It was one of my earlier projects as a project manager.

I spent a lot of time planning the work out, calculating the critical path through the project, and getting everything ticked and tied prior to kickoff. The kickoff meeting went well with the exec sponsors. I set high expectations on my ability to deliver. The team was largely silent during the kickoff meeting, letting me do my thing.

The first few weeks in, I reported that we were on schedule and budget, and within scope; we were on our way to a stellar delivery.

At week four, a few of the tasks started slipping. “No problem, we can make it up,” I thought to myself. I reported that we were still on schedule.

The next few weeks saw more slippage, and some team members began expressing concern about our ability to meet dates. I reported that things were still okay, and we were working through a couple of minor issues.

After a couple more weeks, the concerns continued to crescendo, and one of the exec sponsors caught wind that there might be some problems on the project. He set up a meeting with me and some of my leads to deep-dive on what was going on. It was one of my most uncomfortable meetings at that point in my young career. I was the last one in the room to acknowledge there were problems.

Read more at ProjectManagement.com.

Several years back I conceived and funded a small business.  My partner and I were very excited about the concept and had sky-high aspirations about the prospects of the business.  While the idea was great, I ultimately decided to shut the business down as I felt the cost of keeping the business afloat would continue to outstrip the revenue.  I'm not going to bore you with the details of the business; what I do want to do is talk with you about the decision process I went through and how the "morning after" decision making process tipped the scales for me. 

Since my first book in 2004, I have written more than 50 books and 400 articles on topics such as project management, leadership development, work/life balance, and raising a child on the autism spectrum.

My earlier attempts at writing articles were a jumbled mess and required hours of refining thoughts after my editor had given me constructive feedback. I’ve spent a lot of time figuring out how to write both more effectively and efficiently.

If you’re interested in writing articles, my singular goal is to help you produce topical content that’s relevant, helpful and entertaining for your readers.

Read more at ProjectManagement.com.

A long-time friend (who I’ll call “Stu”) loves talking about finances. Stu is very active in the stock market and spends hours researching exchange traded funds. He is also very big on maximizing rewards points and signing bonuses with credit cards. Stu is not at all in debt (that I know of); he is just really big on accumulating wealth.

Admittedly, I share some of Stu’s zeal. I too am active in the stock market and use credit cards for specific purposes to maximize cash-back rewards. Aside from saving money, it’s a fun game to see the great deals I can get.

Where Stu and I differ, though, is in what we are willing to sacrifice for our wealth accumulation journey. I enjoy comfort and convenience, and value my personal time and generally will not sacrifice much in those areas to save a dollar. I believe in sound fiscal management, but not at the expense of comfort, convenience, or impacts to my time.

Stu, on the other hand, is much more willing to sacrifice comfort, convenience, or personal time if it means more money in his pocket. It’s needled at me for years, particularly when Stu tries to project his values about finances on others and criticize those who are less willing to make the sacrifices he makes.

In a recent discussion, I confronted him on his views on finances. Needless to say, the discussion didn’t go particularly well.

I can also say I was wrong in confronting him.

Read more at ProjectManagment.com.

This is an article my son Trevor wrote for the Seattle Childrens Autism Center blog:

Being autistic, I have always been a very blunt person. Back when I was a kid, I often blurted out straightforward, even disrespectful comments when meeting others, such as, "Hello, shorty!" or, "Whoa, she’s so fat!" This problem was at its worst in high school when I got the idea that making dumb jokes at others’ expense would get me noticed more. I needed to be taught over time how to think before I speak, and now I have better control over my inappropriate outbursts.

Read more at SeattleChildrens.org.