Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Everything I Need to Know in 2010 I Just Learned on a Cross-Country Flight


This is the week of resolutions.  

I was all set to do my 2010 list on a flight home from from the West Coast when, well, the list pretty much wrote itself.  

Here’s what I learned between West and East:

Stay away from people wearing rubber gloves.  They're either needlessly inspecting your luggage or planning some unspeakable medical act.  If they’re at home, they want you to dry the dishes.  In every case, it's best to avoid them--like the plague.

Don't Be Fooled By Rank.  We live in a world of “top 10” and “best seven” and “the only five you’ll ever need.”  Be cynical.
 
Suppose, for example, that your family were in “Group One” for boarding a plane.  That would be pretty sweet, right, especially if the airline were charging $20 per checked bag in some sort of aviation scam and everyone needed the overhead space.  Except, Mr. Group One—Mrs. Platinum is ahead of you.  And Miss Executive Platinum is ahead of her.  And Mr. Can’t-Put-His-Blackberry-Down-on-Christmas-Day First Class is ahead of you all.  You're forth, Mr. Group One--and a distant fourth at that.
   
It's what I call the “Olive Syndrome.”  You'd feel pretty darn good if you were a Jumbo olive.  Until you found out about Giant, Colossal, Super Colossal and Mammoth, all bigger than you.  
   

It's like being a Tall at Starbucks.  “Tall” is a good thing, right?  Ha.
   
If someone tells you in 2010 you're "walking tall," or that you had a "colossal idea,” you've just been dissed.  Beware the ranking.
 
Find your cabin space.  Until wifi invades, an airline cabin is the last best bastion for reading, writing and thinking.  You need to find such a place on the ground, and then fight to keep the damn wifi out.
 
Less is more.  Less service, less decent food, less civility.  How about this, then: Less silly chatter from a pilot who is trying to be witty.  How about this: Just fly the stinkin’ plane.  If less is more in 2010, let’s at least be consistent.

Exercise and stay in shape.  Did I really have to tell you that?  Year after year, resolution after resolution, exercise heads the list.  Because, you see, it really is the only panacea in life.  But here's your 2010 twist.  The Forbes magazine I was reading reported that “people who are less than physically fit may be more vulnerable to layoffs and face longer bouts of unemployment."

"No corporate human resources manager would ever admit this, of course, but one HR head who counsels unemployed men at my church told me he noticed a trend: The men facing the longest road back to employment are those who have physically given up.” 

Staying fit, the article concludes, is protection for your heart, health, soul and paycheck.  See?  A panacea.


Get busy.  You just think you're busy.  I bought a copy of Outside magazine to see what bizarre things people are doing in the wilderness this year and found something called the "Reader of the Year."  He's Eric Greitens, age 35.  (Not 135.)  12 marathons, with one at 2:58.  Champion boxer.  Rhodes Scholar.  Oxford grad.  Aspiring mountaineer.  Published author and photographer.  Navy SEAL.  Four tours (including Iraq & Afghanistan).  Purple Heart, Bronze Star.  White House Fellow.  Started The Mission Continues to train wounded vets for leadership roles in their communities.  Age 35. (Not 135.)  You just think you're busy.  Now, get busy.

Always wear clean underwear.  While we were in the sky some sicko was trying to blow-up a plane in Detroit.  Your mother was right in 1960 and she's right in 2010: You can never go wrong with clean underwear.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Never Look at the Trombones


About this time last year I wrote an article called Leadership in the White Space in which I quoted an orchestra conductor who emphasized what all leaders know: "There's a lot that goes on between the notes."

Recently, I discovered a wonderful TED lecture from Itay Talgam, who provides living examples of how six great twentieth-century conductors led without saying a word. (Talgam's home page is here.)

If nothing else, it's a complete course in body language.

It also pays, as you watch the lecture (and as you lead in 2010) to always remember Richard Strauss's rule #4: "Never look at the trombones--it only encourages them."  Of course, you already know who the trombones are in your organization.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Fun with Holiday Cards


Our Christmas cards are finally posted in the U.S. Mail.  

As I toted our little bundles of joy into the post office yesterday morning (under the icy glare of the harried Postmistress), I couldn’t help but think the entire Christmas card process—especially for those of us still writing a personal note and actually signing our names—to be an anachronistic "hold out" in a society that shuns anything with even the faint aroma of labor-intensity.

(I also couldn’t help but think that Postmistresses everywhere should be bonused on unit volume like the rest of us, but that’s a different blog post.)

In fact, for the many people who do most of their written communications from a keyboard these days, the mere act of hand-writing and addressing a hundred cards is a little bit like taking a 15-hour Organizational Behavior final exam armed with only a blue book and pen.

This year we couldn't even come up with a picture of the family that passed muster to insert into the card--maybe a relief to friends sick of seeing us pasted against some exotic backdrop--but ironic for a family that takes a thousand pictures every year.  In fact, I’ve devised my own Christmas-picture-taking metric: In order to get one good picture, you need to take “half the square plus 3” of the number of people in the picture. 

So, if you simply want to feature your baby in a Christmas picture, take “half of one squared plus 3,” or 4 pictures in order to get one good one.

But, as I have discovered throughout the years, if you have a family of five, it takes 15 (. . .half of 5 squared plus 3. . .and yes, round UP) attempts (and I mean in the exact same location with the exact same pose) to get one usable picture.  Apparently I missed the metric this year.


More generally, I do believe, in the same way that astronomers get excited when they spot the death of a star or galaxy, that marketers and strategists can begin to get excited: The end of a century-plus paper Christmas card "life cycle" is at hand.  In fact, I don’t guess that it will be a generation—maybe a decade—before it will be perfectly acceptable to Miss Manners and her peers that we email (or Facebook or Twitter or Wave) digitized cards.

And there’s nothing like a good recession to help along a secular downtrend, either.  Jennifer Levitz of the WSJ reported that the incidence of the long, braggy family letter is way down in 2009.
Holiday letters, those typically peppy annual updates on family doings, are bringing tidings of a lot less joy. More hard knocks are creeping in as unemployment persists and the economy bumbles along. Laid-off holiday scribes are using the letters in their job hunts. Pink slips, the lousy housing market and tales of forsaken vacations have displaced some of the glad tidings of yesteryear.
“Some writers,” Levitz said, “are looking for support, prayers or a job offer. ‘Hi! I hope you have a wonderful holiday,’ writes Bill Mayhew, a laid-off software manager in Natick, Mass. ‘If there was ever, in our lifetimes, a year when we need a little Christmas, this is surely it....Please keep me in mind if you know of a Boston-area organization that can use entrepreneurial, business management, or technology management skills.’"
Judy Keen of USA Today reported on an even more troubling trend for paper cards.
 

“The U.S. Postal Service says there was an 11% decline in cancellations of first-class cards and letters from Dec. 1-13 — when most Americans mail holiday cards — compared to 2008. . . [while] Hallmark spokeswoman Deidre Mize says about 1.8 billion Christmas cards will be sent this year, down from 1.9 billion to 2 billion in recent years.”

Of course, you wouldn’t expect a great company like Hallmark (see my Shoebox post here) to sit by idly while their core product is being cannibalized.  “A popular Hallmark service addresses, stamps and mails cards customers design online, says product manager Maureen Dilger. New this year on Hallmark's website: holiday postcards that cost 28 cents to mail.”

This is, to my mind, a transitional product—a balm to the conscience of those who want to go digital but fear the Ghost-of-Christmas-Past (in the form of their mothers and grandmothers) rising up to smite them.  It is also a way for Hallmark to stay in the paper game, just as Day-Timer and Rolodex and other great brands have done, while they figure out ways to replace paper revenue in the digital world.

As for the Ghost-of-Christmas-Future, my friend, it will be upon you in no time at all: Click here for this year’s digitized Christmas card from the Schultz Family.  Click on the Eric icon for a traditional, over-the-top-and-insufferable, often-ficticious letter (in the style of Cormac McCarthy) about our fabulous year.  (See the sidebar for a blast of nostalgia: Eric's straight-A, third-grade report card from 1965!)  Click on the Susan icon for a more balanced and truthful Christmas message.  Click here if you’d like one of their children to deliver the news in front of the Yule log, here if you'd like them to deliver the news from a beach in Bermuda,  and here for “Cosette the dancing cat” to deliver the news of their year set to a rap version of “Deck the Halls.”


