(really) entrepreneureal

Recent articles (here and here) have highlighted how the traditional marketing community is barking up the wrong tree in its use of social media (thanks to Seth for pointing the links out).  We all know that it’s only a matter of time until advertising hits social media channels full-on, and until then we get to watch the first adopters – like P&G, and Crest – give it their best shot, and sometimes fail.

Not all social media channels are created the same, however.  For example, during the Beijing Olympics, Lenovo and other companies let their sponsored athletes film short video clips, which were then posted to YouTube.  This as a form of social media marketing is relatively inoffensive because it does little to encroach on regular users; in this case, Lenovo puts content up like any other YouTube user, and has to fight just as hard for eyeballs.

However, there’s another type of social media marketing that’s a little different (and it’s the one that’s causing such a ruckus): sometimes a company decides to piggyback an existing community of users, essentially buying into an exclusive club – and buying access to eyeballs.  The problem with this is that oftentimes the users don’t actually want to see ads, they haven’t given permission to be wooed.  In these cases companies are essentially hijacking online communities for their own use – examples include the companies that are coming onto Twitter,  or using targeted Facebook ads, or placing content on YouTube.  It would be like placing ads in hardback novels: people don’t expect to see ads when reading, so when they do pop up, reactions are often negative.

So what does this portend for the future of marketing and social media?  I think there will be a fundamental shift to a new model of marketing, where companies are perceived as people, citizens, individuals – and must act accordingly, or risk being shunned.

Stay tuned for the next post on what I call “action marketing”, where I dig a little deeper into these issues.

Seth just wrote a post on how even seemingly insignificant marketing decisions can be annoying – and illustrate marketing ineptitude (in this case, for the folks at Peets).

My query, however, is this: I wonder if the decision to not challenge Starbucks was A. political, because some exec wants to save their hide (slander! libel!), or B. cultural, where the marketing team (and you know it was a whole TEAM) can’t even think that creatively.

Thoughts?

No one can argue that Obama’s campaign has been one of the most masterful is recent – and not so recent – memory.

The amazing speeches, the solid policy stances, the gracious face in the face of not-so-gracious attacks.  But will this halo that now hovers above his head prove to be a boon, or a curse?

My friends around the dinner table last night argued that the only way Obama could have made it this far is by creating the Mother Of All Halos – anything less would have made the chance of defeat too great.  This may very well be true, but with a big halo comes even bigger responsibility and public expectation, all of which looms over the halo, threatening to turn it into a noose.

From a design standpoint, I wonder if there is any other way Obama could have got this far, creating the ultimate halo and offering the risk of following it up with the Mother Of All Halo Hangovers.

Time will tell.

In keeping with a self-imposed tradition (albeit one that’s only a year old), I am doing my best to make this Christmas a green one.  Yesterday, however, while shopping for eco-friendly Christmas presents online, I was struck with an interesting conundrum: I want to buy green, but why is it so damn expensive?

Well, I can think of many reasons why eco products are so pricey, and they mostly relate to issues of economies of scale and such (mundane) financial niceties. But when faced with choosing a gift for my godson of 2 years, how to justify the choice of a green gift financially when the non-eco alternative will be so much nicer to my wallet?

The case for buying products that are socially/environmentally/dog/cat/newborn/parakeet friendly all comes down to transparency and resonance.  Do I know enough about the product’s origins that I will value it more highly overall (transparency), and more importantly, do I care (resonance)?  The problem I have found is not that responsible purchases don’t resonate with me – they certainly do – it’s that when giving a gift, this resonance is more often than not non-transferable.  You might like those uber-green alpaca socks sewn through with sugar cane and bamboo shoots and essence of ginkgo biloba, but you can bet your pampered feet that hearing the word “organic” only makes your uncle squirm.

I’ve chosen to approach green gift buying this way: buying “green”, whether for ourselves or for others, isn’t really about the stuff.  Sure, an eco-box is nice on gas mileage, and Patagonia jackets last forever, but the real reason I buy green is for the story, the statement it makes to others.  So this Christmas, rather than fobbing-off a green gift with the most minimal of introductions, turn the focus from the price-tag to the stories, and turn the recipients from non-believers into eco-vangelists.

That is your mission, should you accept it.

While most people try to impress others with their knowledge and know-how, I’m becoming a fan of being selectively ignorant.  Picture this hypothetical conversation between Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak:

Jobs: “Woz, I want a computer that runs on half as many chips, has a color screen, and it has to be small and sexy.  Oh, and if you can make it white, that would be great.”

Woz: “Ah shucks, Steve, no can do. The :::insert tech babble here::: is limited by the :::more tech babble::: and besides, white gets dirty.”
If this had actually taken place, would I be writing this post on a beautiful MacBook Pro with composite aluminum body, Intel Core-2-Duo, awesome OS, and glossy 15-inch screen?  (ignore the fact that Woz would have had little to do with many of the physical design components)

Time and again great designers come up against adversity and obstacles – usually from within their own ranks – and ignore it all.  I’m sure that Steve Jobs knew very well that what he was asking was nigh-on impossible, but he recognized that pushing the limits means ignoring conventional wisdom and choosing selective ignorance instead.

