How We Pay Matters

I’m starting to think how we pay people for work done matters.

Cash feels like we’re handing something tangible to another person.  It’s real.  It’s limited in our pockets and wallets, even if we can go to an ATM and replenish our supply.  Psychologically, I treat cash in my wallet differently than I treat plastic, even when I use my debit card, and as a result, I tend to make more careful and considered choices.

Checks are the next level of payment.  They require us to write out the number, consider the balance in our account, and otherwise take stock of what the numbers and payment mean in a larger context.  While it separates us a degree from the cash transaction, it still requires a more intensive action than other forms of payment.

Payments by debit and credit card are more elusive.  We can get stuff by flashing this little piece of plastic for goods, but the day of reckoning is not immediate.  We can easily overextend the amount we intended to spend, and even exceed our limit, with little or no consequences until some point in the future. (Unless of course, you are in enough debt to warrant a phone call about exceeding your limit while in the store.)  This postponing of accountability for money spent tends to make the expenditure itself feel somewhat artificial, and the bill at the end of the month has caught more than one consumer by surprise.

Banks know this, of course.  The more people that spend through plastic and the fewer that pay through cash, the more they are likely to spend and the more fees and interest are generated for the company.  This is why people are given debit cards almost automatically for every bank account, with the hopes that you will spend your money, rather than make the bank hold on to it for you.  Your deposit is an asset for you, but a liability in the big picture to the bank, who then “owes” you that money on demand.

It’s also why new forms of transactions- electronic, the wave of a pass at a gas station or card machine, or payment through a cell phone or text message are equally attractive to people wanting your money, but more dangerous for you, as the exchange seems less and less real, less memorable, and the only reminder is the bill at the end of the month.  Even that ugly physical reminder of your spending and psychological prompt to be more judicious in your spending is becoming removed to the digital realm, where every company is encouraging you to pay bills electronically, saving them the cost of mail and of processing your check.  It also removes any and all excuses for “But the check’s in the mail” or “I never got my statement”.

As this recession drags on and people continue to have money troubles of one form or another, maybe one place to consider making changes is in the form of payment you choose.  Cash will keep you more accountable by far.

However, even I succumb to the lure of electronic payment of debt.  I put my kids on a plan where I direct deposit their allowances into their account, eliminating every debate about allowance, but likewise complicating and making the threat of suspending allowance all the more distant and vague.  They love feeling like grownups and having more control over how they spend their allowance, including using a debit card.  I’m hoping this will teach them how to manage money, even virtually, while they’re young, rather than having their first credit and debit experience closer to college.

Virtual payments and management of money and credit are skills we all need to have.  Build these skills into your kids as soon as you can, because these payments are not just in the future, but they are the now.  And the more divorced we becoming from the tangible forms of payment, the less direct accountability and more mistakes we’re all prone to make.

Tags: economics, money, social media

Finding Your Social Media Voice

I started talking to a friend the other day about this idea of “finding your voice”.  To many, it sounds like a fortune cookie, and doesn’t seem to make very much sense at all, and to others, there’s an instant resonance.  So to bridge this gap, let me explain what i mean by Finding Your Voice.

When I first started to write a book, I wrote episodically.  I’d write in long spurts, put the piece down, and come back days later, maybe adding some, maybe starting over.  When I reread the pieces to edit them together, it became apparent I had a problem with tone or voice. The mood I was in when I first sat down, or what was exciting to me at the moment colored the tone and the “voice” of what I had written, and it sounded like two different people had written sections of the chapter.  This change made the piece harder to read and pay attention to, because it felt choppy, like too many people were talking to me at the same time.

What’s interesting about this, is that if you look at some of the work of Vygotsky and other developmental psychologists, they talk about our development of our “inner voice” as a dialogue between us and the outside world.  For example, as you read this blog post, you “hear” the words in your head, as if I were sitting beside you, talking.  Our “voices” go from being external when we’re children to gradually becoming internal, although in moments of stress or difficult problem solving, we may still find that we start talking to ourselves, trying to work things out.  (This is why you can often find me asking out loud, “Where did I put those stupid car keys?” even if no one is around to answer me.)  This inner voice is real- it’s our narrator, so to speak, and this carries over to all of our modes of expression, even writing.

So back to editing-  When my writing got disjointed, it was like several different internal voices were speaking at the same time, and the flow of the work became harder to follow.  The internal voice, the narrator in our heads, was no longer one person, but several.  In order to make the piece flow and make sense, it becomes incredibly important to find that voice- that one person, so to speak, so the writing feels like a whole, not like different sentences in various typefaces, stapled together like a ransom note.

