Silly socks, dripping taps and fishing for compliments

OK, it’s been one of those weeks.

No one thing has inspired me, but lots of little things have caught my attention - like fireflies in a garden at dusk.

And I’ve learned three interesting lessons.

The colour of money

First was a really silly idea - that’s been fabulously successful.

Let’s play a word-association game. Think socks and you think what? Matching. Pairs.

Wrong. 

Little Miss Matched is a hugely popular site that sells socks that don’t match in odd numbers.

So you don’t get two red-and-white socks. You get three socks - a pink one with yellow polka dots, a blue one with turquoise stripes, and a puce one with orange polka dots.

Pick any two and wear. And if you lose one, who cares? You’ve still got two (that still don’t match).

A crazy idea - that works.

Lesson 1: don’t discount crazy ideas. They might work (and make you lots of money).

Water, water everywhere

I’ll never be able to look at a grande skinny sugar-free hazelnut extra-hot decaf latte in the same way again.

Last week, it was revealed that Starbucks wastes 23m litres of water every day, by leaving a cold tap (translation for US readers: tap = faucet) running in each of its 10,000 stores worldwide.

Why? To prevent germs forming in the taps, apparently.

In one of those gloriously irrelevant comparisons, The Daily Telegraph in the UK reported that this was ‘enough to fill an Olympic swimming pool every 83 minutes’.

Starbucks cited ‘health and safety’ as the reason.

A spokeswoman for Starbucks said:

“We recognise the opportunity exists to reduce our total water usage. Starbucks’ challenge is to balance water conservation with the need for customer safety.”

No kidding.

Lesson 2: discount crazy ideas (when they’re certifiably crazy). And when you’re caught out, don’t resort to corporate double-speak.

Because you’re worth it

Over at TED.com, I watched a brief talk by Laura Trice, a ‘counselor, life coach - and purveyor of wholesome junk food’. (Did I mention that she lives in California?)

She says we don’t get enough thanks for one simple reason - we don’t ask for it. So we should ask for it.

Intriguing.

Lesson 3: intriguing ideas aren’t necessarily good. Just intriguing.

Find out more:

• Get in touch with your inner child at LittleMissMatched.com.
• Watch those Olympic swimming pools filling up at The Daily Telegraph: Starbucks ‘wastes 23 million litres of water each day’.
• You’ll thank yourself for watching Laura Trice at TED.com.

Wrong. Better is better.

Have you ever sacked a client?

I have. It’s not something I make a habit of, and I have to be really sure before taking such a radical step.

Somebody I know has far fewer reservations. She has a regular client cull, taking the ‘toxic clients’ (her words) and the ‘crazy-makers’ (ouch) and unceremoniously dumping them.

Then she looks for new clients.

For her, more clients don’t mean more business. Better clients mean more business.

So that’s who she looks for.

Do the maths

If it’s true that 80% of your business comes from 20% of your clients, why not sack the other 80% and head for the beach?

A few years back, I was at a friend’s house for dinner. He ran a very successful recruitment consultancy from home. Just him and a friend, a phone line and two PCs. They started work late and left early. They made lots of money.

“So who are your top three clients?” I asked over the strawberry crumble.

His fork hovered mid-way between his plate and mouth.

“OK,” I said, sensing his hesitation. “Just guess.”

And he did.

So of course, post-coffee, we headed for his office. Thirty minutes and one slick little spreadsheet later, I ran the numbers.

And guess what? He was wrong. Very wrong.

Do Less

I thought of my friend recently when I read Seth Godin’s manifesto on changethis.com. It’s a delightfully short presentation with a simple message: don’t do more. Do less. But do it better.

So what did my friend do? He got more better clients, right?

Wrong (again).

He moved out of his home to plush offices, with a top-of-the range telephone system, trendy furniture, a powerful server, eight workstations and a scary receptionist. Then he started hiring staff.

Now, thanks to rent, basic staff salaries and other running costs, he has huge overheads. Plus, he has to get the bus to work because there’s nowhere to park. He’s got lots more clients, and is frantically busy.

Recently spoke to him. How’s it all going, I wondered.

He says he’s never worked so hard for so little - he has to run just to stand still, he told me. So more is actually less.

Why am I not surprised?

Find out more:

• Seth Godin’s Do Less manifesto at changethis.com

I’ve seen the future - and it’s big. Very big.

I remember it well.

It was 1994, and I was trying to explain the enormous potential of the internet to a sceptical friend.

I could barely contain my enthusiasm.

“It’s big, it’s global and it brings everything together,” I burbled. “Just imagine - shopping online, finding information, making bookings. Think what it’ll be like when everybody’s there. All the things you’ll be able to do.”

My friend stared at me blankly. He looked back to my PC screen, and frowned. Then he delivered his verdict.

“Personally,” he said, blinking uncomprehendingly at a web page, “I can’t see any practical application for it.”

