Tag: seth godin

• Trying to be remarkable

  “Very little remarkable comes out of bureaucracies for a simple reason. The members of the bureaucracy seek to be beyond reproach. Reproach is their nightmare, their enemy, the thing to avoid at all costs. And the remarkable feels like a risk.” —Seth Godin

  I went into the office yesterday to sign some documents (they had to be originals) that I have been working on finalizing for the last 6-7 months. I’m not going to share what the documents were or who was involved, but I will say that it took the entire 6-7 months to get two lines added to the agreement. No other changes. Just the addition of two lines — okay, it was more like a line and a half. On the one hand, I am horrified that such simple things can take so long in the hands of bureaucracy. On the other hand, this is not an outlying situation.

  I say this not to bitch, but to instead make a case for the remarkable. As I was signing the documents yesterday, I couldn’t help but think of the writing of Seth Godin and quotes like the one at the top of this post (which is from a post called “Bureaucracy = death”). Because one of the professional goals that I have set for myself is to always strive to create things that are remarkable. I want people to look at whatever the thing might be and think to themselves, “yeah, this is extraordinary.”

  But here’s the thing about remarkability. It lives on the edges. It’s by definition not ordinary. It is extra-ordinary. And so there’s risk. Maybe it won’t work. But you know, that’s okay. It also thrives on novelty. You have to be the first and you have to be the best. Because when it does work, it’ll very quickly become the ordinary. But this too is okay because it’s how the world moves forward. Remarkability is not a one time event, it is something that is continuous.

  That we have organizations with cultures and processes that systematically eschew the remarkable makes me sad.

  2021.05.29

• Need vs. want and what that means for pricing

  

  Seth Godin recently posted this four quadrant chart on his blog. It is for plotting different products based on price and based on want vs. need. In his post, he asks his audience to think about what they’re offering and which quadrant it fits within. It can only be in one.

  I am fascinated by questions of pricing. At at some point on this blog, I wrote about a pricing class that I took at Rotman while I was doing my MBA about a decade ago. It stands out to me as one of my favorite university classes.

  So let’s consider these four quadrants.

  In the top left, you have inexpensive products that are wants and not needs. This quadrant is where you’d place those novelty sunglasses you picked up for your friend’s theme party. Fun for that moment, but if they break or you lose them, that’s probably okay.

  In the top right are expensive wants. Seth uses the example of a Hermès purse. The need is a place to put your belongings, but that’s not how these sorts of items are priced. The real value, arguably, comes from their “signaling” and how they make the owner feel.

  This is the luxury goods category. Demand will likely be cyclical and sporadic, and so you’ll need to make sure that you have fat margins.

  In the bottom right are expensive needs — like a pacemaker. Seth’s point is that these products need to work exceptionally well, all of the time. In the case of a pacemaker, it is truly a matter of life or death. At the same time, there’s going to be less price sensitivity.

  In the bottom left are the inexpensive wants. Low cost products that people really want and are infinitely useful. Seth’s example is Amazon Web Services.

  This quadrant of products is attractive because demand will naturally be extremely high. Cheap and invaluable will do that. However, Seth’s caution is that you still need to sustainably deliver the goods. These aren’t novelty sunglasses.

  I find it helpful to think of products as existing in only one quadrant. But most offerings aren’t going to exist all they way in one corner. It’s perhaps important to consider the “job to be done.” (To borrow from the late Clayton Christensen.)

  Take, for example, housing. On a fundamental level, it’s a need. We all need shelter. But it can also be a want, or have aspects of want. I need a place to live. But I want a place in the mountains. This subtle difference means something very different when plotted precisely.

  Image: Seth Godin

  2021.03.27

• The game of life

  “Anxiety is experiencing failure in advance.” — Seth Godin

  I mention and quote Seth Godin fairly often on this blog and so it only seems right to share this recent podcast that he did on the Tim Ferriss Show. Broadly speaking, the conversation is about “the game of life, the value of hacks, and overcoming anxiety.” I think most of you will find it useful regardless of what you do and what you’re involved in. It’s over an hour long, but there’s a full transcript available if you’d prefer to read, rather than listen. If you’re looking for something even shorter, here’s a quick video by Tim Ferris that has Seth talking about why worrying isn’t productive and that it’s really in service of our need for status quo and reassurance.