If you think of writing like music, there’s a big difference between playing the notes on a page and “making music” which requires both a flow of the notes, but an emotion as well behind the playing.  It’s why we can hear the same piece of music played by different people, but get something new out of every variation.  There’s a fluency that develops, like a child going from reading one   word   at   a   time  to reading whole sentences, to then reading with expression.  It’s the difference between reading a play and seeing it come to life with a performance of the same work.  The fluency and flow of the expression, the voice that develops, makes all the difference in whether  your writing works or whether it seems like a collection of disparate ideas with no common thread.

Now, if we apply this same concept to social media, I think companies and individuals are most successful when they find their voice.  Different people can contribute to the whole, but the common purpose needs to feel like it aligns together.  This is why when companies not known for cheeky ads try to pull one off, sometimes it succeeds, because it seems in line with the personification of the brand, and other times it fails miserably, because it runs counter to what people expect as an authentic voice of the company.

For example, Apple can get away with the “PC v Mac” ads because the personifications seem to ring true- it lines up with people’s experience and it matches what Apple has positioned itself as- an outsider.  It’s also why the whole controversy about the new iPhone is causing a stir, because it makes Apple look more like the mean establishment guys, and betrays the cool dude factor.  In contrast,  the “Im a PC and Windows 7 was my idea” while it seems very Microsoft, makes no sense to me whatsoever.  I do not believe for one second that that girl in the french cafe had anything to do with Windows 7, so the ad leaves me puzzling over what message I’m supposed to be getting here, because it seems disjointed and the meaning is lost for me.

In writing, in music, on Facebook, on Twitter, or in marketing in general, you need to find a comfortable voice that the company can use and emulate.  People have to be able to have a sense of who the company is, a personification they can identify with.  This is what makes each company unique, and why mimicry is so hard- even in real life, few people can pull off pitch perfect imitation of others.  By being ourself and finding your voice, you find why your are special and what you have to contribute.  Without this voice, you’re still like a confused teenager, trying on different personalities until they find one that seems to fit.

Don’t be that kid.

Tags: "Windows 7 was my idea", apple, children, flow, fluency, Microsoft, music, social media, voice, vygotsky, writing

The Digital Generation Gap

Last week, the Archer Group in Wilmington held a Trust Summit at duPont’s Theater N, featuring presentations by Mitch Joel, Julien Smith and Chris Brogan, some of my favorite people ever.  One of the stories Mitch told keeps coming to mind again and again.  It can best be summed up by saying “There’s no going back, only moving forward.”  As businesses are coming to terms with what digital communications channels are doing to business, we have to keep in mind that we can’t rewind time back to what we’re used to and comfortable with-  times have changed and there’s simply no going back.

To this point, I”m reading a great book by the vastly under-appreciated Seymour Papert entitled The Connected Family: Bridging the Digital Generation Gap.   It seems to me  that the phrase “Digital Generation Gap” describes  the core problem businesses are having these days- the digital generation gap and its disruption of business as usual is causing all sorts of problems and pain.

People are simple creatures at heart.  We are built to try to make our lives as easy and simple as possible.  Occam’s razor rules the day.  We want what we want when we want it.  We respond to positive reinforcement, and stop doing the stuff that’s difficult, unless we see a light at the end of the tunnel, and know the path will yield results.  We can get this wrong from time to time, of course, but the more assurance we have of success up front, the more patient we’re willing to be.

Take the case of the flashing twelve on the VCR, or get used to a new cell phone.  These are tasks that can be done or ignored in large part, if you can use work arounds, but in each case, the benefit of getting the small task done makes other things possible.  Program the time on the VCR or DVD player, and you can record shows when you’re not home.  Get used to the software of your new phone, and you can take advantage of more features.  Children and young people have grown up in a world where they readily adapt to the rules and structure of these new systems, but I would bet most families have some members who have instead decided technology is just too complicated for them and it’s easier to maintain the old ways, until they can no longer avoid it.

My mother in law, for example, wanted CD’s for Christmas, and I bought her an ipod touch instead.  She can have all her music available all the time now, and no need to worry about carrying around all those CD’s, but she still worries that she can somehow break it or otherwise make a mistake.  She teaches classes online, but computers seem complicated, they seem to break for no rational reason (yes, she is on an old Windows machine) and they’ve made her feel silly and dumb, and so she resists doing anything new.  She can see the advantages, but the thought of learning yet another new way to do things doesn’t excite her as much as scare her from trying. Trying to convince businesses to try a social media strategy for building more business feels the same way.  What’s worked in the past feels comfortable, and while they may have gradually adapted to things like email marketing, asking them to try something like Facebook or Twitter, and the whole method of engagement they’ve been using gets turned on its head- it’s scary, and there’s no guarantees that it will be successful for them, regardless of the number of case studies coming out.

