Do meeting cancellations make you grumpy? A not so scientific study.

I work in a role where it’s possible that a meeting can happen anywhere in the 24 hour of a day. In general people work together to respect people’s working day, but there are times when a meeting at an anti-social time is unavoidable, that’s accepted. What makes me grumpy, though, is when these meetings are cancelled or postponed, particularly at short notice.

Yesterday evening I finished my normal working day with the expectation of joining a teleconference at 8:00pm. When I had started my break at 6:00pm I had already attended a preparation meeting with the full expectation that the later meeting would go ahead. Still expecting that the meeting would go ahead I retreated into my small study at 7:55pm ready to connect, but in the 1 hour 55 minutes I had been offline the meeting had been reschedule to a later date. I was a bit grumpy, I wasn’t a lot grumpy, because I had some expectation that this would happen. Why was I grumpy?

This experience got me thinking; if the notice of this postponement had come to 6:00pm I would have been delighted. The timing of the cancellation/reschedule made all the difference to my response.

I wondered whether I could create a model, or an equation, to understand this phenomenon, something that would help us to empathise with others in different time zones attending a meeting.

First step, create a chart of grumpiness/delight for a typical meeting cancellation based on time of the meeting and notice period given:


How grumpy/delighted am I if a meeting is cancelled, based on how much notice I was given?

The first observation is that most of the points on this chart are actually ranges that depend upon the type of meeting and the importance of the meeting that is being cancelled or postponed. If a meeting is at an anti-social time, but I don’t think it’s important, I’m not likely to attend anyway. If the meeting at an anti-social time is critically important to progress another activity and is postponed I’m likely to still be a bit grumpy even if I get good notice of the move. Imagine that this charge represents a moderately important meeting that doesn’t represent anything that is time critical.

There are some interesting aspects to this chart:

Good notice can bring delight

If you give me good notice of a cancellation for a meeting at an anti-social time I will be delighted that it’s been cancelled. The reverse is also true, give me poor notice and I’ll be especially glum. If I know before the end of my normal working day that I don’t need to interrupt my evening with a work commitment I’ll be very happy, thank you. If I interrupt my evening, or even my sleep, to attend something that I then find out that I didn’t need to attend will make me sad.

The later it gets the more notice you need to give

There are degrees of anti-socialness, evenings are different to very early mornings but for each of them you need to consider how much notice you might need to give. The danger here is that the more anti-social it is the more notice you need to give; giving 2 hours of notice for a 2:00am meeting isn’t helping anyone.

12-hours notice may not even be enough

Even with a 12 hour notice there is still a window for grumpiness. Assuming that I finish my working day at 6:00pm and don’t check in the evening, the postponement of a meeting scheduled for 7:00am the next day will still make me a but grumpy. I’m normally awake about that time, but attending a meeting at this time will be outside my normal routine, which I’m happy to do as long as there is some value in doing it. Interrupting the normal routine and having nothing to show for it it frustrating.

Zero notice is nearly always going to make me grumpy.

While it’s not always possible to give people notice of a cancellation giving zero notice is always likely to lead to a level of umbrage. If you have some notice you have a chance of re-planning your day, zero notice takes away that possibility.

Lunch is a special condition

Cancellations for meetings that happen around lunchtime are a special condition in the model. Meetings at mealtimes are themselves anti-social, there’s a less marked impact, for me anyway, for breakfast and dinner, but messing about with lunchtime makes me grumpy. Treat that meeting at 12:00pm to 12:30pm with special care.

The end of the normal day boost.

The end of the normal working day is another special case. This is the one time I’m likely to a little peak of delight that a meeting is cancelled with zero notice. Strangely I feel more delighted about a meeting cancelled at the end of the working day than one postponed in the evening.