Avatar Schmavatar.  We're talking about holiday cards with drop-dead digital production.

Can you wait?   You’ll waste months watching digitized Christmas messages from your friends, pass them all over the web, rate them, archive them and sample the Google Christmas Card Hall of Fame on a regular basis.  You'll download the latest iPhone Card-on-the-Fly app.  In a few short years you will come to believe that the idea of a paper card with a Kodak picture and a hand-written note sent via the U.S. Mail was like, well, a black phone tethered to the wall by a cord--a phone that didn’t surf the Web or beep with texts or tempt you with email all day.  A phone that didn't fit in your pocket.

Sigh.

Yep.  I kind of miss those, too.

(P.S.--Merry Christmas & happy holidays to all!)


Thursday, December 17, 2009

Old Things New: Some Ideas Whose Time Has Come (Again)


The other day the WSJ ran a story on a low-tech craze sweeping Silicon Valley—entrepreneurial evenings devoted to the board game “Settlers of Catan.”  Of course, in SV it’s called “live networking” (where we used to just call it “game night”), but it’s all the same thing: people moving off their keyboards and socializing in person.  How quaint.

That’s not the only oldie but goldie making a comeback as we round the bend into a new decade.  Look at what’s happening on TV.  The biggest hit, attracting 22 million viewers every week, is “NCIS.”   As the WSJ reports, it “barely has a fan Web site. . .its viewers seldom time-shift,” and they are anything but the “young, urban demographic” that advertisers craze.  But “’NCIS’ is proof that even if the economics of the business are in upheaval, large swathes of the audience still want traditional storytelling, righteous heroes, and reality that’s not offensively gritty.”  Producers even say they avoid parochial or offensive humor.  How quaint.

(What's next?  Do you suppose people will begin playing solitaire again with actual cards?)

How about this: AOL is once again independent. The company that introduced many of us to the Web was also, ten years ago, supposed to herald the new era of synergistic “old and new media” when it combined with Time Warner.  The result has been an unmitigated disaster with more than $100 billion in shareholder value lost.  Earlier this month the companies separated, both as smaller entities, mostly (in the case of AOL) behind the competition, or (in the case of Time, Fortune and People) trying to weather the advertising recession and movement of eyeballs to the Web.  Old media is once again old media and looking for ways to survive and grow.  New media is once again new media and battling for technological advantage.  How quaint.

An article by Alan Tonelson in the recent Harper's magazine suggests “old things new” in national economics far transcends even the AOL/Time Warner debacle.  Tonelson says the story our business and political leaders have been telling us for decades, that the alarming decline in the U.S. manufacturing sector was simply the ushering in of a spectacular new era of information technologies—well, that story turned out to be so wrong.


It seems that manufacturing, something we used to be good at, might be something we really should be good at again, and fast.  “Today,” Tonelson writes, “the idea of maintaining a genuine American prosperity without a vibrant manufacturing sector stands exposed as a fairy tale.”

“American business leaders are cooling their long infatuation with ‘post-industrialism,’” Tonelson adds.  “Manufacturing is suddenly all the rage.  After forty years of outsourcing and globalization, business leaders are beginning to understand that real, self-sustaining American recovery and prosperity require a manufacturing base that is not only highly productive and innovative but is a much larger share of gross domestic product.”

Americans building real stuff.  How quaint.

I could go on.  Remember the age of conglomerates in the 1960s, which all came to a screeching halt when we were warned (by In Search of Excellence) to “stick to the knitting” and by folks like Chris Zook to “profit from the core?”  Well, when the world’s largest, revered on-line bookseller expands into blenders and socks, it seems like a logical expansion from the core.  But cloud computing?  E-book hardware?   Or how about when the world’s largest search engine, the-greatest-company-built-on-algorithms-ever-devised-by-man decides to launch its own phone?  Algorithm. . .search. . .hardware.  Of course--a natural progression from the core.  Sounds like the 1960s to me.  Very quaint.   

And, how about the coming disaster in cloud computing, or so tech prognosticator Mark Andersen predicts.  With everyone, big and small, storing sensitive corporate, consumer and personal data “somewhere else, in somebody else’s server” (my simple definition of “the cloud”), the time is ripe for massive espionage, fraud and theft.   That’ll encourage lots of folks, big and small, to reconsider where they store their sensitive data.  Some may even keep it on a server in their company or home.  How quaint.


Finally, and unlike (I reported) last holiday season, Christmas tree sales are exploding.  This is a good sign for all retailers, and a good sign for the economy.  More spending.  More stuff under the tree.  The Ghost of Christmas Past.

Maybe someone will even buy me a board game, like “Settlers of Catan.”  One that I could play with real people, in person.  Live networking in my own home.

Old things new.  How quaint.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Thinking About Thinking


One of the sub-industries that has developed in parallel with the growth of digitization and the Internet is one comprised of smart folks who are valiantly trying to divine what this assault of information is doing to our noggins.

If you are in your 70s, of course, you’ve been absorbing and adjusting to things like television and computers (plus civil rights, globalization and the sexual revolution) for decades--no small feat.  If you are in your 170s, there’s also been the telegraph and telephone, as well as the onslaught of print media (plus flight, the automobile, the corporation, a bunch of world wars and revolutions, and 25 different kinds of Coke, too). 

In fact, our brains have been under full-out, ever-shifting assault since at least the start of the Industrial Revolution.
 
A recent study makes the point:
Households in the United States consumed a mind-boggling total of 3.6 zettabytes of information and 10,845 trillion words in 2008.  That's a daily average of 33.8 gigabytes of information and 100,564 words per person.  Put another way, it's the equivalent of covering the continental United States and Alaska in a 7-foot-high stack of Dan Brown novels.
"We're all on information overload for good reason," said Roger Bohn, the study's lead author and a professor of management at UC San Diego.  "The amount we can assimilate is only a little bit more than what our ancestors could assimilate, but the amount that's available to us now is many orders of magnitude more," said Bohn, director of the school's Global Information Industry Center.
The UC San Diego researchers said the bulk of the bytes consumed came from three sources - nearly 54.6 percent from computer games, 34.7 percent through television and 9.8 percent from movies.  The average American receives information 11.8 hours of each day, or about 75 percent of the average time a person is awake, the report said. That compares to an average 4.3 hours per day based on a 1960 study.
Let’s emphasize Mr. Bohn’s observation: “The amount we can assimilate is only a little bit more than what our ancestors could assimilate, but the amount that’s available to us now is many orders of magnitude more.”  Therein likes the rub.  If we want to be productive, responsive and just plain healthy, it sounds as if our brains need to find new ways to cope.

All of which brings us back to the smart folks who are thinking about thinking. 


In A Whole New Mind, Daniel Pink takes perhaps the most extreme of positions, saying that the “keys to the kingdom are changing hands”—that the kind of person who dominated life in the last few decades—“computer programmers who crank code. . .MBAs who could crunch numbers”—are giving way to people with very different minds:  “Creator and emphathizers, pattern recognizers, and meaning makers.”

We’re moving, Mr. Pink tells us, from “an economy and a society built on the logical, linear, computerlike capabilities of the Information Age to an economy and society built on the inventive, empathic, big-picture capabilities of what’s rising in its place, the Conceptual Age.”

Mr. Pink then goes on to posit that, as the left hemisphere of the brain analyzes details, the right hemisphere synthesizes the big picture.  So, you left-brained folks who scored high on the SAT, became CPAs and thought you had the world on a string—beware.  The right-brained folks are going to take over the world.

Between you and me, I don’t cotton much to Mr. Pink’s theory; if nothing else, it’s hard to find a time, at least since the Industrial Revolution, when the right-brain wasn’t at least pari passu with the left brain and an essential ingredient of success.  To make the case that we’re moving into some new Conceptual Age, when we’ve been living with the need for high concept for several centuries, rings hollow to me.  Still, A Whole New Mind is a fun book to read and not without its charms (or its disciples).


More nuanced and convincing in approach is Roger Martin’s thesis in The Opposable Mind which says that true leadership and genius derive from being able to hold two opposing ideas without succumbing to an either-or decision.

Integrative Thinking is what Dean (of the Rotman School at the University of Toronto) Martin calls this, and it’s “the ability to constructively face the tension of opposing models and, instead of choosing one at the expense of the other, generating a creative resolution of the tension in the form of a new model.”

