During our tenure on Google's People Analytics team, we have participated in dozens of research partnerships. Some have been wildly successful, resulting in changes to our own organizational practices or policies as well as academic publications. Other partnerships have been less fruitful, largely because both science and organizations are messy and unpredictable. But no matter the outcome, nearly all of our partnerships have come about in the same way—a way overlooked by the authors in their article (Lapierre et al., Reference Lapierre, Matthews, Eby, Truxillo, Johnson and Major2018).
Focus on the Relationships. The Partnerships Will Come
The authors’ suggestions presume that an academic's research proposal or design is already fixed before they approach an organization. This path can work, and certainly has. But, in our experience, it is rare, and it is a lot harder on both sides. The most successful partnerships we have experienced—and we assume our experiences at Google are common to practitioners in other organizations—have taken root long before a particular proposal or design was even a kernel of an idea and have often yielded a product (or many products) neither side could have imagined at the start. Furthermore, the latter approach tends to be just a lot more fun.
How Does That Work?
Several years ago, the People Innovation Lab at Google, a team within our broader People Analytics function, began running “research summits.” These informal forums brought together academics and Googlers (as Google employees are known) for a couple days to meet one another, break down traditional barriers, and engage in conversations reminiscent of doctoral seminars. Ideas were traded, critiqued, and built upon. Conversations had fits and starts, with periods of both excitement and awkward silence. Food was consumed. Some participants joked that these summits felt like collective “first dates”—and they certainly fit that bill for us in terms of both anticipation and a bit of anxiety.
What happened? Sometimes, research ideas and plans never made it out of the conference room or cafe. Other times, proposals were created but were not pursued for any number of reasons, theoretical or practical. In many of the most successful cases, no ideas emerged immediately but the spark of a relationship between academics and practitioners was established. We would speak to academics’ classes, they would come give talks at Google about their research, and we would meet up at conferences from time to time. Over time, several of these relationships sparked ideas based on one person's question or another person's observed puzzle. The ideas were kicked back and forth until a research design emerged that made sense for all involved. In fact, just a month ago we finally shared a dataset with a summit attendee from 4 years ago, with whom we knew we wanted to work but only recently settled on a mutually interesting project. The relationships came first, and the ideas followed.
The research summit is just one way we have gotten to know academics over the years; the authors of the focal article offer several other strategies. But no matter how the initial meeting occurs, some simple practices can develop and sustain those relationships over time (see Kurkoski, Reference Kurkoski2017, for more detail), which can lead to countless ideas for collaboration and partnership:
• Get to know people across the boundary as people. Look for opportunities for casual, human conversation rather than solely seeking out partners. Discuss their interests and your own. Ask them about their challenges. It is surprising what interesting phenomena, puzzles, and areas of common interest emerge.
• Start small. Once a research partnership is on the table, start with a more innocuous question or simple design. It will be easier for the organization to get necessary approvals for something small, and the academic can get a quick win, collect feedback on how it went, and propose the next phase based on what both parties have learned. This approach has the additional benefits of getting something started quickly and ensuring the organization sees a quick return on its investment—a boon for building trust and improving the odds of a commitment to something bigger.
• Build momentum. The pace of academia tends to be slower than that of practice. Even if a partner organization was hooked on a topic at one point, that does not guarantee they are still interested by the time the study is complete. To the extent possible, plan projects that will provide at least some initial deliverables within a couple months, or create interim deliverables to keep the organization engaged. (Yes, we know that may sound like lightning speed to an academic, but even a literature review, summarized in plain language, can count as a deliverable for practitioners.)
• Stay present. Like any relationship, no one likes it when the other side goes dark. But “going dark” might look very different to an academic versus a practitioner. In academia, it may not be uncommon to disappear from partners or coauthors for a month—or a semester—during a heavy teaching or research period. To a practitioner, who is likely more used to being in contact with teammates multiple times a day, this absence can feel like an eternity, and can introduce doubt about progress or capability. When planning a project timeline, aim for a monthly (at least!) check-in to ensure both sides are updated and strong communication at the outset about any anticipated periods when no progress will be made.
• Plan for action. Although the authors touch on the notion of providing deliverables after the project is over, they stop short of how to provide practitioner-ready deliverables, translate results for nontechnical audiences, or plan for action. If too much effort is required on the part of the organization to convert academic findings into digestible and actionable results for employees, the research is unlikely to escape the proverbial file drawer (er, email inbox).
We close with a note of caution. That is, whether academic or practitioner, we are all still human beings and, as such, are prone to all the biases that come with being human. In particular, we all tend to like people who are like us. Over the years, we ourselves have become increasingly aware of how homophily shapes the relationships we seek out with our counterparts in academia. As a result, we have become more conscious of the need to be deliberate in pursuing people and perspectives whose experiences and ideas diverge from those of our own. It is a higher bar and a harder path, but one that we believe will yield even more powerful insights.
