YOU AIN'T GONNA LEARN WHAT YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW

I Cant Get In

 

"I cant get in." 

 

I was not going to play the game.  

 

When it came to clubs in NYC, it was not my scene.   I hated it.   

 

But, when it came to Concerts, Irish Pubs, or Sports Bars -- I felt more at home.  

 

And, today it seems as though more and more people, are saying....

 

"I cant get in."   "I cant get INTO...."  

 

"I cant get into the new job"  

'I cant get into the new role" 

"I cant get into this new technology being thrust upon me."

"I cant get into the new world and how fast it is moving" 

"I cant get into this new relationship" 

"I cant get into whats expected of me"

"I cant get into it"  (whatever IT is) 

 

We all have excuses.   Lord knows, I have plenty.

 

But, I've tried to come up with the biggest ones (excuses) that I have given for something -- and come up with a clear reason, on why it should not be an excuse.

 

"I dont have enough time"

"I hate traveling too much"

"I dont like that part of my role" 

 

Recently, I've realized I need to change my behavior.   I need to change my actions, and I need to evolve my strategy. 

 

My realization stems from a few key learnings. 

 

First, I am working in an environment that is fast paced, and changing on a weekly basis.   (like many of you)

 

Second, I've got expectations of myself (goals) that are extremely aggressive.   I consistently push my goals upon others around me -- and that might not be fair, but it is the way it is. 

 

Third, I've been lousy at prioritizing some really important features in my life. 

 

All of this, ALL OF IT -- relates back to: 

 

"I cant get in" 

 

"Coach, please put me in -- I know I can do it." 

 

My right shoulder was seperated, it was hanging out of the socket, but it was a huge football game --- and I was playing safety for my team.   I knew my replacement could not cover the ground I could. 

 

I wanted to get back in the game at all costs.   

 

I realized at that moment, just how much it meant to me -- to be back in the game, on the field, in the huddle -- helping my team.    I took it for granted that I was healthy and playing -- until I was hurt, and doubled over in agony, with the trainer removing my shoulder pads, so he could see my injured arm.  

 

You can never underestimate the hurt or anguish you feel when you are on the sidelines, watching the action -- while your team is on the field -- and needs you. 

 

My shoulder was killing me.   It was throbbing.   I somehow got my pads back on, and walked to stand next to the Coach, one foot away. 

 

My persistence paid off  -- and the Coach put me back in. 

 

I ran into the huddle with my arm held tight to my stomach, I was back in.   My pain was enormous, but I needed the adrenaline of the huddle, and the action.  

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my 75 year old Grandfather make a mad dash from the bleachers --- right to the fence, on the sidelines of my team.  

 

"Coach, are you nuts?  Get Andy out of the game."    He was yelling, pacing -- and mad. 

 

My grandfather NEVER got mad, and he was steaming. 

 

I came out of the game.   My season ended with a dislocated shoulder, that to this day, hurts me from time to time. 

 

We are all in the game.  From time to time we are on the sideline watching the action -- but, for each of us -- we are all "in the action" in some very important aspects of our lives. 

 

Working. 

Raising kids. 

Mentoring. 

Leading by example. 

 

The question is, are you playing the right game?   Are your priorities where they should be, and is your time and focus, on the correct key areas? 

 

Mine have not been, I admit it.   It's tough to say, but I haven't been aware enough, nimble enough -- or mostly, smart enough, to change course on key performance drivers in my life.  

 

Our business is growing leaps and bounds, and yet I drive myself and our team harder than ever.   Explosive growth, is only compunded by, lofty expectations.   

 

A smart man once said to me, "Pioneers get slaughtered, while settlers flourish." 

 

I've spent most of my career in between the two.   (Pioneer and Settler) -- and a key priority for me is to move quickly towards being a settler, with my business - and my focus -- while building the tools for a pioneer. 

 

"I cant get in." 

 

I realized I could not get in, get into anything -- until I knew what I wanted to get into, and more importantly --  what I really wanted to get out of. 

 

I wanted to get into the game. 

 

The real question I've come to ask is not what I should be getting "into" -- but, rather.....

 

"What should I be GETTING OUT OF?" 

 

One by one piece by piece, I'm shedding the aspects of my life that I need to get out of.   It started today, and it will continue.

 

Restructuring relationships. 

Contracts. 

Deals. 

Expectations

 

The excercise of "cant get IN" -- evolved into,  "getting out." 

 

Analyzing and acting up what we should shed, alter, or change for our benefit  -- is truly the ultimate act of, getting in.   

 

Taking action.  Literally. 

 

Will get you in.   It did for me.   

 

I had to come out of the football game to heal, and appreciate being healthy.  It took coming OUT, to appreciate  --- BEING IN. 

 

"I CANT GET IN." 

 

Yes, I can.   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Best Show I Ever Saw

 

"That was the best show I ever saw." 

 

I went to Houston, TX for Sales Training.   It was July, and it was the hottest temperature I had ever experienced.   It was 112 degrees, and super sunny.   The sun, and the heat, made for extremely uncomfortable conditions.

 

We arrived at the training center, and Alvin O'Neal would be the person to train the 30 person class.

 

Alvin was a portly man, in his late 50's, and a grey beard and mustache.   He did not fit the profile of your classic, sales trainer.   In my head, I thought -- "I have to spend two days here listening to this guy?" 

 

I turned out to be wrong.   

 

He opened up with a story.

