Author: Whitney Johnson

I’d just hung up the phone, dismayed. After spending the better part of an hour on the phone with an entrepreneur a friend of mine had asked me to advise, there was no talk of how he could return the favor — he barely coughed up a thank you.

There’s an economic case to be made for his behavior. Why bother seeing if he could reciprocate when he had nothing tangible to gain — he’d already gotten as much as he was going to get from me. Trying to be helpful to me in return would have been the nice thing to do, but to what advantage?

An increasingly modular work world has been a boon to businesses and individuals alike: more flexibility, more freedom, more autonomy. But the underbelly of this level of mobility is the assumption we can port people like we do phone numbers. Even if we work in a more traditional environment, we might wonder why bother cultivating a relationship with our co-workers, when if the numbers are right about Gen Y, they’ll have left this job in eighteen months anyway?

I’d like to think that I truly connect with everyone I do business with. But as much as I intend to, I don’t always. Who of us hasn’t said (or heard), “Hey babe, there are so many beautiful things we could do together…” But once we snag the [client, the information needed, or the funding], we wonder “Why buy the cow, when I just got the milk for free?” “It’s all about the relationship” we whisper softly… right until we get what we want.

In the piece Fifty Shades of Thrivability, Michelle Holiday writes, “Far too often today’s standards of success [involve] running a company that makes money in a transactional fashion…which is the equivalent of anonymous transactional sex. There’s a momentary satisfaction (landing a client, beating the competition, or selling the company), but a deeper craving remains. You get to the end goal, but you may not feel emotionally enriched. The other people are likely to be left feeling used. You then have to start from scratch in search of a new conquest each time, with both employees and customers.”

We can get away with the hook-up mentality in the short-term because the value destruction won’t be immediately apparent. Long-term, this model is unsustainable. Starting at zero (or negative) every time, whether acquiring a new customer, supplier, or trading partner will drive operating costs ever higher. When we use people, or companies, with no thought for tomorrow, the transaction may be two-way from a functional perspective, but it’s a one-way ticket to a financial and emotional island. Even as we focus on sustainability and ecological balance, it’s ironic that people and relationships are becoming disposable.

Compare this love-me, then leave-me approach to the research model of the Myelin Repair Foundation dedicated to the treatment of multiple sclerosis. By breaking down barriers between academic research and commercial drug development — in other words, by increasing reciprocity — they are shortening the time it takes to develop a drug by 50 percent. “As we reciprocate, we build trust and relationships, flooding our brain with oxytocin that is essential not only to collaboration, but to innovation,” says fellow HBR blogger Judith E. Glaser, and the author of Creating We.

Each of us will, no doubt, experience the discomfort of feeling “used,” as with the above-mentioned entrepreneur, at some point in our careers. The trick is, of course, to keep ourselves open to connection, despite the risk of giving more than we’re getting.

But what I am learning over and again, and most recently here at HBR as I co-author pieces (thanks to Juan-Carlos Mendez, Tara Mohr, Bob Moesta and Whitney Hess) is that collaboration not only punches up the innovation quotient, there is a biological imperative at work. As we connect and collaborate, give and take, we are evolving, emerging stronger and more capable. Yes, there is a certain kind of high, albeit fleeting, to a “hook-up.” But as we invest in connecting, and our brain rewards us chemically with a wash of feel-good oxytocin, we’ll be reminded that people are not only a precious commodity, they are a renewable resource.

I never intended to disrupt my career over and again, eventually becoming a free agent. And yet it turns out that the odds were pretty good that I would disrupt myself out of corporate life — and that you might, too.

My decision to go independent was set in motion over a decade ago. When my husband was on the hunt for an academic job after completing his PhD, his choices were Boston and San Antonio, both of which had the potential to cut my Wall Street career short. Because of my Institutional Investor ranking, and advances in technology that made virtual co-location possible, I was able to persuade Merrill Lynch to let me work out of my home in Boston. When I left Merrill in 2005, most people didn’t know I had been working remotely for four years; my standing as an analyst had actually improved during that time.

