Discipline makes Daring possible.

Trivial Pursuits

Trivial Pursuits

When we learn effectively we learn in stages.   First we learn the rules.  Then we interrogate and question ‘the rules’ to arrive at an interpretation that is meaningful for us.   Finally we apply our interpretation of the rules to performance, at which point we find out if whether we have been able to communicate that meaning to our audience.

In the olden days these three stages were called Grammar, Dialectic and Rhetoric, collectively known as the Trivium, ‘the three’.

‘Trivial’ originally meant simply belonging to these three.   It took on the meaning of ‘lesser’, ‘not serious’, ‘unimportant’ in contrast to its big brothers, the Quadrivium – the four other liberal arts of Astronomy Mathematics, Geometry and Music – the arts that could be said to provide ‘the facts’ behind ‘the rules’.

Of course these pursuits are not at all trivial.  They are essential for effective performance.   They all have to happen.   Blindly accepting rules stifles creativity and progress.   Questioning needs to lead to action, otherwise what’s the point?  Action needs to be meaningful, not just for the individual but also for the audience, the community.

They also have to happen in the right order.  It makes no sense to dive into performance without knowing what you are trying to communicate through that performance.   It makes no sense to question before you know what the rules are supposed to be – you end up questioning everything, which makes any kind of performance almost impossible.

We know this, even though we no longer formally learn it.   We see the trivial arts in operation all around us, whenever people undertake a creative endeavour, especially a collaborative one, such as putting on a play or concert, making a film, staging a ballet, creating a video game or putting up a building.

A business is another collaborative creative endeavour, that seeks to create profitable, repeat performances that delight and expand its audience.   The problem for us business owners is that we have no tradition of looking at them in this way, which leads to some common problems:

  • In big businesses, ‘the rules’ get written down alright, but they are focused internally, not on the audience.   In the worst cases, those rules become fossilised, unquestionable.  Performers are given no real opportunity to use their skill and experience to interpret, to deliver outstanding performances and learn from them.  The result is a classic bureaucracy: “We ignore it when we can, circumvent it when we must, destroy it if we are able.”  Dee Hock.
  • In micro businesses, that ‘more or less abstract representation of proposed reality’ stays firmly inside the originator’s head, and never gets written down into a script, or score, or blueprint.   That makes it very difficult to grow beyond a one-man-band or a small, tightly-knit group of friends, especially if the only alternative we’ve experienced is the bureaucracy we escaped from.

It seems to me that one solution is to learn something from the other creative endeavours we know, where the ancient trivial pursuits of Grammar, Dialectic and Rhetoric are alive and well, even if we call them something different.

So, if you had to imagine your business was some other kind of creative, collaborative production, what would it be?

Rules, interpretation, performance.

Rules, interpretation, performance.

Performing a piece of music isn’t simply a matter of reproducing a score (not even with a computer).

An orchestra rehearsing a piece will first read the score together; question it; interrogate what’s behind the notes to understand the composer’s intention and find better ways of expressing it.    They’ll use their technical expertise to try different approaches – trying to bridge the gap between the person who wrote it and the people who will be hearing it.  They’ll try out different interpretations, then agree on the interpretation to be performed.

Practising the chosen interpretation gets everyone in sync, but they will only really know if it worked through performance.

Performance is the source of useful feedback.   Everything else is conjecture.   The last night is unlikely to sound exactly like the first.   The interpretation and it’s delivery will have been tweaked, to take account of the actual audience.  The audience shows their appreciation in enthusiastic applause, repeat visits and recommendations to friends.

All creative endeavours – plays, films, dance, businesses – where people take a more or less abstract representation of proposed reality and make it real, go through a similar process.

It starts by learning the ‘rules’, proceeds through interrogation, questioning, trial and error into interpretation and performance.   Every performance feeds back into future interpretations.

2 things to bear in mind if you’re looking to generate profitable, repeat performances through your business, that expand your audience:

  1. The ‘rules’ can be sketchy, but it’s almost impossible to create outstanding performances intentionally, repeatedly and consistently without any.
  2. Documenting the ‘rules’ is the beginning of the process, not the end.

Mash-ups

Mash-ups

Humans love mash-ups.   Collisions of disparate ideas to form a new, even more interesting idea.    Given the chance, we mash-up all the time – most obviously to make each other laugh.

Surprisingly often, a mash-up leads to a breakthrough, and even more often, these breakthrough mash-ups come from an outsider asking a ‘stupid question’ – “Why can’t I see the picture now Daddy?”, “Why can’t I cast iron the way I used to cast brass?“.

If you’re running a business, you want mash-ups to occur, but not at the expense of delivering on your promises.   So how can you achieve a balance?