The next time somebody comes back with a “no way it can be done”, just smile, shake your head, and let the selective ignorance take over.

*Disclaimer* Selective Ignorance (SI) should not be confused with true ignorance, or the desired effect of a better product/service/offering might not occur.  True ignorance can often masquerade as SI, so be on the look out for impostors.

Everyone is well aware of our culture’s obsession with more:

SUPERsize.         More for your $$$.        Package deal.

And the same applies to business – always this incessant pressure to grow, to expand, to scale. Online store that sells low cost shoes by the thousands?  I’m in.  One-man-band design shop? Ummm, not so much.

I recently found myself making the case to a friend of mine at a well-known architectural design firm (look for them on TED) for scaling his business and planning for long term growth – to which he had an intriguing response:

“Why?”

His reasoning goes like this: the biggest mistake many companies make is to acquiesce to the widespread pressure to scale.  They bring on more employees, take on higher volumes of work, push on through The Dip.  This despite the fact that many, if not most, businesses are utlimately designed to do exactly the opposite, and that The Dip is actually a sign of something simpler (but infinitely scarier): the end of the road.

His point, while considered blasphemy to most entrepreneurs (especially those here, in the Bay Area), has a certain elegance about it.  All too often entrepeneurs fight and fight and fight with no end on the horizon, which while certainly something to be proud of in its own right, is a little blind to the simple reality that most things come to an end.

Perhaps the greatest example of an entrepreneurial activity (which, loosely translated, comes from the French “to undertake”), is that of choosing when to call it day, cash in one’s chips, and call it quits.

I recently spent a significant amount of time on Continental’s airplanes (a round trip, SanFrancisco-Houston-Sao Paulo-Rio de Janeiro flight will do that) and came away with a few thoughts.

Firstly, I’m impressed at Continental’s new fleet.  Honestly, the plane for the long haul was cleaner, quieter and more well put-together than any I’ve seen of late.  Unfortunately, the plane is no roomier.

Second, if you can get 3 seats in the middle to yourself, you can fashion a pseudo lie-flat bed and pretend you’re living the high life.  That said, I doubt the bigwigs in Business First have seat belts strangling their middles, armrests digging into their kidneys, and a constant fear of being decapitated by the next meal service.  In any case, it sure was nice to stretch out.

Finally, I have one gripe (which I know isn’t a new one): why the hell don’t airlines (and plane manufacturers) just make everything as roomy as Business class (not the lie flat configuration, just the wider seats with more legroom)?  Well, there are obvious answers to this question, such as the size/space-to-cost ratio, lost revenue from having expensive seats, potential safety considerations (though I can’t think of any right now); in short, there are loads of reasons NOT to supersize economy seating…

…or are there?  Let’s take a look:

On the typical Continental 767-400ER (the plane I flew on), the longitudinal space occupied by Business First fits in 7 rows of seating.  In economy, the same stretch of plane squeezes in only two more rows, coming in at 9.  Therefore, it seems like there wouldn’t be too much lost revenue for quite a lot more legroom.
Of course, this makes less sense when you multiply the number of rows across the “columns” (or letter seats, such as 16 A/B/C): Business First fits in 35 seats, while the same area in coach squeezes in an amazing 63 tuna-can knee-knockers (BF comes in with 5 columns, while economy has 7).  That’s 80% more seats in cattle class, folks, certainly a substantial increase.  So what can be done?

Well, I have a hard time believing that cutting back on one row and one column over the same longitudinal section as occupied by Business First would hit the airlines too hard.  That would mean a reduction of 16 seats – down from 63 to 47 – with what I would guess is a corresponding increase in customer satisfaction that more than offsets costs.  Further, Continental could charge a little more for coach seats to keep its margins on the mark, though my sense is that “more for the same cost” goes across much better than “more for more”.  If customer loyalty and perception means anything, this is something to consider.  Just a thought.

If I ran the airlines, though, I would do something drastically different: make all coach seats the same size as current Business First seats – thereby reducing the number of seats in coach – and turn all of Business First seats into the amazing lie-flat variety found on Virgin and Emirates.  Of course, there would need to be some thought put into which routes this makes sense for, how much more to charge (if at all), and how to boost the offerings available in the new First Class to justify potential cost increases.  Honestly, though, if it were truly up to me I’d keep prices the same for coach goers, and up Business by a marginal amount – if you can afford a $3000 ticket, chances are you won’t feel a $200 increase.

If anyone knows anything about revenue generation comparisons between first and coach, please weigh in; my guess is that economy still brings in more money, higher costs of Business notwithstanding.  Interestingly, the empty seat problem might lessen with fewer – nicer – seats in coach.

In the end, though, all of this juggling conceals an ugly truth about the flawed design of the airline business: scheduling methods are outdated and ill-suited to travel patterns, resulting in a less satisfactory customer experience due to the airlines’ need to cover their asses during down periods (as well as the odd empty seat).  I would take a lesson from DayJet (before they got clobbered by the current financial crash) and figure out the on-demand travel puzzle; the one to do that while simultaneously offering customers more during flights – room, amenities, value, quality, etc. – which would be possible due to less waste and better margins, will become the travel king.

Any takers?