Sunday, November 26, 2017

How much time should a happy person spend at work?

Do you spend too much time at work?  Is overtime a way of life or, even worse, do you take work home for the weekends?  If so, you are not alone.   Approximately 60% of employees are estimated to work on the weekends.  All the while a little voice in the back of our heads is whispering, just think what you could be doing if all your time wasn't consumed with work.


All work and no play...


This is not a new sentiment.  Nor is it confined to the average citizen. Even Gaius Octavius, aka Augustus, emperor of Rome, was worn down by the work-a-day grind.  In the book On the Shortness of Life, Seneca says:
The divine Augustus, to whom the gods gave more than to any man, never ceased to pray for rest for himself and to seek release from the affairs of state.
Augustus never arrived at his eagerly anticipated retirement and as far as I can tell, he never even took a vacation.  Laying the foundations for an enduring Pax Romana is a full time job, it might even require a little overtime now and then.

Work can become all-consuming for non-emperors, too. Meeting the seemingly never-ending demands of bosses, customers, clients, and co-workers leaves many of us with precious little time to care for ourselves and satisfy our own needs, hopes, and desires.

Seneca's explanation is that we simply don't place enough value on our time.
People trifle with the most precious commodity of all; and it escapes their notice because it's an immaterial thing that doesn't appear to the eyes, and for that reason it's valued very cheaply - or rather, it has practically no value at all.
Most likely, neither Augustus nor Seneca ever heard the phrase "work-life balance," but I'm sure they would understand the concept.  Assign the proper priorities to "work" and "life," then allocate your time accordingly.  Right.  Like that ever happens. My "work" is never balanced with my "life."

Part of the reason is the nature of my work.  The patent office will only give an inventor a patent on a new idea.  If there is any evidence that the idea was already known at the time the patent application is filed, no patent for the inventor.  That includes the inventor talking about, writing about, or offering to sell their invention.  So deadlines are baked into the process.

This creates serious time pressure. For example, one of my clients is a member of many standards bodies that define how my client's products (and all of their competitors and fellow members' products) must operate.  Holding a patent on a standardized technology is therefore very valuable because everyone has to use it.

The members meet several times a year to present ideas and haggle over what to include in the final standards.  Most of the time between meetings is spent working on new ideas and so the inventors don't finalize the inventions until a few days before the meeting.  In order to protect the inventions that might get included in a standard, a patent application has to be filed before the invention is discussed at the meeting, which leaves me with precious little time to do my part.

The work is intense and sometimes nerve-wracking.  I have to learn the technology, interview the inventors, prepare and revise the application (with a 20-plus page specification, claims, and drawings), and file the application.   There are some early mornings, long days, and late nights, particularly if the inventors are located in Europe, India, China, or Japan, as they often are.  Yikes!  Just explaining the process gets my heart pumping and my palms sweaty.

Most of the anxiety that comes with a short-fuse application is anticipatory.  I always worry that this will be the application that doesn't make it to the patent office by the deadline.  That all vanishes once the work starts.  Almost a soon as I begin reading the disclosure that describes the invention, I lock into the flow state, where I (mostly) stay until I click SUBMIT on the United States Patent & Trademark Office application filing page.  And in the end, the applications always get filed on time.  It's kind of a specialty of mine and I take great pride in being able to deliver a high quality application on short notice.

Nonetheless, once the rush application is done and filed, I start hoping for a break and thinking that life would be so much better if I didn't have to spend my time grinding out patent applications.


... makes Jack a dull boy?



The impulse to avoid work, even though it provides some of the most stimulating challenges in our lives, is pervasive.  Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi found that subjects in his studies of flow consistently report that they have some of their most positive experiences while working.  Nevertheless, these same people report that they would prefer not to be working and their motivation on the job is low.

The belief that leisure is the best way to spend time is also nearly universal, even though people tend to be less happy at leisure.  Csikszentmihalyi's subjects reported surprisingly low moods during their leisure time while also claiming that they would prefer more leisure time.  Csikszentmihalyi calls this the paradox of work.
What does this contradictory pattern mean?  There are several possible explanations, but one conclusion seems inevitable: when it comes to work, people do not heed the evidence of their senses.
Or maybe we just aren't paying attention.  The thought that work could be as enjoyable, if not more so, than leisure never occurred to me until I read Flow, and even then I spent many years viewing work as a necessary evil (or at least an unwelcome imposition). Only recently did I put the idea to the test by committing to more challenges at work and consciously noticing whether I enjoyed it or not.