“The new model contains elements of the individual models but is superior to each.  This means that Integrative Thinkers are model creators, not model takers. Because of this, they are disproportionately able to come up with breakthrough ways of doing things.  They emerge as the admired and revered innovators.”

I like this concept.  It’s a better way of saying what I tried to suggest back in August when I wrote about the Great Imponderables.  There are simply issues that have no clear solution (or two diametrically-opposed, terrible solutions) which we are all expected to solve anyway, issues which great leaders find a way to answer while the rest of us remain stumped. 

There’s clearly a severe disadvantage in Dean Martin’s world to limiting use of the brain to one hemisphere or the other—that is, he doesn't call it Integrative Thinking for nothing.

A bonus in Martin’s book is his many good examples which focus on some of the great innovators in Canada, a pleasant change from the usual Silicon Valley crowd.

Another “thinking thesis” appeared recently in the Harvard Business ReviewCalled The Innovator’s DNA, the article summaries a six-year study to uncover the origins of creative business strategies in particularly innovative companies. 

Leaving aside the fact that the article doesn’t tell us how it defines or measures innovation, or how it rated and selected its examples (which truly are the usual Silicon Valley crowd), Innovator’s DNA still suggests a compelling theory that the most innovative CEOs focus more time than their peers on discovery activities.  These activities include associating, questioning, observing, experimenting and networking.

Of course, this is another blow to Daniel Pink’s “right-brain-in-ascendance” argument.   Discovery activities absolutely require that innovators engage both sides of their brain.  As Innovator's DNA, Roger Martin, and personal experience all suggest, if you plan to go to war each day, you simply cannot leave half your brain at home.


I would be remiss, too, if I didn’t throw into the mix a book I promised you (last October) that I would never, under any conditions, ever read: The Third Man Factor by John Geiger.  These are the stories of folks like Ernest Shackleton, Amelia Earhart and Charles Lindbergh, who, when subject to intense stress or monotony, sensed the “presence” of a “third person” or unseen companion who accompanied them, inevitably guiding them to safety.

There’s even a story of a man who escaped the World Trade Tower having a similar experience—being led out by a guardian angel, as it were.

I had goose bumps reading the first part of the book, which I did with all the lights on and my wife close by.  But then—and guardian angel fans should cover their ears here—Geiger begins to explore what might really be happening.  The “third man” phenomenon, which can be recreated in the lab, may well be about “right-brain intrusions into the left hemisphere.”  Cool.  And, while this theory is disputed, there is an extension of this theory that says when the "Third Man" appears, and “seems to be actively assisting someone in need, it is, in fact, a case of someone looking after their own immediate needs.”

Double cool.  The left brain told Shackleton to put one foot in front of the other in the deep Antarctic snow, and the right brain gave him comfort that all would be well through creation of a warm, supportive presence.  It’s further proof that when you strap on your batteries in the morning to do battle, you had better be sure to have both halves of your brain fully-charged.

Finally, and perhaps the best proof that integrative, full-brain thinking has been an imperative for centuries, I stumbled onto a brief but powerful book by Brooke Hindle, a pioneering student in the history of technology (and one badly in need of a Wikipedia entry).  Written in 1981, Emulation and Invention is a discussion of technology in the early American Republic, and in particular, the impact that James Watt's steam engine had after its first public showing in 1776.

As we know, in the early eighteenth century, Americans were a thinly-dispersed people almost entirely engaged in agriculture—poor, dumb farmers scratching the soil with their hoes, just trying to eek out a living.  Yet, in short order, America would come to embrace and then lead the Industrial Revolution.


The reason, Hindle tells us, is that the stereotypical American farmer of the early nineteenth century was mostly myth.  One observer reported that “there is not a working boy of average ability in the New England States. . .who has not an idea of some mechanical invention or improvement. . .by which, in good time, he hopes to better his position, or rise to fortune and social distinction.”

Americans, Hindle says, (thanks to a near-universal elementary school education) “were generally literate and at home in arithmetic, some geometry, and trigonometry.”  Europeans also noted Americans’ remarkable mobility; they moved often from job to job, were able to adopt new processes, and were able to apply solutions across related industries.

Left-brained or right-brained?  Exactly: both.

In fact, the American farmer lived with machines of all sorts, “and a small group of mechanics and artisans worked daily with gears and gear trains, cams, ratchets, escapements, bearings, cylinders, pistons, valves and cocks—the basic elements of which the new machinery was constructed.  Moreover, the machinery the farmer knew—the seed drill, the turpentine and whiskey stills, the gristmills and sawmills, and the clock—were eminently comprehensible to all who worked with them.”

Another observer suggested an American might make “a horseshoe nail more slowly than his European grandfather. . .but he is thinking out a machine which will make it for him twice as well and a hundred times faster.”

In 1833, Michael Chevalier wrote that the American conformed “easily to new situations and circumstances; he is always ready to adopt new processes and implement, or to change his occupation.  He is a mechanic by nature.”  In fact, Americans moved frequently from job to job, even within a single establishment.  They never became expert at anything, Chevalier said, but had a breadth of understanding to apply solutions across related industries.

This combination of understanding how the gears work, and deciding how to create something new with the gears is called, I think, Integrative Thinking.  It’s called the Innovator’s DNA.  It's called prospering in a world that seems to change every day, and require solutions that didn't exist yesterday.

More than that, it’s history’s way of reminding us once again--despite our conceit--that we’re just not that different.  Modern times are not as fast-paced or unique, relative to the past, as we tell ourselves they are.  In fact, one could argue that Daniel Pink is essentially right but simply 225 years late: Our ancestors taught us at least as much about the value of using both sides of our brains to cope with a rapidly changing world as have any of the latest best-sellers on Amazon.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Some Christmas Coffee-Table Gift Books. . .

from some very talented people with whom I’ve just happened to have coffee.


First and hottest-off-the-press, Jeff Kennedy has followed-up his 2008 (incredibly-disciplined) odyssey of drawing “a fly a day” by publishing his collection in an exquisite coffee-table book.  Jeff writes:
What started out as a quiet personal project quickly gained a world-wide following.  This book chronicles the artist's journey as he challenges his creativity to draw or paint a fishing fly every day for an entire year.  The book contains full color images of every fly created for his 2008 daily blog drawingflies365.blogspot.com.  Along with the beautiful images, you will also venture into his head as he describes what was on his mind as he created some of his paintings.  The book is available as a soft cover or as a hard cover with a dust jacket. You do not need to be a fly fisherman to appreciate the artwork contained in this book. Drawing Flies 365 the book, makes a great addition to any angler's library.
Click here to see and purchase this beautiful creation (and make sure you find the one fly Jeff concocted out of pancake batter).


D. Brenton Simons is President and CEO of the New England Historic Society, and an accomplished author in his own right.   His book, Boston Beheld, would be a perfect addition right next to Jeff’s (and not too far from your evening Espresso, though truthfully, Brenton is a recovering Diet Coke drinker).  See here for Brenton’s book, and here for Witches, Rakes and Rogues, one of Brenton’s outstanding prior works.

By the way, if you’re looking for all things historical and genealogical, check out the on-line store at NEHGS here.

Of course, if your mind has a more mechanical bent, you’ll want to pick up a copy of Jackie Bassett’s Drawing on Brilliance, featured recently in this blog here and on-line here.


If I inferred that I’d actually had coffee with all the folks I’m featuring, I’d be lying (slightly).  I don’t get to have coffee with Pulitzer Prize-winners every day, but Gordon Wood was my professor at Brown and the only PP-winner I know who is kind enough to return my emails.  He’s just authored Empire of Liberty, a majestic addition to the same series for which another Brown professor, James T. Patterson wrote, and for which Daniel Walker Howe wrote What Hath God Wrought, one of my favorite books of all-time (and one liberally quoted in this blog).  I suspect Woods’ will fall into a similar category as I work through all 800 pages next year (as will Patterson's, both of which--Restless Giant and Grand Expectations--sit expectantly on my shelf.)  I suspect, while I have not, Woods and Patterson have had coffee together from time to time.

This is the review of Empire of Liberty from Jill Lepore, another person who still returns my emails and who may one day win the Pulitzer Prize herself.  If you are looking for a very cool, colonial mystery, try her (and Jane Kamensky's dually-written) Blindspot.