I often remind him of it. Wouldn’t you?

That was then. This is now.

5,000 days. That’s as long as the web’s been around as we know it. According to Kevin Kelly, that is. He’s publisher of the Whole Earth Review and executive editor at WIRED magazine.

And I’ve just been watching his talk to last year’s TED convention about where the web’s been in the last 5,000 days and where it’s going in the next 5,000.

It’s fascinating.

He does look a little like an Amish grandpa - but the similarity ends there. He starts with what we thought the internet was going to be (‘TV, but better’ - we were wrong) and ends up with convergence into what he ominously calls The One.

He reckons that by 2040 the total processing power of the web will exceed that of humanity. And long before then, we’ll become ‘co-dependent’ with technology.

Visionary stuff indeed. Enjoy.

Here’s the link: Kevin Kelly: the web’s next 5,000 days.

(I’ve just sent the link to my friend. It’ll be 1994 all over again.)

When unusual combinations produce unexpected results

I’ve just finished reading an intriguing book - The Medici Effect, by Frans Johannson.

The idea is simple: when two unrelated fields cross over, you enter what Johannson calls ‘the intersection’.

And great ideas result - sometimes.

The name comes from the Medicis, the family of bankers in fifteenth-century Florence. They brought together sculptors, scientists, poets, philosophers and more, and broke down the barriers between disciplines and cultures.

The result was the Renaissance.

Johannson himself is a result of an intersection. His father is Swedish, his mother American (of black/Cherokee origins). He was brought up in Sweden but lives in New York.

Like all the best business books, it’s peppered with anecdotes that bring the theories alive. And from memes to monkeys playing computer games, from Richard Branson to turds in a blender, this book’s got it all.

The Medici Effect was voted one of the 10 best business books of 2004 on Amazon.com, and has been translated into 13 languages.

You can buy it here.

“It must be so easy for you,” said the barber, as he clipped and shaped my hair.

“I hate having to sit down and write - all that space to fill.”

The truth is that it’s not always that easy. Sometimes, I too stare at the screen and think Where do I start?

So when BPS (blank-page sydrome) hits, here’s what I do:

1. See the big picture (aka think like an artist)

When I was a kid, I loved watching Rolf Harris. He dipped a big household paintbrush in a tin of paint and sloshed it on.

Not for him the minute drawing and millimetric precision of a draughtsman. He just put the color on the canvas and got on with it.

And from nothing, came something.

Suddenly, a painting emerged, and just before it did, Rolf would say those famous words.

“Can you tell what it is yet?”

So if you’re stuck, try starting with the big picture. Forget about the details - they’ll come later. For now, just throw the words on the page.

Start big, work small, and soon enough, the picture will emerge.

2. Begin at the end

Everything you write has a beginning, a middle and an end. But it’s not always easy to see them so clearly when you’re faced with BPS.

Often, you’ll know where you want to end up (you want somebody to call you, order your product, to arrange a sales visit) but you’re not sure how to get there.

So begin at the end, and work back.

Start with your call to action.  Now go back one step to the body of your writing - the place where you list the compelling reasons. Give enough detail as you need.

You know you can’t start with that, so take another step backwards. How are you going to say hello, introduce your concept, pose a question?

Now you have the beginning.

Turn 180 degrees and start writing.

3. Work out what problem you solve

Everybody solves a problem.

Tesco saves me two whole hours every week by dropping off the shopping I’ve ordered online. I need more time; they give it to me.

Your accountant saves you the stress of struggling through your tax return. Plus, he makes sure you pay as little tax as possible, so he pays for himself.

Mostly, the problems people solve are to do with time (nobody’s got enough), money (ditto) or hassle (everybody’s got too much).

So what problem do you solve? Focus on that and you know where to begin.

4. Go back to basics

It’s so simple, but we rarely do it. And I’m often as guilty as anybody else.

Who are you writing for? 65-year-old retired men or teenage girls? Married women or divorced single dads? CEOs or technical directors?

What are you writing to them about? A new product, a special offer, a relaunch? How much detail should you give them?

Why should they take action? Have you given them compelling reasons? Are they really compelling? Become that teenage girl or divorced single dad for a moment. Are you convinced now?

Often, just working through these basic questions puts you ‘in the zone’. And then, there’s no holding you back.

5. Just do it

Remember that time you really didn’t want to go to the gym but you were glad you did when you got there? And how good it felt afterwards?

Writing’s no different.

Meanwhile back in the barber’s chair…

“So easy,” he echoed, looking dreamily into the mirror. His scissors were suspended above my hair.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dead fly floating in the bright-blue antiseptic. And I thought of just how difficult it is some days to put the first word on paper.

We all have off days, I wanted to say to him. Then I looked at the hovering scissors, and checked myself.

“Yes,” I said. “Pretty easy.”