I left Ziegler Cooper ten years ago. They’re a fine architecture firm, but in the wrong part of continent.
My parents were in San Jose, her parents are in Las Vegas, and fate had told us it was time to go back west. The heater in our apartment blew out, filling the place with acrid smoke. Instead of fixing the busted equipment, the landlord released us from the lease (turns out he was selling the property and it’s now a parking lot).
My two years at ZCA revolved around this 300 unit, 8 story luxury apartment behemoth on the outer ring of this suburban metropolis. I was the job captain for this project, but we were understaffed so I drafted about 80% this set, from the start of Design Development until halfway through Construction Administration. (We did this in AutoCAD, so Gables Tanglewoods must be among the last generation of projects at this scale that wasn’t documented via BIM.)
It was great experience for a guy who had only worked on small residential and tenant improvement projects. I learned a ton from the older architects, like proper waterproofing principles and how to squeeze every square inch out the building code from Rafael.
I also picked up how a more corporate firm works. You have to stand up for yourself in the corporate environment, unless you don’t mind being run over. Sometimes it’s not a horrific trade (I got a ton of experience in a short amount of time) but I realized I can’t sustain such a pace for my career.
One day, we’ll visit Houston again. Along with pilgrimages to the Menil and the Orange Show, I’m going to saunter into the lobby as prospective tenant so I can finally get a tour of this place that I didn’t get to finish.
Our home renovation was the first project under my stamp. The second was this renovation at Building 1300.
It was built as a residential center the disabled. Fifty years later, it’s an administrative building. We removed two kitchens, freeing up space to become an indoor exercise activity space for the clients and a training room for the staff.
In school, we design majestic pretend structures. Sometimes we get to participate in marquee IRL projects — my wife worked on curtain wall details for an addition to an iconic museum and I’ve played a part on three university building projects.
But really, Architecture is a mundane practice.
We make incremental improvements to what’s around us. We get paid to make the world a little better.
Four years ago, I left private practice to become an Owner’s Project Manager for the State of Nevada.
I’m the ultimate middleman — I don’t deliver nothing. The Architect designs the project. The Contractor builds it. The Agency uses the facility to serve the public.
I just shepherd the team to deliver the project on time and on budget, hopefully at an optimal quality.
My tasks are unremarkable. Calculate estimates. Send emails. Meetings and phone calls. Double check drawings and dollar signs. I shuttle documents around our bureaucracy.
My position is five steps below the Governor on the org-chart, but it’s blessedly free from politics. The Citizens elect our Politicians. They determine our directives. The Division gets it done.
But nothing happens without people.
My big paradigm shift after taking this job was realizing that work is all about relationships. As a professional architect, I delivered tangible documents. Now, my only unique skill is familiarity with the government bureaucracy.
I’m here to balance the conflicting demands on a project, negotiate the cross incentives within the team, and chart a path through the process.
It’s not always daisies. On Friday night, I dropped the velvet hammer on a flooring manufacturer for delaying another project. It’s my duty to be fair and firm as a steward of taxpayer dollars.
I grasp the checkbook, but I work for those who do the real work. Construction isn’t easy, but I hope to make it satisfying. I try to conduct myself with honor and enable each team member to to do their best. I care about each of us, in our roles and as individuals.
This is our work. Let’s make the most of this precious opportunity.
Maybe even walk out with a smile.
This Kitchen Demolition project did not go smoothly. It started as an extensive renovation with a consultant architect, but the agency suddenly realized that the funding was about to expire.
With that nasty deadline, I could only deconstruct. I slammed demolition drawings on AutoCAD LT and pushed it out to bid. The contract was approved, signed by all parties.
Then COVID hit.
The Capitol feared we were at the precipice of a depression and killed this little project. (Of course, the cancellation dragged out amidst the pandemic confusion, leaving the contractor in limbo for more than a month.)
By Spring 2021, the looming depression became an economic rebound. The Agency revived the project.
The Contractor held their bid, we waded through a swamp of paperwork, moved the cash into the right budget account, and those kitchens disappeared!
We celebrated with a twelve pack of Dr. Peppers.
Construction is only straightforward after it’s done. Every project suffers its twists and turns.
