The first review of The Dip in the mainstream media was from Richard Pachter in the Miami Herald. Given the short length of the book, his ‘review’ was more like half a sentence (Richard promises a complete review soon). But it was a very nice half sentence. Now we have a longer review from the ironic management columnist Lucy Kellaway. (Reg. required). Here’s what she really said,
"This double attack from two friends laid me low for a bit, but I now have the ideal weapon with which to fight back. I’ve been sent a proof copy of a delightfully slim new book by Seth Godin called The Dip – A little book that teaches you when to quit (and when to stick). Godin’s theory is that quitting is a vital part of success. The worst thing any of us can do is to try to be well rounded people: he urges us to concentrate all efforts on the things we are going to win at, and quit everything else."
So maybe the only delightful part was the width of the book, but it’s better than, say, "annoying…" or "plagiarized…"
March 12, 2007
That’s what my book is really about. Or, to be a lot more positive about it, it’s about avoiding temptation and gravity and becoming the best in the world.
I’m amazed at how quickly people will stand up and defend not just the status quo but the inevitability of it. We’ve been taught since forever that the world needs joiners and followers, not just leaders. We’ve been taught that fitting in is far better than standing out, and that good enough is good enough.
Which might have been fine in a company town, but doesn’t work so well in a winner-take-all world. Now, the benefits that accrue to someone who is the best in the world are orders of magnitude greater than the crumbs they save for the average. No matter how hard working the average may be.
I’ve never met anyone… anyone… who needed to settle for being average. Best is a slot that’s available to everyone, somewhere.
I just got a note from Nathan, who asks,
" [I recently realized] that I want to be a marketer. So now with a resume that includes "Research Analyst" for an economics professor, "Finance Director" for a Nevada governor candidate, and a degree in physics from Harvard, I find myself applying for jobs in marketing. Ultimately, I would like to be VP of Product Development or perhaps CEO at a new company (I love bringing remarkable ideas to frutition), and I have suddenly realized marketing, not finance, is the way to go for me. And, as I search for jobs and try to find an entry point for my new found path, I have a few questions:
1. Where do I start? Most of what I read online seems to say I should have had a marketing internship in college. Can get an Assistant Brand Manager position with no experience?
2. Do you have company suggestions? Which companies get that some of the millions they are spending on TV ads could be better spent improving their products/services?
3. Which books should form the backbone of my marketing education?"
My answer is easy to write, harder to implement. In my experience the single best way to become a marketer is to market. And since marketing isn’t expensive any longer (it takes more guts than money), there’s no need to work for Procter & Gamble. None. In the old days, you could argue that you needed to apprentice with an expert and that you needed access to millions (or billions) to spend. No longer.
So, start your own gig. Even if you’re 12 years old, start a store on eBay. You’ll learn just about everything you need to learn about digital marketing by building an electronic storefront, doing permission-based email campaigns, writing a blog, etc. Who knows more about marketing–Scoble or some mid-level marketing guy in Redmond?
You don’t need a lot of time or a lot of money. You can start with six hours every weekend. Over time, if (and when) you get good at it, take on clients. Paying clients. Folks that need brilliant marketers will beat down the door to get at you. After a while, you may decide you like that life. Or, more likely, you’ll decide you’d rather be your own client.
People who want to become great fishermen don’t go to work on a salmon trawler. And people who want to become marketers ought to just start marketing. (Bonus: here is a book list).
Erik points us to: The Internet went down yesterday, and nobody noticed. It’s a good story of hiding as a customer service stragegy, but it’s also interesting to note how our connected world fell apart. My fancy alarm clock (that automatically checks the time) is wrong, my wife’s laptop (that automatically checks the time) is wrong, too.
What happens when we try to do something really complicated?
Graham points to an article by my neighbor: Inside Job: My Life as an Airport Screener. The surprising thing about the theatre isn’t that it exists. The surprising thing is that we’re so bad at it.
It’s easy to get hung up on whether it’s appropriate to put on a show when it comes to airport security or eating at your restaurant or attending your church. But I think it’s more interesting to get past that discussion and instead wonder, "If we’re going to put on a show, how could we do it better?" Starbucks and Disney have both made billions doing just that.
If you and I sat down for an hour, I have no doubt we could dramatically increase the quality of the security show at the airport, or the bureaucracy show at the Department of Motor Vehicles or the litigation show at the local courthouse.
