Today I declare my practice is anti-growth. Shocked? Growth is the benchmark of a successful business, isn’t it? Gloomy headlines in August 2008 state the UK’s economic growth is at a standstill for the first time in sixteen years. Recession is around the corner. Growth is not just good, it’s an axiomatic business imperative.
Or is it? Innovation, flexibility, response and creativity often thrive when “growth” is quashed. Not literal growth like business expansion, but a “stagflation growth” (a contradiction in terms, but bear with me), where the size of the job is finite, but the time allocated to achieve completion is open-ended.
Parkinson’s Law explains my “anti-growth” declaration. The Law is one of growth. But not positive growth. Negative growth. “Work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion.” So says the Law. Created as satire by Engish humourist C Northcote Parkinson in 1958, he identified growth as a direct result of a job that “swells in importance and complexity in direct ratio with the time to be spent.” Everyone has experienced the Law at some point in their working life. Many creatives (myself included) are unwilling adherents. In common with all great satire, humour is the razor thin veneer under which lie truths about human behaviour.
The Law, and the book where it first appeared, Parkinson’s Law or The Pursuit of Progress, was an immediate success. Every major British newspaper and magazine weighed in with accolades. “Barbs for the Bureaucrats!” thundered The Telegraph. The Financial Times found it a “devilish book. No businessman should let it fall into the hands of his staff”. The Scotsman declared it, “the best treatise on management we have come across.” In the fifty years since the book was published, Parkinson’s Law is accepted as fact, not fiction, and a time management industry has grown around it.
A case study illustrates how awareness of Parkinson’s Law can either help or hinder creativity:
Stefan Sagmeister is a well-known, brilliant graphic designer. His website used to include what I call “The Parable of the CD”. Every Thursday between nine and noon, Sagmeister designed a CD and booklet insert from start to finish. His job for an imaginary client is the equivalent of an Olympian’s schedule. You keep on top of your game with consistent training. The three-hour CD illustrates how a tight, time-constrained brief doesn’t kill creativity, but forces the mind to reach beyond its normal capacity to find innovation and brand-new creative responses. The current Sagmeister site includes reference to the average amount of time the company allocates to to the design of a CD - three months. Is a lengthy time allocation preferable to a quick turnaround? Parkinson’s book lobbies for a balance between inducement and risk.
There is a postscript to this case study. www.sagmeister.com no longer includes the CD parable. Instead, the site’s “Answers for Students” section includes, “How do you know when to say no to a potential client?” Sagmeister replies, “When the product is bad. When I don’t like them. When they have rush jobs (clients who are bad at scheduling a job are often bad in other areas too.)” The final part of Sagmeister’s answer is puzzling. Yes, in some cases a rush job will indicate a potential client to be avoided, but not in all cases. A rush might just as easily indicate a creative client with a multitude of opportunities. Someone who recognises Parkinson’s Law, and alternates between generous and tight delivery dates. And in doing so she finds she attracts a wealth of work she can share with talented colleagues. Including a graphic designer.
A great opportunity sometimes appears with strings attached. Strings like a tight turn-around. Dither too long deciding whether you have enough time to respond, and your competition will not even bother to wield their elbows to shove you out of the way. All good things come to those who wait? Don’t count on it. Instead, heed the real message behind Parkinson’s Law.
