Dispatch One: How She Does It

This is not said lightly: I work for the world's most productive people. I mean this quite literally. One has recently been dubbed the "Prince of Productivity" by various cable news pundits. He makes my annual salary each time he delivers a 90-minute efficiency exercise to corporate and public entities. Not to mention that he teaches at two top-tier universities, sits on a bunch of boards, and is a major philanthropic figure in our city. This Prince isn't some fluffy motivational speaker; he practices what he preaches. And he preaches it consistently. Maximize your output while reducing your hours! Be the best version of yourself! Work smarter to pursue your goals! Doesn't that sound like exactly the person you want as your direct supervisor? Right?

But even that guy is in awe of my other boss. Everyone is. At least once a week, I'll hear a senior faculty member whisper conspiratorially, "I don't know how she does it." Then he or she will laugh good-naturedly, punctuated with a rueful sigh.

Let me be up-front: I don't know how either of them does it. But I do know how it looks from the desk outside their office door.

When I was hired as their assistant, the job was primarily described to me as "taking things off their plate." In theory this would free them to focus on deep-thinking stuff. In practice, this is not what happens. They may let me take on certain burdens, but both of these professors know--or want to know--exactly what my plans are for dealing with them. The smallest detail will not likely escape their notice; if it does, they will not be pleased about it.

Instead, both of these highly productive people manage to operate on multiple levels simultaneously: they are extremely detail-oriented, but also driven to execute ambitious, big-picture goals. I wouldn't say they strike a balance between these two characteristics, because to me, balance suggests relinquishing elements of both sides. And while compromise might be part of their vocabulary, they aren't ones to give up an inch of ground when it comes to control over their own projects. Over the course of a long career, utilizing micro and macro lenses simultaneously has given them an edge. So why would they rein in either quality now?

That's not to say they don't delegate. Of course they do. They've each had lots of assistants over the years, and we've kept busy. But the nature of academic administration, at lower echelons like mine, is not structured to create the kind of trust that would maximize assistants' effectiveness. This deficit has a number of causes:

• Low or no incentives:  Though I earn a pretty good salary, with a decent benefits package, there are absolutely no merit-based raises or bonuses that I'm eligible to receive. It's also very unlikely that I'd be promoted, as there are vanishingly few management positions in my department. If I want to advance, or be otherwise rewarded for going above and beyond, I will have to look elsewhere. It also means that I don't have much motivation to excel, except wanting a recommendation letter when I leave. 
• High turnover:  As with many entry-level positions in large organizations, there's a high turnover rate for faculty assistants. (This is especially true for those who've sat in my chair. In the last six years, there have been at least six assistants assigned to this desk.) This fact just doesn't allow enough time for a trusting relationship to develop. Some assistants who have worked here for decades, but they are typically of an older generation, and are comfortable bringing home the same steady paycheck until retirement. But they also generally support undemanding or emeritus faculty, who don't ask for advanced technology skills or complex multitasking. The majority of new hires are recent graduates at the beginning of their careers, and they won't stay long.
• Bureaucratic obstacles:  Again, like any big institution. our school features an enormous bureaucracy. By turns, its day-to-day impact on my workload can seem baffling, capricious, and cold. For instance, rumors are swirling that I will reassigned from the Prince to another professor at the end of the month. Have I been given official word? No. Has the reasoning been sufficiently explained, to myself or the faculty involved? No. Does anyone, anywhere want me to be reassigned? Not that I can see. And yet, it appears inevitable, now that the wheels have been set in motion. I've come up against countless administrative impediments--usually on a smaller scale than this example, but all have prevented me from doing my job as efficiently as I'd like. And if I take the time to explain to my bosses why, precisely, they haven't received that book from the library yet, it just sounds like I'm making defensive excuses.

I don't want to blame the system for my personal failures. There have been many days when I've known that I could've done more, could've been better. That's on me. And of course, the very successful people I work for have had to deal with these same institutional failings, though from the other side.

The lesson I'm taking away is this: I need to be more aware of multi-level operations, personally and professionally. Which details are important enough to warrant focused attention? What bigger goals should I be working toward? And someday, when I'm in a position to suggest institutional changes, I'll ask: How can I  ensure more productive working relationships between superiors and subordinates?