  2020.10.27

• A mismatch of expectations

  Seth Godin’s blog post this morning, called “I hate this restaurant,” is really excellent. I would encourage you all to read it. In it, he talks about a mismatch of expectations. More specifically, he gives the example of somebody going to a restaurant and not liking what’s on offer, and therefore being upset. It’s not that the food was bad or that the restaurant has failed, it’s just that the person didn’t get what they were expecting. There’s a mismatch. And this, of course, happens all over the place and not just in restaurants. In his view, this failure is caused by a few different factors that ultimately result in us — the people that are involved in everything from the arts to business — having to make a decision about the kind of operation we would like to run. Below is an excerpt of those things. For the full post, click here.

  This failure comes from a few contributing factors, all amplified by our culture:

  First, you can’t know if you’re going to like an experience until you experience it. All you know is your understanding of what was on offer. And because there are so many choices and there’s so much noise, we rarely take the time to actually read the label, or we get carried away by the coming attractions, or we just don’t care enough to pay attention until we’re already involved.

  [And marketers are complicit, because in the face of too much noise, they hype what’s on offer and overpromise…]

  Second, because many people are afraid. They’re afraid of the new and even more than that, afraid of change. Most people in our culture would like to be entertained not transformed, lectured at instead of learning.

  Third, the double-edged sword of giving everyone a microphone means that we’ve amplified the voices of dissent at the same time we’ve given people a chance to speak up about their desires. This means that mass culture is far more divisive than it ever was before, and it also means that bubbles of interest are more likely to be served.

  And so the fork in the road:

  You can either turn your operation into a cross between McDonald’s and Disney, selling the regular kind, pandering to the middle, putting everything in exactly the category they hoped for and challenging no expectations…

  Or you can do the incredibly hard work of transgressing genres, challenging expectations and seeking out the few people who want to experience something that matters, instead of something that’s merely safe.

  2020.10.20

• What is it that I believe?

  Back in 2008, I was living in the United States. And at that time, during the financial crisis, I remember people positing that the US wouldn’t be able to build another commercial office building for at least the next twenty years. That’s how bad things felt. People were panicking. But of course, that never happened. Yes, it took some time for real estate values to recover and for people to deleverage, but ultimately things did recover. New buildings were built and new ideas flourished.

  In fact, I’ll never forget what a close friend of mine said to me a few years after that moment in 2008. He said to me, “you know what Brandon, the crisis was probably one of the best things to happen to me. It meant that I couldn’t find a job and I was forced to start my own company. I probably wouldn’t have done that otherwise.”

  Today, we’re living through a different kind of crisis with its own set of uncertainties. Some, or perhaps many, seem to think it could lead to the demise of cities, similar to how our last crisis was supposed to lead to the demise of new office buildings (at least for a period of time). It’s easy to get caught up in narratives and headlines at times like this. And there are always ways to convince ourselves that this time might be different. Sure, we’ve had pandemics before, but previous generations didn’t have the tech that we have, right? Perhaps.

  The challenge is that we’re all trying to decode how much of what’s happening today is related to (1) short-term dislocation, (2) trends that were already happening and just got accelerated, or (3) durable and long-term structural changes. My own view is that the post-mortems will reveal more of (1) and (2), as opposed to (3). And that will mean that some of us have maybe been making long-term decisions (flee the city) based on short-term dislocation (a 1-2 year health crisis).

  Of course, I could be wrong. But it’s what I believe and what I have conviction around.

  Headlines are designed to target what Seth Godin and others refer to as our “lizard brain.” That being the primitive part of our brain that tells us when we’re, among other things, scared, hungry, fearful, and horny. What excites the lizard brain is not a headline saying that everything will probably be just fine. What excites the lizard brain is a headline saying that everything is utterly broken and a new paradigm is now upon us — pay attention or perish.

  It’s for this reason that I think it can be helpful to pause and ask yourself: “What is it that I truly believe?”

  2020.09.23

• People like us

  Seth Godin wrote on his blog today about what it means to be a lifelong fan — whether it be of a sports team, a car company, a political party, or, in his words, “anything where affiliation drives our sense of self and community.”

  There’s a powerful sentence in the middle of his post and it’s this one here:

  “People like us do things like this.“

  We often make decisions about products, brands, and even where to live based on a narrative that we craft for ourselves. We tell ourselves that I am the kind of person who lives in this neighborhood and drives this car. People like us do things like this.

  There’s an innate, emotional, and sometimes nonsensical desire to be part of what Seth calls our chosen “tribe.” And tribe does really feel like the right word. We all want to be a part of something. It helps to create meaning.

  So what’s your internal narrative? It probably determines how you hire for many of the “jobs” you need filled.

