On the whiteboard between my desk and my teammate’s desk, we’ve written a madlib. After interrogating each other over conflicting reports from far-flung teams on a nebulous project, we stopped trying to explain our answers. Instead, we point to …
I have (X) answers.
- I have all the answers. As long as there are no follow-up questions.
- I have none of the answers. Let’s glean from context clues in the next status meeting.
- I have pseudo answers. Yes with a but; no with an if.
- I have 42 answers. Obligatory geek reference.
- I have false answers. Based on past assumptions, so let’s be realistic.
- I have silly answers. Usually occurs late Friday afternoon.
- I have narfrugian answers. Your guess is as good as nitwit oddball blabber tweak.
- I have blue-sky answers. I read it in A List Apart.
- I have former answers. Well, it made sense at the time.
Going forward, maybe
We can plan. We can follow ideas. We can talk big. We can share best-practice advice. But we can also wade neck-deep into projects whose realities defy our good intentions, change over time, or come into focus when the proverbial rubber meets the virtual road.
Sometimes a little humor keeps us sane. Other times, turquoise dishwasher lollipop.