Transcript
Mark Stedman (0:00)
Eisenhower, Franklin, Brian, Tracy, Parkinson, Merlin, Manchester, Churchill and Churillo. James, Clear, Lincoln, Newport, Allen, Rider, Carol Maslow and Atul Gawande. These people all have wieners, which is kinda heinous. Just a sea of penises. Okay, that's enough. You get the idea. Let's spend a little bit of time today with some of the women of productivity history, some of whom you will know, some will meet for the first time. I'm Mark Stedman and this is undo profiling. The people behind the processes that make us more productive. So let's address the elephant in the room, shall we? It sucks that we're 11 episodes in and I'm only now putting the spotlight on women. It sucks further that I'm lumping a whole bunch of them into one episode rather than making each one the star of their own show. Of course, I'll be digging deeper into some of the people we talk about today. And there's one notable exception from my list that I want to give the full undo treatment. But the reality is we know less about these women than we do a lot of the others I've covered. So at risk of belaboring the point, I'm not doing a Women's History Month episode and calling it a day. The more I learn about the amazing women who got stuff done throughout history, the more I'll share their stories with you. And with all that prevarication done, we now have to talk about women and the home. Christine Frederick was a teacher. She had a thing for efficiency and an interest in advertising. She was born in 1883 and married in 1907, giving birth to four kids and co founding the Advertising Women of New York in response to the fact the men's one wouldn't let her in. She studied Taylorism and wanted to adapt this scientific method of productivity to the home. Here we're talking about productivity in the capitalist sense. And if you're unfamiliar, Taylorism is how places like McDonald's can churn out the same food to the same standard wherever you go in the world. Because each step in the assemblage of your burger is a low skilled task that doesn't take much training. Frederick wanted to make kitchens more efficient and took a scientific approach to household jobs, publishing papers and journal articles on saving time and reducing repetition in the home. She opened the Applecroft Home Experiment Station in her house in New York where she tested nearly 2,000 different appliances. Bearing in mind this lady had four kids and this was the early 20th century, I'm trying to figure out whether those Kids ate really well because she was constantly chopping and frying and chilling and baking. Or if she got home from a hard day in the test kitchen, basically threw down a ham and said, fend for yourselves. Either way, we've a lot to thank her for. For one thing, she's kind of the reason most kitchen countertops are the same height. And she's also the grandmother of the galley kitchen, a style of kitchen you'll have seen if you've ever lived in a small apartment or a terraced house. The tailorist approach she took meant finding the one best way of doing a particular task. She kept experimenting with various methods to break tasks down into their smallest component parts so something that felt tricky could be made simple. This puts me in mind of the English comedian Jimmy Carr, who for a while spent time looking into the shortest joke possible. His four word joke, Venison's Deer Isn't it, is his best example a four word pun that delivers with maximal efficiency. He then followed that up with the more efficient but less effective dwarf shortage proof perhaps that some things can be too efficient. Now let us meet Lillian Moller Gilbreth. Like Christine Frederick, who, who I was talking about before you distracted me with Jimmy Carpon's, Gilbreath was a home economist. She was also a psychologist and was described as a genius in the art of living. Like her slightly younger counterpart, Gilbreath took her work home with her, conducting time and motion studies to keep their busy household on track. But if Frederick was somewhat ruthless in her pursuit of scientific management, Gilbreth took a slightly more humane approach. The problem with Taylorism, as she saw it, was that it did a pretty shit job of looking after the human behind the labour. Taylor believed in paying workers well for their work because he assumed that was pretty much the only thing that was important to them. He also believed that if you didn't do a great job, you were either fired or paid so poorly that you'd want to quit. Passive aggressive March Gilbreth, pioneer that she was, believed that workers needed things like breaks and decent lighting. She and her husband created their own form of Taylorism and advocated for workers to have free books to read. They also rigged up cameras so they could watch workers performing tasks, looking for signs of fatigue and finding ways to improve systems. What we can learn from these two ladies and their contemporary, Mary Parker Follett, who we'll meet later, is quite simply that when we break complex tasks down into smaller ones, we make them dirt simple to accomplish. And when we take breaks, we can go for Longer. That idea of breaking tasks down is great if you're cooking or coding, but what do you do if you're a writer? Well, Dorothea Brand and Virginia Woolf have got your back. Dorothea Brand wrote essays, short stories and books from 1917 to 1944. In 1934, she wrote a book for aspiring writers called Becoming a Writer, of which there are still a few copies knocking about. She rejected the myth of the born writer and believed that in order to make creative work happen, you had to put the time in, literally put it into your calendar. Just like our discussion on time blocking from last week, Brand advocated for for setting a specific time of the day to get your writing done and turning up. No matter whether you're overflowing with inspiration or you're creatively constipated, if you've done any kind of writing, you'll know that some days it's like you've been gifted the energy of a thousand artists and great ideas tumble forth like water cascading down a lush and verdant waterfall, while on others, it's like trying to come up with a really good metaphor for why something is very, very hard. The point is, she was strict about her writing time. She shares this philosophy with writers like Jack London, Stephen King and Sarah Waters, all of whom committed to some sort of daily writing goal of at least a thousand words a day, even if those words were shit. Another proponent of Protecting youg Time was Virginia Woolf. Hailing from kensington in the UK's fashionable London, Woolf was a pioneer of the stream of consciousness writing style. English students of a certain age would have been made to read books like to the Lighthouse or the Voyage Out. When I was at college, it was Ian McEwan's the Child in Time. Nowadays, I suspect it's Zendaya's Instagram caption or some such bunker. Yes, we get it.