********

A elderly couple came from Nebraska to NYC for the first time, to celebrate their 50th annniversary.   Being overwhelmed by New York for a few days was an understatement.   The wife always wanted to see the Broadway play, "Cats."   She memorized the music for many years, and had always dreamed of one day seeing the play live.   

During the matinee performance the husband looks over at this wife, and sees tears streaming down her face.  He cannot believe that she is crying -- and he begins to get emotional, seeing that this performance has brought out so much emotion in his wife of 50 years.   

At the end of the play, she sits in her seat as everyone leaves the theater.  She sits, just soaking in the good energy, and not wanting to leave --- as she is experiencing true inner bliss.   She stares at the stage, letting the waves of positive energy, wash over her.   

As they leave the theater, the usher at the door says: 

"Did you have a good time?" 

The lady replied -- "We are from Nebraska, and this was the most wonderful experience of my entire life."  

She continued, "It was the best show I ever saw." 

The usher, clearly excited to hear this, says:  "Then, I'm sure you will be even more excited to know -- this was the 7000th (seven thousand) performance of this play, in this theater." 

And, as the elderly coupled walked hand in hand out of the theater into the "matinee daylight" -- the story ended. 

**********************

 

But, for me -- it really started.  

 

Do you think that the elderly couple knew that this was the 7000th performance of the play they were witnessing, as they were sitting in their seats, while tears were streaming down the woman's face?  

 

Do you think she cared?

 

Did she care about the previous 6999 other shows put on, on the same exact stage, with many of the same cast? 

 

No. 

 

The job of the broadway actor is to make you feel like --  this day, this time, and this particular show is the first time, the only time, that the actors are doing it  -- and, most importantly -- they are doing it, just for YOU.  

 

They do it every day.  Sometimes, twice a day.   Ten shows a week.   

 

It's the actors and actresses job to bring the energy, bring the focus -- and bring the message to each and every performance.....because in each and every crowd, EVERYONE IS THE.....

 

"Elderly couple from Nebraska, seeing the show for the first time." 

 

Sometimes we forget this in our complicated lives.  With each new encounter in our lives, with each new connection -- this is a...

 

New Performance. 

 

A new matinee, with a different audience.  A chance to bring new energy, and change our destiny. 

 

I've been called passionate, and energetic.   It's a badge I wear proudly.  

 

That story that I heard that day in Houston had a big impact on my future.   It made me realize that every new business opportunity, every interview, every interaction with a prospect -- every single one, is a new performance, with a new audience that has not seen the play, they have not seen, me.   

 

My new connections may not be elderly, and they may not be from Nebraska, but......they are meeting me, seeing my energy, feeling my focus, and sensing that I believe in my product --- for the first time. 

 

Tears may not flow from them.   Standing ovations may not happen at the conclusion of the meeting ..... but, something better happens. 

 

I'm exhausted from continuously pouring my heart out, and genuinely embracing each new encounter with positive energy.   I'm also results driven, and in some cases -- the honesty of an interaction will win a deal.

 

Last week, I heard from a major client the following: 

 

"Andy, we went with Lotame because, from the first time we met you and the team it was clear that the technology was superior -- but the people who work with you had energy and passion, and most importantly a dedication that far surpassed that of your competition.   You can sense when a company (and a leader has a clear sense of purpose) and a mission.....we have been validated in our decision to choose you." 

 

It was music to my ears.  It was the broadway orchestra, playing Cats in my head. 

 

We are all on the stage of life, and on our own journey in this matinee. 

 

Pretend each new encounter, each new meeting, each new person is your audience -- and you are the actor. 

 

Your new audience (or encounter) does not care about your previous 15,993 performances you may have put on for others.   In my case, 15,993 represents my total number of days alive.   I consider these previous 15,993 to be past performances of my play, and each day brings a new matinee. 

 

No matter how many performances you have in the past, (or days alive) it is important to remember to try to impress the elderly couple from Nebraska, every single day -- with all your good energy. 

 

You might not win a Tony Award, but you be will getting a standing ovation. 

 

From yourself. 

 

***********************

 

2 notes:

1) Alvin -- I never thanked you.  I hope this note is a small repayment of the wisdom you gave to me, from those sultry few days in Houston in 1995.  

2) The calculator where you can see your past performances/days you have been alive is located here

Please Let Me Walk.

 

"Beware of this guy, something ain't right about him." 

 

We were walking up the Fairway at hole #4.   I was walking next to him when he uttered those words to me.   My opponent was walking ahead of me.   

 

More often than not, his words have meaning.    You have to search for the kernel of truth in between the volume of words -- but often times the sentences, carry weight.  

 

It was a Thursday morning in July.    About 8am.   I invited a big client of mine to a club I belong to.    The golf game was planned as a way for us to have a working session.   Golf was second.   Developing our relationship was primary.   

 

As far as I am concerned, riding in a golf cart is not consistent with playing golf.   Walking a course, feeling the terrain, and enjoying a course, is as important as playing the course itself.   Comfortable golf shoes are a must.   

 

I'd rather do something else (and not play) if I have to ride in a golf cart.   

 

I've been blessed enough to enjoy the company of Caddie's the last few years of my golfing life.  The cast of characters that make up my interactions with Caddie's is long, the stories of each Caddie's life is both, endless and interesting -- but their wisdom is often, FAR GREATER THAN THEIR OCCUPATION. 

 

Anyone who is a good Caddie, not only understands golf -- they understand life. 

 

I learned that on this particular morning in July. 

 

"Beware of this guy, something ain't right about him." 

