Let There Be Light (On Invisible Work)
How one workshop uncovers gaps and removes guesswork.
A hilariously accurate example of a learning fail comes in the form of Schitt’s Creek’s “Family Dinner” episode (S2.E2), where Moira “teaches” her son David how to make her own mother’s enchiladas from a small recipe card.
“Next step,” Moira Rose says to her son David with her characteristic affectation as she hands him a bowl, “is to fold in the cheese.”
David looks from the paper instructions to his mother as he furiously whisks a lumpy sauce on the stove. “What does that mean? What does ‘fold in the cheese’ mean?”
“You fold it in,” repeats Moira.
“I- I understand that. But how — how do you fold it? Do you fold it in half like a piece of paper and drop it in the pot, or what do you do?”
Moira, who clearly does not know but shakes her head with the wisdom of a sage, says, “David, I cannot show you everything.” The scene rapidly escalates around the concept of “folding in the cheese” with David’s mounting panic meeting Moira’s total ineptitude, until eventually David storms away from the messy kitchen.
Some of the best comedy is that which is painfully rooted in truth. How many of us have attempted to decipher or follow a term we don’t understand, only to be left with feelings of outward frustration (“whoever wrote these instructions is a terrible person!!”) or inward loathing (“I am bad at this — I’m bad at everything!”) This would be only further aggravated if you were to turn to a more experienced person who said something to the effect of “It’s not rocket science.”
The problem is this: written instructions are best when they’re concise references for experienced people. Proficients and experts know that “folding in” means using a spatula to create scoop-like movements to gently incorporate an ingredient. It’s a term you see commonly for stirring risotto (so as to not agitate the rice and cause an overly starchy end-result) or adding beaten egg whites to a mousse or custard base (to protect the fragile bubbles and ensure a fluffy, airy texture).
A novice might have an idea of what the end goal is supposed to be (i.e. adding cheese to a bubbling sauce) but have no idea how — let alone why.
The Problem / Status Quo
“There’s a lack of “good hands” on my team.”
“Only 50% of our operators can be trusted to handle complex jobs, and that includes the PhDs.”
“I wouldn’t trust any of those people to do the job well.”
Without fail, we hear some version of the above grievances in every single one of our conversations with our clients. To boil it down in the simplest of terms: people are not following instructions. And when they fail to follow instructions — even those that are painstakingly detailed in a written SOP — mistakes happen. Procedures fail. Customers are outraged. Companies fall out of compliance. Financial costs rise exponentially.
If we turn our attention to the written instructions, we see one of two things::
Written instructions are too simple, vague, and open to interpretation.
Written instructions are too detailed and wordy that the learner glosses over them and absorbs nothing.
The answer to this problem is not finding the sweet spot between two simple and too detailed. It’s not firing existing people and hiring new ones. And it is not giving up and living with the status quo.
The Workshop: A Dual Empathy Approach
We have found that the best way to approach this problem is to determine, in a real and concrete way, what “good looks like” — and from there, making that information crystal clear to the learner.
How do we do this?
We deconstruct one real procedure and put it back together.
That’s it. We pool together a room full of experts, novices, and others who have a stake in making sure procedures are done correctly. We go through each step in the process and learn what the expert’s gold standard looks like — and in many cases, how they know what they know (because there is often a story behind it, like a lesson from a mentor or something that went terribly awry). Novices ask questions and seek clarity. The name of the game is capturing expert knowledge and translating it for the learner.
There is a wealth of information baked into nearly everything an expert knows how to do. Even the simplest, most obvious steps carry weight, yet these too can be easily misinterpreted.
“We have a step in our SOP that says ‘Check the filter for debris,’” one training manager says. “I know that this means I have to get on my hands and knees, go under the machine, and check certain spots with a flashlight. Other people aren’t that thorough or they don’t know how or where to look.”
The reason why we call it the “Dual Empathy Approach” is because we’re dynamically bridging two sides of the learning equation — experts and novices, masters and apprentices — and creating a space of mutual understanding.
No PowerPoint presentations on abstract leadership goals. No mortifying trust exercises. Just one real-world process on which to work collaboratively towards excellence.
What are People Good (and Bad) At?