Having looked at the chart I concluded that there probably wasn’t a formula for this. I also concluded that there were several other factors that influence my response to a meeting postponement or cancellation:

  • Day of the week – a Monday looks different to a Friday.
  • Time sensitivity – how do I feel if the results of a meeting are needed for a time critical activity.
  • Social impact – what I am doing outside of the normal working day makes a huge difference, especially if I have chosen to forego a personal commitment in favour of a work commitment that then doesn’t happen.
  • Reasons for meeting timing – there are very good reasons for some meetings happening at anti-social times, the reasons are not as clear for other meetings.
  • Expectation of postponement – there are some meetings that give me, for various reasons, I have a high expectation of change. My response to these meetings differs.
  • Overall meeting-load – there are regularly situations where I need to choose one meeting over another. Getting short notice of cancellation of the chosen meeting can lead to high levels of frustration.
  • Family and cultural routines – some people’s chart for the anti-social hours would be very different to mine and that signifies their family and cultural routines. I tend to regard early evenings as easier than late evenings, people with younger children probably see this the other way around.

In short, there isn’t a simple formula to work out what my, or someone else’s, response to a reschedule will be, but giving people as much notice as possible is an excellent working practice. Avoiding zero-notice cancellations should be very high on meeting organisers objectives, especially at anti-social times.

Walking for Physical Self Care – Learning from the Bus Conductors

Two of the books that I’ve read in the last 6 month have referred to the same study by a team lead by Jeremy Morris in 1949 to 1952.

Morris was interested in the connection between cardiovascular disease and physical activity. The link between exercise had been a long-held popular view, but there was little data to support it. On his daily commute in post war Britain, where money for research was scarce, Morris noticed a perfect sample for an experiment in the two people who operated the famous London double-decker buses on which he travelled – the driver and the conductor.

The driver with a mostly sedentary working life, the conductor on their feet most of the day, up and down stairs and from front to back. The difference in cardiovascular disease between the two cohorts was significant with drivers twice as likely to experience a heart-attack as the conductors. Neither of these roles required breathless physical exertion, the difference was between sitting all day and walking about all day.

Since the 1940’s the population in the west has moved from active jobs to sedentary ones. We may not be driving buses, our vehicles are apps, our steering wheels are screens, mice and keyboards.

Sitting all day is killing us, and it’s not just our cardiovascular system that is suffering, extended sitting is linked to a whole cluster of conditions. The recommended counter measure to these issues is exercise, in particular, walking.

Speaking personally, I can’t say that I can directly attribute any particular aspect of my physical well-being to regular walking, but I do feel the difference between active days and sedentary days. On active days I am less stiff, my brain is more alert, I sleep better, I feel less stressed, my posture is better, I am more creative, I am more motivated, my mood is better, I breathe better, in short I feel better.

One thing I’m not doing is walking to burn calories. While walking gives a reasonably good return on energy burnt, I’m more interested in the broader benefit to my overall well-being.

There’s still some debate about how much walking is enough walking, but for me I’m not sure that’s the right question. It appears that the 10,000 steps movement was created as a marketing event in Japan with no scientific research to support it. For me the question that I’m asking myself is how I build in as much activity as possible; can this meeting be done as a walking meeting? Can I take this call while I go for a walk? Even if I need to be near a screen for this discussion can I stand? Can I park my car away from the office door to make me walk in? I find it interesting that as a society we still regard these approaches as a bit weird.

Another question I ponder is which type of walking is best for me? In this regard it appears that we have to walk in a way that increases our breathing and heart rate. A number of people reference that phrase “you can still talk, but you can’t sing”. I rarely amble anywhere, but I don’t speed walk either. Perhaps I should be a bit more exerting as I walk, or perhaps I should just do more walking.

My morning walking routine has made a significant different to the amount of walking that I do, sadly it doesn’t stop me from sitting at a desk for 10 hours at a time occasionally. Most of the time this is broken by a lunchtime walk, whilst this walk does do something for me physically I find that it’s primary benefit is to my mind, perhaps that’s a subject for another day.

Header Image: Seathwaite Valley on the way back to the car after a fabulous day walking.

Because it's Friday: Envisioning Chemistry

There’s an adage that says “seeing is believing”, but sometimes “seeing is inspiring” would be more appropriate, and that’s the case with the Envisioning Chemistry website videos.

My memories of chemistry at school are of diagrams, reference books and a few relatively dull, and somewhat safe, experiments. The most memorable experiment was the result of an accident. The teacher added rather too much potassium to water and the violent reaction that resulted had us all diving under our desks.

The Envisioning Chemistry website brings to life many more experiments in gloriously filmed time-lapse, macro and slow-motion videos.

