Architecture

Engagingly written albeit disappointingly somewhat thin, the useful angle here is how Apple differs from conventional wisdom.

Secrecy, even internally, is paramount; it helps alleviate internal politics and keep people focused. There is little internal promotion, taking seriously the Peter Principle. Unlike the rest of Silicon Valley, perks are minimal; working at Apple is the perk.

A product of its time (2012) and of the author’s lack of access, the book is marred at the end by pessimistic obsession with Apple’s viability post-Jobs, but is nonetheless ultimately worth reading because it does convey an impression of what Apple is like.

INSIDE APPLE

Well I was expecting more from this book; beginning it, I was very pleased at how engagingly written it is, after the last book by the BPM-D people. I was looking for information about the Apple process, but there wasn’t much detail about the ANPP than what I’d seen in the blurbs, which was a bit disappointing.

Nonetheless, one thing I did pick up that is important regarding process, even if it’s higher-level and more perhaps a value than a process, is secrecy. He does a good job of laying that out, the uniqueness and strangeness and centrality of it.

But you can tell he had little access. Nobody has told him how it came about, if this is a Jobs thing, if’s been organic or deliberate.

As the author notes, it flies in the face of conventional wisdom, and indeed in the business blah-blah of the BPM-D guys. There is no transparency, and yet the BPM-D guys extoll transparency as the main virtue of process.

Nobody I’ve come across goes into much detail in squaring this circle. But as I write this it seems perhaps obvious. First, what do we really mean by transparency? On one hand, he points out that the human mind has a hard time with secrecy. On the other, it seems impractical and impossible that everybody knows everything. Perhaps transparency is shorthand for managed transparency, ie, each person can access the information she or he needs to know. Well, to refine further, transparency probably also means a propensity towards sharing more rather than less information; tell all unless proscribed, rather than tell nothing unless prescribed.

The book proposes at least one good reason for opacity: suppression of fiefdoms, since nobody knows what anybody else is doing and can’t fight over turf they don’t know about. That is somewhat persuasive. It probably also requires fear and respect of your superiors, that you don’t question their judgment if you are not selected to be involved in some new skunkworks.

This is process, of course, just a different process.

There are a couple of other interesting contrarian uniquenesses. There is apparently no culture of promotion, people stay pretty much where they are initially hired. The author marvels at this, wondering whether perhaps it isn’t a good thing, avoiding the Peter Principle. And maybe too helping avoiding politics: the things you fight over aren’t promotions but hot or not-hot projects.

And it is the precise opposite of the foosball culture; it is fulfilling, not fun. The rewards are intrinsic to the work: seeing people choose products you worked on. This of course is how it should be. Though few businesses can realize it.

It would have been wonderful to get more insight into how much company and process design Steve Jobs thought about; perhaps it was something he was able to set and forget, moving on to think about the products set to flow through the system, which of course is what the system was intended for.

It also seems that there is not too much emphasis on process ⁠— nor should there be really, it becomes the shape of the environment in which you work. But Apple seems to be inherently agile, valueing people over process.

How amazing that must be, surrounded by people whom you have faith are probably at least as amazing as you are, and you believe you are pretty amazing yourself.

The book is marred towards the end by a repetitive focus on how the company is going to do without Steve Jobs. This discussion goes nowhere; rather, the question is posed again and again. And suddenly we are shown that the author is actually a bit of a hater, jumping on trivialities to presume things will tank. It’s a rather ugly end to the book and shows the smallness of thinking of most people, even elite tech journalists like this one. Could he not form an opinion of this central question of whether Apple would succeed?

It would also have been great to get a bit of a glimpse of the operations mind of Tim Cook, some example of how one product in modern Apple has gone from start to finish. How valuable would that be? But nothing.

And more amazingness. Steve Jobs never seemed to want for anything ⁠— you pick up the phone and call anyone. You acquire the best people to build the things you think should be built. This sense of, not entitlement exactly, more a sense of right, a confidence, permeates the company. You work with Apple, you do things the Apple way, because they have no reason to believe it is not the best way. And if it is not the best way, though the chances are it is, they will pivot.

This sense of right must be earned to be authentic; that seems to be an invisible hand woven into the human soul. Do the work ⁠— whatever that means ⁠— and earn the rights.

And what can work mean? What was Steve Jobs’ work? Deciding, it seems, for the most part. Staying abreast. Staying hungry.

How much of our human work is deciding? What informs decisions? Self-respect. Self-belief. Immersion.

 ⁠— 

Internal let alone external secrecy is a management method. It prevents politics, keeps people focused on their work, helps things not get leaked.

The place is not fun. It is fulfilling. People work hard and don’t get promoted. the money is normal. the reward is the geek’s reward: seeing people choose your product cos it’s the best

people seldom leave

p85

what if focusing on promotion is all wrong? let people stick with their perfect job

I ploughed through this. It’s the most vivid portrait I’ve seen of the apprenticeship itself. The chronology is a bit confusing at first–perhaps the book design could have made more clear that he’s jumping back and forth between his own beginnings and FLLW’s. The traffic cop encounter with Alexander Woolcott, the travels in the car as FLLW’s driver–great stuff. There could be more from Tafel as an architect–he was there on the great ones, such as Fallingwater and the Johnson Wax HQ.

This is the most recent book I’ve read but not too much jumps to mind. Why is that? No, it comes back, the account of being on the actual trips back and forth to Arizona, the fleshing out of the anecdotes he tells in the documentary (carrying the plans, etc). It’s the most vivid portrait I’ve seen of the apprenticeship itself, something I guess I’ve only seen obliquely, but it makes sense here. The chronology is a bit confusing at first, perhaps a different design might have made more clear that he’s jumping back and forth between his beginnings and FLLW’s. The Alexander Woolcott adventure with the traffic cop, travels in the car as FLLW’s driver (why didn’t FLLW drive himself?), that stuff is good. Great to have the book really. There could be more from Tafel as an architect. But boy he was there on the great ones – Fallingwater, Johnson Wax HQ.

Originally entitled My Father, Who Art on Earth, there are gems here that you can’t get from any of the other masses of FLLW books. I welled up when in Venice, when entering St Marks, it reminds John Lloyd of nothing else but his own childhood playroom. Just how great we can get?

Originally entitled “My Father, Who Art on Earth”, which I much prefer, but it’s too obscure, I guess. Well it starts out with manic jilted prose but after a while settles in to being more normal, so I wonder, was this an attempt to be a bit Portrait of the Artist or what.

Some gems here that you can’t get from any of the other masses of FLLW books. In Venice, when entering St Marks, it reminds him of nothing else but his own childhood playroom. This brought me to well up with the fabulousness of just how great we can be. What a gift to one’s children.

And the account here too, like Tafel’s to follow, of not paying, though for John it seems more of an issue than it was with Tafel, or at least, more of an ongoing one. They both worked on the Imperial Hotel I think, but neither much mentions the other.

And yes, more insight: he looks at things out the corner of his eye, not directly at things. Is that possible? Hard to believe. Maybe at certain stages, yes, to get the more holistic view, but at some point surely he could not resist. Maybe he held back. John Lloyd doesn’t say. “I don’t have to drink a tub of dye to know its color.” Hoo boy, a reprimand, considering my nose-hair pulling stances.

There is space and greatness between the sentences here. It feels distilled rather than stretched. Yet we have no view of the sons, don’t know what they looked like, can’t tell which is which.

Rich and poignant really all round. All this plus an account of FLLW arriving at heaven–and tut-tutting at the architecture.

A tad hagiographic but this one left me with a good feeling that unlike most Rizzoli books the text actually matters as well. Gorgeous drawings.