We can plan, but only so much. When chaos hits, the universe forces us to negotiate. If we choose to collaborate, these frustrations can cultivate relationships beyond mere project roles.
June came and went this year. The twelve month warranty expired — the only part of our job without hiccups.
Wednesday morning, I returned a missed call.
His voice quivered.
Tracey passed away. I thought you should know. She really enjoyed working with you.
䷨䷆
one small project client and contractor respect notice beyond this vale greatest honor of my career
I got my first full-time architecture gig twenty years ago. I had graduated Berkeley and entered the Dot.com bust without any computer drafting skills.
So I started by moving dirt.
It was a good detour. I consider my half-year of landscaping the most influential six month stretch of my career. Plus I met some friends I still treasure today. But work in the Oakland hills slowed down so it was finally time to start work in my chosen profession.
I ran down the phone book and came across Ron Bogley Architect and Builder. Ron was still hand drafting so he didn’t mind that I couldn’t AutoCAD. He needed someone at the office working on the drawings while he managed his crew in the field.
Working in the first floor of his house, looking over the back yard, and drawing by hand was an idyllic start to this profession. It was a lonely shock going from being in a crew of boys to working alone, but it helped to have a caring mentor.
We settled into a comfortable rhythm, I’d draw as much as I could, using old sets for reference, and leave some bluelines on his desk in the evening. The next morning, I’d magically have redlines on my desk and we’d keep going.
When I first started, we didn’t even have internet at the office. I remember when we got an iMac with a domed base and an articulated LCD screen.
Even so, the arrival of broadband didn’t make a difference to my life. I only used it for typing up general notes that we’d print onto sticky back. The real work was done standing at the drafting desk, laying graphite on vellum.
But nothing lasts forever. It was a great job in a beautiful city, but there is no margin in small residential and I needed to get my professional license. A couple of years later, I got into Rice University and shipped across country.
If moving rocks in the Oakland Hills was the perfect introduction for my career, then working with Ron was the perfect start to being an Architect. Working in a small firm gave me a chance to do everything – without the computer as an intermediary.
I was lucky to get this job. I got to start my journey before CAD and followed our technological growth into today’s BIM-dominated world. More importantly, working in a very small firm is an antidote to corporate brainwashing. I will always be the happy company man in front of the client, but I know it doesn’t have to be like this. Since my time with Ron, I’ve navigated this profession with an question mark seered in my psyche.
From small to big, every organization is a choice. It’s on us to shape them as they shape us.
~
How did you start in this profession? Did it affect your path?
Hit reply and let’s chat!
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Abandoned places are a bit of a trope, but the Romain Veillon’s photos are still stunning. I looked at them a few times to see if they were CGI. Quite the antidote to life in the desert.
Chuck Jones had a simple set of rules for interactions between Coyote and Roadrunner. I should try something like that myself.
I’ve heard several internet-famous characters claim that they had more fun when they were just posting stuff without an audience. While they are always careful to say they are appreciative of their public lives, they nostalgically think of when they were toiling away anonymously.
Hearing such humble brags make me want to retort, “wish I had your problems”.
But Grizzlypear is a hobby (not a job).
So I thank them for the insight. Their warnings have tempered my desire for internet popularity. I have an enjoyable job that pays well. Why should I pursue an extra gig that might be neither?
I enjoy publishing publically on this blog because it encourages me to take the writing touch more seriously. Knowing that I’m not the only reader forces me to refine my thoughts. Then again, the small audience limits the angst to that of a professional email.
I’d say this is a perfect balance for my circumstances. Of course, my ego would gladly accept more acclaim, but I’m always concious of the warning “beware of what you wish for, ’cause you might get it.”
Between writing and publishing this post, I suddenly started a two week (minimum) side project with daily one sentence stories. I had been lightly playing with the idea for a few weeks and just started publishing them on a whim.
I suspect these silly experiments should have been perfect for social media, but that world has developed a darker tone these days, as many centralized systems ultimately become. And so we’re back to blogging on an older version of the web. The audience doesn’t come as easily – but neither does the mob.
Obscurity gives me the invisiblilty allows me to play without much angst. As always thanks for reading!
