e Sammartino
The Lessons School Forgot
First published in 2017 by John Wiley & Sons Australia, Ltd
42 McDougall St, Milton Qld 4064
Office also in Melbourne
Typeset in 12/15 pt Liberation Serif
© Start Up Squad Pty Ltd 2017
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data:
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the Australian Copyright Act 1968 (for example, a fair dealing for the purposes of study, research, criticism or review), no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, communicated or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission. All inquiries should be made to the publisher at the address above.
Cover design by Kathy Davis/Wiley
Author image by © Adam Hollingworth/Hired Gun
Disclaimer
The material in this publication is of the nature of general comment only, and does not represent professional advice. It is not intended to provide specific guidance for particular circumstances and it should not be relied on as the basis for any decision to take action or not take action on any matter which it covers. Readers should obtain professional advice where appropriate, before making any such decision. To the maximum extent permitted by law, the author and publisher disclaim all responsibility and liability to any person, arising directly or indirectly from any person taking or not taking action based on the information in this publication.
About the author
Steve wrote his first lines of computer code at age 10, and is one of Australia's most respected business minds. While the school system didn't really suit his learning style, he has an incredible ability to make sense of how emerging technology is changing the way we work, live and earn. He's a born entrepreneur, and had his first startup at age 10 – an organic egg farm. While holding down a daytime corporate gig, in his spare time he started and eventually sold a successful a clothing business. (He used to start work at 5 am, sell to customers at lunch time and do the administration at night.)
After graduating from university majoring in Economics, he worked in multiple Fortune 500 companies and held many senior positions culminating in directorships, before answering his true calling for independence from The System. Curious about why some people seemed to get richer, regardless of education and income, he delved deeply into the study of personal finance, informally. His experience means he intimately understands small and big business and how to play the game to get ahead and design your own future.
Steve has had multiple technology startups, including launching rentoid.com, one of the first ‘sharing economy' startups, before Uber or Airbnb. Steve had a successful exit selling the startup to a public company. He now invests in emerging technologies and has multiple advisory board positions in a variety of disruptive technologies across the airline, automotive, real estate and co-working industries, and the internet of things, quantified self, mobile applications, and 3D printing technologies.
Extreme projects are something Steve loves doing to demonstrate what is possible. Crowdfunded via Twitter, he helped build a full-size driveable car made from 500 000 Lego pieces, complete with an engine made completely from Lego that runs on air. This project has over 9 million views on YouTube and was a global news story. He also put a toy space ship into earth orbit for under $2000 to prove how cheap powerful technology has become.
A media commentator on technology and the future, Steve is a regular on the ABC and provides expert assessment on the rapidly evolving technology sector. He has also been featured on the BBC, The Smithsonian Institute, The Discovery Channel, Mashable, Wired, and has even had documentaries made about his projects. Steve wants to share a life of hacking the system with you, so you can use emerging technology to your advantage, to live the life you deserve.
Get in touch with him at stevesammartino.com.
Preface
The first job I ever had was in a factory. I was pretty excited about it at the time. The job would leave a permanent imprint on my life. There was something about it I've never forgotten; it changed me in a way. Maybe it was to do with all those routines, procedures and outputs, or maybe it was the way people behaved inside this closed system. In hindsight it all seemed a little strange, unnatural, even a little inhuman, but I didn't really question it when I was starting out – I just took it as the way things were.
Factories are without doubt among the most interesting kinds of workplace humans have created. Most of us have at some point had the opportunity to at least visit one and see it in action from close up. Maybe you were sent to the factory of a company you worked with, so you could get an understanding of how things were done there. Maybe you've partaken in a bit of industrial tourism – aviation and chocolate factories are favourites. If you haven't had such an experience, let me recall my factory job for you.
Most people would arrive for their shift at the last moment. Clad in uniform with the company logo emblazoned on it, we streamed through the factory gate, which was set into an eight-foot-high chain-link fence – I'm still not sure if it was designed to keep outsiders out or insiders in. The plant was broken up into sections, clearly delineated by yellow lines so everyone knew where to go and how to get there. More experienced workers took on more advanced tasks on the factory floor.
Right on 8.50 am a loud electronic bell heralded the start of the shift. In the next 10 minutes we'd all file inside to our workstations. Once the head count had been taken we would be allocated our tasks for the day. The work week, month and year were planned by management, our work clearly set out for us in advance.
Some of the day-to-day procedures took me a while to get used to. I had to work independently in semi-isolation yet in a large, crowded room. We had to memorise certain tasks and calculations, which was important so each of us maximised our output and the whole system worked efficiently. Conversation was generally discouraged, as was helping others on the shift, which we were told would end up slowing down two people instead of one. When we got stuck or needed help with a task, the shift manager was to be informed. But we soon understood it was important not to make mistakes, because it slowed down everyone on the production line.
To remind us of the policies (there were quite a few to remember), the walls were festooned with notices covering ‘how-to' instructions, work-based targets, efficiency measures and reminders of what was required for success. Also displayed were photographs of star workers who had been recognised for performing above expectation on particular measures. And in every room a clock hung front and centre so we could all keep abreast of the time and meet our deadlines, completing specified outputs before each break. While many of the tasks were boring and repetitive, we were reminded of the benefits of doing things well and in a timely fashion. In fact, everything seemed to be about time.
Management generally had a vantage point from which they could observe and assess the workers' progress. They'd walk the floor looking over our shoulders to ensure everything was humming along efficiently and we would meet the production targets set for the day.
I was told little about what was going on outside my section of the factory, but was encouraged simply to focus on the job in front of me and doing it well. So long as I displayed a basic amount of competence, I could expect to be promoted to a higher position, like most of those who came before me, a position where the work was more demanding yet also more rewarding. No one got promoted if their performance review wasn't up to scratch, so it was vital that I master and memorise by rote the more rudimentary procedures. Quarterly interim performance audits,