Perfectionism versus Productivity
“Continuous improvement is better than delayed perfection” - Mark Twain
I am a recovering perfectionist. As a student, I often wanted everything perfect before I handed it in. But in my early days as a scientist, I discovered that there is no such thing as perfection. There will always be more experiments we could have done, more samples we could have collected, and—with the attitude of publish or perish and a multitude of new scientific journals—more literature we could have cited.
The thing is, deadlines in school were pretty stiff. You either turned in your paper or you failed. Sometimes this meant that other things, like exercise or laundry, didn’t get done—even if it meant wearing the same socks for three days in a row. That paper got turned in on time, clean socks or not! But in the working world, we can’t just ignore those other things, like emails from supervisors or data requests from collaborators.
Perfectionism can be a good thing in science—in terms of data accuracy or scientific integrity or taking time to really understand the supporting research. But if someone is micromanaging a team member’s work or writing and rewriting a not-quite-perfect proposal, it can be detrimental to productivity or lead to what is called Effort Creep.
Effort Creep: putting in more effort or more weekends, without the additional funds, with little to no progress.
There seems to be an abundance of scientists who are perfectionists. Maybe it is because we are used to meticulous calculation, accurate recording in the lab, or supporting every statement with a citation. Dealing with perfectionism among scientists is particularly difficult, because it is mostly an issue between peers, not an employee/supervisor issue. We collaborate with scientists who are not in our line of command and maybe not even in the same agency or university.
When work deadlines are wishy washy, some perfectionist colleagues may push it to the limit. The project manager side of me can push hard for a deadline (which might be a perfectionist tendency as well), but this can backfire when collaborating perfectionists dig in their heels. Deadlines do not apply. Productivity suffers. No one wins.
And it may not stop at productivity. It may affect morale. Some—definitely not all—perfectionists blame others for low productivity.
“If I want it done right, I’ll have to do it myself.”
“The work is subpar. I need to fix it.”
“I can’t get enough qualified help.”
Like I said, I am a recovering perfectionist, so I get it. I won’t let anyone else touch my laundry because they may not do it right. But at work, collaboration is important. Doing it all myself is not an option.
I can ask my fellow perfectionists to look at the big picture and prioritize a general vision over the details. But offering suggestions for delegation or encouraging a deadline, can lead some people to not only dig, but drag their heels in the perfectionist mud (there is a dirty sock analogy in here somewhere…).
An effort to encourage might backfire because it may be viewed as criticism or a personal attack. I want to deal with my fellow perfectionists in a way that will preserve their passion for the science, yet not hold up a project or task as they recheck, reread, rewrite, ponder, and labor over things that will never be perfect. Handling these situations with grace takes a certain kind of leadership—and at times I am not graceful.
This is where I believe the nuances of Project Management for Scientists differs from Project Management in other fields. The two biggest perfectionists that I ever worked with were brilliant scientists. I strived to give these thinkers some leeway. Extra time to design or try different calculations. But that extra time should not be used for editing or money managing or scheduling—leave that to another type of expert.
As scientists, we have to remember that mistakes are inevitable. But that is why there are checks and balances and we continue to learn.
For today, be willing to put something imperfect out in to the world—not polished or published. Share that imperfect something with colleagues, coauthors, and reviewers. Just make sure you do it with clean socks.