Here are a few of them, but there are many more on the web site and on the Vimeo channel:

Walking to Listen – What are you listening to?

The other day I was walking back towards my house when a cacophony of bird noises grabbed my attention. My hearing told me that there were magpies and birds of prey somewhere nearby. I searched the trees above me and sure enough at the top of some tall trees a group of magpies and a few buzzards were in the middle of an altercation. As I watched the buzzards would, one by one, fly in to one of the trees only to be sent packing by a angry response from a few of the magpies. Once one buzzard had been repelled another one would fly in from a different angle which was again repelled by even more magpies. If it hadn’t been for the noise I’m not sure that i would have noticed this fascinating behaviour.

There are so many different birds to hear as I partake of my morning ramblings.

Last summer I watched a flock of noisy long-tailed tits leap from bush to bush along a local hedgerow. Their call is distinctive, particularly as they move around in these small flocks chattering away to each other as they go.

I love to listen to nature as I walk around but that’s not the only type of listening that I like to do. Recently I received a present of some bone-conducting headphones from Sue, my wife. These headphones don’t go in my ears, but rest on my cheek bones, because my ears are still open to the air I can still hear all of the ambient sounds around me while I listen to a podcast or an audio-book. The headphones are also quite good for music, but although I love music I tend to prefer the spoken word while I’m out walking.

There’s something about walking and listening to an audio-book that enhances the experience of both, for me. Listening regularly, even for relatively short periods of time, means that you can get through quite a lot of material. Some of my listening is fiction and as I walk I enter into the scenes that the author has painted. There are times when I feel like I am equally in two places at the same time, the real one and the fictional one. At other times my listening is more factual learning and listening as I walk helps the learning to become embedded in my mind. Walking is, after all, supposed to have a positive effect on creative thinking.

Often, as I walk, the loudest noise isn’t an external one, it’s the one in my mind. There have been times when, before a walk, that voice has become almost deafening and blocked out every other sound. As I set out on a walk that voice drives me to walk at a pace, but without any rhythm, and little delight. The voice may be setting the pace at the beginning, but something about the activity of walking steadily arrest and calms that voice and returns my steps to a normal tempo. Calm steps and calm thoughts. Sometimes I don’t have to walk very far before I experience this effect, but there are other days when I can walk miles before the calm descends. If I am out hill walking the motion and effort of an ascent is a great facilitator for calming the voice. It can feel like I’m fighting the hill at the beginning, but anyone who has been hill walking knows that it’s always the hill that wins. Once my inner voice has been calmed it’s then, and only then, that I can really hear it.

My life would be far poorer if I was to loose the ability to walk and listen, but more than that, I suspect that my mental well-being would be significantly impaired.

There are days when my primary reason for walking is to listen, that’s particularly true when I need to listen to myself.

header image: This is the side of Yewbarrow looking towards Pillar from a recent walk when I listened to the entirety of Talking to Strangers by Malcolm Gladwell.

Walking to Discover – Finding the Paths Less Travelled

I’m writing this post having returned from a day of discovery.

Today I walked a route I have never walked before and went to a place I have never been to in my previous 50 years. This place was number 197 on a list of 214 places that I have a plan to discover.

My journey started from a place I know well having already been on several different adventures from this base. Only recently I travelled a route that took me to the top of a hill called Base Brown, number 187, from the north. Today’s route took me around the south of that same hill with delightful views that were hidden from my previous route with rugged crags emerging through the low clouds that became the theme of the day.

The south of Base Brown

Up to this point I had been walking a well defined path which is one of the routes to a Lake District favourite and England’s highest peak. Even this was a discovery and something new for me. Having reached a small stream it was time to join a faint path branching off to the right, it was time for the real discovery to begin.

The Path Ahead

This path isn’t on the maps, well at least it’s not on the maps that I use, but it is in various people’s guides to this walk. While the beginning of this path was visible it was clear that further up the hill the path was indistinct at best. Sometimes when I am out walking each step is a discovery. There were times when I had to take a step to see the next step, by taking that next step, the step after it became visible. Then there were points where even the next step wasn’t visible and I discovered by moving forward without a path. I knew the direction I needed to head to reach my destination and I expected the path to become clear at some point.