  • Keep your Promise of Value tight.
  • Keep your Customer Experience Score loose.
  • Recruit from as diverse a pool of experience, mindset, interests and backgrounds as you can.
  • Admit only those who buy into the Promise.
  • Leave room for randomness.
  • Create a process for capturing, testing, building and rewarding mash-ups that help you fulfil your Promise better.
  • If someone comes up with a great mash-up that doesn’t fit your Promise, help them to turn it into a new business.

Sparked by ‘Rebel Ideas’ by Matthew Syed, recommended and kindly given to me by Nigel Whittaker.

As-is, Should-be

As-is, Should-be

Mozart didn’t write down his music ‘as-is’ before writing it again as ‘should-be’.

Of course not.

Like all composers, Mozart started with what he wanted the audience to hear, the ‘should-be’, translating as closely as he could what he had in his head into musical notes on paper.

I doubt if his first result was the only one.

Once you’ve got your Customer Experience Score written down, it doesn’t matter that it started as ‘should be’.   The job now is to make it your ‘as-is’, then to continually evolve it in line with the best ‘should-be’ you and your people can imagine.

Automate Drudgery

Automate Drudgery

I’m a firm believer in automating drudgery – boring, repetitive unsatisfying work, often physically hard, and often involving tasks that we humans really aren’t that good at.

So I welcome software that automates sending emails, or makes it easier to book people onto a job, or does my bank reconciliation for me.

But every time we automate, we insert a veil beween us and the people we serve, making it easier to forget why we are doing the work – to help another human being flourish.  As layers build, it becomes all too easy to slip into thinking about people as mere statistics, rather than the flesh and blood individuals they are.

The way to counteract this is to consciously use the energy and attention released by automation to make a deeper connection with the person on the other side.

For the people who spend their lives behind whole walls of automation and disconnection, this will feel ‘wasteful’.  It isn’t.

It’s an investment that will pay off handsomely, for both sides.

Planning for Serendipity

Planning for Serendipity

Did you know, the word ‘Serendipity’ was coined by Horace Walpole in 1754?

The ‘Serendip’ part refers to an old name for Sri Lanka and a Persian fairy tale about 3 princes who were “always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things which they were not in quest of”.

Lots of breakthroughs have been serendipitous – penicillin, graphene, Post-it notes, Nutella (apparently).   If you go back far enough most of what we eat and drink must have been discovered serendipitously – cheese, tea, kimchi, alcohol, even cooking food at all.

Serendipity doesn’t just happen though.   And of course someone has created an algorithm for it.

Serendipity is fundamentally about noticing.  Mindfully observing the world and what happens in it, without a specific purpose, but open to the possibility of discovery.

Three things are key to making serendipity work:

  • First you need time to notice.
  • Second you need to be exposed to the unfamiliar.
  • Thirdly you need a way to capture your noticings that allows them to be retrieved and reviewed from time to time, increasing the chances of making new connections or sparking new ideas.   Even better if you can retrieve and review as a diverse group of people.

None of these things are inherently expensive to do.   They probably also make life more interesting.

Why not find a way to plan them into how you improve your process, daily, weekly or monthly?

You never know what might turn up.

Problem-solving

Problem-solving

It’s hot.   Too hot for me.  My office is on the south side of the house, so it gets plenty of sun.   And of course I’m at home, where I don’t have air conditioning.

It’s difficult to think, difficult to get down to anything, difficult to come up with ideas.

I can’t do anything to make the room cooler.

Luckily, I have at least 4 other options:

  1. I could work on something that requires less mental energy, such as completing my expenses, or getting together my accounts information for tomorrow.
  2. I could move myself north, into the cool side of the house.
  3. I could sit my feet in iced water (I’m at home after all, nobody will see).
  4. I could stop early.

Sometimes, acknowledging what you can’t change, makes you see what you can.

 

Niche if you want to scale.

Niche if you want to scale.

For a long time I misunderstood why any business owner would want to restrict their marketing to a ‘niche’. Especially when what they do can work for any kind of business.

Then I learned what real marketing is.

Real marketing isn’t selling. It isn’t transactional. It isn’t manipulative. It doesn’t persuade people to buy what isn’t good for them.  Real marketing enrols people on a journey taht will help them get to where they long to be.

Real marketing takes time, effort and empathy. Empathy is easiest when you start with people like you, but it means you need to do some hard, soul searching work.  You need to work out your own values, behaviours and goals, so that you can identify who you can best serve, because you share values, behaviours, and sometimes goals.    This is your true niche, the psychographic, not the demographic.   It describes the kind of person you want to work with, rather than their business size, location or industry.

