Young Manager approached. “I wondered when you’d show up.” He jiggled his magnificent bushy eyebrows. “You, if I may be so bold, look like a man who could do with a good coffee.”
“You’re right about that,” said the Young Manager, smacking his lips at the thought of one of the Barista’s delicious brews.
The Barista got to work on a flat white, while the Young Manager folded his arms on the kiosk counter and watched patiently. He felt happy and relaxed, even as his mind buzzed with all the new information from Andrea, and perhaps the sugar rush from her Custard Creams.
“I should thank you again, for all the introductions,” he said to the Barista’s back. “It’s been a fascinating tour.”
“There’s really no need,” said the Barista, over his shoulder. “I’m very happy to help. I know the look of a man who’s stuck in the pig pen and needs a way out. So, how did you find it all?”
“Extremely constructive and enlightening,” said the Young Manager, “especially when it comes to the team dynamic problem that’s been keeping me up at night.”
“Go on,” the Barista encouraged him. “Talk me through it.”
“I think I’d rather like to, actually,” said the Young Manager. He gathered his thoughts and began. “First, the foot on the fence checks made me realise the specific part of the issue between the teams that is my pig to wrestle, and it also underlined that I do need to tackle it right away. It’s been going on for way too long, and I need to own it,” he sighed. “The conflict between my teams is impacting some of our key business objectives and our performance is suffering, so there’s no shelving this issue for later.”
“Good start,” said the Barista. “And what did you take from Gary, with his problem-cleaning tools?”
“That I needed to challenge the frame that was around the pig’s neck. I’d framed my problem as a team dynamics issue. After my chat with Gary, I began to see that I could, in fact, frame the situation in any number of different ways.”
“Such as?” asked the Barista, steaming milk as the espresso dripped through his machine.
“Well, I might just as easily have viewed it as a leadership problem, or a communication breakdown, or a cultural clash, or even a procedural issue,” the Young Manager explained. “That part of the mnemonic helped me to realise that the frame I had was not a helpful one, and gave me the freedom to challenge it.”
The Barista turned towards the counter, nodding. “Realising that the frame can change is often the first step in resolving a longstanding problem, as I’m sure Gary told you.”
“He did indeed,” said the Young Manager. “Gary’s red bucket and sponge also helped me to see that I was using unhelpful language and labels to describe the problem…that I needed to scrub those away and clean up my thinking.”
“Good man,” boomed the Barista. “Don’t think for a moment that I didn’t spot the dirty thinking when we first met, in your initial assessment of your problems,” he added, smiling.
“I know, I know,” said the Young Manager, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I also realised that I’d been treating my problem as though it was always happening, which it really isn’t. Gary helped me to redescribe the situation. Kate’s tin feeding trough was a help too. I honestly thought I’d tried everything. But, of course, I was simply trying variations of the same solution over and over again and expecting different results. Just like the people of Hanoi, my attempted solutions were actually making the problem worse, not better!”
“I bet that left you wondering where you were headed,” chuckled the Barista. “What did you make of the miracle question?”
“Ah yes, the magical crystal ball,” said the Young Manager, remembering Kate’s rather sad photocopied stand-in. “When I thought about how I would know when my problem had been solved, I realised that the problem wasn’t really about the two teams working together as a whole at all.”
“That sounds like a seismic shift frame-wise,” said the Barista. “What was the problem, then?”
“Well, once I’d examined my nice-to-haves and my need-to-haves, I quickly became aware that I had plenty of the former clouding my thinking. It would be nice if the teams got on really well. It would be nice if the managers could be pleasant to one another in our Monday morning briefings. It would be nice if they were friends…” The Young Manager paused. “But when you get down to brass tacks, what I need is much simpler. What I need is for the two team leaders to agree where we are with the project, and keep me regularly updated on their progress.”
The Barista handed the Young Manager a steaming mug of coffee with an elaborate leaf design perfectly poured into the milk. “This one’s on me,” he said and smiled. “It feels as though your muddy pig of a problem might be rather more pink and clean than it was before.”
The Young Manager nodded. “Definitely. And thanks,” he said, raising his coffee. “But it was when I met David to learn about the golden nuggets that I had my first major insight. When I turned my mind to the times when my problem wasn’t a problem, that’s when I found a gold nugget hiding in plain sight!”
“I do love a eureka moment,” beamed the Barista.
“The main issue, I now realise, is a clash between my two team leaders, driven by a specific context.” The Young Manager explained, “When I set about spotting the differences between the times when the problem occurred and the times when things had gone well, that factor became obvious. I realised that the two managers are driving a tendency towards excessive competition between their teams. That’s what makes the meetings so fraught. Whereas when I meet with the managers alone, in an informal setting, they get on much better, and are far more productive. So my frame shifted completely, from a ‘team dynamics’ problem, to something more like a ‘meeting scheduling’ problem.”