I headed towards a small tarnlet which I knew that the guided paths went past, by now I was up in the clouds with very little wind, when it’s like this the world shrinks to the size of the area that is visible. I like it when it’s like this.

A little way along the path reemerged, still faint, but clear a direct to the top where I discovered the two tops of Seathwaite Fell. There’s the summit on the map,and the summit defined by the guidebook writer Alfred Wainwright.

The Top of Seathwaite Fell (as defined on the map)

The best walks are continue their interest all the way up and all the way down, with discovery after discovery and this walk was one of those walks.

Not far beyond the summit there was another small unnamed tarn shrouded in cloud without even the faintest breath of wind. The reflections were wonderful in the cloudy gloom.

Misty Tarn

A little further along Sprinkling Tarn emerged, this is a larger tarn nestled into the hillside with an array of mountains looking down. While the path skirts around one side of the tarn I decided that this feature deserved a wider discover.

The tarn has an unusual shape with an isthmus shaped piece of land sticking out into the middle where I headed. It felt like I was on my own in the middle of the water. What a discovery.

Sprinkling Tarn

From the isthmus I headed back to the path and eventually discovered another path along the route of the stream that flowed out of the tarn and back to my transport.

The stream flows down a cascade of waterfalls and rocky ravines with a different view every few metres. Eventually the path dropped below the clouds and opened up wonderful views across Borrowdale and Derwentwater beyond. This was a new view of familiar friends, another discovery.

The path to Seathwaite with Derwentwater in the background

It was a lovely day of discovery, discovery is connected to newness, but you don’t have to go somewhere new to discover. On my regular morning walks there’s often something to discover. Having said that, I do love to walk somewhere new, I love to discover. I still have 17 more discoveries on my list of 214, and then I’ll have to find a new list to discover.

You can, perhaps, discover more things, more quickly in a car, but discovering as you walk allows you to take in the experience. There’s nothing quite like a walking discovery adventure.

Walking with Delight – It's a World of Wonder

I was recently out and about on my morning walk and thoroughly enjoying the rhythm of it. It’s been very wet this year and my walking boots were covered in mud and wet inside, thankfully I had my waterproof socks on and my feet were fine. I was roughly half way around the circuit and I was starting to get that heading for home feeling as I left a country lane and headed onto a narrow path which runs alongside a brook. Just a few metres along a flash of blue down near the flowing water caught my eye. Instinctively I stopped still and turned slowly to look to where the flash had been. There, sat on a twig overhanging the brook was a kingfisher. It sat for a few seconds looked at me and darted off along the stream and into obscurity.

I was delighted.

That delight stayed with me for the rest of my walk and also as a slow fading feeling for the rest of that day.

On most of my morning walks I find something to delight in:

The drill of a woodpecker on a spring day.

The bronze glow of a beach tree in the autumn.

The taste of juicy brambles.

The look of disdain from a fox as is crosses the path and disappears into the undergrowth.

The roar of a stream in flood.

The smell of wild garlic and the beautiful white flowers.

The taste of plumbs ripened in a nearby field.

The mystery of a misty morning as trees turn into shadowy figures.

The excitement of seeing a deer effortlessly bounce down one side of a hollow and up the other.

The discovery of a new path that I’ve never used before and neither has anyone else from the look of the undergrowth.

The emergence of the buds in the oak trees and the promise of acorns.

The brilliance of a bank covered in bluebells hidden away from view.

The screech of buzzards circling overhead.

The crunch of fresh frozen snow.

The shock of startling a hare and seeing it speed across the fields.

The joy of the smaller birds as they scurry about their work.

The list goes on. I’m not upset if I don’t see anything new or unique there are plenty of marvelous things if I just have the eyes to see them. Seeing isn’t a passive thing, you have to train yourself to see, it requires attention, and walking gives that time for attention to build, but I think that might be a post for another day.

I’ve written about delight before – Count Your Blessings #143 – Delight – interestingly, also provoked by a walk and a song that I still love, who’s words I will leave you with:

Amid the rumours and the expectations
And all the stories dreamt and lived
Amid the clangour and the dislocation
And things to fear and to forgive
Don’t forget
About delight

Don’t Forget About Delight: Bruce Cockburn

Header Image: One of those wonderful misty mornings.