The recent global downturn has accelerated the growing trend toward some type of independent work. Of course, this state of ‘independence’ isn’t always of our own accord. Layoffs are rife. Productivity gains are not necessarily leading to job creation. Even so, approximately 43 million people, or roughly 35%-40% of the private workforce in the U.S., are currently doing some type of contingent work; this number is expected to grow to 65-70 million within the decade, well ahead of the 1% rate at which the labor force is growing.

Drilling down further, according to MBO Partners’ State of Independence in America report, there is a rapidly growing subset of “independents” in the U.S., which MBO defines as an individual working 15+ hours per week whether as a freelancer, contractor, or owner of a micro-business. Stripping out the c. 25 million people who are working part-time and are potentially under-employed, MBO calculates there are currently about 17 million independents. This number is expected to increase to 23 million by 2017, based on a 6.3% per year growth rate, 6x the rate of growth of the workforce. And that could easily swell to over 30+ million in the next decade as large and small corporations, as well as the government, continue to migrate to contingent labor, and account for 50% of the workforce, up from 35-40% currently.

Where it gets interesting, though, is that independence isn’t necessarily being foisted on people. Of those who went independent in 2012, 57% chose to. Even more telling, whether these independents pursued this path of their own accord or not, only 13% intend to go back to traditional employment. Certainly that has been the case for me. After leaving Merrill Lynch, I co-founded Rose Park Advisors with Clay Christensen, veering ever closer to independence. A start-up environment may be grueling, but you are more your own woman — or man.

This trend cuts across all demographics. Millennials (Gen Y), ages 21-32, for example, 40% say they’re likely to choose independence of their own accord. 58% of Boomers (ages 50-66), are choosing independence. And Gen X (33-49) is the most likely to choose independence — 68% of those who have gone indie are there by choice rather than the result of job scarcity or loss. You can see this growing appetite for autonomy reflected in the burgeoning number of books and blogs looking at the meaning of work and life, from Umair Haque to Cali Yost to Gretchen Rubin to James Altucher.

The allure of “the company man” has all but faded, a quaint relic. Gone are the days when many of my friends’ parents worked at IBM’s famed Almaden IBM Labs. The job security, pension, the health benefits that a company lifer of my parents’ generation could expect simply do not exist. Meanwhile, the stigma of working on one’s own has all but vanished. Is it really any surprise that when I left Rose Park in 2012, I didn’t run back into the arms of a large corporation, instead moving even further toward a totally independent and flexible role?

Don’t mistake me. As I have moved into the role of a fully-fledged independent — writing, speaking, and advising — I am frequently terrified. A more abstract identity, rollercoaster cash flow, punctuated by entrepreneurial missteps: the P/E (puke to excitement) ratio, as Isis CEO Heather Coughlin, and fellow disruptor describes it, can become uncomfortably high, even for an adrenaline junkie like me. But alas, disruptor valuations are sometimes tough to stomach. The growth opportunity isn’t easily quantified, making valuation appear demanding for a time.

Note too, that with personal disruption, success is self-reported satisfaction, however you may define it. According to MBO, 65% of respondents reporting being highly satisfied versus 47% for those in traditional employment. I’m finding that to be the case for me. Notwithstanding the fear I occasionally feel, most days I have to pinch myself I am so happy: I get to work where I want, on what I want and with whom. I’m still working just as hard to get the brass ring, but truly I am having fun doing it. Getting paid depends almost wholly on my merits, not politics. And now more than ever, I know my family.

The disruptions that are changing the landscape of American working life have been a minefield for so many. But they are also making a new level of work-life flexibility possible that didn’t exist previously. Perhaps you’ll choose the course of independent employment. Maybe your hand will be forced. Either way, letting work freedom ring is changing the American dream, hinting at the expanse of a frontier on the other side of the industrial revolution. One where disruption isn’t just about financial returns, but the glee of harnessing a new learning curve. Where people not only put food on the table, but also have a life.

While dreaming and disrupting has unfettered me in many ways, it has shackled me in others. One of the most unexpected was losing a part of my identity. Once the rush of leaving a name-brand corporation wore off, it began to seep in that I could no longer call someone and say “Whitney Johnson, Merrill Lynch.” It was just Whitney Johnson. I also became reacquainted with the immediate concern of putting food on the table whilst on an entrepreneurial thrill ride to zero cash flow.