I had a short email exchange with a young architect about planning a career and finding the elusive work-life balance in our notoriously brutal profession. Here is an edited version.
Yeah, it’s good to think about a long-term career trajectory. However, my career experienced a few twists and turns – none that I could have guessed a couple of years in advance. As such, I’ve learned that the value of planning is in doing the exercise. Even though the final result will not match the pre-vision, a practice of regularly contemplating “next steps” has prepared me to quickly grab new opportunities and pursue new desires that come up.
And yes, you’re correct to worry about work-life balance. My career was supercharged when I joined a corporate firm and worked two years of regular 50+ hour weeks. The more you work, the more you learn – it’s a compounding investment in yourself.
However, this textbook career path can become a long-term trap. Study hard in your off time to pass the tests quickly. Push extra hours to get promoted to associate. Once you’ve level set long hours, the team needs you to keep it up. And it doesn’t get easier once you’re principal – now you have to make payroll.
A hard push for the first few years might be a good jumpstart for a young pro without a family, but completely devoting yourself to architecture is corrosive to your sense of self and your long-term relationships. Career success is nice, but it doesn’t necessarily translate to a better life.
So how did I avoid getting stuck on this hamster wheel? Good luck and low expectations.
My parents paid my way through school, so I don’t have any debt (luck). Also, my wife and I live frugally, so we have a low burn rate (expectations). Avoiding major financial obligations has let me pursue a career as an activity of choice instead of an endeavor to maximize income. I’m free to balance my income against the time invested to earn it.
Maybe I would gotten stuck in the promotion trap if I stayed in Houston, but we moved to Vegas right after I was promoted to Associate. Unlike colleagues who are still at that firm, this move broke the cycle. This cross country move was spurred by a busted heater in our apartment, so I chalk this up to luck.
Now that I’ve been doing this for twenty years, I’ve seen the sacrifice required to enter and stay in the upper eschelons. Fuck it. Aside from my two years in corporate, I’ve happily settled for a job with interesting projects, a fair hourly rate, and reasonable hours.
I don’t love high architecture. I enjoy the job and my brain is wired as an “architect” for to spaceplanning and managing projects. However I’m not a capital-“A” Architect. Don’t ask me to come up with flashy designs. With this realiziation, my expectations have been muted – architecture is not going to be my primary means of self expression. Architecture is my path for good work to support a good life.
Similarly, I’ve tempered my expectations in government work. Sure, it would be cool to have my name engraved on a bronze plaque outside a university building. But I have zero interest in all the other headaches that my administrator has to manage. So why claw my way up this ladder?
Finally, I’ve got my health and my family, what more can I ask for? Why push my luck?
Have fun sorting out your career. Who knows where your career will go! Just remember that everything (good and bad) comes with an opportunity cost. Plan regularly and stay flexible.
A few months ago, I was on a web panel with four architects and an HR professional to discuss the changing relationship between employers and employees.
In preparation, I wrote responses to questions that were sent to us before the event. The conversation turned out to be more collegial than one might assume from the contents of this post. For better or worse, the written word is a sharp instrument.
I feel some trepidation in publishing this post because I’m contradicting statements I’ve heard from past principals I’ve met. However, I believe this alternate viewpoint should be given voice.
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Is it management’s job to make the relationship work no matter what?
As business partners, the different parties play separate roles in the organization and have different responsibilites towards each other. That said, the employee is transient compared to management, so the incentives and the stakes will diverge. Management needs to juggle multiple relationships and competing interests within the firm while trying to maintain a harmonious environment. Conversely, an employee only has one job, so they are more dependent upon the whims of management than the firm’s dependency upon any specific employee.
How transactional is the relationship?
How transactional is any business relationship? Someone is hired to do work. They do it. They get paid.
What moderates the raw exchange is the context. A career is an “infinite game”. The definition of “winning” an infinite game is to keep playing. A small victory isn’t worth losing a seat at the table. Reputation and relationships are critical in this tight-knit industry.
Personal pride, firm reputation, employee retention, keeping your job, and company culture are all aspects of the infinite game that breathes life into the day-to-day grind.
How much commitment do staff owe management, and why?