And, speaking of Jill (whose first published work was on King Philip), I would be remiss if I did not mention the person for whom I pour coffee every single morning (and sometimes buy it at my favorite bagel stop in Topsfield along the way to work): me!  King Philip’s War is still available in paperback.  It’s been so long since I co-wrote it with Michael Tougias that occasionally someone will ask, “Did you know King Philip did such and such?” and I’ll say, “No—how interesting; where did you read that?”  The person will look at me like I’ve lost my mind (a reasonable supposition) and reply, “Duh--your book.”


As for Michael Tougias, don’t forget to pick up a copy of his The Finest Hours, the story of a harrowing sea rescue published earlier this year.  Now there’s a guy who will still have coffee with me.  (And there's a guy who has recently published yet another book; see here!)

There you go: Saturday morning, some coffee by your side as you shop for coffee-table (and other great) books.  Your Christmas buying will be done in an hour and you haven't had to visit the mall.  A perfect plan.

Happy shopping season!

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

First, Second, Last. . .(Dead Last)


A few summers ago we were touring in Venice.  Someone asked our guide a question and she said something like this: “Well, you have to realize that I consider myself a Venetian first, a Catholic second, and an Italian third.”

I was floored by the comment and thought, “That sure is a tough way to build a country.”  In fact, modern Italian history bears some of this out.

For all our “amber waves of grain,” however, Americans are hardly immune to this kind of thinking. 

I’ve done an awful lot of reading about Thomas Jefferson over the last few years, much of it coincidentally but spectacularly unflattering.  There’s a part of me that wishes Jefferson had written the Declaration, acquired the Louisiana Purchase, sent Lewis and Clark on their merry way and then gone home to Monticello and just shut up. (Maybe a recipe all American Presidents should follow, for that matter.)

After he left the presidency, Jefferson was wrong on just about every important issue facing America.  He opposed the Erie Canal—perhaps the most important project of its time--mostly because it wasn’t being dug in Virginia.  He opposed the Monroe Doctrine.  He founded a university conceived as a bastion of southern sectionalism.  He supported the party that destroyed Hamilton’s financial regulatory system.  And, worst of all, he sought to expand the institution of slavery and left a legacy of writing that included things like hideous instructions to his son-in-law on how to preserve the economic value of “breeding women.” 

As frosting on the cake, Jefferson--born one of the richest men in the colonies—died a bankrupt.  This, of course, forced the sale of his slaves, breaking up many families and causing tremendous hardship on black and white alike.

Ned Sublette (in The World That Made New Orleans) reminded us that Jefferson “owned over six hundred other people during his lifetime, between one and two hundred of them at any one time, including four who were probably his children.  He lived his entire life dependent on the income from slave labor.”

All of which leads me to believe--were we to catch Jefferson in an unguarded moment of truth--that he might indeed sound an awful lot like our Venetian guide:  “I am a Virginian first, a Southern slaveholder second, and an American third.”

This kind of thinking, which was hardly relegated to Jefferson (though particularly unbecoming to the primary author of the Declaration), would result in the creation of not one, but two very different countries—and civil war. 


These examples came to mind when I read the recent (11/21) column in Scott Kirsner's Innovation Economy, "Sparks fly over Silicon Valley vs. Bay State."  In it, Kirsner refers to an essay by entrepreneur Vivek Wadhwa, the title of which makes its point: “Why Silicon Valley Left Route 128 in the Dust.”  (If you're having trouble with the link try this: http://www.boston.com/business/technology/articles/2009/11/23/sparks_fly_over_silicon_valley_vs_bay_state/)

I won’t take you through the entire debate (though it’s worth a look).

I’ve read enough about innovation economies to know that competition is absolutely essential to their health.  But sibling rivalry is not, and tends to be distracting and destructive.

Americans know that China is an innovation tsunami.  India is on the move.  Israel is hopping (see Dan Senor and Saul Singer’s new book, Start-Up Nation).  We used to have to worry about what was going on in the garage down the street and now have to worry about activity in garages all over the world.

If American technology leaders choose to answer the question, “Who am I?” by saying: “I am a Silicon Valley (or Rte 128 or Research Triangle) innovator first, and an American entrepreneur second,” you can be sure of thing.

We’re cooked.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

The Great-Aunt of Invention


If Necessity is the mother of invention, then Constraint is its tough-as-nails but oh-so-generous great-aunt.  In fact, constraint is so essential to innovation that leaders are taught to create it artificially as a way of driving creative thinking.


What would happen if the price of your main product were suddenly cut in half by a competitor?  How would you redesign your product to get it to market in half the time?  What if the government suddenly imposed regulations that took away your most profitable market segments?


Oh, and what would happen if you were making pancakes for ten Thanksgiving guests the morning after and discovered you only had a thimble of maple syrup left in the bottle? 
Exactly: innovation.

Over Thanksgiving break I laughed my way through Scott Adams' 20-year retrospective of Dilbert--Dilbert 2.0 (find it here)--and was reminded again how something that looks so much like fun and games can really be so much gruelling work. 


Adams tells the story of the creation of Dilbert, and his own journey as a cartoonist.  It's a good story, made all the more poignant by a guy named Jack Cassady.  Adams wrote:
I came home from work [Pacific Bell] one day, and found myself in the right place at the right time.  I started flipping through the channels on TV and noticed the tail end of a show about cartooning.  As the closing credits rolled by, I grabbed a pen and paper, and wrote down the name of the host: Jack Cassidy.  I wrote a letter to Jack Cassady, asking a number of questions about starting a career in cartooning. . .
Not only did Cassady respond, but he did so "with a two-and-a-half-page handwritten letter that was packed with tips."  With that encouragement, Adams proceeded to submit his cartoons--only to have them summarily and repeatedly rejected.  


So, he shelved his art supplies and went back to his day job.


Here's where it gets interesting, and here's a good reminder for successful, experienced managers who forget what it was like to be young and ambitious.  Adams continued:
A year later, out of the blue, I got a second letter from Jack Cassady.  This was especially odd because I hadn't even thanked him for this original advice.  Why would he write a second letter after so much time had passed?  Here's why.
Somehow he knew I needed the encouragement.  He saw something in my work that Playboy and the New Yorker didn't see.  In fact, I didn't see it myself. . .But Jack saw it.  His letter accomplished exactly what he intended.  I got out out my art supplies and started drawing again.
The rest, of course, ended up in a brilliant 20-year retrospective (that would make a great Christmas present for that warped manager in your life).


And, to return to the main point, it included this very funny lesson about constraint.


In August 2005, Adams submitted a comic that showed a policeman firing a gun, only to discover an "unwritten and relatively recent rule in newspaper comics: You can't show a handgun being discharged."


Constraint.


So, Adams re-drew the middle panel of the strip, removing the cop and showing only "Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam etc."  Voila: no discharging gun. 


Again, though, no deal.  Constraint. 


Adams' solution: "I knew I needed to think like a committee to get my comic past the committee of editors."  So, he let the cop fire a donut.   





The original idea was funny, but this made me positively laugh out loud.

Idea.  Constraint. Better Idea.  That's how it's supposed to work.


Tomorrow morning as I think about how to create constraints to power innovation, I'm going to stop at Dunkin' Donuts to see if the Old-Fashioned discharge better than the chocolate glazed.  I'll let you know.

By the way, Adams says that it was much easier to write Dilbert after the bust of the Internet bubble than during it.  Seems hardship and stupidity are much funnier than success--but we already knew that.

Here's a bonus (from the very generous CD packaged in with Dilbert 2.0) for all you aforementioned "successful, experienced" managers:


Saturday, November 21, 2009

Why Historians Make Superb Strategists (And Other Self-Serving Notions)


I had a spectacularly energizing yet singularly odd week just ended when I was involved in bunches of business planning and future strategy noodling, and then had the great good fortune to attend the 144th annual meeting of the Colonial Society of Massachusetts.  If you want an antidote to thinking about how Radio Frequency technology fits into the future supply chain, or how the Cloud will impact traditional business services, then simply attend a dinner with historians and curators and directors at the Boston Athenaeum.  There, the seventeenth-century sexual escapades of the Rev. John Cotton are referenced in talks while the Mayflower Compact is read aloud before grace--which itself is delivered in Latin before dinner.