There’s a good dose of cosmic payback in all this. For years I pontificated about the importance of bootstrapping a business without having any firsthand notion of belt-tightening. Nearly a decade later, I find myself almost a fan of constraints. If you, like me, are a foot-dragging devotee, consider the following:

Fewer resources produce proximity; proximity drives innovation. When I was worked for a bulge bracket Wall Street firm, our family lived in a very large home; had we chosen to, we could literally have lived separate lives and rarely interacted. When I quit my job to become an entrepreneur, we downsized, moving into a home with ¼ of our former living space. No longer having a beautiful space to entertain sometimes makes me wistful. But most days I love our closer quarters. We bump up against one another, negotiate who sits where, who washes the dishes when and who watches what. Proximity can lead to friction, and friction can rub people raw. But it can also light a fire, one that warms and binds us into a family.

Workplace proximity can be equally productive. High-tech giant Adobe recently opened a striking new building in Lehi, Utah specifically designed to create an ecology of planned and unplanned cooperation and innovation among its employees. 85% of the interior is open workspace with only 15% devoted to offices. The building includes a full basketball court and extensive fitness areas, pool tables, a café and eating/lounging area — all to encourage employees to meet and interact with each other. Adobe hopes that by pushing people out of offices, their employees will run into each other more often, spontaneously generating ideas and solutions.

A sense of collaboration and immediacy often happens as people who are cash poor or without needed resources (e.g. young professional, entrepreneur, non-profit), are required to barter, to figure out what they have to bring to the table. Barter, I find, drives engagement in a deeper way than when you are simply dealing with money. The truth is we often don’t experience proximity unless we are forced to. If you want to form meaningful bonds that lead to productive collaboration and innovation, make room for more close encounters.

Constraints lead to faster feedback. Whether they are limits on space, time, money or other resources, constraints can improve our agility and get our synapses firing at lightning speed. Author Daniel Coyle posits that skateboarders are some of the quickest learners in the world, because they receive incredibly fast and useful feedback — every action, every move they make has an immediate consequence. There are numerous instances of coaches in various sports (soccer, swimming, baseball) shrinking the space their athletes train in to increase reps and improve feedback. When there is less of a cushion between oneself and failure, innovation becomes a necessity.

A compelling example of this in the business world is Lit Motors. Following Eric Ries’ Lean Start-up methodology, instead of going out and raising VC money to manufacture a new electric automobile, Daniel Kim funded his start-up through pre-orders. With a completed prototype in hand, Lit Motors has proven the power of financial constraints. “We’re at the same place that Tesla was at after $7 million in investment after only $780,000. We’ve been incredibly resourceful,” Kim states in a recent interview in The Atlantic. Clearly, Kim has been forced to make smart choices to keep his start-up costs low, and investors are eager to work with him because of it. The fact is that we are always going to be resource-constrained, but a willingness to work with our limitations may make all the difference in getting an idea off the ground.

Constraints can be an indispensable tool of creation. I like to write — or rather, I like what I’ve written when I finish writing. The actual process is a mental wrestling match, and prone to fits of desperation. The act of writing is much easier (and frequently more interesting) when someone says, “Here’s a topic, now write,” as did my editor with “Instead of Making Resolutions, Dream.” George Eliot writes in Daniel Deronda, ‘Tis a condition apt to befall a life too much at large, unmoulded by the pressure of obligation: Nam deteriores omnes sumu licentiae (with too much freedom, we all deteriorate.)

When it comes to writing, or building a business, we may chafe against constraints, imposed or otherwise. But without any constraints, we are creating ex nihilo, and can easily lose our way. Paradoxically then, a constraint can become a tool of creation. A beautiful example of this is Ave Maria composed by Charles Gounod. He could have started anywhere, but he chose to begin with the constraint of composing a melody over Bach’s Prelude No. 1 in C Major. By giving himself something to bump up against, Gounod he wrote one of the most beloved and enduring songs of all time.

A tightly-lidded box can stifle and suffocate. It can motivate us to figure out how get outside the box. To make choices about how we will expend the resources we do have available to us, to find cheaper, more nimble ways of doing something as a person – and as a corporation. Our perceived limitations may give us direction on where we might play, or want to play. Indeed, if we will let them, constraints can (and will) drive us to disruption.