We have a whole generation of people in management and decision making authority who see the world around them changing, with no real stability in sight.  They’ve been through the betamax to VCR changes.  They’ve gotten rid of all their old 8-tracks and cassettes and adopted CD’s and maybe even digital music and photography.  But they worry that what’s great today is going to be outmoded or out of fashion tomorrow, just when they finally feel comfortable with what they know and are doing.  And they’re right- things will continue to change.  The flood water is rising, and while you might be waiting for the river to crest and recede, I think we all have to get in a boat and start paddling together, because staying still isn’t the answer- you’ll drown and fall farther behind.

I’ve grown up with computers changing rapidly around me, and my kids are even more used to living in a rapidly evolving world than I am.  They still are more eager to experiment and take risks than I am.  I keep hoping to develop some sort of flow and pattern to my work to become more efficient, but that is coming more and more from adaptation than stagnation.  I need those reminders from time to time that just because I always “do it this way” does not mean there’s not a better and faster way to do it coming up tomorrow.  This sense of constant change is definitely anxiety-provoking, but denial isn’t helping.  Like sharks, we need to keep swimming (and experimenting) to stay alive.

The other part of the Digital Generation Gap that causes problems is the sense of community that grows through hazing.  There aren’t any more sure things and guarantees like there used to be- if you followed the rules, you would get rewarded later on- pain first, profit second. (Seth Godin discusses this brilliantly in Linchpin.)  We want people to do it the way we had to, so it’s hard and they appreciate the journey we had to go through, we tell ourselves.  Yet I never took any of the “pain from the depression” stories my grandparents told very seriously, and their struggle didn’t help me all that much- just because they couldn’t call their neighbors or watch TV, what did that mean to me as a child or young adult?  Somehow if I didn’t use the phone, I would have better moral fiber?  I didn’t believe it then, and I know my kids don’t believe it now when I tell them similar stories about my childhood.

Someone asked me recently if the podcasts we were doing for medical resident education was providing them “cliff notes” to knowledge.  Is it letting them off easy?  Why should it be any easier for them than it was for us?  In the end, I am more concerned that my doctor knows the right thing to do and why than how they learned it, but I also understand there’s a richness of experience that comes not from just reading a review of a book, but actually reading the whole thing.  I think the short cuts, if you want to call them that, are really about making the on-ramps to knowledge and experience easier, so you have time (hopefully) to reflect and gain deeper knowledge once you are engaged with the possibilities.

And as I write those words, I think about how this is basically the model for marketing and advertising.  We try to gain people’s attention and tease them with the prospect of our product or service, to let them see how our offering solves problems or makes their life easier, not more difficult.  We all want short cuts and friendly user experiences, so people can get to the heart of the matter- whether that’s advancing knowledge, buying a product, engaging our experience and expertise for money.  We can’t all be expert at everything, so we look for short cuts and anything that will ease our journey.  No one has to reinvent the wheel from scratch- we start out by sitting on a mountain of knowledge,  and our job is to contribute to that as best we can for our kids.

We may all carry the pain of our hazing- of the problems and experiences that made us the people we are today, but that’s no reason to make sure everyone else has to experience the same thing over and over again, ad infinitum.  We’ll close the digital generation gap in part by remembering how fun it can be to try something new, make mistakes and get on with it.  We learn most by experimenting, and more and more of life requires us to be adaptive rather than stagnant.  It doesn’t always mean it will be cheap.  It doesn’t guarantee success.  There’s risk involved.  But in the end, we learn more by moving forward than standing still, hoping it will stop raining.

(And don’t forget to check out Chip and Dan Heath’s new book about change, called Switch.  One of the best reads so far this year.)

Tags: adaptation, archer group, change, chris brogan, digital generation gap, experimenting, julien smith, linchpin, seth godin, Seymour Papert, six pixels of separation, social media, switch, trust agents

Social Media, Brands and Friendship

It seems like anytime I shop in a store or hear a commercial, a brand or commercial entity of one sort or another asks me to become a fan or a friend on Facebook and to follow them on Twitter.  As someone who tries to help businesses figure out how to use social media to connect with their customers through these channels, this post may sound strange and even hypocritical.  But there’s something that’s been bugging me lately, and it’s time to say it out loud-

I am not sure I want to be a fan or friend of every brand out there.

