I am working with a tech firm to take an idea to a prototype. The process involves writing. The steps have not unfolded as expected.
In round one, there was no briefing. I began with context and working with them until the problem was understood and appreciated. I then repeat with the idea, focusing on the why, then how, and finally what it could look like. With multiple conversations preceded and followed by emails with attachments, I thought step one was complete.
At this point, my contact disappeared, and a new individual found the seat. When I asked what had been shared, the silence indicated I needed to reload, reset, and begin again.
In the second round, I asked if there was a template or sample I could use as reference. My desire was to communicate in a language everyone recognized. As the process unfolded, I discovered new ways to simply my solution. Everything came into focus. As excited as I was, when we went to schedule the final review, the contact disappeared.
Even as my puzzlement and frustration simmered, two individuals came in to take the seat. One took the project lead. The second the development. The project lead and I worked through iterations of a new requirements document and the development lead scheduled a call. As call unfolded, I sat puzzled. While his solution was interesting, it had no resemblance to the requirements. In the end, I asked for the flow diagram the proposed prototype. What I received was unrecognizable, except for a new communication style.
As I took a deep breath, I decided to adopt his language and rewrite everything – the problem, solution, and illustration. I did not see the next conversation coming.
“Thank-you. I have never seen this before.”
“What have you seen of my handiworks?”
“This was the first.”
The psalmist notes that “the God who laid out earth on ocean foundations, His love never quits.” (Psalm 136.6) In my reflection of Divinity’s handiwork, I let go of bias and for the first time see though lenses of love and community.