The result?  For the most part, challenging work is enjoyable, as predicted.  I find I am generally willing to make the trade-off between work and leisure to tackle a tough project.  However, there is a limit.  Skipping walks or meditation is tolerable if I'm deeply immersed in drafting an application, but if work squeezes them out for too long, I get resentful and unhappy.  Reading and writing about new inventions is fine, but not to the exclusion of reading and writing about life.  Or simply living life.

So does working hard feel like happiness on the good days?  Not really.  When I am happy, I feel a sense of lightness, freedom, and joy.  Crunching through a patent application, particularly if I am on a tight deadline, is more like a weighty challenge. Satisfying but not joyous.

Flow may be an important clue to the mystery of happiness, but it is not the same as happiness.  Csikszentmihalyi may be correct that we are not heeding the evidence of our senses when we are working, but it also seems plausible that measures of flow are missing some ingredients of happiness. One possibility suggested by Csikszentmihalyi is that happy flow results from an internal motivation, whereas the less happy state of flow reported at work is produced by external motivators, like bosses, customers, clients, and co-workers.

This agrees with my experience.  Flow at work is not as sure to produce enjoyment as flow on my own time.  And too much work, even in flow, produces diminishing returns of happiness.  Perhaps flow and work are overlapping states.  Work without flow is less likely to be happy work.  And work with flow is more likely to be happy work, But not all flow at work is guaranteed to produce happy work.


Sunday, November 19, 2017

Don't ask me about protein and I won't ask you about cholesterol

No discussion of plant-based diets is complete until a doubtful meat eater has asked about protein.  Where does it come from, if not animal products?  Won't your muscles disappear if you stop eating meat? Vegetarians and vegans have grown tired of the question and some are getting a little defensive.  Instead of turning the discussion to legumes, they are trying to turn the tables on the carnivores by pointing to the cholesterol raising effects of eating meat.


Great.  Just what we need.  Another arena where discussion and debate are shut down and replaced by snarky sloganeering.  I get it.  Sometimes you just want to eat.  No questions asked.  But sometimes you want to ask a few questions about what is on your plate.

A vegan of convenience


Let's get one thing on the table.  I'm not a vegetarian or a vegan.  At least not according to the strict definitions.  I eat very few animal products, but I still love sushi and I won't toss out a pizza that is topped with cheese, even though most of the pizzas I make are vegan (and deliciously so).



That said, I usually describe myself as a vegetarian.  Why?   Because saying you are a vegetarian is the easiest way to make sure that the food you are served is mostly plant based, which is virtually always what I want to eat.

I claim to be vegan less often, but with a purpose.  Mostly, I do it in restaurants to taste test their off-the-menu vegan options, which are usually as good or better than the items on the menu.  Then again, sometimes the vegan option is the best reason to compromise and eat some animal products.

Other times, I'll play vegan just to start a conversation with the wait staff.  One day I was on my own for lunch in Greenwich Village and I wandered into Nix.  Holy cow!  What a great restaurant!  Really!  If you get a chance, you gotta go, meat eater or not.  Anyway, I started asking about the vegan options and by the time lunch was over I had been schooled in the food, philosophy, and friendly restaurant rivalries that make Nix tick.

Things don't always work out so well.  I was the poster child for vegetarianism at a recent dinner, which would have been fine except that most of the guests spoke only French (with a smattering of English), while I speak English (with a smattering of French that I last used 20 years ago).  So I wasn't participating in much of the conversation.

When my chance to articulate my views on vegetarianism and veganism finally arrived, I choked.  A kindly older woman suggested to me that the chicken soup would be alright for a vegetarian to eat.  My response?  "Chicken isn't really a vegetable."  I swear I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but it was not one of my finer moments.

L'esprit de l'escalier


Why bother?  Is it really worth all the trouble to eat (mostly) vegetarian or vegan in a meat based society?  Yes.  And if I could re-roll that dinner party conversation, here are the three reasons that I would give for abstaining (mostly) from eating animal products.

