Light-Speed Communications
Working dogs and their handlers communicate at remarkable speed.
A command is given.
A response follows almost instantly.
Sometimes the communication is verbal. Sometimes it is visual. Often it is so subtle that an observer misses it entirely. A glance. A hand movement. A change in posture. A shift in direction.
Question and answer occur almost simultaneously.
The dog has the handler’s attention. The handler has the dog’s attention. Both are fully engaged in the same task at the same moment.
Human teams working closely together often experience something similar.
Watch a construction crew lifting a heavy load. Watch mechanics changing an aircraft engine. Watch a basketball team moving the ball down the court. Information moves continuously between people. A nod, a gesture, a shout, a glance. The feedback loop is nearly instantaneous.
Something about this kind of interaction feels natural.
Performance improves.
Focus sharpens.
Oddly enough, stress often decreases.
The work becomes rhythmic rather than fragmented.
Everyone knows where things stand because they receive constant feedback from those around them.
Then distance enters the picture.
The team is no longer standing together.
One person is in another building. Another is in another state. Another is on the other side of the world.
The rhythm changes.
What was once a continuous flow of communication becomes a series of starts and stops.
A question is asked.
The answer may arrive in five minutes.
Or five hours.
Or tomorrow.
Modern technology was supposed to solve this problem.
Humans have spent centuries inventing faster ways to communicate. We moved from letters carried by horseback to telegraphs, telephones, email, instant messaging, and video conferencing. Today, we can send information anywhere in the world in seconds.
Yet many organizations still operate at Pony Express speed.
The technology is fast.
The response is slow.
Phone calls go unanswered because everyone is in meetings.
Chat messages are seen but postponed until later.
Emails pile up until the end of the day, or the next morning, or whenever someone finally finds time to process their inbox.
Add multiple time zones and delays compound quickly.
A question sent from Texas late in the day may not be answered by a colleague in Europe until the following morning. If that response waits until the end of their day, another day disappears before the conversation continues.
The communication system is operating at the speed of light.
The organization is not.
I spent much of my career in manufacturing environments where delayed answers carried real costs. Production lines do not wait patiently. Installers do not stand around for free. Equipment worth millions of dollars can sit idle while people wait for information that already exists somewhere in the organization.
As a result, I developed a habit.
When someone asks a question, I answer as quickly as possible.
Email on my phone.
Chat on my phone.
A quick response while walking through an airport.
A clarification over morning coffee.
Nothing heroic. Just keeping the conversation moving.
Over the years I have worked with teams throughout Europe and the Middle East. My mornings often begin with checking messages that arrived overnight. Personal productivity experts would probably disapprove. They recommend protecting the morning from distractions and avoiding email until later in the day.
Perhaps they are right.
But there is also satisfaction in knowing that someone halfway around the world can continue their workday because an answer arrived when they needed it rather than when it was convenient for me.
Recently I received several thank-you notes from executives copied on project emails. The messages weren’t praising brilliant decisions or innovative solutions.
They were simply thanking me for responding quickly and keeping things moving.
That struck me as odd.
Fast communication should not be exceptional.
It should be normal.
Sage certainly thinks so.
Every morning around five o’clock she decides it is time to go outside.
When that moment arrives, she communicates her request clearly.
First comes a nudge.
Then a paw.
Then increasingly direct forms of persuasion.
I have never once told her, “I’ll get back to you after my meeting.”
I have never suggested she submit her request through the proper channels.
I have never informed her that her email is important to me and will be answered in the order received.
She asks.
I answer.
The feedback loop closes.
The problem is solved.
Working dogs understand something many organizations seem to forget.
Speed is not just about efficiency.
It is about connection.
The faster the feedback, the stronger the rhythm.
The stronger the rhythm, the better the team performs.
And whether the team has two legs or four, that rhythm is often the difference between working together and merely working at the same time.
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