 

I stopped.   We were only on the 4th hole, yet his words stung me like a knife to my heart. 

 

My response came swift and harsh, "What do you mean by that?   The guy is a client, and if you want to Caddy for me on work events like this -- do me a favor, keep your opinions to yourself.   The guy is a stand up dude, and you could not be more wrong." 

 

He mumbled, "Ok, sorry - I wont bring it up again." 

 

And then, I started noticing things that I had missed on the first 3 holes of our match. 

 

The clients scoring was off.   He scored a 6 on the next hole -- and he told the Caddy who was keeping the score, that he got a 5.   

 

He did not replace his divots on the green.   He would hit a shot onto the green, and then walk casually by the hole in the ground -- (and damage to the course) as he marked his putt.   He never said "Thank You" to the Caddie as he was handed his putter.  

 

He moved a ball slightly to give it a better position in the rough, when he thought I was not looking.  

 

He was rude and condescending to the Caddy who was walking with us.   My steady partner who I spend many hours with nearly every weekend -- he was rude to someone who was carrying his bag, and mine.    He was my guest, and I was embarrassed.   

 

If you are rude to a waiter, a Caddie or anyone who is working -- and I see it happening --- it is virtually a guarantee that I won't be around you again, EVER. 

 

I'm allergic to rude people.  I get sick when a person I am associated with mistreats, or "brushes off" those who are working for them  -- in any capacity.  

 

My kids know every worker at our club.  I know more workers in the kitchen, the wait staff, the Caddies -- than I DO MEMBERS.   It's the way I was raised.   It's how I want my kids to treat others.   Respect and acknowledge everyone.   Look them in the eye.  Say, "Thank you." 

 

Respect. 

 

My client showed none of it that day, and I was sick to my stomach when I thought about it.   I played out the rest of the match, and never said a word to the Caddie about it.......until yesterday. 

 

As we got ready at 7am, I pulled him aside. 

 

"You were right." 

 

He said with a smile, "I'm right about everything, but what specifically was I right about?" 

 

Remember that client that you said to me, ""Beware of this guy, something ain't right about him?"  

 

"Do I remember him, that guy was the in the hall of fame of rude."  

 

He proceeded to teach me something I did not know. 

 

"Andy, play a round of golf with anyone.   In those 4 hours, I will tell you all that you need to know, all the truth, all the pain, and mostly -- the true ingredients that make up the person.   Golf is a true gentleman's game, and that is really what makes it special -- you get to see so much more than a swing.   You get to see who is a gentleman, and who is not.   Your client was not." 

 

The client is no longer a client.   As soon as a problem came up, instead of me fighting for his business, and SELLING MYSELF to keep him onboard -- I cut bait, and let him take his business to a competitor.    

 

The Caddie is still my Caddie.   He is a funny, great, and true gentleman through and through. 

 

I learn more from my Caddies, (who dont have MBA's, College Education's, or big titles) -- than I learn from some of my peers, and some colleagues. 

 

"Don't play golf if you do not want the truth."   

 

I want the truth.    

 

I don't care where it comes from.   

 

But, when it comes from the golf course, and some amazing Caddies who teach me about life --  even better.   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Sunroof

 

 

“Can I see those picture for a minute?”

 

 

It was 1985.   I was spending the summer in San Francisco, and my best friend, Kenny Smith,  came to visit – and spend 10 days hanging with me in SF.   I was going to take the week off from my internship.   

 

 

A guy who I knew, and met in the summer of 85’ had recently been married.   His name was Steve.   Steve grew up in Palo Alto, and was a professional/native Northern Californian.   

 

 

Steve was a 30 year old, outgoing, fun, athletic – handsome dude.   I worked at an internship in San Francisco – and I met him because his wife worked on the same project I did.   His wife’s name was Faye.

 

 

After work, many of us would go out for a beer.   I was only 18 years old --  and I had a fake ID, that allowed me free license to hang out with my co-workers.   Steve worked nearby, so he met up with his wife – and I was there.    A conversation with him ensued, and this is what I said:  

 

 

“My friend Kenny from NJ is coming to visit this week, I’m psyched to hang out with him – and show him the city of SF.”

 

 

Steve responded,  “Listen to me.   I will ask Faye to give me a free pass – do you want me to take you and your friend Kenny to the greatest, fun, and most amazing spot in all of California?” 

 

 

I replied, “Yes, of course.” 

 

He proceeded, “Lets go to Santa Cruz for the weekend.” 

 

 

Sounded like fun to me.   I had never been to Santa Cruz – and Steve (who was married to Faye for less than a year) got a weekend reprieve to spend the weekend with two 18 year olds.

 

 

Kenny and I got in his car.   It was a brand spankin’ new black BMW with a really cool sunroof.

 

 

We left San Francisco, and drove to Santa Cruz.   A beautiful, scenic drive.  

 

 

When we got there, we checked into a hotel.

 

 

We drank a little, and at a bar we met 3 young ladies.   We had a great time.   Each of us at some point in the night went our own way.   

 

 

I will leave it at that.  After all, Steve was married.   But, he met a nice young lady that he spent some time with that evening.   

 

 

Pictures were taken.   Booth pictures, and polaroids.   Pictures of the young ladies we met that evening, at the bar – at an awesome rollercoaster in Santa Cruz – pictures of us enjoying the nightlife.    

 

 

Kenny and I were 18 years old, and this was primetime for us.   Steve was older, but he was having a blast.

 

 

We all had a great time.  

 

 

On the car ride home we were all talking about the weekend.