  2020.04.06

• Guts and generosity

  Today’s Seth Godin post on innovation, guts, and generosity is Seth Godin at his best. One of the reasons why I like it is that I keep thinking that “innovative” has become too much of a buzzword. It’s similar to walking around and telling everybody you’re a cool person. If you have to explain it to everyone, then you’re probably not cool. At the same time, I also find his generosity angle to be a clever one. Here is Seth’s post in its entirety (short and sweet, as usual):

  Innovation is guts plus generosity
  
  Guts, because it might not work.

  And generosity, because guts without seeking to make things better is merely hustle.

  The innovator shows up with something she knows might not work (pause for a second, and contrast that with everyone else, who has been trained to show up with a proven, verified, approved, deniable answer that will get them an A on the test).

  If failure is not an option, then, most of the time, neither is success.

  It’s pretty common for someone to claim that they’re innovative when actually, all they are is popular, profitable or successful. Nothing wrong with that. But it’s not innovative.

  Allow generosity to take the lead and you’ll probably discover that it’s easier to find the guts.

  2019.08.13

• The new studio geography

  If any of you have gone to architecture school (or know someone who went to architecture school), you’ll know that everything revolves around something called studio. Studio – that’s really all you need to say – is worth many multiples of your other classes and consumes an even greater multiple of your time. What time will you be in studio? How’s studio going? I was in studio really late last night. This is how the conversations go.

  So I was intrigued by Seth Godin’s post this morning comparing “working in a studio” to working in a factory. The latter, he says, relies on compliance: “More compliance leads to more profits. Do what you’re told, faster and cheaper, repeat.” And this was very much the narrative of the 20th century and was the model that empowered small-town America to thrive (see yesterday’s post).

  However, the studio is different. Here is how Godin defines it:

  The studio, on the other hand, is about initiative. Creativity, sure, but mostly the initiative to make a new thing, a better thing, a process that leads to better.

  It’s peer to peer. The hierarchy is mostly gone, because the tasks can be outsourced. So all that’s left is leadership.

  Initiative plus responsibility. Authority is far less important, as are the traditional measures of productivity.

  It is not difficult to tell the two apart, which is how Godin ends his post. But it is worth noting that the studio model also thrives in a different kind of geography, compared to the factory model. So not only is the studio itself a different place, it also wants to situate itself in a different kind of place. So in a way, what we are seeing today is the new studio geography.

  2018.12.15

• No is the second best answer

  

  In addition to email, phone, and text, we live in a world where you can also easily and directly connect with people on LinkedIn, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, Snapchat, Swarm, WhatsApp, Slack, as well as on many other platforms.

  As much as I love tech, I personally find this exhausting and far too distracting. So early last year I turned off all social media and messaging notifications – on both mobile and desktop – other than on the two platforms that I most commonly use. (Facebook and LinkedIn are not on this shortlist.)

  The result is that I am now missing (and consequently ignoring) a ton of direct messages. But as the saying goes, there’s no such thing as too much information, just poor filters. If you really want to reach me, I am not hard to find. You’re reading my public and daily journal right now.

  Zooming out from social media DMs, I am reminded of one of my all-time favorite Seth Godin posts where he talks about the value in saying no – which is, of course, just another kind of filter:

  No I can’t meet with you, no I can’t sell it to you at this price, no I can’t do this job justice, no I can’t come to your party, no I can’t help you. I’m sorry, but no, I can’t. Not if I want to do the very things that people value my work for.

  No is the foundation that we can build our yes on.

  And nobody should feel bad for saying no. A friend of mine likes to remind me that no is the second best answer. Yes is obviously the best, but a firm no is far better than an indecisive maybe that leaves everyone wondering what to do next.

  I should probably say no more often than I do. But I am working on it. Every now and then I remind myself that there’s huge value in saying no. Today’s post is that reminder and maybe it will be yours too.

  Photo by Kai Pilger on Unsplash

  2018.02.01

• How to act like an entrepreneur

  I really like the post that Seth Godin wrote on his blog today called: The four elements of entrepreneurship.

  He defines entrepreneurs through their actions and behaviors. In his view, this is what they do:

  1. They make decisions.

  2. They invest in activities and assets that aren’t a sure thing.

  3. They persuade others to support a mission with a non-guaranteed outcome.

  4. This one is the most amorphous, the most difficult to pin down and thus the juiciest: They embrace (instead of run from) the work of doing things that might not work.

  As far as I can tell, that’s it. Everything else you can hire.

  He then goes on to say:

  All four of these elements are unnatural to most folks. Particularly if you were good at school, you’re not good at this. No right answers, no multiple choice, no findable bounds.

  Perhaps this is why many VCs seem to favor young founders. They’re not old enough to think they know what will work and what will not work.

  2018.01.16