“Now that is a useful insight,” said the Barista. “And to think, you’d have missed it if you hadn’t been looking. Then it was Andrea, wasn’t it? What did you make of her?”
“She was great,” the Young Manager exclaimed. “When Andrea spoke to me about the green recycling bin, and the idea that weaknesses are often overdone strengths, I realised that the two managers in question are actually very similar. Both are highly competitive, somewhat headstrong, and very direct in their approach. But these strengths, overdone, have come to be viewed negatively by both teams, fuelling gossip, storytelling, and labelling, which has been leading to further antagonism.”
“So,” asked the Barista, “do you have a way forward now?”
“You know what?” said the Young Manager. “I think I do.” He sipped his coffee. “It came to me as I worked through the mnemonic with everyone this morning. I’m going to scrap the individual updates in our Monday morning team meetings, and arrange to meet the two managers informally the Friday before. Then on Mondays, I’ll ask them to present a joint update to both teams. I think I can turn that competitive trait that’s been overdone lately into a strength and get them collaborating for the best result. And with the credit shared equally at team meetings, things should be a lot calmer all round.”
“That sounds like an excellent plan,” said the Barista, “and a fine example of how all the elements of the pig pen can work together.” He raised an eyebrow and leaned across the counter. “But there’s one more thing, isn’t there?”
“There is?” said the Young Manager, scratching his head.
“The Yellow Warning Sign, my boy,” boomed the Barista. “No more wrestling with your problems at three in the morning!”
The Young Manager laughed. “I certainly hope not,” he said.
“Indulge my curiosity for a moment,” said the Barista. “What would you say was the key message for you personally speaking?”
The Young Manager thought for a moment. There had been so many lessons; so many elements of the pig-pen mnemonic that had resonated with him. How could he pick just one?
“I think,” he began, after careful consideration, “for me, it’s all about making sure that before I attempt to solve any problem, I should take the time to find the right problem to tackle. I can’t begin to tell you how much money and effort has been misdirected trying to fix the wrong problems!”
The Barista nodded. “I can well imagine. Resources are too valuable to be wasted.” The Barista continued, “The Pig Pen cuts to the chase.” He karate chopped the air, playfully, with one huge hand. “It helps to unlock the hidden value in your organisation. It’s a bona fide secret power, enabling leaders nurture their people in far more intelligent and productive ways.” He smiled, enigmatically. “The results speak for themselves.”
“And I for one can’t wait to try it out,” said the Young Manager.
“And I look forward to hearing about the results,” said the Barista, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “And do remember, that the framework isn’t just about people problems. It works with any kind of longstanding problem.”
“Really?” the Young Manager asked.
The Barista smiled and nodded. “Oh yes, by using this framework I’ve known people to be able to rethink processes, adapt procedures, design training programmes, and even shape their leadership teams.”
“I see what you mean,” replied the Young Manager, nodding his head.
“They’re just problems, after all,” said the Barista. “And they will all involve someone wrestling with a situation, making assumptions, and limiting their thinking. The Pig Pen is just as useful in situations like these.”
“What about you, then?” asked the Young Manager, his own curiosity piqued. “What about the whole Pig Pen thing speaks to you?”
The Barista looked surprised to be asked the question. Then his face broke into a warm smile.
“Well,” he shrugged, “I guess I’d have to say that in business, just as in life…”
We simply cannot afford to be spending time and money, applying misguided strategies to poorly conceived and ill-defined problems.
“Well, it’s worked for your coffee stall,” said the Young Manager. “I’ve never known a more popular offering in its field.”
The Barista chuckled. “Thank you, young man. I appreciate the compliment. Now, just one last thing before we both get back to work,” said the Barista. “I don’t suppose you had a moment to consider my nightmare neighbour problem, did you?”
“Actually, yes!” said the Young Manager. “It came to mind after I’d met with Kate, the solution seems pretty obvious, in retrospect.”
“Do tell!” The Barista beamed.
“Well,” the Young Manager explained, “I was thinking about your problem, and about the Crystal Ball, and it occurred to me that it would be nice if your neighbour was motivated to shut the gates. And it would be nice if he was as concerned about your family’s safety as you are. I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but your early solutions were all ways to encourage those nice outcomes, instead of looking at your needs.”
“No offence taken,” said the Barista, “good observation.”
“What you actually needed,” the Young Manager continued, “was for the gates to stay shut. In essence, you didn’t have a neighbour problem, you had a gate shutting problem.”