 

 

In my hand I had the pictures of the weekend.    I was super proud to save these photos to preserve the memories of a great weekend with my friend, and some fun times with the young ladies we met.

 

 

During the car ride, Steve says to me – “Can I see those picture for a minute?”

 

 

I handed him the 5 pictures.   5 pictures that I was proud of.   5 pictures I wanted to save.  

 

 

As I handed it to him, I watched in slow motion – as Steve’s hand went to the sunroof --- and the pictures that I SO WANTED TO SAVE – were released by him onto Highway 101.   The pictures were gone.

 

 

And, so was any evidence of the weekend.   Any evidence of Steve being in Santa Cruz was gone. 

 

 

It was smart.    Steve was married, and he was with two 18 year olds for the weekend – those pictures could only have hurt Steve down the road.

 

 

I lost touch with Steve and his wife Faye.

 

 

But, I never ever forgot his hand releasing those pictures.   Once those pictures dissapeared -- so did the weekend.   

 

 

As I compare and contrast the story of Steve taking those photos and releasing them through the sunroof – I cant help but think about how in today’s world – you cant erase.   You cant reach your hand through a sunroof anymore, and lose a weekend.   

 

 

You can’t erase words in an email.

 

 

You can’t erase comments you make on the web.

 

 

You can’t erase posts.

 

You cant erase pictures posted. 

 

 

 

This is important to note for a few reasons.  

 

 

The digital footprints we produce, are leaving us VERY vulnerable to history.   

 

 

7000 years ago, the Pharaohs’ built huge pyramids.

 

 

Inside of these temples , the people of the day housed treasures that were considered the most expensive pieces of jewelry, art, and items of the day.

 

They were protected.    7000 years ago they were protected with the most state of the art, complex, amazing – and foolproof mechanisms to protect the outside world from gaining access to the treasures, the bodies – and the temples inside.

 

 

Today, they are visited by tourist. (Strangers to the Egyptians) Camera toting tourists that go to Alexandria – and go into the most sacred ground, they stroll into the places that Egyptians thought could never be penetrated.   Safe and impenetrable.  Locked away.   

 

 

And, they were impenetrable.   For a few years.   

 

But, access was gained to them many years later.  

 

 And, so will your inbox.   

 

 

Imagine 100 years from now –  as the next technology takes off, this thing we today describe as digital media, is considered “old school.”

 

 

All the email data – ALL OF YOUR INBOX CAN BE ACCESSED.   ALL THE EMAILS YOU THOUGHT YOU DELETED.   ITS ALL SAVED.   

 

All the pictures.   All of your comments on Facebook.

 

 

Your information, and email inbox will be shared and discussed, like tourists do today in the hallowed ground of a pyramid once thought to be private and protected.

 

But, it won’t happen 7000 years later like the the pyramids.  

 

It will be in less than 100 years that this data of today will be shared.  

 

And, it wont be strangers.   It will not be tourists.   

 

 

It will be our great grandchildren.   They will have a digital tablet (think a book) to read about you, me, and anyone they want.

 

It will contain any and all things you have typed, produced, or shared.

 

 

That will be our legacy.  

 

Wont be 7000 years later, nor will it be a stranger.     

 

It will be your family.  Your relatives.    

 

 

Think about today's version of a book club -- where people gather round to discuss an authors book, and debate from their perspective, what the author's intent, message, and how each reader translated the words the author typed. 

 

"What was the meaning of the book?" 

 

I can only imagine, the book club's 100 years from now will be an analysis of each of our writings, our thoughts, our challenges.   OUR RELATIVES IN THE FUTURE WILL HAVE "BOOK CLUB TYPE MEETINGS" TO DISCUSS, AND READ ABOUT OUR INTENT, OUR MESSAGE, AND OUR REACTIONS TO WHAT WE TYPED INTO EMAIL, back in 2012.

 

They will say --- 

 

"What was the meaning of his/her life from all these emails?"   

 

A digital tablet of your online life.   This will be our legacy.   

 

Crazy. 

 

 

Steve was right to let those pictures go through the sunroof.  

 

I could use a ride on that rollercoaster in Santa Cruz right about now.  

 

 

 

 

 

Mutually Assured Destruction

 

When I was in grade school, I was constantly drawing pictures.    

 

I probably had a version of ADD, (attention deficit disorder) -  coupled with a good dose of hyperactivity. 

 

Then, like now -- I have (and had) a difficult time focusing on things that dont stimulate me, keep me engaged, and stir my creative side.   I can sit in a meeting, in an interview -- or in the classroom -- and appear totally engaged, but I'm really zoned out.    It happened alot while I was in school.   In fact, it was probably represented (zoning out) the majority of my educational experience.   

 

But, for some reason in school - I loved history.   No other subject stimulated my interest the same way that Social Studies, and History did.    I also really loved anything that had to do with, Current Events.    At 8 years old, I was reading the newspaper every day after school.   Cover to cover.   

 

I doodled every day.   I would sit in class and draw intricate, creative -- and wild pictures.  

 

Recently, I saw the pictures that my daughters are drawing.   I saw their artwork -- and their creative side.   I was amazed, and in awe.  

 

It WAS VERY DIFFERENT from what I was drawing at their age. 

 

At 10 years old, I was constantly making pictures of the following scenario. 

 

On one side of the page was the USA and the other was the USSR. 

 

Huge guns, laser beams, and major artillery weapons were pointed at each other, and the name "USA" and "USSR" was highlighted on each side of the paper. 

