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The comfort of ritual

I first visited Tadich more than 25 years ago during my first family trip to San Francisco. Over the years we have returned there time after time for local classics like cioppino, hangtown fry, and petrale sole.

Tadich is a San Francisco institution, the oldest restaurant in the city and the kind of place politicians and financiers meet for a late lunch or a post-work martini. It is the very definition of old-school with its white-coated servers, career bartenders who know their classic cocktails, and wood-paneled rooms perfect for a private lunch.

My parents and I made our annual pilgrimage last week on a typically chilly, cloudy day. We camped out in one of the little wooden rooms for a long lunch, then wandered through some downtown buildings — we’re always on the lookout for architectural details — and finished up shopping for cheese at the Ferry Building. Food, wine, and architecture make for a perfect day!

I’m not always a fan of tradition in a larger cultural context, but I enjoy family rituals like this which provide a comforting touchstone and a connection to personal history.

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Desert calm

I have always found the desert Southwest immensely calming. I assumed it was simply the comfortable feeling of being back in my childhood home — it never felt right when I lived in states without mountains — but on my last trip it occurred to me it could be the desert itself.

There is a reassuring constancy to the endless expanse of sand, with its soothing, monochromatic palette. The sheer scale of the desert slows down time — it can take hours to approach and pass a mountain. Plant growth can be imperceptible year over year. The weather doesn’t change for months on end. Here, past and future blend together in an unchanging, infinite time stream. And, the desert thrives in the most unlikely ways; its inhabitants are a testament to the ingenuity and persistence of life itself. Creativity abounds, hidden in the minute details of a seemingly barren landscape.

The desert endures, and I find hope and comfort in it.

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Connect the dots

In my continuing journey to define my unique selling proposition, here is another personal infographic. This one describes the kind of thinking that makes me happiest: The challenge of taking a disconnected or even seemingly impossible set of conditions and making sense of it.

It starts with making sure all the known points are on the map. Then, explode the system out into a Rube Goldberg contraption of craziness — discover the unknown points, explore the context, and swim in the data until patterns emerge. Once the systems and opportunities are revealed the really hard part begins, isolating the key points and wrangling them into a deceptively simple system. That last part usually takes a few iterations.

This is a typical design thinking approach, certainly not unique to me, and it was fun to go through the process to make the graphic about the process. I’m hoping all this will lead me to more clearly articulating my own key points and system.

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Five-finger discount

Cognac is crazy popular in my neighborhood judging by how quickly the shelves are cleared out during a sale. And to keep those shelves from emptying themselves, cognac is always locked up.

What’s a brand to do when it becomes known for being shoplifted? If you’re Hennessey, you create a branded, locked case.

It can be presented as a theft-protection freebie for small stores, but the resulting in-store brand advertising is the gift that keeps on giving. There’s also a subtle message about the product being so coveted and valuable, it has to be locked up. Well played.

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The opposite of inspiration

A client’s main office has a thoroughly depressing interior despite the building’s landmark architecture. The drabness is made all the more noticeable in contrast to their recent brand refresh, which uses great colors and smart messaging.

Every time I visit I think about what a disconnect this is — the employee experience doesn’t match the bright, friendly customer experience they are trying so hard to create. They’ve overlooked the physical environment and employee experience as part of brand alignment, a common mistake.

I thought the endless clusters of beige cubes were the worst of it until I had a meeting in this conference room, which is apparently where teal chairs from the 80s go to die.

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Subversive landscapes

In the Hung Liu retrospective Summoning Ghosts at OMCA, her emotional, insightful paintings hold unmistakable power. But it was a room of tiny, impressionistic landscapes that riveted me. The room info reads:

“In Maoist China, art was required to support revolutionary ideology and ‘serve the people, heart and soul.’ When Liu began studies in Beijing in the early 1970s, she would often go out alone to the countryside to paint for pleasure. She used small canvases that could fit inside her painting box that she carried in a bag. These bucolic paintings of landscapes, railroad bridges, old factories, and even trash cans and public toilets were kept hidden during the Cultural Revolution for fear their lack of political content could be used against her.”

I love experiences that take what you know and turn it inside out. Historically, nature was a safe subject for artists, containing little social or political commentary that might upset a patron. Artistic style itself has been known to cause a ruckus – just ask the Impressionists that these landscapes coincidentally channel – but, in message, the most a simple landscape might hope to convey is glorifying nature or the pastoral life. Hardly a major offense.