How much commitment does a firm owe its client? Standard of care. As an architect, the life safety of the public is non-negotiable. Everything else should be discussed upfront.
Here is a juicy question. Youtuber CGP Grey worked several side hustles before settling into his current career. He is very open that he did his best work early in the morning before going to work as a teacher before going full time as a content creator. As long as they discharging their duties properly, do employees owe their employer their “holistically best” effort?
My answer is maybe. If architecting is just a job, then the standard of care is fair. If architecture is our profession, then coming to work at less than best is shortchanging ourselves in the long run.
Of course, there are shades of grey. After I had children, I chose to limit myself to a 40-hour workweek. I knew it would affect my market rate and possibilities for promotion, but I discussed it upfront in my job interviews and this request was respected by my employers.
What level of sacrifice should management make to accommodate a staff member’s preferences or weaknesses?
What level of sacrifice is management willing to make to retain that staff member’s services (or maintain an overall culture to support the morale of the wider team)?
Additional thoughts on this unequal relationship.
The employee gives 8 hours out of 24 every day, half of their waking day. That’s a pretty big ratio. Within the company, this employee’s salary is only a small percentage of their budget.
Would a firm look kindly on an employee who repaid two months of 50 hour weeks with eight weeks of 30 hour work weeks?
Between the Dotcom Bust and the Great Recession, we’ve lived through a couple of moments of sudden mass layoffs. Why do employers believe that calls for loyalty still have resonance?
The analogy of the firm as a family is tenuous at best. What do people do with their family members when funds run tight?
Employees aren’t owners. They don’t get a cut of the pie. They have minimal say in how the business is run. (Admittedly, employees also don’t live with sleepless nights worrying about how to make payroll.) Why should they be expected to act like it?
Summary
Management needs to get work done and turn a profit. The employees need to get work done and keep their jobs.
Getting work done is the basis of the relationship, but life is complicated. It takes earnest effort to keep the two parties in alignment.
The employee-employer relationship is best served with a cold understanding of the nature of this business arrangement, tempered by the infinite nature of this game.
~
One Question
Is this perspective on employment too transactional? Is there a better mental framework for these relationships?
Hit reply and let’s chat!
~
Three Links
Jeff Eaker points out the future of the office is outside the office. And we’ve been living it for the past year and a half.
Congrats to the Journey to the West Podcast! Every week, Richard Tseng and James Young discussed the Chinese novel, Journey to the West. 100 chapters and two years later, they’ve completed the project. In the era of dystopic social media, this project is a reminder of the decentralized internet at its best.
Thanks for reading the OPM letter! I’d love to have a conversation if you have any feedback. I hope you found some prompts to stretch your craft and relationships as a curious Owner PM. See you next week!
Stay humble, be kind, and keep experimenting! Justus Pang, RA
Moderate at council should a man be, Not brutal and over bearing; Among the bold the bully will find Others as bold as he.
Thank you for reading. Please subscribe if you’d like the next letter in your inbox.
~
(notes on) The Hávamál
In this polarized moment, it is easy to forget that we share more than we diverge. Each individual is unique, but we are all human, and functioning societies have evolved to rhyme with each other.
Proverbs blend the universal with the specific. These sayings give us a glimpse of the humanity of those outside our tribe, separated by distance and time.
Recently, a friend shared some quotes from the Havamal on social media. The memes didn’t fit my mental stereotype of hard-charging, harder-drinking Vikings. Intrigued, I dug up a translation by W. H. Auden. The Havamal was indeed a delightful compilation of such proverbs, akin to the wisdom books in the Bible.
Given my love of aphorisms, I was particularly drawn to the first half – a mix of world-weary proverbs advising honor, caution, cynicism, and practical wisdom. The second half changes in tone and holds a visionary power, especially the passage of Odin sacrificing himself to himself.
To be fair, it isn’t all roses; a couple of passages are demeaning towards women. However we are not slaves to the ancients, and these sayings can be recast as relevant as gender-neutral warnings to be wary of our own urges.
As our society becomes more secular, we risk identifying ourselves too tightly with our professions. We see ourselves as vessels of our income-generating activities. Even worse, we might view others in light of their utilitarian offerings.