 

I probably made hundreds of these types of drawings throughout elementary, and junior high school. 

 

It looked something like this.   (This one took me 30 seconds, but the pictures I drew from back in the 1970's, in the 5th grade could take hours, and it was colorful with people, and differing machinery) 

 

Growing up in the era I did -- the USA/USSR nuclear option was always talked about.  Star Wars, Mutally Assured Destruction, Nuclear Warheads throughout Europe -- had me fixated on the prospect of war. 

 

I'm pretty sure that many kids my age (and older) acted out their fears, concerns, and displaced "seeking to understand" the fear they had, that --  an all out war was imminent, and frightfully real.   A violent death from war was always looming if we did not beat our enemy, the GREAT SATAN.  The Soviet Union.  

 

I know for me -- it came out in the art. 

 

For many kids, it came out in different ways.   

 

Today, our children display art of a very different nature.   

 

More importantly, I've come to understand that we need to pay more attention to the art that our children produce.   Through their art classes, and their creative lense (whether it be fingerpainting or doodling) -- this provides the clearest, and most direct feedback of what is truly going on in the world. 

 

Walk through any school, and notice what is hanging on the wall. 

 

Ask a child, "what is your biggest fear outside of our house?"   

 

As a business owner, I get asked all the time, "what keeps you up at night?"   (I've written about it) 

 

I typically respond, "War with the USSR."     It's funny to see the response I get from that.    

 

Truth is, it evolves.   It evolves with history, conflict -- and it all comes out through the eyes of our children.   

 

But, I dare you to ask your kids.   I think you will be fascinated. 

 

I was. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Broken Urinal

 

It never stopped, day and night. 

 

The sound.   The sound of non-stop water gushing, flowing, and dripping.   The soaking wet floor.   Puddles.   

 

It never stopped. 

 

No one cared.  It must have been either too expensive, or too intricate to take the time to fix it.   

 

So, it flowed all the time.    The 6th floor of my dorm at college had a urinal that never ceased to gush water, and make the sound of a continous, pulsating beat.  

 

The sound.   The sound that is tattoed on my psyche.    

 

Today, there is no broken urinal sound in my life.   Thankfully, all of the plumbing in my house works just fine.   

 

But, the sound has been replaced.   The sound of broken plumbing, has taken on different scenario's, and different context in my life. 

 

The sound of words with no meaning.    

 

People who talk AT US, but have an agenda to push their own self interest -- they are the equivalent of a busted urninal, that never stops. 

 

Politcs, and the shrill nature of discourse in the "us versus them" world we now live in, has become a broken urinal to me.   

 

People in any industry (but specifically digital media, because it is what I am closest to) that think they are experts -- and they self-promote themselves -- but actually know the least about what they purport to be the experts in -- are broken urinals. 

 

People that are super religious.    Anyone who treats others with a lack of compassion and understanding -- and uses religion to do so --- is the biggest hypocrite in my book, and the largest reason why most times, the most religious people, are the most rigid.   The most religious people sometimes treat other religions with disdain. The most religious lack what the basic tenets of a religion is suppose to be (or so I thought) compassion, respect,  and caring.   Broken urinal. 

 

People who think the lastest craze in all the rage.    The Grateful Dead have a line in their song, Throwing Stones.   "And the current fashions set the pace, lose your step, fall out of grace."   I have great contempt for people who need the latest and greatest to dictate what they wear, what they believe, and what they "push on others."   Big broken urinal. 

 

Speaking of pushing views, the very next line in the song, Throwing Stones goes -- "and the radical he rants and rage, saying someones got to turn the page."  The Occupy Movement, and the people who would protest, and destroy property, and block movement of others -- take over the streets and parks in cities, to push their agenda on others -- is a broken urinal.

 

I grew over time to appreciate the broken urinal on the floor of my dormintory in college.   The flowing water evolved into a sound that I came to appreciate.  I never appreciated the mess, the puddles, or the fact that I felt as though I was constantly walking in urine.   But, I did come to look at it, as......

 

White noise.   In the 80's I dont think the term "white noise" existed, but the broken urinal was my first encounter with the ambient sound, of white noise. 

 

Will the broken urinals that I described above (politics, religion, latest craze, the disruptors) come to be appreciated over time as I come to accept them?    Will they become white noise? 

 

I did come to accept and appreciate the broken urinal over time. 

 

Or, will they be puddles of urine that I will have to wade into every day?

 

I dont know pretend to know the answer.   But, I do know that when metaphoric urinals are broken -- and you dont deal with them, they can create a big mess. 

 

I'm dealing with mine.   Personally, and professionally. 

 

My feet are wet. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Circle Diner

 

“Can I have three eggs, sunny side up, and extra well done home fries please?”

 

 

It was the same order I had given hundreds of times at the Circle Diner, sitting with my relatives.  

 

 

This particular time, I was sitting across from my Grandparents.   The silence was deafening and their hurt was palpable.   There were long pauses between words.   They both were clearly anguished.   

 

 

“Andrew, tell us AGAIN why you want to move to California?”

 

 

My car was packed to the gills, as I glanced out the window of the diner – the car had all of my worldly possessions --- and, it was all worth exactly nothing.     There were clothes, golf clubs, and music.   That’s pretty much all I remember that was in the car on that day.    My car was sitting 30 feet away, and this was my goodbye breakfast with the people that loved me, more than life itself.   