But still this niche is too big to be useful.  These ‘people like me’ are everywhere, in all walks of life.   How on earth do you help them find you?   Especially nowadays, when marketing means showing up day after day, giving value, demonstrating to the people you serve that they are understood, seen, recognised as human beings, laying a groundwork of trust in blogs, videos, podcast, newsletters, before you even get near a pitch.

It’s extremely hard work to pay anyone and everyone the attention they are due, in the hope of attracting the ‘right’ ones.

This is where a traditional demographic niche starts to make sense.  Think of demographics as the pools you fish in because you know they are likely to hold enough of the kind of people you serve.  Finding these pools takes effort of a different kind, research rather than soul searching.

Good places to start are pools that are ignored or under-served by your competitors or alternatives.   Or those where the inhabitants are going through a particularly painful set of circumstances, that you are well-placed to help with.  Or even a pool you have a lot of experience with.

But, counterintuitively, keep it small and specific to begin with.   Narrow, but deep enough to keep you going for a while.   Like flying a single route, or offering makeovers for blondes, or making jelly babies for vegans.

Because keeping your promise is the hardest part of marketing.  You want to make sure you get that spot on before you take on more of it.

Once you’ve cracked that, you’re on your way to scale.

Flipping

Flipping

This week, the problem with my broadband connection was finally sorted.   After 4 months.

On the first visit the engineer ran some tests and did something with the connection at the bottom of the pole.   He also checked the socket in my house and gave our arrangement the thumbs up.   The speed went up again, but the fix only lasted a day.  Whenever anyone called on the landline, it went down again.

On the second visit a new engineer ran some tests and did something else with the connection at the bottom of the pole.   He also replaced the socket in my house with a new one.   He explained that the reason why the fix didn’t last was because the system is set up to reduce the speed to keep the connection stable.  Fair enough.   The speed went up again, but only lasted a day.  Whenever anyone called on the landline, it went down again.

On the third visit another engineer tinkered with the connection at the bottom of the pole.   He ran some more tests, which determined that the fault was somewhere between the top of the telegraph pole and the outside of my house.    Nothing changed.  Terrible speed, and the line kept dropping.

On the fourth visit a different engineer tested the line from my end, inside the house.   He then went to the cabinet half a mile away and tested the line from there.   He identified that the fault was somewhere between the top of the telegraph pole and the outside of my house.   So he looked for a likely location, got his ladder out and looked at the box that connects the line to the outside of my house, near the roof.

Bingo!   The box was full of water.  He changed the box, replaced the connectors, and everything was fine.  And stayed fine.

I am delighted of course, and have nothing to complain of regarding any of the individuals involved either from my provider or from Openreach.

But I can’t help thinking that the process could be better.

I get that in a network, you have to be systematic in your search for a fault.  I’ve done it myself.

Usually, you test the connection at one end, then the other, starting with the extremes.   In this case, the exchange, and my socket.  Then you repeat the test, working inwards through pairs of connecting nodes until you’ve narrowed down the location of the fault to a single length of wire.

But I wonder if the application of experience could shorten the process?

Maybe the answer would be to start with the shortest length of wire – between my socket and the connection at the top of my house – and work outwards from there?   After all these are the parts most exposed to the elements, and most likely to fail.

It would be just as systematic and in the worst case take no longer than working from the outside in.    But it could well be better for the customer as well as being quicker and cheaper for Openreach.

Or perhaps it would be even quicker and cheaper just to replace that external box every time, because it’s the weakest point in the chain and also the most accessible?    That way you’re renewing the network as you go, for pence.

I don’t know.   I’m not a telephone engineer.   Just a process geek, who happens to be a customer.

The best way to learn

The best way to learn

It’s said that the best way to learn is to teach.

I’ve had a couple of conversations recently that have got me thinking about this.  The first was around training people remotely, the other was about franchising.

I think it’s true.

The thing about teaching is that your students don’t know what you know.

They aren’t in your head, and they haven’t been working next to you for the last umpteen years.   In terms of your business, your unique system for making and keeping promises, they know nothing.

That means they ask stupid questions: “What’s one of those?” Why do we use that?” “Why do we do it that way?” “What if we did that instead”.

Good students point out contradictions, anomalies, blind spots.  Things you should have seen, but have never had time to look at.  things you never imagined could be done, that come naturally to them.    This can feel threatening, but really what’s happening is that the value is passing both ways.   They learn from you, you learn from them.   A better business results.

Having to explain something forces us to think about it.   Teaching forces us to make habits explicit, to surface reasoning that we just take for granted, to make our assumptions visible.  It forces us to write down our score, so someone else can learn to play it.   Writing it down allows it to be questioned, validated, improved, until suddenly we are no longer the only people who know how it goes.   Even better, new people take our score and riff on it in new and exciting ways.

You don’t need new students to do this.   You already have them working with you in your business.

Teach them, then let them teach you back.