Do Cities Still Matter?

I grew up in a small town but I always dreamed about big cities.  I sensed they were special places where, given the right amount of drive, the right mindset, one simply could not fail.  Sure, there would be ups and downs, but cities provided access to a robust network of opportunity.  This was in stark contrast to the small New England towns of my childhood, many of which never fully recovered from the demise of the textile mills in the early 1900s. 

Those were single-industry towns but the cities of my dreams were places where many industries thrived at once.  Physical places where the failure of one was overshadowed by the success of many.  Here, people came to do things, to make things.  This is where entrepreneurs thrived. 

The first choice I faced upon graduating from college in the late 1980s was about place, not work.  Would I choose the small-town life in which I was raised, or go to the city?  I had no doubt about where I was going, even if I had no idea what I would do when I got there.

Does place still matter?  Do cities still matter?  These are the questions that trouble me today, as I continue to bear witness to the post-Covid detachment of work from a designated place or places.  When workers are free to work from anywhere, cities suffer.  This is because cities were built, in part, as places for work.  It is the consistent presence of workers in the city which supports and promotes its economy, an economy which fails in their absence. 

What comes next?  Perhaps that should be the question.  If we no longer attach work to place, what do we do with all the places we built for work?  What do we do with our great cities?

Middle Manager on the Shelf

Our young children, now 8 and 9, have formed a special bond with Lucy and Jack, two elves assigned by Santa to watch over them.  For the past several years, Lucy and Jack have demonstrated extraordinary commitment to our family.  They’ve traveled during the holidays, magically appearing at our vacation destinations.  They’ve even stayed on after Christmas, despite being needed at the North Pole.  Just the other day, I found one of our children covering them in cinnamon (apparently this helps them get their magic back after being touched by humans).  To be sure, their presence has sharpened our children’s focus, causing them to think twice about being naughty, providing a welcome assist on the parental front. 

While our 9-year old is beginning to ask pointed questions, she’s either keeping the dream alive for her younger sister, or not quite ready to abandon belief.  Sadly, I suspect the former.  What makes the elf so powerful is the combination of magic and a connection to the big guy.  Magic is awesome, because for some period of a child’s life, it defies explanation.  Which other questions can be simply and definitively dismissed with a one-word answer, “magic”? 

Yet the elf’s magic is dark.  Sure, both Lucy and Jack wear a constant smile.  But behind their cheery demeanor lies the power to destroy.  I hate to be cynical, but I suspect my children’s proclaimed love for Jack and Lucy is, at least partly, fear.  To be blunt (and decidedly out of season), Jack and Lucy exploit their omnipresence to scare our kids into thinking twice about being naughty (even when there’s no one around), because, well, those elves are always there.  Naturally, this got me thinking about the office.

I’m considering developing a new product called “middle manager on the shelf”.  Imagine how effective this could be now that so many workers are remote.  Part of the swag an employee receives when joining the company could be a middle manager on the shelf.  Employees would be asked to carry their middle manager with them everywhere they work.  Of course, most employees won’t buy the magic narrative, so our middle manager will be equipped with audio and visual capabilities.  This will, effectively, solidify the essential connection to the big boss.

Having the middle manager on your shelf seems a fair trade for the privilege of remote work.  Sure, you might forget your middle manager on the shelf is watching while you take that post-lunch nap, but trust is built on transparency.  What do you think?  I’m on to something big, right?  I’ve got a history of sharing some of my best ideas before I ever do anything about them.  Watch. I’ll forget about this and next year, suddenly, middle managers on the shelf will be everywhere.