 

 

My Grandparents could not fathom how any family member of their's (let alone their eldest grandchild) could actually plan to move 3000 miles away, and live in a place that had earthquakes, crazy people, and more earthquakes.   (it did not have riots YET, that was after I moved there) 

 

“Grandpa, I know it sounds weird, but I really want to live in San Diego – I think the job market, and the lifestyle is what I want to try while I am young.” 

 

 

I got a blank stare.

 

 

My Grandmother was weepy, and she got up to go to the bathroom.

 

 

When my Grandmother had left the table, my grandfather calmly reached into his pocket, and pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills,, he placed them in my hand and said -- “This will help with the gas money for the ride across the country.”

 

 

I was relieved.   I had a total of $600 of my own money for the trip, plus whatever he just handed me.

 

 

But, that moment is forever emblazoned on my psyche.   The very moment my grandfather handed me enough money, to take my mind off of the very thing he had just given me.   Money.  

 

 

Suddenly the stress of NOT having enough money was gone.   It was replaced by guilt.  The guilt of burdening people who loved me.   The guilt of leaving.  

 

 

My Grandmother returned to the table.

 

 

 

“I guess you must get on the road, to start your trip.”   As she said this, tears were rolling down her cheeks.

 

 

As we walked out of the Circle Diner, I felt as though the money was bulging out of my pocket.    The bills were held together by a rubber band – and, I don’t think I ever had that much money in my possession. 

 

 

As they walked me to my car, guilt overwhelmed me.   I was saying goodbye to my Grandparents, and they were struggling to figure out, WHY one of their family members would move so far away, from them.

 

 

I drove away from the diner, and onto Rt.130.   My grandparents stood at their car, waving as I disappeared amongst the other cars.    

 

 

I counted the money, and it was $3000.    I felt like I could live a year on that much money.    

 

 

But, having that money made my drive easier.   It made the music from my cassette player sound better.   It made the entire experience sweeter.

 

 

My Grandparents were my first investors.   They believed in me.    They were both angels, as well as angel investors.

 

 

 

Sometimes, it is important to look back and see who in our lives our, “angel investors” actually are.

 

Acknowledge them.    Thank them if you can.  I was inspired to do so.  

 

 

If you cannot acknowledge them, do something to pass on their good energy and spirit.   Do for someone else, what your angel did for you.

 

 

It makes the drive easier, and music sweeter on the journey. 

 

My Winter Jacket

 

 

“What do you mean you gave away my winter jacket?”

 

 

“How can you give away my stuff, that was my jacket – I cannot believe you did that.”

 

 

Then, I went to school.   I had to see my jacket on that kid nearly each cold day, for the next two years.

 

 

It was the winter of 1979.   I was 11 years old, and in the 6^th grade.  

 

 

One kid in particular, had less than others.   He was a kid who’s parents had fallen on hard times, and it was apparent.   It was evident in his clothes.  Jeans that had holes in the legs, and were three inches short.  Big holes in his sneakers, toes nearly protruding out.  

 

 

After school one day, he was wearing a short sleeve T - shirt on our walk home.    It was about 20 degrees.    As kids walking with him we thought nothing of it.   It seemed natural that he would walk briskly – without a winter jacket.  It always happened this way.   

 

One day my Mom noticed this young man on a freezing cold day, wearing nothing but a short sleeve shirt.  

 

 

 

Looking back, I cant be sure if any other parents did anything about this young man, and his lack of outerwear (and warmth), but that very day, I know my Mom did.     

 

 

She said to me, “Doesn’t it bother you that he doesn’t have a jacket in the freezing weather?” 

 

 

I brushed it off.   “That’s his decision.    He always wears light clothes.   Almost every day this winter, he wears T shirts to school.”   As I uttered this sentence,  my breath could be seen billowing out into the cold air.   My statement of his clothing choice was weird, as the cloud floated from the freezing air.   

 

 

Little did I know that my response to my Mom, would cause a major firestorm.

 

 

 

That’s afternoon, I went to basketball practice across town at Hammarskjold School.   It was about 5 miles away, and my Mom dropped me off.     I got out of the car – and as I closed the door, to go into practice,  she said --- “Don’t forget, you are going home with Paul’s mom.”

 

 

And, off she went.

 

 

 

I remember this, because of a very weird occurrence that played out that day, that stayed with me for a long time.

 

 

My mother is extremely expressive.  So much so, that (like most Moms) she will engage you on any topic -- from sex, to politics, to business – all the way to the most intimate of emotional topics, without batting an eye.   I love her for it.   

 

 

But, this specific winter day – she did not say much.   As we rode in the car to basketball practice, it was particularly quiet in the back seat of our big yellow station wagon.   I recall it being irregularly quiet since she inquired of me, “Doesn’t it bother you that he doesn’t have a jacket in the freezing weather?”

 

 

I got home from practice that night.

 

 

I went to my room.

 

 

 

My closet was empty. 

 

 

 

There was a bunch of empty garbage bags outside of the closet door, sitting on my floor.  

 

 

I yelled downstairs, “Mom, where is my clothes?”

 

 

She casually replied from the kitchen --- words which I remember to this day.

 

 

 

“I gave them to Steven.”

 

My heart dropped.   My stomach sank.   

 

 

 

I ran downstairs.   

 

 

I was in shock.   How could she?   

 

Yelling, screaming, crying on the floor ensued.   I was shaken to the core.   

 

I looked like a seal flipping around the floor in pain.   Crying, wailing, primal fear of my possessions being taken away.   I could not catch my breath.....

 

Through all of this, she continued to make dinner.    Not missing a beat. 