Cholesterol.  My now-retired doctor was fond of giving his middle-aged patients the animal products speech, which goes a little like this.  There are three knobs that control your cholesterol levels: genetics, exercise, and diet.  The genes knob is stuck; you can't turn it.  To turn the exercise knob, forty minutes (or more) of activity that raises your heart rate.  Turn the diet knob by minimizing (or eliminating) the animal products in your diet.  Each person has a different sensitivity to each knob.  My ex-doctor had patients that are strict vegans but still take cholesterol-reducing medication because they are genetically predisposed to high cholesterol. Diet and exercise work pretty well for me.  My bad cholesterol numbers went down, and my good cholesterol numbers went up, after I started walking regularly and cut out most animal products.

Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations (CAFOs). Jeremy Bentham first advocated for (but did not adopt) a vegetarian diet around 1780.  His rationale for extending rights to animals was straightforward, "The question is not, can they reason? Nor can they talk? But, can they suffer?"  And suffer they do.  By the millions and in the most inhumane conditions imaginable.  Need convincing? For the bravest souls, check out one or two PETA videos.  For the wimps like me, watch Okja on Netflix.  It's greatest movie Disney never made because Disney is so ... well ... Disney.

Climate Change.  The Union of Concerned Scientists estimates that 14% of the emissions that contribute to global warming comes from the food and beverages we consume.  A big chunk of those emissions are methane "exhaled" by ruminants like cows, sheep, and goats.  That's right.  The unusually warm air you're feeling this year is partly caused by cow burps ... and the manure lagoons at CAFOs (see above).  The UCS concludes that eating less meat, particularly beef, is a useful strategy for reducing your carbon footprint.

Oh, look...they all start with a C!  That might make it easier to remember in the heat of a dinner party.

Sunday, November 12, 2017

Where is your happy place?

This just in! Hot off the presses (for those of you who remember what a press is)! After years of searching, explorers for National Geographic have discovered the happiest city in the United States.  And the winner is ... drum roll please, pass the envelope, cast a knowing smirk-and-chuckle at the audience, and announce ... Boulder, Colorado.


Well, duh.  Aren't all the cool kids already living in Boulder?  Even Mr. Money Mustache lives there.


What makes Boulder so happy?  


According to NatGeo, there is a simple formula for happiness:
breathtaking scenery, a pleasant climate, a charming downtown, and enough outdoor activities to keep even the most active person busy. There’s simply no excuse not to get out and play.
 The actual formula (produced by Dan Buettner) is a bit more complicated, but not much.  Applying the same formula to other cities, Buettner produced a ranking of the happiest places in the U.S.

1. Boulder Colorado
2. Santa Cruz/Watsonville, California
3. Charlottesville, Virginia
4. Fort Collins, Colorado
5. San Luis Obispo/Paso Robles/Arroyo Grande, California
6. San Jose/Sunnyvale/Santa Clara, California
7. Provo/Orem, Utah
8. Bridgeport/Stamford, Connecticut
9. Barnstable Town, Massachusetts
10. Anchorage, Alaska
11. Naples/Immokalee/Marco Island, Florida
12. Santa Maria/Santa Barbara, California
13. Salinas, California
14. North Port/Sarasota/Bradenton, Florida
15. Honolulu, Hawaii

There are ten more on the list, but I got tired of cutting-and-pasting.  And I live in Honolulu, so why bother looking any farther if I am already living in one of the happiest cities in the country?

Not my happy place


A peripatetic adult life has carried me to several different cities, some better than others from a happiness perspective.  And my ranked list of happy places looks a lot different than the National Geographic list.

So here we go, happiest to least happy.

1. Los Angeles, California
2.  Houston, Texas
3. Tucson, Arizona
4. Baltimore, Maryland
5.  Honolulu, Hawaii
6. Champaign, Illinois

Full disclosure: one of my all time happiest years was spent in Paris (France, not Texas), which is outside the U.S., so I left it off the list.   I also think it is unfair to hold Boulder (or nearly any other city, for that matter) to the standard set by Paris.  For me, Boulder's charming downtown isn't even in the same discussion as the 3rd arrondissement, where I lived.  But then again, my favorite U.S. city is LA, which the National Geographic article only mentions because of the shrillness of its sirens.

On balance, I would describe myself as having been happy in LA, Houston, and Tucson, neutral in Baltimore (which is pretty good because I was in graduate school), and unhappy in Honolulu and Champaign.