As I was enjoying my meal, an entirely self-serving thought occurred to me: historians make, or should make, superb business strategists.  Said another way, how great would it have been to turn the intellectual muscle in that room toward the future for a few minutes? 

A historian’s work is, after all, to sift through mountains of information, separate signal from noise, find a coherent pattern in the signal, and then tell a story about how it is all meaningful to the present.

A strategist’s work is to sift though mountains of information, separate signal from noise, find a coherent pattern in the signal, and then tell a story about how it is all meaningful to the present.

Identical job descriptions.  Same skills sets.  One just happens to apply to examining the past and the other the future:  We love David McCullough because he tells great stories about where we've been.  We love Tom Friedman because he tells great stories about where we're going.

Funny enough, good futurists out envisioning the next iPhone or uncovering the next growth market rarely have to explain why the future is important.  However, historians out doing the same work, explaining democracy or civil rights or the history of technology, almost always have to explain why history is important. 

To the latter question, here’s the story I like to tell, from Mike Wallace's Mickey House History:
In the early 1990s, Serbian troops besieging cities in Croatia and Bosnia-Herzegovina set their artillery to blowing up museums, monuments, libraries, archives, mosques, and churches.  At times the occupying forces dynamited what remained of such structures, then bulldozed the rubble.  Not content to evict or eradicate their enemies, Serbian hyper-nationalists scoured away evidence of long-standing Croat or Muslim occupation of coveted territories—an effort at historic cleansing.
The Serbs demonstrated explicitly what we all know implicitly but sometimes forget: the past determines who we are, how we relate to one another, and where we look along the horizon for our future—every bit as much, and perhaps more than, the newest technology or the latest social network.  How we remember the past is about power and influence.  We don't have the kind of violent cleansing in the United States that the Serbs practiced in the 1990s, but which heroes we honor with statues (see my post here), how we portray the history of the Enola Gay, or whether Disney should put a Civil War theme park in Virginia are all gentler symptoms of the same phenomena.

I was stunned recently to read that it wasn’t until 1908 that the U.S. Post Office forbid the mailing of postcards and photographs depicting lynchings.  1908. 

Somehow it seems to me as important that a 15-year-old in America know that factoid about our civil rights history, as know how to download an app to their new iPhone.  It seems like an historic signal that should cut through some of the noise as we think about how to live our lives.

So, hail the strategists.  Hail the historians.  Hail all the folks who remind us, as my late mother might occasionally ask her children, if we “have a clue as to whether we are coming or going.”

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

The Angst of Privacy


My friend Jerry sent a terrific blog posting from Jeff Jonas, who writes about “information management and privacy in the information age.”

Talk about a topic full of angst.  We inhabit a world in which we despise the fact that Google peers inside our personal email to target click ads, or decides its alright to post pictures on the Web of our backyard.  We hate it when government puts cameras up at intersections to catch folks running red lights, or when we plow snow for the state and are required to carry a GPS so our employer knows our whereabouts.  And the thought of having an RFID tag on a jar of baby food, so a retailer knows to offer us a discount on diapers, just creeps us out. 

I was at a Marketing meeting the other day when one of the really smart marketeers I know said something like, “Here, here and here is where we can drop a bunch of cookies on the customer and follow them around the web.”

We hate being watched, right?  Don't we?

Until, of course, we steal a bus or get into a fight after school and post our escapade on YouTube for all the world (and the police) to see, or get into our underwear and post the picture to MySpace.  If we can stay dressed, maybe we let LinkedIn and Trip-It inform our competitors which city we’re visiting this week, and which potential customers we linked-to, or maybe we just articulate our company strategy and go-to-market on our website, or perhaps we Twitter about what we’re putting in our coffee at Starbucks this morning, or maybe we just Facebook the details of our colonoscopy.

The theme seems to be this:  We don’t mind being unsparingly intimate and stupid with the rest of the world, so long as we have full control over when and how we embarrass ourselves.

Now, Jeff Jonas gives us something new to think about:
Mobile devices in America are generating something like 600 billion geo-spatially tagged transactions per day.  Every call, text message, email and data transfer handled by your mobile device creates a transaction with your space-time coordinate (to roughly 60 meters accuracy if there are three cell towers in range), whether you have GPS or not.  Got a Blackberry?  Every few minutes, it sends a heartbeat, creating a transaction whether you are using the phone or not.  If the device is GPS-enabled and you’re using alocation-based service your location is accurate to somewhere between 10 and 30 meters.  Using Wi-Fi?  It is accurate below10 meters.

The implications of this—especially for those of us who are rarely more than a few meters from our cellphone—is that we can map the spatial coordinates of our lives.  And our friends’ lives.  Our families could, theoretically, post a spatial map on our gravestones so that our ancestors could see where we spent our time before shuffling off this mortal coil.

Jonas continues:
The data reveals the number of co-workers that join you Thursdays after work for a beer, and roughly where you all go. It knows where these same co-workers call home, and just exactly what kind of neighborhood they come from (e.g., average income, average home price) … information certainly useful to attentive direct marketing folks.
Large space-time data sets combined with advanced analytics enable a degree of understanding, discovery, and prediction that may be hard for many people to fully appreciate. Better prediction means a more efficient enterprise and nifty consumer services.
And more angst.  Lots more.  What you thought was a smartphone turns out to be a Trojan Horse.
We have all been warned.  


It’s going to be an interesting century.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

In Praise of Home Delivery

A long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, we had a milkman.  Johnny the Milkman.  Never John, or Johnny, or Mr. Connor.  He was always and ever known by his full title: “Johnny the Milkman.”

We’d spot him making a delivery and run down the street to meet his truck.  Johnny the Milkman had a great boxy vehicle without passenger seats, and with both sliding doors left open to catch the summer breeze.  A huge block of ice melting in the middle of the truck’s floor was ostensibly placed to keep cold the glass bottles of milk and cream.   

Johnny the Milkman, in the days before OSHA and seatbelts and common sense, would let us jump on board and dangle our arms and legs out the passenger door for a few stops, dragging our Keds on the road as we drove from house to house.  Then, to complete the nightmare for our mothers, he’d give us an ice pick and we’d chip off a handful of cold, crunchy microbes to chew on.

There's nothing like a seven-year-old with an ice pick, dangling his legs out of a moving truck.  We loved it.

Every house in the neighborhood had a metal, slightly warped and poorly insulated milkbox on the back steps. (The cover could be removed with some effort and used for home plate when necessary.  The box itself was most excellent for blowing up firecrackers.)  Long before the Web or municipal recycling programs, our mothers would communicate with Johnny the Milkman by taping a note to the box, or to the empty milk bottles ready to be sanitized and reused, saying “Only one quart of milk this week but two dozen eggs please.”

It was a brilliant and failsafe way to insure Six Sigma delivery quality.

Not only did we receive a weekly visit from Johnny the Milkman, but Mr. Stafford-the-Fish-Man would come every Friday.  His truck was full of fresh fish on ice, and my mother would pick out what she wanted and Mr. Stafford-the-Fish-Man would fillet it on the spot.  Selling fish on Fridays to the McMullens, O’Connells and Callahans of my neighborhood--with a looming Catholic church sitting at the end of the block—was the closest thing to target marketing the 1960s had.


And then, each week, we had a bakery truck visit as well.  Eddie was a tougher customer than Johnny the Milkman, but if he was feeling charitable and we were looking particularly forlorn, he would break open a box of cupcakes with multi-color frosting.

This was possibly on the weeks that Eddie’s spoilage was good, but more likely when he was just hungry, too, and couldn’t wait for lunch.

I loved the old home delivery business model--good people came to our house every week with good stuff.  It was part of the rhythm of growing up.  

But then reality struck.  A Cumberland Farms appeared down the street (imagine a store dedicated to selling milk!).  Moms started working to support their kids, all of whom decided they had to go to college.  Home delivery went the way of the drive-in movie (which morphed into the mall cinema) and the backyard (which morphed into the lawn).

If you had been sitting in a business strategy meeting in, say, 1975 or 1985, trying to argue for the re-emergence of the home delivery model, you would have been sent off to write the marketing plan for crystal radio sets.  If you’d been arguing the point in 1995 or later, you might have raised hundreds of millions of dollars and lost it all.

It’s a funny thing about good ideas, though--it's hard to keep them down.  Because now, it seems, home delivery is making a comeback.