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During our tenure on Google's People Analytics team, we have participated in dozens of research partnerships. Some have been wildly successful, resulting in changes to our own organizational practices or policies as well as academic publications. Other partnerships have been less fruitful, largely because both science and organizations are messy and unpredictable. But no matter the outcome, nearly all of our partnerships have come about in the same way—a way overlooked by the authors in their article (Lapierre et al., Reference Lapierre, Matthews, Eby, Truxillo, Johnson and Major2018).
Focus on the Relationships. The Partnerships Will Come
The authors’ suggestions presume that an academic's research proposal or design is already fixed before they approach an organization. This path can work, and certainly has. But, in our experience, it is rare, and it is a lot harder on both sides. The most successful partnerships we have experienced—and we assume our experiences at Google are common to practitioners in other organizations—have taken root long before a particular proposal or design was even a kernel of an idea and have often yielded a product (or many products) neither side could have imagined at the start. Furthermore, the latter approach tends to be just a lot more fun.
How Does That Work?
Several years ago, the People Innovation Lab at Google, a team within our broader People Analytics function, began running “research summits.” These informal forums brought together academics and Googlers (as Google employees are known) for a couple days to meet one another, break down traditional barriers, and engage in conversations reminiscent of doctoral seminars. Ideas were traded, critiqued, and built upon. Conversations had fits and starts, with periods of both excitement and awkward silence. Food was consumed. Some participants joked that these summits felt like collective “first dates”—and they certainly fit that bill for us in terms of both anticipation and a bit of anxiety.
What happened? Sometimes, research ideas and plans never made it out of the conference room or cafe. Other times, proposals were created but were not pursued for any number of reasons, theoretical or practical. In many of the most successful cases, no ideas emerged immediately but the spark of a relationship between academics and practitioners was established. We would speak to academics’ classes, they would come give talks at Google about their research, and we would meet up at conferences from time to time. Over time, several of these relationships sparked ideas based on one person's question or another person's observed puzzle. The ideas were kicked back and forth until a research design emerged that made sense for all involved. In fact, just a month ago we finally shared a dataset with a summit attendee from 4 years ago, with whom we knew we wanted to work but only recently settled on a mutually interesting project. The relationships came first, and the ideas followed.
The research summit is just one way we have gotten to know academics over the years; the authors of the focal article offer several other strategies. But no matter how the initial meeting occurs, some simple practices can develop and sustain those relationships over time (see Kurkoski, Reference Kurkoski2017, for more detail), which can lead to countless ideas for collaboration and partnership:
• Get to know people across the boundary as people. Look for opportunities for casual, human conversation rather than solely seeking out partners. Discuss their interests and your own. Ask them about their challenges. It is surprising what interesting phenomena, puzzles, and areas of common interest emerge.
• Start small. Once a research partnership is on the table, start with a more innocuous question or simple design. It will be easier for the organization to get necessary approvals for something small, and the academic can get a quick win, collect feedback on how it went, and propose the next phase based on what both parties have learned. This approach has the additional benefits of getting something started quickly and ensuring the organization sees a quick return on its investment—a boon for building trust and improving the odds of a commitment to something bigger.
• Build momentum. The pace of academia tends to be slower than that of practice. Even if a partner organization was hooked on a topic at one point, that does not guarantee they are still interested by the time the study is complete. To the extent possible, plan projects that will provide at least some initial deliverables within a couple months, or create interim deliverables to keep the organization engaged. (Yes, we know that may sound like lightning speed to an academic, but even a literature review, summarized in plain language, can count as a deliverable for practitioners.)
• Stay present. Like any relationship, no one likes it when the other side goes dark. But “going dark” might look very different to an academic versus a practitioner. In academia, it may not be uncommon to disappear from partners or coauthors for a month—or a semester—during a heavy teaching or research period. To a practitioner, who is likely more used to being in contact with teammates multiple times a day, this absence can feel like an eternity, and can introduce doubt about progress or capability. When planning a project timeline, aim for a monthly (at least!) check-in to ensure both sides are updated and strong communication at the outset about any anticipated periods when no progress will be made.
• Plan for action. Although the authors touch on the notion of providing deliverables after the project is over, they stop short of how to provide practitioner-ready deliverables, translate results for nontechnical audiences, or plan for action. If too much effort is required on the part of the organization to convert academic findings into digestible and actionable results for employees, the research is unlikely to escape the proverbial file drawer (er, email inbox).
We close with a note of caution. That is, whether academic or practitioner, we are all still human beings and, as such, are prone to all the biases that come with being human. In particular, we all tend to like people who are like us. Over the years, we ourselves have become increasingly aware of how homophily shapes the relationships we seek out with our counterparts in academia. As a result, we have become more conscious of the need to be deliberate in pursuing people and perspectives whose experiences and ideas diverge from those of our own. It is a higher bar and a harder path, but one that we believe will yield even more powerful insights.