Am I (Still) a Jonah?
Fri., November 1, 09:25 PM
Jonah© education is perhaps the most useful and, at the same time, the most unsaleable of skills. Jonah is a trademark of the Avraham Y. Goldratt Institute. The philosophies of the Institute, including its Theory of Constraints, stem from Eli Goldratt’s novel, The Goal, in which a rather mysterious character named Jonah fortuitously appears to help solve problems. When the Institute began teaching people to analyze problems this way, they named the class the “Jonah Course.” TOC, Reality Trees, Evaporating Clouds – all are part of the terminology that Dr. Goldratt used as part of the methods he was developing.
What constitutes a Jonah? In the early days of the Goldratt Institute, the definition of a Jonah was simply anyone who had attended the course. That was how we determined who was accorded the various privileges of a Jonah, such as upgrades and access to consultation.
The logic behind the definition was that people who attended the course would continue to practice the Theory of Constraints, so they would naturally need the upgrades. The first applications of TOC related specifically to manufacturing. They made tangible improvements to the manufacturing environment. Jonahs would spread the principles within their companies. Even if they changed companies, their training was compatible to the new job.
The Theory of Constraints has expanded greatly since that time, both in philosophy and application. As teachers – and their students – embraced the concepts, a greater variety of people were drawn into the community. As Dr. Goldratt pointed out years ago, a single Jonah is a lonely person indeed, but the more fortunate were able to persuade colleagues, friends, or family to join them as they learned. Many people learned to teach the Jonah Course, becoming “Jonah’s Jonahs.”
I attended the classes too – not only a two-week academic Jonah course, but an additional three weeks of what was then called the “Disaster” Jonah course, designed for those who would implement a scheduling software written with The Goal’s principles in mind. I enjoyed them tremendously and learned a great deal. The logic of TOC appealed to me from the very beginning, and it tied in with my own practices, including true cause and effect; asking why; and concentrating on what you can fix, not what you can’t.
However, it has been years since I had the kind of job that allowed me to use what I learned. The constraints to jobs I’ve been doing include working for supervisors who don’t want to change and, generally, being placed too low to voice an opinion.
So…if I can’t work at it, am I still a Jonah? If organizing my own duties in Jonah fashion irritates the supervisor, can I still evaporate the clouds? Take my word for it, you can not present an implementation plan in the form of a Transition Tree to an unreceptive mind; sometimes you can’t present any implementation plan at all.
Nevertheless, nothing you’ve ever learned is truly wasted. Jonah education validates methods you’ve developed before, and life consists of more than the job you go to each day. Any mother who has to get her family out the door each morning has some instinct about scheduling, and if she has only one bathroom, she can tell you about constraint management too.
I still list tasks, stacking and restacking them, tying some together. Some things can be done simultaneously; consider what can be accomplished while waiting for a cup of tea to brew, or dough to rise, or the washer to finish its cycles.
Probably the concept I use most often is recognizing necessary conditions, those people/situations I cannot change, at least not at this time. The knowledge that even necessary conditions can eventually change is the basis of hope. The sun rises in the morning and sets at night. Long ago that meant that nothing could be accomplished at night, and people went to bed with the birds. But the discovery of fire and its application to candles and lamps, followed by even better ways of dispelling the darkness, reduced that necessary condition to a mere inconvenience.
Once I’ve accepted what I can’t change, I can point my attention to the other arrows in a cloud. It took me nearly five years to recognize that I would never again be hired for the kind of jobs I held before. One obstacle that can only get worse is the “dark mother syndrome”; younger and younger supervisors are reluctant to acknowledge the talents of a woman old enough to be their parent. (“Problem solving? Project management? But you’re a secretary.”) If they unconsciously perceive her as part of their conflict with their own mothers, it’s not her problem, but she hasn’t got a chance to succeed with them.
I had to explain to one interviewer that yes, indeed, I have proofreading experience. “But you’re a secretary.” Of course, but a secretary who works for a writer learns to edit. I hate the term “renaissance man,” but I know I’m a generalist in a society of specialists.
Over the years I’ve come to realize that people often tell me less than the truth. It was difficult working through my naïveté. What’s harder to accept is that people don’t believe me either. No wonder they can’t accept my résumé; they never believe anyone could be that good. (Actually, I’m even better.) It’s as if they’re reflecting their own dishonesty onto me. If I state that I’m a proficient word processor, then that means I am. If I tell you I won’t leave in a month for what looks like a better position, I won’t. (Integrity may be old-fashioned, but it does exist.) Nevertheless, I became accustomed to interviewers who told me, “you’re perfect for this job,” scheduled a second interview, and then neglected to tell me that they’d hired someone else.
If I can’t find a permanent, full-time job, I can’t work.
There are some fallacies here. Why do I have to work? One reason was that I needed access to facilities – a computer, a copier, a fax – in order to look for a job. I have since acquired my own computer and fax machine; anything fancier can be outsourced.
What happens if I accept a part-time or temporary job? I earn less money. Do I truly need more money? My children are no longer in school, but out on their own. My home is paid for. My husband is retired and collecting a pension. My major responsibility is to myself.
Another reason to work full time is to be eligible for medical insurance. Again, my major responsibility is to myself. I can bite the bullet and pay for private insurance.
Having determined that I don’t need a permanent full-time job, I’ve accepted temporary part-time work. Sometimes it’s successful, sometimes it’s not. But if it’s not, I have the luxury of being able to say, “thank you and goodbye.”
Part-time work means being able to schedule time to have the car serviced, or to go to the doctor, or to have my hair done. It gives me time to volunteer for charities or to pursue my own interests. And believe it or not, it gives me time to explore TOC and how to apply it.
Eli Goldratt used to teach that you couldn’t skip steps, that you had to build the whole tree. And then you can’t jump to the Transition Tree without a Current Reality Tree. That can be so intimidating that some people never start. And I ask, why? It wouldn’t be the first time Eli and I disagreed.
I don’t have to build the whole tree at once. When I’m writing, I sometimes create an isolated paragraph and save it, not knowing where I’m going to fit it into a larger commentary. In the same manner, I can create a simple cause-effect connection that will later fit into a formal analysis. Sometimes the rest of the tree already exists as part of my own intuition, and the complete diagram isn’t necessary until I’m ready to present it for scrutiny. Since it’s not part of a job, it’s unlikely that I’ll present it to anyone.
Jonahs don’t know all the answers, but they’re pretty good at analyzing problems and suggesting possible solutions. I do it all the time. So maybe I am still a Jonah after all.