C.C. Chapman had a great post recently, with a video that asks whether or not a brand cares about you.  When I think about it, only a few brands seem to care about me as more than a wallet.  And to be honest, why should they?  A brand is usually a straw person, a legal construct- it’s a liability shield protecting personal assets in case anything goes wrong.  It’s not a neighbor, good or otherwise,  no matter what State Farm tries to tell you.

Yet we seem to want to anthropomorphize brands into people.  We ask questions, like “What’s a Brand’s personality?”  Yet the personality of a brand is decided frequently by committee and a team of marketers, and the proof of whether or not they’ve guessed right is whether or not the consumer buys into this story.  It’s a company, a corporation, a manufacturer, a retailer.  It’s not real.

The people that run the business are real.  The people who give voice and talk to customers and engage are real.  But how far does that relationship really extend?  When do I think or feel a company cares about me, personally?

The closest I come to feeling like a brand actually cares has been my experiences at Disney, where everyone at every level seems to go out of their way to make sure your day is going well.  It enhances the experience, and while you may not be inviting the shop clerk, bus driver or bellhop over for dinner and drinks, you get the impression that they are being engaged for more than just a tip.  They say things like “Welcome Home” when you check in, and make the experience as much like family as it can be, and this is about as close to reciprocity as I’ve seen a brand experience get.

In contrast, let’s take a typical retail experience.  For example, I am extremely fond of Williams Sonoma and many of their sub-brands like Pottery Barn.  (And I should disclose here that Pottery Barn was founded by Paul and Morrie Secon, and they were close family friends of ours – so I have some affection for the brand based on that alone.)

We have Pottery Barn furniture, dishes, and Williams-Sonoma is by far my kitchen gadget store of choice.  I have their cookbooks, and I am a fan on many levels.  But when I saw a prompting when buying something at the Pottery Barn to become a friend on Facebook, I started to think- maybe I don’t necessarily want Pottery Barn to be my friend.  Despite the fact that Morrie Secon was a lovely man, played french horn, and one of my parent’s friends who I always loved to see come over, Pottery Barn was sold long ago and is no longer Morrie and Jonnie, his wife, and Paul- it’s a company.  I’m not talking to Morrie if I follow them on Twitter or Facebook, I’m talking to a representative of a larger company.

Even as a company, it’s not that we aren’t fond of one another.  I have a long standing relationship with the Company.  I’ve written positive blog posts about their simply outstanding customer service.  I would highly recommend them to my friends.  But we have a largely transactional relationship.  They have stuff I want.  I give them money, and they give me the stuff I like.  Pretty simple and straight forward.  But the reciprocity of a true friendship pretty much stops right there.  It can’t give me a hug like Morrie used to, and ask me how things are going, and to be honest, it doesn’t really care, as long as I keep up my end of the relationship and keep buying stuff at regular intervals.

Chuck Williams doesn’t come to dinner despite the fact I cook “his” recipes  (the carrot soup is awesome) and even serve it on “his” dishes.  I get emails, but they never offer to come babysit, or just have lunch, or meet up for drinks.  Our friendship is limited to a one way exchange of sale emails from them to me, and my giving them money in exchange for goods- that’s where our relationship largely ends.  And that’s the way we both like it, 99% of the time.

However, I want to be able to get in touch with someone to solve any problems after the sale.  I want that level of friendship, and to be honest, Pottery Barn has held up that end of our relationship very well.  They are responsive by phone and in person, and I have even called headquarters to remark at how great my experience has been.  Even without Morrie and Paul answering the phone, I still feel like I get my concerns or feeling heard, which is great for any company, especially these days.

But do I want to be a fan?  Do I need more contact with Pottery Barn than the catalogs and emails?  Do I want to hear more from them on twitter?  They want to take our relationship to the next level, and I’m not sure I’m ready.  I feel pushed, a bit, and unsure of what this new level of commitment will mean.  Do they want me to attend their cooking and decorating classes and take a turn with other fans selling aprons in the lobby?  How much more of my attention and brain space do they want?

It’s ironic that I’m finding that I might just be ready to start placing sensible limits on my devotion and engagement with brands.  While I appreciate the efforts to strengthen our relationship, it’s starting to feel, well, a little bit smothering.   I’m not necessarily ready to, say, start seeing all sorts of other brands on the side, but you never know- too much of a good thing sometimes makes people stray to the wild side.  They might start perusing Restoration Hardware catalogs, and maybe even take a peek into an Ethan Allen on the weekend, just to see what such a walk on the wild side might feel like.   Before you know it, they’re buying new vegetable peelers from Bed, Bath, and Beyond and buying vanilla from Trader Joe’s, while insisting the quality is the same.