The average is a bit misleading; I became significantly happier the longer I lived in every city on the list, mostly because of a growing network of friends.  Even the isolation and cultural disconnect of life in Honolulu is easier to bear after a night of karaoke.

Cities are people


Unhappy in Honolulu?  How is that possible?  Endless summers.  Beaches, mountains, and rain forests, all within a ten minute drive of each other.  The city has even turned a few car lanes into bike paths and started a bike share program, Biki.  No wonder National Geographic ranked it number 15.

All true, but I knew from the beginning that I was in for a difficult transition to island living.  Shortly after I arrived in Honolulu, I came across the following quote in Who's Your City by Richard Florida:
One person I interviewed said that after moving his family to a new city, he immediately sensed it was wrong.  He found it hard to resonate with people there.  His neighbors were nice enough and of similar age.  That wasn't the problem.  They just didn't share his attitudes and values, likes and dislikes.  The place just didn't feel right.  He began to feel negative and angry for inexplicable reasons.  Nothing about his environment - despite the nice house and good job - really excited him.  He analogized it to feeling like a visitor in his own skin.  It took him a while to put it together, but ultimately he realized that he was not somewhere he felt free to be himself and realize his dreams.
Bingo.  That's me.  And I am not alone.  A friend who lived in Honolulu for 30 years before returning to Houston a couple years ago confessed that she never felt at home in her own skin in Hawaii.  Not even after marrying a kama'aina and raising a family here.

So Honolulu is where I part ways with the survey-says approach to finding happy places.  Focusing on the external factors implies that everyone needs the same things to be happy. Not true. Who you are matters, too.

In Who's Your City, Florida identifies three distinct groups of people based on aggregates of the characteristics of their personalities: outgoing, conventional/dutiful, and experiential.  Outgoing personalities are social, enjoy group activities, and play team sports.  Conventional personalities are hard working, friendly, trusting, helpful and compassionate.  Experiential personalities do not need to be around other people, question authority, and quest after extreme experiences.

Places also have personalities.  Chicago and Minneapolis are outgoing.  Sunbelt cities tend to be conventional, as is Portland, Oregon, strangely enough.  New York City tops the list of experiential cities, and LA is in the mix.

Living in a place that matches your personality seems conducive to happiness.  Florida summarizes:
Were people happier in places with higher concentrations of personality types like themselves?  The short answer is a resounding yes.
Does this mean you should move to place full of like minded people if you want to be happier?  Not so fast.

Wherever you go

Dissatisfaction with home and a desire to light out for the territories is nothing new, it's practically a defining feature of American life.  But what reason is there to believe that moving, even moving to Boulder, is going to make anyone happier?

Neither Buettner nor Florida provide an overly compelling answer to this question.  The catch is that these studies measure the feelings of people that are already living in a place. On average, people living in Boulder report being happier than people living in, say, Los Angeles.  And people with experiential personalities who live in Manhattan report feeling happier than people with experiential personalities living in Fort Lauderdale. 

However, neither approach directly demonstrates that moving will make you happier, even if you move to Boulder.  As far as I know, there aren't any studies that map the happiness of people before and after inter-city moves.  And what if a hundred thousand National Geographic readers upped sticks and relocated to Boulder next year?   A lot of Boulder residents would probably report feeling much less happy.

The lesson I take from this is simply: move with care.  Jon Kabat-Zinn puts his finger on the problem in Wherever You Go, There You Are:
The romantic notion is that if it's no good over here, you have only to go over there and things will be different.  If this job is no good, change jobs.  If this wife is no good, change wives.  If this town is no good, change towns.  If these children are a problem, leave them for other people to look after.  The underlying thinking is that the reason for your troubles is outside of you - in the location, in others, in the circumstances.  Change the location, change the circumstances, and everything will fall into place; you can start over, have a new beginning.
But if the source of the problem is internal, moving might not do any good. That doesn't mean you should never move; just be sure you are in the fire and not the frying pan.


Sunday, November 5, 2017

Happiness or wealth? The $75,000 question

I have seen the headline ""The Perfect Salary for Happiness? $75,000 a year" so many times and in so many permutations that it has become a personal article of faith. The message is clear: all you need is $75,000 a year to be happy.  Anything more is superfluous, and maybe even a pointless waste of time.