“Aha!” the leader said with a smile. “Well now, that would open all manner of fresh possibilities, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s what I thought,” the Young Manager replied. “Automatic gates would do the trick. Maybe even something as simple as a spring!”
“I like your thinking,” said the Barista. “And so much easier to tackle than a difficult neighbour.”
“Was that was how you solved it in the end, then?” the Young Manager asked.
“Nope,” said the Barista, bluntly.
“Eh?” said, the Young Manager, crestfallen.
“Do you recall the Foot on the Fence checks?” asked the Barista. “Because, as it happens, they could have helped to resolve my own dilemma in its very early stages.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” said the Young Manager. “How would they have altered your course? It was clear how it was a problem for you, and you needed to tackle it straight away, before someone went under a lorry! And you’d seen the situation in the flesh, so you were well informed, weren’t you?”
The Barista chuckled. “Right on all counts, except for the last piece. I hadn’t really seen the whites of the pig’s eyes. In fact, my perspective on reality was less reliable than I assumed,” he said, mysteriously. “You see, the day after the sign had been taken down—the reminder I’d put up about closing our shared gate—I had to go into the office a little earlier than usual to prepare for an important meeting. So, almost at the crack of dawn, I found myself standing once more with my family’s puppy, in the front garden of our house. And I saw something I hadn’t seen before. I saw our neighbour leaving for work!”
“You caught him in the act, you mean?” asked the Young Manager.
“I rather thought I might,” said the Barista. “I watched him roll down the driveway to our shared gates. He got out of his car and opened them. Then he climbed back in and drove slowly drove through. I was ready to leap out at that point, let me tell you, and confront him with his crimes. Then he stopped…got out of his car again…closed the gates behind himself like a dutiful neighbour, and drove off to work. To be frank I was rather annoyed. I knew he was the problem, and I’d wanted some concrete proof!”
“I don’t get it,” said the Young Manager.
“I haven’t finished,” said the Barista and winked. “A few moments after my neighbour had left, shutting the gates behind him, a huge procession of highway construction trucks thundered past in convoy. The work had been going on nearby for months, but I’d never been up to see their early-morning rush hour before, and our double glazing had kept me ignorant of noise from the road. There must have been a thousand tonnes of heavy duty vehicles thundering past our front gates…and as they did, shaking the very ground beneath my feet, the latch on those old gates rattled open, and the gates swung wide open, all on their own.”
“You’re kidding!” exclaimed the Young Manager.
“I’m not,” the Barista replied. “The vibrations from the convoy of trucks must have dislodged the latch that kept the gates shut.” He grimaced. “Well, I immediately realised what a pig I had been, and I use the word advisedly,” he winked. “That solved the mystery of why the gates remained shut at weekends, too. The building site only operated from Monday to Friday.”
“So your neighbour had stuck to his word the whole time?” the Young Manager asked.
“From day one,” said the Barista. “Which is why he’d seemed so defiant when I challenged him, and so taken aback by my emotional outburst.”
“Ouch”—the Young Manager winced—“awkward. But it still doesn’t excuse his taking down the sign that you put up, does it?”
“You’re right; it probably wouldn’t,” the Barista agreed. “But it turns out that the poor chap didn’t do that either. My sign had actually blown off the gate by the wind. I found it later that week, lodged in lower branches of a nearby tree.”
“Your neighbour never was the problem at all, then,” the Young Manager said slowly. “You got the wrong pig, and then your own confirmation bias held it in place. Right?”
“Exactly right,” replied the Barista. “If only I had taken the time to examine the situation fully, to stay curious and avoid labelling—if only I’d looked into the differences between the times when the problem occurred and those when it didn’t—I might have nipped it in the bud much sooner. But that experience taught me an important lesson, it showed me that…”
When you’re quick to judge, you will often find yourself surrounded by pigs.
“I want to keep my life as pig-free as possible,” said the Young Manager. “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do, but at least I know that I’ve got the tools to clean my problems now. I can see a better way forward. To be honest, I can’t wait to get started!”
“That’s what we like to hear.” The Barista smiled. He glanced over the Young Manager’s shoulder. People were appearing from offices and trickling towards him like slow-moving lava. It was almost lunch time. “I knew you’d take to the pig pen like a duck to water, if I can mix my farmyard metaphors for a moment.” The Barista chuckled. “Of course, now comes the hard part. You have the wisdom, it’s what you do with it that counts.” He paused for a moment to study the Young Manager; his face was serious, but his eyes sparkled with energy and determination. “Live it, or leave it,” said the old barista. “The choice is yours.”
“Oh, I’m going to live it,” said the Young Manager, firmly. “You just watch me go!”