Sometimes early is as bad as late

I missed my bus this morning because it was early “as near as the six of us waiting for the next one could figure”. That got me thinking about times when being early is bad “aside from babies”.

I’ve learned not to show up too early for meetings, and especially job interviews. I know how I feel If I’m interviewing someone at 2:00 p.m. and he shows up at 1:45. I don’t think, “This guy gets the worm.” I think, “Now I can’t do that thing I needed to do in the 15-minute window before my next meeting.”

If it’s a morning meeting, that thing might be coffee. Double plus ungood.

Yes, I could leave the candidate marinating in the lobby. But that can be hard in a small office, or if someone brings the candidate to you. “Your two o’clock is here! You deal with him.”

If I’m early, I make sure I’m in the right place, then wait until five minutes before the meeting time to approach the receptionist or knock on the door.

The converse or possibly obverse is also true. If you’re in the relative position of power, you send signals about what you’re like to work with. If you’re late, that could mean you’re disorganized, or don’t respect other people’s time, or your company is the kind of place where meetings never start on time and always run long. Those are never good signs, no matter who you’re meeting.

Presumably there is a mutual benefit to your meeting, regardless of who’s buying and who’s selling. “Not that I haven’t been to pointless meetings that benefit no one, but that’s another blog post.”

If you’re an overworked manager hiring for an essential role in a strong market, you may well be the one with the most to lose from making a bad impression. I heard a story from a candidate being wooed by several Bay Area companies. The second time he got stood up by a senior exec at his first choice company, he left and took them off his list.

In a perfect world it would look like a stock photo: the interviewee striding purposefully toward the waiting interviewer, hands reaching out in anticipation of a firm, dry and mutually-pleasurable handshake. And everyone would be smiling.

Except that one guy in his cube who can’t make heads or tails of all those darn spreadsheets and is holding his head in frustration.

I think his name is Kevin.

Never complain, never explain.


I’ve heard that quote, most often attributed to British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, for many years. But it’s only in the last few that I have understood its value in a business context.

I’ve seen it explained as an exemplar of the upper-class Victorian attitude of power. With rank and privilege, you can demand what you want. But it has another meaning for me as both a leader and employee.

Your boss doesn’t want to hear excuses; your boss wants you to identify problems and create solutions. If you were up all night working on a client presentation, that means you either didn’t plan well or you don’t know how to delegate. There are very few times when you can complain about your workload or use it as an excuse for poor performance. You must do it carefully and sparingly.

If you find yourself complaining about a co-worker or explaining that your failures are caused by him, you’re telling your boss you can’t overcome obstacles. There’s a reason so many interviewers ask you about a seemingly insurmountable conflict and how you solved it.

Your colleagues and the people on your team don’t want to hear you justify your decisions or complain no one is listening to you. They want you to set a clear direction and act on it. When you explain, they hear it as lack of confidence. When you complain, they immediately compare your troubles to their own. And very few people think other people’s challenges are bigger.

The most successful people in any organization are the ones who meet their objectives without fuss. They focus on what’s important and make sure people see the value they provide without shouting about it. But there’s probably another maxim that covers that.

The internal meeting clock

I had a bunch of meetings today. I have a bunch of meetings most every day. Most of them are an hour long. Some of them are 30 minutes long. One is 15 minutes long. Here’s the funny thing about them:

They all last exactly as long as they are scheduled to last.

Maybe once every two weeks, I’ll be in an hour-long meeting that wraps up early, and people always seem surprised and delighted, kind of like the feeling you get when your purchase is rung up on the cash register and comes to an even number, like $16.00. Sure, it’s not a huge mystery, but the novelty of it gives you a fun little thrill nonetheless.

Why is it that meetings always last exactly as long as they’re scheduled? Is it that the organizer always does a perfect job estimating exactly the time needed? I don’t think anybody believes that. I think it’s just that we have an innate ability to expand to fill the allotted time.

Somebody, maybe it was Ross Perot, advised that you should hold all meetings standing up. People will be less comfortable and more likely to get to the point. Of course, that’s the kind of thing a billionaire CEO can get away with. I doubt people would react very well at my next meeting if I told them all to get out of their chairs.

What would happen if we just started making 30 minutes the default? Would people innately compress, hold extraneous thoughts and avoid tangential discussions?

It’s worth a try.