There’s a Peapod truck that prowls our streets, dropping off groceries.  There’s a Zoots truck that makes the dry cleaning run all over town.  Last week my windshield cracked and the replacement was done in our driveway.  Not bad.

Even the milkman is making a comeback.  The Wall Street Journal recently tried four milk delivery services including Manhattan Milk, launched in April 2008 and featuring happy Amish cows, no rBST, short delivery routes, and a return to those eco-friendly glass bottles.

Maybe Manhattan Milk will even let you drag your Keds down 5th Avenue.

Meanwhile, President Obama and his administration continue to closely watch Microsoft's Mobile Medicine Service, providing home visits by doctors aimed at “radical prevention.”  Having a doctor visit your home won’t take you back to the 1960s (like Johnny the Milkman)--it’ll take you back to the 1930s. 

See what I mean about keeping good ideas down?

In a world of high energy prices, more telecommuting, an emphasis on outsourcing, and perhaps even a growing movement to trade work for time, home delivery could be the thing of the future.

There’s one home delivery service I’d like to see, the one you get in good hotels where you return from a business dinner and your bed has been turned-down and a chocolate placed on the pillow.  A cupcake from Eddie was pretty special in the old days, but if you ever hear about this “turn down with chocolate” service, please let me know.

Monday, November 9, 2009

Drawing on Brilliance


If you’re looking for a very cool holiday gift for your boss or management team, one that will remind him or her--after all the spreadsheets and discounted cash flows and critical paths and algorithms are put away--that there still really is an underlying beauty to business, check out Drawing on Brilliance.

Co-authors Randy Rabin and Jackie Bassett rescued original patent lithographs discarded by the US Patent Office--lithographs from folks like the Wright Brothers, Hedy Lamar (yes, actress Hedy Lamar of MGM fame who also happened to co-invent frequency-hopping technology), Nikola Tesla, Thomas Edison, W.H. Carrier and hundreds of others never before seen.

I recently tracked down Jackie, who doubles as author and CEO of BT Industrials, to get the scoop on the book.

How did this all come about?

My patent researcher told me how the US PTO had gone digital and threw thousands of original Tesla’s, Carriers, and Westinghouses in the trash. Then he told me he had rescued many of them.  As I looked through them, he shared some little known facts behind each invention.  I felt so inspired and so privileged to be able to see these drawings for myself, read the actual handwritten notes and study the patterns of success and failure behind each.  Few outside of the patent office had ever seen them.

They really are a total experience to hold, to view and to learn from. In my eyes, Randy was a hero for rescuing them but this is the age of open collaboration.  I told him we needed to share these with the rest of the world.  We needed to do a lot more research on the processes of innovation and to put together a book that would inspire everyone and anyone to do what each of these brave entrepreneurs had done – change the world in remarkable ways.

Was there any story or drawing that particularly struck you?


The Wright Brothers was the most inspiring to me. They launched an entire industry and created millions of jobs. Ultimately they raised the standard of living for everyone around the world.

The more we researched what the Wright Brothers went through, from concept to commercial success, the more questions we had.  Exactly how did two uneducated bicycle shop repairmen from Ohio solve a problem that no one else could for centuries, from Da Vinci to Galileo?  Could the process they used be repeatable and used to solve other unsolvable problems? What are the real secrets to innovation success? Can we use these insights to raise the global standard of living with all of the problems in today’s economy?

Are you using this material to drive ideas in your own consulting?

Yes.  I work with CEOs who are looking to accelerate the growth of their companies. It seems in a world that is changing at the speed of the Internet many companies just get lost in the rapids of competing priorities.  Managing the volume and rate of change today is analogous to white water rafting.  You need an experienced guide. You’ll never have all of the data you think you need so you have to make some tough decisions. Then you have to rapidly capture the results and be ready to change again.


Remember, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Long before Twitter we had Gottlieb Daimler who showed us that we don’t compete on technology, we compete on business models and we leverage technology to deliver those business models.  We had W.H. Carrier who showed us how a well disciplined process of problem-solving can make the world a better place – we have a goal that has never changed.

(Recently, Jackie posted to the Mass Challenge Blog.  See here.)

So, have I solved your office holiday gift problem?  No more books about mice or cheese.  No more 7 habits or 10 rules or 5 platitudes.  Something real.

You’re welcome. J

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

The Value of Consistent Hard Work


I was listening to a podcast from The New Yorker, one featuring Robert Mankoff, the editor of the magazine’s brilliant cartoon section.  Mankoff was describing The New Yorker’s weekly caption contest where the magazine invites readers to, well, find out just how unfunny they really are, and how difficult it is to be a cartoonist.  He was also introducing a new feature where readers could create their own cartoon on-line.  (You, too, can prove that it’s really, really hard to be funny here, and find the podcast here.)

At one point Mankoff spoke with Zachary Kanin, one of the magazine’s small stable of regular cartoonist (or, as it turns out, stable of regular small cartoonists).  Kanin was discussing his typical work-week, and his comments caught me by surprise when he said he draws ten to fifteen cartoons a week.  I would have figured, what, threeFive in a good week?  But, no, every week Kanin hammers out 10 to 15 new cartoons.  He said it’s important to work at that pace because it’s the only way he really stopped doing other people’s cartoons, the only way he really found his own voice.  (The only way, I suspect, he can make a living, too.  You get the feeling from the podcast that Mankoff is pretty demanding, and cartooning is pretty competitive.)

Alas.  Another seemingly fun, carefree career—draw a little, lay in the sun, draw a little, go to the pool, draw a little, have some wine before dinner-- that turns out to be really hard work.   Get up early and sweat it out, every day.  Consistent hard work.  The only way to get good and be good and stay good.

Later, in another podcast interview, I heard Dan Brown (of Da Vinci Code and Lost Symbol fame) say he writes every day, 365 days a year, including Christmas Day.

One of the best examples of disciplined, consistent, hard work I have seen recently was Jeff Kennedy’s terrific, Drawing Flies 365 blog.  Every single day in 2008 Jeff created and posted a fly, explaining:
I initiated the creation of this blog as a challenge. The challenge is to draw a fly a day for an entire year. Part of the challenge is the discipline to accomplish this every day and the other is to expand my creativity and to help find my artistic voice. The sky is the limit on how the flies will be created. You may have wondered, "why is he drawing flies?" My other hobby is fly fishing and fly tying. I also welcome the challenge of drawing the natural materials that are used in the flies. So hang on and enjoy the ride for the next 365 days!
It became a very pleasant ritual to get up every morning and check out Jeff’s latest creation.  Jeff took this project seriously, worked hard at perfecting his technique, and will soon publish a book highlighting his creations.

Last Sunday our oldest daughter wrote about 1,200 words, the start of her efforts in this year’s National Novel Writing Month.  The goal is to write a 50,000-word novel in the month of November.  This is her third year and she is one-for-two, having completed all 50,000 words last year and falling just shy in her first try.  For her, this means writing every day, often late at night after extracurricular activities and homework is done.

This also means consistent hard work.  When I asked her why she was doing it she said, “Dad, I’m happy every day that I write.”  (My response: “Whoa.”)

This idea of really loving something but working at it hard enough every day that it’s a little bit painful is part of a ritual that talented, driven people all seem to understand and embrace.

People like Haruki Murakami, who wrote about his efforts in What I Talk About When I Talk About Running If you’ve read the book, you know Murakami is brilliant at taking adversity and turning it to his advantage.  In this case, he was reflecting on how difficult it is for him to write novels.
Writers who are blessed with inborn talent can freely write novels no matter what they do—or don’t do.  Like water from a natural spring, the sentences just well up, and with little or no effort these writers can complete a work.  Occasionally you’ll find someone like that, but, unfortunately, that category wouldn’t include me.  I haven’t spotted any springs nearby.  I have to pound the rock with a chisel and dig out a deep hole before I can locate the source of creativity.  To write a novel I have to drive myself hard physically and use a lot of time and effort.  Every time I begin a new novel, I have to dredge out another new, deep hole.
Then, of course, Murakami embraces the process, the consistent hard work, saying that when “naturals’ suddenly find their spring has run dry, they are in trouble.  But when he notices one water source is drying up, he can simply move on and chisel out the next hole from rock.

Kanin, Brown, Kennedy, Murakami are all committed artists, but I don’t think it’s all that different in any other endeavor. 