This is the crux of my problem with the new “Add Me”  and “Follow Me” frenzy-Companies and brands want to collect people like baseball cards or frequent flyer miles, with their data and email addresses acting as points- yet I’m not sure what the ultimate goal is.  He who has the most emails wins?  If social media is about building relationships, if friendship means something more than a typical customer-business transaction, then how does being your friend on Facebook or Twitter extend or enhance our relationship?  How much more of my attention and money do you want, really?  And what are you going to do for me in return to make this social relationship something more special than just more ads?   If you want a relationship, then let’s have one- but let’s understand the terms and conditions up front, and not pretend we’re friends if all you really want to do is upsell me at every turn.  That’s not what I would expect over dinner with Paul and Morrie, after all.

I’m not sure how all of the brands flooding into the social media space are going to find the balance between engagement with their customers, and possibly overwhelming them with such faux love and concern that it starts to feel like we’re getting stalked  in our in-boxes by bad boyfriends while trying to play solitaire on Facebook.

I’m not sure what my current limits are for giving Brands my attention all the time in all channels- after all, when does that kind of passive demand for attention start to feel like the neediness we all find pretty unattractive?  When does the scent of desperation start to fill the air?  When will you start to leave me alone, and accept that our relationship will be limited?

I am fond of brands and companies like Pottery Barn.  But unlike the real life relationship I had with Morrie,  I’m  starting to search for the boundaries of  the relationship with Pottery Barn, so I don’t have to feel we have to break up in order for me to get some breathing room.    That said, please don’t be offended if I don’t follow you on Twitter or become a fan on Facebook.  I think we’re close enough already.

Tags: attention, brands, communication, facebook, friends, Morrie Secon, Paul secon, pottery barn, social media, twitter, Williams Sonoma

How Social Media Works

I heard about Max Brenner, Chocolate by the Bald Man, through Seth Godin.  I read about Max in Seth’s Meatball Sundae book, and this was reinforced by the blog post/interview with Seth on Hugh McLeod’s (@gapingvoid) website.  Ever since, I’ve been intrigued by the very thought of a chocolate restaurant, and the thought of the indulgence that waits within.  When we’ve been up to NYC recently, we haven’t been able to get there, so I was thrilled when I heard that they were expanding and opening a Philly location.

So for my birthday, I told my husband I wanted to try Brunch at Max Brenner’s, since it had now been built up to legendary status in my mind.  Like many things you anticipate to be fantastic before the actual experience, I actually began to worry that no restaurant or experience could live up to the hype I had built up in my mind- there was bound to be some disappointment after all this deferred gratification.

I was so wrong.  It lived up to any expectations and beyond.  (Now here I go, contributing to the hype.)  But seriously, I have rarely gone to a talked-about restaurant with my family, including my 14 and 11 year old sons, where they have had a good or better time than I have had.

Max Brenner’s is a bit like Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, at least the Chocolate only parts.  The menu (which you can preview here) drew laughter and joy from all of us, just reading about the chocolate on chocolate specialties, each one sounding vaguely more decadent than the one before.  For example, the chocolate-based drinks are served in special cups/mugs/glasses that make each one feel like an exotic treat, and the butterscotch/caramel sauce that accompanies some dishes comes in a little vial that reminds me of a chemistry experiment.

What was great is that the meals were as good or better than the description.  I got the spicy tuna sandwich, and frankly, it’s the best tuna sandwich I’ve ever had.   (And I only chose that over chocolate crepes as a brief nod towards trying to eat healthy, even on this indulgent day.)  This experience wasn’t just about great food, though- it was also about whimsy, about fun, about silly, and about pleasure, and making dreams come true.  Max tells his story of making his dreams come true in the menu.  He brought us into his dream and we left with a great memory and a story we won’t fail to share with friends and family.

Seth Godin is right.  Being remarkable means doing something worth talking about, worth sharing with others.  Max Brenner does this.  The quality of the food, of the chocolate and even details down to the glassware and shopfront made us giggle in delight.

Social media makes sharing this experience and spreading the word easy.  I learned of Max through social media, and I am further spreading the word out the same way.  But the social proof is that my experience matches or exceeds the experience of those who recommended it to me in the first place.  As a result, I was willing to make a 45 min drive and spend money based on a friend’s opinion, and I hope you’ll consider giving Max’s restaurant a try if you’re in NYC or Philly, because it was simply fun.

I get no direct benefit from this other than your good will and thoughts after you taste the chocolate, and say “Now THAT was worth the trip, for sure.”  Well, that and the fact that my children now think this is the best restaurant we’ve ever dragged them to so far, meaning we’ll be back, for sure.

Tags: brithday, gapingvoid, hugh mcleod, Max brenner, memories, seth godin, social media, special