Many moons ago, a video I wrote and produced was nominated for an American Film Institute Award. I flew out to LA, wore a tux, the whole thing. I knew I was in trouble when I discovered that Cathy Rigby and Gary Coleman were the hosts for the evening. My video lost, defeated by Shari Lewis and Lambchop (hey, even Kukla, Fran and Ollie would have been better). Ever since then, I’ve been awfully wary of the whole prize thing.
Go figure: last night the SXSW conference awarded Corey and Gil the award for best community site (Squidoo). And yesterday, Small is the New Big made the shortlist for the Blooker Prize. Even a quick look at the nominees makes it clear that I have no chance of winning, but it is pretty cool to be listed. And no, I’m not renting a tux, and you can leave your sock puppets at home.
- Please turn your clock ahead (if local laws permit).
- Replace the batteries in all your smoke detectors.
- If you don’t have smoke detectors, buy a few. They’re really cheap now.
- If you can find some neighbors who might need smoke detectors, buy some for them.
- Take out your #1 and #2 credit cards. Call the number on the back and say, "I think I’m going to need to cancel my account because your interest rate is too high." Then wait silently. Watch what happens. Boom, I just saved you a few hundred dollars.
- Feel free to use that money to pay down your credit card debt. Or,
- make sure you have tenant’s insurance if you rent. And,
- back up your hard drive.
Boom. Spring cleaning is done.
March 10, 2007
I still remember an interaction I had with Jim at Activision in 1985.
And when I run into Ted once or twice a year, he reminds me of something I gave him eight years ago.
As Derren reminds us, your actions today could be tomorrow’s anecdote. One that grows in the telling. In fact, every single interaction you have… every blog post, every customer service interaction, every shareholder conference call… could turn into an anecdote that lives on for years.
I guess you’re in the anecdote creation business now.
March 9, 2007
Tony pointed out a neat idea to me. Some organizations are good at listening. Some are good at talking. A few are even good at both.
But having a dialogue is different. It’s about engaging in (sometimes) uncomfortable conversations that enable both sides to grow and change.
Almost everything that happens before you fly on a plane is not as it seems. In order to deal with anxiety, the airlines put on a show. They’ve been doing it for a long, long time, and it’s starting to show signs of wear and tear. The show is getting old and the lies are starting to show. Here’s some snips from an Economist article (hat tip to the Freaknomics blog):
“GOOD morning, ladies and
gentlemen. We are delighted to welcome you aboard Veritas Airways, the
airline that tells it like it is. Please ensure that your seat belt is
fastened, your seat back is upright and your tray-table is stowed. At
Veritas Airways, your safety is our first priority. Actually, that is
not quite true: if it were, our seats would be rear-facing, like those
in military aircraft, since they are safer in the event of an emergency
landing. But then hardly anybody would buy our tickets and we would go
bust.
…
Your life-jacket can be found under your seat, but please do not
remove it now. In fact, do not bother to look for it at all. In the
event of a landing on water, an unprecedented miracle will have
occurred, because in the history of aviation the number of wide-bodied
aircraft that have made successful landings on water is zero. This
aircraft is equipped with inflatable slides that detach to form life
rafts, not that it makes any difference. Please remove high-heeled
shoes before using the slides. We might as well add that space helmets
and anti-gravity belts should also be removed, since even to mention
the use of the slides as rafts is to enter the realm of science fiction.
Please switch off all mobile phones, since they can interfere with
the aircraft’s navigation systems. At least, that’s what you’ve always
been told. The real reason to switch them off is because they interfere
with mobile networks on the ground, but somehow that doesn’t sound
quite so good. On most flights a few mobile phones are left on by
mistake, so if they were really dangerous we would not allow them on
board at all, if you think about it…"
The list is endless (plastic forks, etc.) but the lesson is subtle: every business does this. From the standardized layout of a doctor’s waiting room to the forms you fill out at the bank, we subject our clients and prospects to a little show that is not directly related to what we’re doing for them. We’re all doing theatre. We want our waiter to be better dressed than us, and the stockbroker’s office to be as far away from an off track betting facility (or a laundromat) as possible.
Of course, the show is related to what we’re selling. It’s related for the same reason that the price of a cup of coffee varies by a factor of 120 depending on who made it and where you consume it. You don’t have to like the fact that a show is going on, but you’re part of it. The most successful organizations understand this and work hard to put on a show that works. One that doesn’t get in the way of what we set out to purchase in the first place.