 

 

"Andy, you are lucky.  Steven has nothing.   It amazes me that he can be outside in 20 degree temperatures, wearing nothing.   But, it shocked me more that you did not notice it, when I asked you."   

 

 

The verbal onslaught continued -- "I gave away your clothes, and your WINTER JACKET, BECAUSE WE CAN DO IT."   One day it will make sense, but right now it does not." 

 

I can't tell you the pain I expressed, and experienced that day.   I thought it was insurmountable.   

 

The next day, I went to school, and there was Steven.  He was wearing my red velour V neck shirt.  He was sporting my cool winter jacket.  

 

 

Steven never said thank you.   

 

He never acknoledged it to me.  Nor I him. 

 

A few days later, my Mom took me to the stores and I was able to buy all new clothes.   But, I complained the whole time -- missing my shirts, jeans, and jacket.   

 

But, it turns out -- my Mom put all my stuff folded into plastic bags -- and anonomously dropped them off Steven's families front porch.    No note, no names.  

 

She never asked for, nor received credit.     To this day - no one knows she did that, now 33 years ago.  

 

I'm not sure to this day if Steven ever knew it was my stuff that he wore.   

 

I did. 

 

He wore it long after I would have.   He wore my warddrobe into the 8th grade, long after it was intended to last.  

 

 

 

And, I never said it -- but, "Thanks Mom."

 

I get it.   

 

 

 

The Irony of Old School

 

 

“We need to really hustle to win this business.   Lets pull out all the stops to convince the client, that we can really help them.”

 

“Lets travel to meet them, and spend time with them.”

 

 

Strategy, combined with creativity.   New Communication.   Results.   Value.

 

 

 

The polar opposite of this response, and reaction is:

 

“We have a happy stable of clients, our accounts are all safe and secure." 

 

“I have a good relationship with the client do not worry.”

 

“We are a part of the their business, everything is fine.”

 

“We are automatic part of their planning, we are included on almost everything.”

 

How many of us have heard these familar type responses about current customers?  

 

 

 

 

Recently, we have won business – simply by outhustling.   Showing up.   Not waiting.  

 

 

MAKING IT HAPPEN.   BEING THERE.  

 

 

In this era of conference calls, webex presentations, emails, voicemails,  nothing replaces the good old nature, of the “door to door” mentality --- of just plain, showing up.

 

 

We heard on a conference call today from a client, about a large vendor competing on a piece of business with us.   The other company is entrenched.   The other company we are competing against, has a major leg up.   The other company is taking this large piece of business, “for granted.”

 

 

“Andy, your competitor XXXX wants our business badly.   We currently use them.. They are calling us non-stop to renew.    However, we are going to go with you guys.  You want to know why?   Your folks have been here.  Your team has been here (not in NYC) 4x in the past 2 months.   This requires effort.    We are going with you, because your team has gone the extra mile, and shown up, where the other company has not.”

 

 

This wont work for every company trying to sell a product.   But, for big ticket items, and large deals – travel and the commitment to be in FRONT OF prospects and customers, cannot be replaced by email or phone calls.

 

 

 

I’m allergic to extensive travel expenses.   But, I’m never allergic when I see  qualified travel expenses on our balance sheet --- in an effort to differentiate.

 

 

Travel is a differentiator.    And, sometimes it is taken for granted.

 

 

I wrote in a post that  -- “'Ive learned from some of the best.   And, what I've learned about "Differentiation" may not be all that different. “

 

Traveling to spend time with a client (or big prospect) is not different.

 

But, for some companies it is becoming a lost art.  It’s being viewed as an expense to cut.  It is being viewed as “old school.”

 

In the coming weeks, I will be writing about key differences (and difference makers to the selling process) that for many have become overlooked, and possibly negated. 

 

The irony is, we are winning business because we are "outhustling, and outtraveling." 

 

And, it has become our little secret.   Our distinct advantage.   

 

It's not new.  But, it is becoming different.  

 

Amazing how the "old shoe" that sits in the closet, (a current vendor, a current technology at a company) - can be thrown out and replaced by a new vendor -- using OLD SCHOOL TACTICS, like face to face meetings - and it often happens that the new company making an investment in what is thought of as, old school selling. Old school Willy Loman tactics --- of just showing up.  

 

I share with you an example of my efforts to differentiate.   I've left the client, and the city out of the email -- but, you will see, my goal is to place our people, and our difference, out front. 

 

***************************************************

(copy of email to client below, names and placed removed) 

 

 

I was inspired to write this email to both of you, by something that happened to me yesterday.    The idea from this email came to be at 2:32am last night, and nearly got me out of bed to write.....but, I waited until I got into the office, to sit at my desk.

 

My team was at a meeting in Chicago with a prospect for our platform, Crowd Control.   We are up against one other company, and the other company went in and pitched last week.   Yesterday was our turn with their leadership, and senior ad operations team.   I called in from NYC, while our team (from Lotame) were present in the room.  

I think the meeting went extremely well.   The Lotame folks in the room, went through a demo, and answered a lot of specific questions.   It was a 90 minute meeting.  

  

Turns out,  (in the weeks leading up to the face to face presentation) before our folks went to Chicago (our team) had done WEBEX demonstrations, and had some technical calls about integration.    The past few months they were considering potential partners, and had narrowed it down to two companies.   Us, and one other DMP. 

It was clear, we were in second place heading into the demo.   They had not really asked a ton of questions during the last week, and I know when, at the very end of a considered purchase, you dont get much contact from a client -- well, that is not a great sign, and furthermore -- I lower my expectations of us landing the deal.   