Our household income is above the happy number, but believing that happiness peaks at 75K still matters.  The number is a consolation when I worry about whether I will be able to maintain my income at its current level because, well, at least I can still be happy if I earn less.  It is also a motivator in optimistic times - if I can save enough to generate investment returns of $75,000 a year, I can retire and be a happy unemployee.

Comforting fantasies, but fantasies all the same.

It's not all about the happy


The magic number of $75,000 comes from a 2010 study by economists Daniel Kahneman and Angus Deaton  (both now Nobel laureates).  The authors concluded that:
More money does not necessarily buy more happiness, but less money is associated with emotional pain. Perhaps $75,000 is a threshold beyond which further increases in income no longer improve individuals’ ability to do what matters most to their emotional well-being, such as spending time with people they like, avoiding pain and disease, and enjoying leisure.
All good so far.  Raising your income to $75,000 is likely to reduce the emotional pain you experience and therefore increase your level of emotional well being, i.e., happiness.  Once your income hits that level, happiness plateaus.  From there on, adding to your income doesn't seem to do a lot to increase your happiness.

But Kahneman and Deaton didn't just measure happiness, they also measured life satisfaction, which refers to a person's thoughts about his or her life.  The life satisfaction scale ranges from "the worst possible life for you" to "the best possible life for you."  This is where it gets interesting.

Life satisfaction doesn't stop improving at $75,000.  To the contrary, a person's perceived satisfaction with their life keeps increasing as they make more money, at least up to $160,000.  And even at that level, the data show no signs of slowing down.  Satisfaction could keep rising all the way to Bill Gates.

The authors summarize the difference between the effect of income on happiness and life satisfaction by noting that:
We observe a qualitative difference between our measures of emotional well-being and of life evaluation—the former satiates with high income, whereas the latter does not.
Put another way, our appetite for life satisfaction, and the money to feed it, might be insatiable.

Coming down is the hardest thing


That dispels my $75,000 fantasies.  I want to be happy, but I also want to be satisfied with my life.  If asked, I want to be able to tell economics researchers that I am living a life that is pretty close to my best possible life.  Regardless of whether the money is in the form of a salary or investment income, is that possible if I anchor on $75,000?

The evidence of the Kahneman/Deaton study suggests that the answer to that question is no.  If a person's income goes down, their satisfaction with life is likely to fall in lockstep.

There is one big caveat to keep in mind.  The authors emphasize that their study examines differences in income, not changes in income.
Our data speak only to differences; they do not imply that people will not be happy with a raise from $100,000 to $150,000, or that they will be indifferent to an equivalent drop in income. 
The point here is that while the study suggests that if person A earns $100,000 per year they are likely to be just as happy as person B, who earns $150,000 per year.  The study does not say that person B will remain as happy as person A if their income falls to $100,000 per year.  Maybe they will, maybe they won't.

The same distinction between difference and change applies to life satisfaction.  The Kahneman/Deaton study concludes that person B (with the income of $150,000) is very likely to report higher levels of life satisfaction that person A, who makes $100,000.  The study doesn't demonstrate that person A will be more satisfied with life if their income rises to $150,000, or that person B will be less satisfied with life if their income falls to $100,000.  But both outcomes seem pretty likely.

Mo' money, mo' money, mo' money?


Reading this study, one could draw the conclusion from that the path to life satisfaction is lined with gold, which might be true. But that would contradict centuries of experience and thought about the relation of money to happiness.

Philosophers from Aristotle to Schopenhauer and theologians from St. Thomas Aquinas to the Dalai Lama have all concluded that happiness does not consist in wealth.  But they didn't make Kahneman and Deaton's distinction between happiness and life satisfaction.  Would that matter?  I don't know.  Next time I see the Dalai Lama, I'll ask.

Modern students of wealth, happiness, and life satisfaction agree that money doesn't (necessarily) buy happiness or satisfaction.  Vicky Robin, author of Your Money or Your Life,  doesn't rely on outside income and she seems pretty satisfied with her life.  Mr Money Mustache lives on about $30,000 per year and he comes across as both happy and satisfied.

So here is the conundrum: if the philosophers are correct that money isn't the key to happiness or satisfaction, why do people tell economists that they are more satisfied with life at higher levels of income?  And what are the implications for our own lives?