Want to be great at something?  The rock is everywhere.  Just get your hammer and chisel out and start pounding.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Some Chilling Tales for Halloween


Big Mac Departs Iceland:  Effective this weekend, Iceland is losing all three of its McDonald’s franchises.  Victims of the nation’s financial crisis (and the fact that everything from cheese to special sauce needs to be imported), Micky D’s is departing the island.

Here’s the real hitch, though: In The Lexus and the Olive Tree, Thomas Friedman noted that that no two countries with McDonald's had ever fought a war against one another. 

Without the giant of Fast Food on its shores, can peaceful Iceland be far from joining the “Axis of Evil”? 

By the way, the closest Big Mac to ReykjavikDublin, 900 miles away.

Chill with Sting: The Police frontman is out with a new album this holiday season, If On a Winter’s Night. . . .  Sting says it features “any genre that mentioned snow, ice, Christmas, winter, frost.”  The website (here) even feels chilly.

The Third Man Factor: I was running the other morning, listening to a podcast from NPR about The Third Man Factor, a new book by John Geiger.  It discusses this eerie phenomenon that occurs to people in moments of extreme stress, or life & death situations. 

An article by Michael J. Ybarra in the Wall Street Journal describes it well:
In 1953, Austrian mountaineer Herman Buhl became the first person to climb Nanga Parbat in the Himalayas—at 26,660 feet, the ninth tallest peak in the world. He climbed by himself and not far from the summit was forced to spend the night out in the open without a sleeping bag or tent. It was an agonizing bivouac, but Buhl survived—in part, he later wrote, because he sensed that he shared the ordeal with a companion. "I had an extraordinary feeling," he wrote, "that I was not alone."
Accounts of experiencing a supportive presence in extreme situations—sometimes called the "third-man phenomenon"—are common in mountaineering literature. In 1933, Frank Smythe made it to within a 1,000 feet of the summit of Mount Everest before turning around. On the way down, he stopped to eat a mint cake, cutting it in half to share with . . . someone who wasn't there but who had seemed to be his partner all day. Again on Nanga Parbat, on a 1970 climb during which his brother died, Reinhold Messner recalled being accompanied by a companion who offered wordless comfort and encouragement.
It was all I could do, as I was jogging, not to turn around and see if I had a companion running behind me.  There I was, sweaty and tired, and the hair on the back of my neck was absolutely standing on end--especially when the author described a similar “third man” situation that occurred as one of the survivors of 9/11 made his way down a smoky stairwell. 

I want to buy Geiger’s book in the worst way but am afraid I’ll no longer venture out my door in the morning to exercise.  (There are already enough excuses, no?)


World Series: This is the first year I can ever remember seeing both Christmas commercials and a snowstorm before the first pitch of the World Series.  How about we scale-back the baseball season from 162 to, say, 120 games and play the World Series in September?  When I was young and played a lot of baseball, I can remember hitting the ball on a cold April day and feeling like my hands would fall off.  It can’t be much fun to hit a 98 MPH fastball in 40 degree weather at 9 p.m. on a November evening in the Bronx.

Book Wars: Finally, you already know chilling if you’ve worked in the book publishing industry over the last decade.  Two weeks ago, though, things took a decided turn for the worse when an online price-war broke out among Walmart, Amazon and Target, resulting in ten of the season’s presumed bestsellers (like Grisham, King and Palin) being offered for $8.99.  These are hardcover books that might normally go for $25-$35, with the publisher receiving 50%. 

This first round of discounts is coming out of the hides of the online retailers, a kind of loss-leadership sure to impoverish them all (think: airlines)--not to mention Borders, and Barnes and Noble, and the corner bookstore, which will also get hammered during this jolly Christmas season.

The most chilling scenario for publishers, of course, is that consumers begin to perceive hardcover best-sellers as being worth only $8.99.

I'm guessing that was what McDonald's would have had to charge for a Big Mac had they remained in Iceland. Or about my top price for a ticket to see a nighttime World Series game in November.

All of which I'd do before I bought John Geiger's book and scared myself silly. (Not that you shouldn't buy it. Just keep it to yourself.)

Happy Halloween!

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Holy Market Share!


When it comes right down to it, most of life is about market share.

When Homo Erectus beat Neanderthal over the head with mastodon bones to secure the best watering hole and hunting grounds: market share.

When McDonald’s offered Newman’s Own Coffee and Starbucks launched Pike Place Roast and Dunkin Donuts introduced hot pumpkin latte: market share.

When your wife has most of the covers and all of the pillows in the middle of the night: market share.

And so, it should come as no surprise that an organization we least associate with hard-headed, market-driven, commercial competition—like our friendly neighborhood church—is still really much about: market share.

Yes, saving souls.  Surely, helping the needy.  Of course, producing the Christmas pageant.  But make no mistake: organized religion is also about market share.

Witness the recent decision by 82-year-old Pope Benedict XV to amend Vatican laws to make it easier for Anglicans to become Roman Catholic.  One of the Pope’s supporters called this decision “ecumenical dialogue.”

You say “potato.”  I say “market share.”

It’s hard, living in Massachusetts (where some of the worst of the clergy sex-scandal played out, and where the Catholic church has been forced to consolidate), not to see this as an attempt to stem the tide of disaffected Catholics migrating to the Episcopal, Lutheran and other mainline Protestant churches. Or perhaps even to win them back.

And Episcopalians, of course, are going through their ugly, once-a-generation split, this time over the ordination of female priests and an openly gay bishop.  So they would appear to be an especially good market segment which to target, ah, enter into ecumenical dialogue.

The Ten Commandments forbid stealing.  They do not, however, forbid inviting, welcoming, luring or tantalizing.  They most certainly do not forbid “ecumenical dialogue.”

So, the Pope has offered a big idea, borrowing from Roger Enrico, the former head of Pepsico, who operated under the credo that "Big changes to big things is the way you build a business."

Of course, the Pope’s decision isn’t quite as impressive as Paul telling the gentiles they didn’t need to be circumcised to become Christian.  That was a big idea.  Still, the new ordinariates will allow Anglicans to enter into full communion with the Pope while continuing to practice a large part of their traditional liturgy.

If the Powers That Be are watching, they can’t be too pleased by all this.  Pepsi may want to “own a market,” but it feels a little unbecoming for organized religion to be quite so transparent.  As senior devil Screwtape wrote to his nephew and demon-in-training, Wormwood, "The sense of ownership in general is always to be encouraged. The humans are always putting up claims to ownership which sound equally funny in Heaven and in Hell, and we must keep them doing so.”

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Prisoner’s Dilemma Takes Flight


Prisoner’s Dilemma is one of those simple but powerful “game theory” tools that most of us encounter in an economics course at some point in our academic travels.  Wikipedia describes the classic set-up:
Two suspects are arrested by the police. The police have insufficient evidence for a conviction, and, having separated both prisoners, visit each of them to offer the same deal. If one testifies (defects from the other) for the prosecution against the other and the other remains silent (cooperates with the other), the betrayer goes free and the silent accomplice receives the full 10-year sentence. If both remain silent, both prisoners are sentenced to only six months in jail for a minor charge. If each betrays the other, each receives a five-year sentence. Each prisoner must choose to betray the other or to remain silent. Each one is assured that the other would not know about the betrayal before the end of the investigation. How should the prisoners act?
Researchers have discovered that if two people play it repeatedly, they get punished enough by each other, and by their own bad decisions, that they eventually reach something approaching a peaceful equilibrium.

The problem with most real crooks, however, is that they only get one chance to play it, and it’s always when the stakes are painfully high.

And it often seems to be crooks that skipped their economics classes.

If you’ve been keeping up with the “balloon boy” and his family over the last few weeks, we might actually be watching an instance of Prisoner’s Dilemma playing out in the national media.

Mayumi and Richard Heenes, featured on Wife Swap (and apparently longing for more notoriety), called 911 a few weeks ago, emotional and desperate, to report that their six-year-old son had taken off in a giant Mylar balloon from their backyard.  The press was transfixed.  I received email updates all afternoon from CNN and the WSJ.

Yet, when the balloon landed, six-year-old Falcon was found hiding in the attic, part of what appears to be a staged stunt.

