Doodlebugs and Lunatics: Why Are Some People So Slow at Work?

"Anyone who drives slower than me is a moron, and anyone who drives faster is a maniac." – Unknown

I've never heard a more accurate description of drivers. But is this only true when we're behind the wheel? Lately, I’ve come to realize that it applies just as much in the workplace.

I don’t know about others, but I used to view people who worked less efficiently than me as idiots, slackers, or simply incompetent. Meanwhile, those who were better than me, I saw as industry veterans, mentors, skilled, and admirable. Whenever I met someone who couldn’t keep up, my first thought was, "Why are they so bad at this?" I never really stopped to think that, from someone else’s perspective, I might be the one who isn’t good enough. I always assumed I was above average—decent, at least—and looked down on anyone below me. That mindset, in hindsight, was incredibly foolish.

One day, I was venting to a successful entrepreneur friend about my team, complaining about the incompetence of some employees. What he told me struck me deeply:

“A true leader knows how to utilize even those with less ability.”

There was no need for me to get emotionally worked up just because someone wasn’t performing well. Instead of feeling frustrated, my job was simply to draw out 100% of each person’s potential. I didn’t need to expect them to go beyond their limits. It wasn’t about believing in them or having high hopes—it was about assessing them realistically and acting accordingly.

Making objective assessments and dividing up work based on those helped protect my emotional well-being. It significantly reduced how often I lashed out or felt angry at my team. The frustration faded. Whereas I used to try to teach and fix my team so they could keep up, now I simply think about how I can generate the best possible result. I began treating each teammate like a machine—evaluating them methodically and assigning tasks accordingly.

One upside to this strategy: I no longer blame the slow people for being slow, nor do I blame the fast ones for being reckless. It’s natural that a doodlebug does doodlebug-level work, and it’s equally natural for a lunatic to behave like a lunatic.

Maybe this is what it means to accept human differences. Some people enjoy yelling at doodlebugs to move faster—but that doodlebug might already be sprinting at full speed. If we ask it to exceed that, it’ll surely die. But I had been asking doodlebugs to go as fast as trains.

Now, I try to find a standard pace. I ask my team to meet that standard, and I ask myself to maintain the pace expected of a leader. Maybe real teamwork is about slowly syncing up over time, finding each other’s rhythms. That’s what I’ve been reflecting on today.