I learned 2 key things that I wanted to share with both of you, that transpired from this yesterday meeting in Chicago -- both are important, and worthy of me taking a few minutes to write this note to you. 

I was asked by the COO yesterday,   "Andy, all things being equal,  what do you feel is the biggest difference in your company, versus XXXXXXX?"  

My answer is what I wanted to share with you.

  

As you consider which partner to choose, it's important that you know a bit about the people who you will interfacing with, and who will be responsible for making the XXXXXXXXXX engagement with a DMP successful.    

"I truly think our core difference is the Lotame people, who are vested on working for you, and with you -- and if you permit me, I would like to give you a quick background on the team that will make your Data Management experience a GRAND SLAM, and results oriented for you."  

 

(inserted bio's of the team working on account here, with pictures)

 

If you have gotten this far in this note, I want to thank you. 

After all, the people behind a company - make it what it is.   I'm proud of our team, from technology, operations, and integration.   As I've noted, I offer our all of our clients as references for you to call.   

One last thing.   A major learning (from the Chicago meeting yesterday) was the value of the face to face meeting that took place (although late in the process). I believe we will win this business, solely because our team was in the room, and got a chance to see the people, that back up the company we have built.   The prospect shared with us.

 

If you both can swing it, I am willing to come to XXXXXX to buy you dinner on Thursday night.   I will fly Thursday morning, and would welcome a chance to meet face to face with both of you. Choosing a DMP partner is a big decision, and if you havent finalized your choice, I want to make sure I do everything I can to win your trust, and build a bond -- expressing how important XXXXXXX would be to our company. 

Please let me know if I can go ahead and plan on XXXXXX for Thursday night.   It would be my pleasure. 

I hope we are not too late.   Lotame will run through walls to prove what the -- people behind the technology can do.   I hope this email (and the content/spirit) expresses the subtle differences in us versus others, and that the, experience of the team assigned to you wont be so subtle, when ultimately dictating success.  

XXXXXXX is hugely successful because of the people, the technology, and the relationships you have forged with your clients.    My goal is to do the same.  The people behind XXXXXXX have become leaders, and I am hopeful we as a company, can have a fraction of the success you have delivered for your clients, and

shareholders.   

Let me know if Thursday night works, I need to book my travel.

Best, 

Andy

 

 

 

 

 

Closer to Failure

 

 

Another voicemail left.

 

Another email not responded to.

 

Another email returned to as “undeliverable”.

 

 

I was with some friends recently who shared with me a story that happened last week.  

 

“My name is XXXXX and, I’m a reporter with the Washington Post.    Please tell Kevin to call me back as soon as possible, I'm doing a story and your company will be included.”

 

He left his phone number.

 

Turns out, the person leaving the message was not a reporter, but a sales person looking to get in the door. 

 

My friend (Kevin) called him back with the PR person from his company.    The guy (who called and said he was with the Washington Post) answered, and identified himself as a sales rep, assigned the account. 

 

It’s horrible.  It’s horrendous.   And, it’s unethical.  

 

When I first heard the story I was mad.   Mad that a person would lie, act in a deceitful manner, and bring negative attention on themselves, and their company.

 

Then, I sat back and let 24 hours go by......

 

Is it desperation that leads people to act like this?    Is it a sales person who is below quota, and needs to make a sale to keep their job?

 

Is it a sales manager who leads his team with the message to “get the sale and make your numbers at all costs?” 

 

 

 

I’ve been on both sides of this equation, and I’m torn.  

 

 

Differentiating ourselves may be among the hardest things to do in all of our lives.

 

Calling yourself a Washington Post reporter, and looking to get a quote for a story will certainly differentiate you.

 

 

I’ve written before how I separated myself from the pack, and it worked to my advantage. 

 

I've learned from some of the best.   And, what I've learned about "Differentiation" may not be all that different. 

 

Be yourself.   Take risks.  Do your own marketing.   It doesnt need to be expensive.   Use different methods.   I received a "YouTube" personal video, that a candidate we were interviewing sent to me "personalized to me" from his Ichat account.  

 

Different. 

 

But, overall being yourself is the key.  I work with someone who got an email today.  He was being told "no" by a prospect, and here is the email he got, turning him down: 

 

"While I am still “not interested” I do want to respect the fact that you send a handwritten note and handled the “no” with class. This stuff shouldnt go unnoticed , so I won’t let it, thanks."

 

Different. 

 

I think getting in the door has become 75% of any sale.  Respect people who can get the foot in the door at your company, and learn from people who are in different fields, but you run into in your life.    

 

Have you ever stopped to ask someone, "how did you get in here, what was your strategy?"    I recently asked our janitorial service representative -- "how did you sell my company on your services?"      He told me, and I was blown away by his response.  

Being different and unique requires creativity, persistence -- and, class. 

 

Sadly, many of these attributes are missing, when someone during a sales process, refers to themselves as a Washington Post Reporter -- to get a chance to sell.

 

We all sell something.  We may be teachers, academics, operations, leaders, followers -- it matters very little.   The need for creativity and "out of the box" thinking is a necessity in order to survive, and flourish.

 

The world is changing.   And, while we may have better communication tools -- sadly, the sales tools we are teaching are anything but creative.  They are old.  They do not fit todays business culture.   

 

Different requires discipline, and going out on a limb -- with the distinct possiblity to fail.   We have been taugh not to fail. Failure is bad. 

 

In sales, it's anything but bad.     

 

Different.