If there were ever two criminals who might actually get their stories straight in advance, they might be the married kind of criminals.  Nevertheless, USA Today yesterday reported that Mayumi, in an affidavit, has admitted the whole thing was a stunt.
Mayumi described that she and Richard Heene devised this hoax approximately two weeks earlier. ... She and Richard had instructed their three children to lie to authorities as well as the media regarding this hoax," the affidavit said.
Richard Heene has denied a hoax. His lawyer, David Lane, said Friday he is waiting to see the evidence in the case.
"Allegations are cheap," Lane said.
That's called big-time defection.

You’ll find Wikipedia’s further description of Prisoner’s Dilemma to be instructive:
The unique equilibrium for this game is a Pareto-suboptimal solution, that is, rational choice leads the two players to both play defect, even though each player's individual reward would be greater if they both played cooperatively.
In the classic form of this game, cooperating is strictly dominated by defecting, so that the only possible equilibrium for the game is for all players to defect. No matter what the other player does, one player will always gain a greater payoff by playing defect. Since in any situation playing defect is more beneficial than cooperating, all rational players will play defect, all things being equal.
That’s the classic game theory description for what’s going on in balloongate, and what's happening to Richard Heenes (and his lawyer).

Now, let me explain Mr. Heenes’ legal strategy in my own game theory terms, ones that require no course in economics: Go directly to jail.  Do not pass Go.  Do not collect $200.



Friday, October 23, 2009

Tomorrow Our CFO Turns 40


This is how I knew he would be a great CFO:

Shortly after the hire, we went for lunch to one of those Chinese restaurants that offers its food by the number.  So, a #23 is egg foo young, fried rice and spare ribs.  Each meal is more food than three people could eat, at a place that people with real palates avoid.

Anyway, one of the cardinal rules at this place is "NO SUBSTITUTIONS."  The menu says "NO SUBSTITUTIONS" in about six places, all in red.  Bright red.  Big letters.  It might as well read "NUCLEAR WASTE."

Here comes the nice waitress.  I order a #15.  Our new CFO orders a #23 and then says to the waitress, "But I want to substitute chicken wings for ribs."

Just like that.  I thought the earth would open up and swallow us.

The waitress pauses, looks, pauses, looks and then says: "OK."

That's when I knew he would be a great CFO.  Through a half-dozen acquisitions, 40 quarters of growth, the design of compensation plans, and in battles with vendors and partners, he kept asking for substitutions when nobody else dared.

Today, that CFO is our COO.  Just another thing that comes from not being afraid to ask for substitutions.

Happy Birthday, Mike!

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

The Efficient Lemon-Meringue Pie


Old, beloved myths die hard.  Our cherished history fell to Lies My Teacher Told Me, our dietary indulgences to Omnivores Dilemma, and our infallible Bible to Bart Ehrman (to name just one).

Recently we lost Where the Wild Things Are--a book read round these parts about 4,000 times to three admiring fans last century--to Spike Jonze.  (It’s a good movie but with a creepy and defeated sense that Maurice Sendak tried, I think, expressly to overcome.)

Now appears Jill Lepore, writing “Not So Fast,” in The New Yorker, about Frederick Winslow Taylor, the “Father of Scientific Management” and someone I’d pictured as the epitome of a high integrity, data-driven consultant.  In fact, Lepore looks at Taylor, as well as Frank and Lillian Gilbreth (of “Cheaper by the Dozen” fame) through the lens of a modern consultant, Matthew Stewart, who debunks Taylor specifically and most consultants generally—including himself.

Modern management, it turns out, was built--at least in part--on fudged data, sleight of hand, and folks just feathering their own nests.  Their ploys ranged from cheating on the efficiency model for loading pig iron to trying to convince women that they should only walk 92 feet (and not 224) in making a lemon-meringue pie. 

This last bit of advice came from a woman who made one (and only) one dish, creamed chipped beef.  Her children referred to it as Dog’s Vomit on Toast.

Ironically, I’ve had great interactions with consultants throughout my career, including some early work at Sensitech seminal to our later success. 

Not so ironically, I liked creamed chipped beef until a minute ago.

For those of you who grew up bashing the consulting trade, however, you’ll have a field day with Lepore’s fascinating article.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Some Marketing Wonders


Marketing Wonder 1: I was fortunate to attend the quarterly meeting of the New England Historic Genealogical Society (NEHGS) this weekend.  I wrote about some of the profound changes at this organization (and genealogy in general) in July 2008—changes occurring at the very intersection of scholarship, preservation, information and technology.

You might recall that the NEHGS is a century-old organization that just happens to feature one of the finest genealogical collections on the face of the earth, accompanied by world class genealogists and a superb leadership team and staff. 

(Disclaimer: I am the current Chairman of NEHGS, but these things did not happen because I am Chairman; they are the reason I wanted to become Chairman.)

Now comes the wonder. This last summer, in the midst of its 164th year, NEHGS had the single greatest month of membership growth ever.  Ever.

The reason?   Facebook.

Yep, that surprised the board, too.  (You can become an NEHGS “fan” on Facebook—please do.)

It seems highly likely, in the coming years, that NEHGS will become as expert at assembling your living relatives as it has always been at assembling your ancestors.

Think of it as one big family reunion.

Marketing Wonder 2: If you want to truly understand what modern high-tech marketing can do, articulated much more elegantly than I ever could, make sure you read Ellis Weiner’s Subject: Our Marketing Plan in the “Shouts and Murmurs” column in the current New Yorker (with a tip of the hat to good friend Jerry).  To give you a sense, here’s a piece of helpful advice contained therein:
If you already have a blog, make sure you spray-feed your URL in niblets open-face to the skein. We like Reddit bites (they’re better than Delicious), because they max out the wiki snarls of RSS feeds, which means less jamming at the Google scaffold. Then just Digg your uploads in a viral spiral to your social networks via an FB/MS interlink torrent. You may have gotten the blast e-mail from Jason Zepp, your acquiring editor, saying that people who do this sort of thing will go to Hell, but just ignore it.
It’s laugh-out-loud funny.

Marketing Wonder 3: If you are up for some additional entertaining reading, make sure you see Rob Walker’s piece, The Song Decoders, about Pandora Internet radio in the Sunday New York Times.  I knew I loved Pandora but now know why: “Pandora’s approach more of less ignores the crowd.  It is indifferent to the possibility that any given piece of music in its system might become a hit.  The idea is to figure out what you like, not what a market might like.”

No more fibbing to a market researcher about how much sleep you get, how many hours you work each week, and how many classic Greek plays you read last month.  No mob, no social interest groups, no market segmentation, no Madison Avenue manipulation of “most liked” lists and no damn crowdsourcing. 

A market of one.  Me.

Another marketing wonder.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Business Plans (are) for the Birds, Part 1

From time to time I am asked advice about business plans.  I usually refer people to a couple of online resources, including Jack Derby’s Writing the Winning Business Plan and Guy Kawasaki’s The Zen of Business Plans.  I also recommend Jeff Timmon’s New Venture Creation both for advice on business plans and as an all-around resource for the entrepreneur.


My personal experience with business plans is that they’re a little bit like painting a room, which can be kind of fun—at least when you think about rolling fresh paint on neatly prepared walls.  The problem with painting, of course, and the reason we all avoid it like the plague, is that the preparation is a killer.  Scraping.  Peeling. Washing, masking and priming.  Only then can we take out the roller and "have fun" painting. 

So it is with a business plan.  The document itself is the distillation of lots of heavy lifting around "potential" customer visits, proving-out technologies, competitive assessment and sound financial modeling which, in the best case, creates a concise, logical, compelling argument for building and funding an idea.

The most common flaws in business plans—when ideas are rolled on the wall without the proper preparation--are captured especially well in John Mullins’ Why Business Plans Don’t Deliver.

Having assembled all of this good advice, however, there’s still an element of art in writing a business plan.  Each deal has its own kind of internal logic, and each entrepreneur his own style, so that the elements proposed by Derby, Kawasaki and Timmons can and should be reassembled to meet the unique needs of the plan and its creator.

Let me demonstrate.

I operate a hugely popular retail establishment in my backyard that has come under heavy competitive pressure in the last few years, such that a change of location seems like a very sound strategic move.  We’re coming into peak season for my business, so in my next post, I’ll offer (what I hope will be) a compelling and sound business plan for recapturing momentum in the market and having a blockbuster Christmas season.

And you'll see how the elements of a business plan can be mixed and matched for the specific idea.

Stay tuned.