But under a regime that banned intellectual pursuits, art’s only allowed purpose was as propaganda. Not carrying commentary was exactly the problem. Amazing.

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A sign-off screen that brings customers back

turbotax_messageIt’s supremely frustrating to see customers walk away without knowing why. Because if you don’t know why, you can’t fix it.

After signing out of TurboTax last night, I received the message shown. It’s friendly and smartly user-centric, no doubt the result of research into why people abandon the software. They want to make sure I return, because they don’t get paid until I finish and submit my tax forms through their service.

Displaying empathy and helpfulness, the sign-off screen prompts me to set a reminder to return so I don’t procrastinate too long or find help if I’m quitting out of frustration. Above all, it turns my walking away into an opportunity to improve the customer journey and close the sales loop. It’s a nice example of insights, UX, and messaging coming together simply and effectively. Nice job, Intuit!

 

 

 

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Small Giants

smallgiantsThe book Small Giants resonated with me in a way few business books ever have. Author Bo Burlingham defines small giants as “companies that choose to be great instead of big”, an idea near and dear to my heart.

As a young designer in Chicago, my employers and clients were small companies. At the time I wasn’t aware how special those early experiences and relationships were. The work seemed, frankly, boring and limiting. I was antsy to move on to bigger agencies and brands.

After relocating and landing in a Silicon Valley agency, I found myself deeply conflicted. My heart wasn’t in working for mainstream, consumer brands. I missed the thoughtfulness and intimacy of the work I had done before. I missed the sense of purpose gained from helping good people realize their dream of owning a thriving business. Words of wisdom from a long-forgotten designer echoed in my head:  “There are no good projects, only good clients.”

After the agency collapsed, I struck out on my own. Eager to get back to “good clients”, I thought about what my favorites had in common. Here’s what I knew: They sold something of tangible value, and they did it honestly. They were fair to suppliers and partners. They were small and closely held, often family-owned. They treated employees with respect and generosity. They were local businesses — what defined that wasn’t clear, but I knew it when I saw it — and they supported community service and philanthropy. In short, the world was better with than without them.

This led me to a loose concept of social responsibility: doing business with integrity, giving back to the community, and treating people well. It also seemed being privately held was the key to being able to control everything else. Those became my four criteria for choosing clients ten years ago.

Finding Small Giants was inspiring and validating. Finally, a cogent description of what I’d intuitively understood but been unable to define! An entire book about the business unicorns I love! I now have a clearer sense of who the right clients for me are, and new insights into what to look for.

One idea that hadn’t previously gelled as part of my definition was limited growth — choosing to grow only when it serves strategic goals and doesn’t sacrifice culture or ideals. Growth has become such an unquestioned requirement of business that not growing is surprisingly radical.

Another insight was that “small” isn’t necessarily what makes my clients a good fit for me. It’s having a family culture, engaged leadership, and sense of purpose where I thrive. While it’s certainly easier to maintain those in a small company, there may be mid-sized companies that also fit this bill.

I also love the inclusion of soul, or mojo, that Burlingham cites as a secret ingredient. Running counter to management playbooks and belief in predictive data, it acknowledges there is a special magic that allows a company to be intimately, deeply great. That I couldn’t concretely define what I loved about my clients makes sense — there is simply a quality. They either have it or they don’t, and no logic model can predict it.

Finding small giants is no easy feat. But with renewed inspiration and clarity, I look forward to seeking more of them as clients and also to doing my part to help aspiring small giants find their mojo.

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Packaging for Dummies

I laughed when I saw this. Part of me wants to be offended by packaging that assumes our incompetence, but considering how many times I’ve overlooked or mangled a resealable strip I have to admit it’s spot-on.

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Mine

I love this feature in my newest Boden catalog – sticky tabs to flag items you like instead of having to turn down page corners. Arriving days before Valentine’s Day, its messages of “Mine” and “Love” also subtly (cleverly?) call to mind candy conversation hearts.

Putting on my marketer hat, I’d add a tab labeled Gift. Even if the shopper doesn’t end up purchasing any gifts, the prompt nudges them to think about friends while browsing and share Boden items they might like. And, on a personal note, I’d feel less frivolous about shopping if I could convince myself I was also shopping for my friends!

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