In a moment, we’ll go into why these workshops make any such difference at all. But first, let’s look at what human beings can, and cannot do, well, in the context of working with our hands.
In 1913, Henry Ford introduced what was arguably the most consequential change to workflow in human history: the assembly line. The reason for this change, as stated in Ethan Mollick’s book Co-Intelligence: Living and Working with AI is that Ford discovered that “humans were not very good at performing complex and varied tasks, but they were very good at performing simple and repetitive work.”
Production-line work — monotonous, tedious, repetitive, and soul-crushing though it may have been — proved to be a marvel of efficiency. But the statement that humans are “not good at complex work” on its own cannot be true. Human beings are capable of driving cars, composing text messages at the speed of thought, playing musical instruments, engineering multilayered spreadsheet models, and — with varying degrees of success — assembling IKEA furniture.
We are highly capable of complex tasks that require a combination of dexterity, timing, perception, and in-the-moment decision making. But what we are not good at is doing new, multi-step tasks after being shown once (or not at all).
Today, thanks to advancements in automation and robotics, training on simple and mundane skills may no longer be relevant. However, there remains a wealth of industries that rely on human beings to carry out complex tasks and procedures — and it’s these types of jobs that require a different approach to learning, albeit one that’s rooted in hundreds of thousands of years of human history.
In her book Hunt, Gather, Parent, journalist Michaeleen Doucleff argues that human beings have likely evolved to learn by shadowing. Whether it’s children shadowing parents or apprentices shadowing masters, individuals learn how to do, how to think, how to be, how to—everything. And when you break down the characteristics of shadowing, what do you have? An insanely beautiful and iterative process that is:
Visual
Repetitive
Hypersocial
Shadowing — and its counterpart scaffolding — is how clumsy movements are honed into smooth motions and muscle memory. Shadowing is how learners absorb not just the what and how of a task, but the why. It is how people become active participants within a family, a team, a community, an ecosystem.
The deeper problem is systemic. Somewhere along the way, we conflated documentation with teaching, asking static instructions to do a very human job. But static instructions lack the three basic elements above of learning through shadowing. Sure, we can include pictures in instructions. But if a picture is worth a thousand words, then a video is worth a thousand pictures, and an expert giving in-person guidance is worth a thousand videos.
In sum: Complex procedures are learned best when people are given ample opportunity to shadow and grow. Unfortunately, for companies that need to upskill operators quickly and at scale, this is a luxury many can’t afford…until the financial and churn costs are too big to ignore.
The Ripple Effects of the Workshop
By workshopping a single task, an organization can expect to see:
An explicit definition of what “good” for your organization looks like;
Closing the gap between expert intent and learner understanding;
Deeper trust between SMEs, operators, and managers
But what about all the other processes or procedures? What if you have ten SOPs in your library? Fifty? Six hundred?
This is why we always recommend starting with the SOP that carries the most transferable value: a core process that shows up, in pieces, across many others. Skills repeat. Patterns repeat. When you reset the foundation for one job, you don’t just improve that task — you quietly realign the system around it. Knowledge accumulates, and clarity spreads.
What comes next?
In the reconstruction phase of the workshop, we use the workflow model that is used for our on-the-job training platform, the Larabee Player. It enables learners to truly shadow expert actions, movements, and ways of doing. Should customers decide to explore next steps, we make it easy for them to do so. This is a tremendous value add, but it is entirely optional, and we will never push it.
Want to schedule your next operational excellence workshop? Contact us at: hello@heylarabee.com.
A typical workshop agenda:
We watch how the work is really done (compared to how it’s written).
Why this matters:
Identifying gaps between execution and documentation is critical.We capture what experts know but don’t say.
Why this matters:
Experts contain a wealth of tacit knowledge and instinct — much of which isn’t documented.We figure out where new people struggle.
Why this matters:
Rarely are problem areas unique; there are clear patterns we can identify and address.We rebuild the procedure for crystal clarity.
Why this matters:
Combining the what with the how and the why empowers learners to do their jobs well, and grow.We show why this matters in dollars.
Why this matters:
Lack of clarity → mistakes → rework/delays – $$
This helps leaders understand why fixing the procedure is worth it.
