Generals, I’ve established a war room. Quickly, gather your X1 Carbon Lenovo’s, refill your branded waterbottles from the San Pelligrino tap, and meet me in the glass board room overlooking the city. I’ll have my assistant cater kale salads, and together, we’ll defeat the axis of evil aka new procurement agency that is coming after our pricing. And if we don’t make it, well, it will have been an honour to serve with you all.

War metaphors are often used in business. We have the war room (meeting room). We are in the trenches (mostly excel). We are in a knife fight (for better packaging). We must protect the front lines (of service agents). We are going nuclear (with bright colour branding).

And I must admit, these analogies are actually pretty helpful and commonly understood, so they are useful in conveying a message. But sometimes I like to remind myself that the repercussions of being wrong in my war room are different than being wrong in a real one. That’s not to say my work or corporate work in general is unimportant, but it is good to recognize the relative significance of it. And not to take it too seriously.

Since moving to Calgary, we’ve organized an annual ski trip with my in-laws. We usually head somewhere driving distance from Alberta, so often Inner BC: Fernie, Golden, Revelstoke, and Red Mountain (Rossland) have all been destinations. This year we went back to Fernie, and it was our first time taking a ~weeklong road trip with Henry. With Frankie (the dog), Henry (the baby), and all the ski gear, we pretty close to maxed out our vehicle (Tiguan) for space. Now, for years, my in-laws have been joking that at some point we’ll need to buy a Suburban. And for years, I thought that was a joke. But I think it’s become a bit more serious.

I hate the suburban. It’s a stupid looking car. It’s humungous. It’s expensive. It looks like a bus. But clearly, it’s very practical if you are hauling a lot of stuff and a lot of humans. The nature of these conversations about getting a suburban is tied to a very specific event: an annual ski road trip. An annual road trip to ski is probably the most space-consuming trip we make as a family all year. At no other time do I need to fill my car with that much stuff. In fact, 95% of the time we use the car, it’s more than sufficient for space. I have been left thinking; do you purchase an oversized vehicle to satisfy 5% of your usage? I think the answer is no. Generally, you should design your life around the majority of use cases and solve for the exceptions as outliers (e.g., perhaps we rent a suburban once a year?).

One principle I value when it comes to creating a new product or policy is to design for the majority. A habit I picked up from working in an investing role is to attempt and identify uncommon outcomes; identifying uncommon but potentially significant outcomes was a valued skill. That mindset – naturally considering hypothetical scenarios – has sometimes made it hard to balance my desire to design for the majority when designing new HR policies (do we create the overhead to satisfy a rare but possible need?) or providing feedback on software development (do we solve for that uncommon, but very painful use case a client has?).

I’m still working through my opinion on this, but where I’m circling is to start by designing for the majority, yet consider the potential frequency of uncommon events and the severity of their outcomes to determine when an exception is needed.

The end of December is one of my favourite times of the year. There’s a collective quieting in the work world, which makes it significantly easier to detach and disconnect. There’s no professional ‘fomo’ or sense that your team, clients, or business are rumbling on without you. It’s a lot harder to disconnect during a normal course vacation when you’re the only one off. I love the drop-off in emails and notifications this time of year.

I’m a sucker for the festive decorations in storefronts and outside of people’s houses. There are generally lots of social things happening, and people tend to be in a good mood. Lots of good meals to be had. I know not everyone does, but I’ve always had a fond association with Christmas and Hanukkah, which makes the holiday season a treat.

I also enjoy closing the chapter on the year and the finality of an ending calendar period. January represents the hope and excitement of a new beginning. I always spend ~30 minutes this time of year jotting down reflections on the year past and goals for the coming year. I try not to formalize it too much. Whatever comes to mind, I make note of in bullet form. Over time, it serves as a point-in-time collection of what was top of mind each year. I started doing this in 2019 and it’s a lot of fun to go back and re-read previous years.

I hope everyone finds some downtime this holiday season and I wish you all an exceptional 2025.