These proverbs remind us that each person is a tapestry far more richer than a canned response to “what do you do?”
In my three years as an Owner Project Manager, I have been constantly reminded this is a relationship profession. The final goal is an edifice of glass, steel, and concrete, but the art is in working with people who carry their own hopes, dreams, and fears.
At our best, an OPM should push this temporary tribe towards excellence in moment, leading them towards greater opportunities in the next project.
A kind word need not cost much, The price of praise can be cheap; With half a loaf and an empty cup I found myself a friend.
~
One Question
What are are the references of wisdom in your life?
To ask well, to answer rightly, Are the marks of a wise man: Men must speak of men’s deeds, What happens may not be hidden.
Hit reply and let’s chat!
~
Three Links
Peter Hayashida wrote a lovely meditation his career and life in general as he was wrapping up his work at UC Riverside.
Writer CJ Chilvers has a post of Personal Publishing Principles. Each of us should do create a similar manifesto for our work.
The Voyager satellites included a golden record of sounds from earth. It is also posted on youtube.
… and a photo.
Mahjong Tiles, Las Vegas, August 2021 My son spent an afternoon building up and knocking down walls of these tiles. My grandparents gave me this Mahjong set twenty-five years ago.
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Thanks for reading the OPM letter! I’d love to have a conversation if you have any feedback. I hope you found some prompts to stretch your craft and relationships as a curious Owner PM. See you next week!
Stay humble, be kind, and keep experimenting! Justus Pang, RA
Who knew a little chalk could reshape your morning routine!?
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Labryinth Lessons
My daughter and I drew a labyrinth on the backyard patio. Unlike a modern maze, the classical labyrinth is a single continuous path that continually loops upon itself until you reach the center.
I started to walk the labyrinth every morning as the kids played in the yard. A week into this new routine, I noticed that my mind was craving its morning roundabout on the patio – I had unconsciously slipped into the practice of a daily walking meditation.
What other rituals should we instill for ourselves and our teams? It may seem daunting, but our fears could be overblown. Our psyches might quickly adopt the new routine.
~
It rained as I wrote the first draft of this post. The morning after, we redrew the labyrinth. As I retraced the lines, my daughter added little drawings inside the path. She designated special powers to these sketches, sending us to various parts of the yard if we stepped on them. This simple path became the armature for a new outdoor game.
Don’t be afraid to take the first, imperfect step. The new endeavor could be the foundation for future continual improvements.
~
After further rainstorms, we are now on iteration #4. The game is gone, the labyrinth rotated 90 degrees, and the path has been widened to fill the entire patio. Even so, we are at least one version away from perfection. The impermanence of the chalk has been a feature, not a bug. Indeed, the impermanence of the chalk is why we drew the labyrinth in the first place.
Don’t fear temporary changes. A collection of minor tweaks could lead to something bigger. Our buildings may be permanent, but our processes are ephemeral. We should constantly experiment and try something else tomorrow.
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One Question
What big problem needs to be tackled with a series of small steps? How are you gonna take the first step?
Hit reply and let’s chat!
~
Three Links
This labyrinth experience was an unintended example of creating a Tiny Habit. Even though I have not been successful at manufacturing new tiny habits on command, BJ Fogg’s book is still worth reading.
A few weeks ago, Arnaud Marthouret shared a few lessons from racing motorcycles. He recently followed up with three more lessons. They remind me of lessons I learned from a much slower activity – Tai Chi.
Check out the Laughlin Labyrinths, created by Wes Dufek. Park safely and find your center in the desert and enjoy views of the backside of some cheesy casinos. It’s a moment of pure Nevada.
… and a drawing.
Maze, Landscape 103, 2000 I was first introduced to the classical labyrinth in a studio taught by Chip Sullivan. It’s interesting to see what stray errata have stuck from my time in undergrad. Two decades ago, labyrinths wouldn’t have been on that list, but here we are.
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Thanks for reading the OPM letter! I’d love to have a conversation if you have any feedback. I hope you found some prompts to stretch your craft and relationships as a curious Owner PM. See you next week!
Stay humble, be kind, and keep experimenting! Justus Pang, RA
