Your brand story. And why should it matter to me?

“We’re the lowest priced single-family detached, non-motor court product.”

“No two homes are the same – they are all different. Some have bedrooms with bay windows, because of these bump-outs. Others don’t. Nothing is cookie cutter.”

“Two of our plans have full-sized driveways, so you don’t even have to deal with the motor-court at all.”

Compelling, motivating reasons to buy a home in a new community? Or details I maybe didn’t know or need to care about, until that seed of doubt was planted.  True story, experienced when shopping for homes in a new planned community.

Stories that tell me nothing about the community itself, and give me reasons not to buy each specific home. Unintentional for sure, but a missed opportunity to connect with me. To understand me. What my situation is. What my needs are. Armed with that knowledge, the salesperson would have been able to understand exactly how their homes (not “product”) could make my life amazing. And why this community offered the lifestyle I crave.

Without that, the experience is like a doctor prescribing a medication, before they complete the diagnosis. Maybe I don’t need that anti-depressant. Maybe it’s the anti-inflammatory that will fix my strained Achilles tendon?

And it all comes down to the story being told. Even industry giants like IBM are on board with the power of story in business. Mary Winans, CMO of IBM explained in a recent AdAge article why they are hiring Hollywood screenwriters on staff, in-house. To tell their story, in ways that will connect with all their various customers. And to pay attention to the narrative arc – what comes first, how does interest build, then how does it end, leaving you wanting the sequel?

IBMs’ Winans said it best, “We’re getting better at not forcing a discussion about product too early in the process. Before we introduce a solution, we want to make sure we really understand a particular prospect’s challenge.” (Find the full interview here: http://bit.ly/2bKjqoD).

The best stories connect on a personal level. It’s what makes storytelling a very powerful tool in business, turning what you sell from a commodity, into an experience people want.  Next time you have the opportunity to talk with one of your customers, try switching from the old model: “We sell __________. They are made of the finest ________, with the finest ________. Want to buy one?”

Instead, try asking a few questions, and then listen to your customers before you hit the play button and launch the script about what you are or are not. Start with the why you do what you do. Then tell them how you do it. And only then, tell them the what you do.

Tell your story. And make it a good one. You know it will be shared!

Community forms in all the right places - and my found $5 bill finally finds the right home.

After a little over two years in my safe keeping, the $5 bill I found randomly tucked into the rim of a baseball cap in the Life is good store in the Seattle-Tacoma Airport has finally found its rightful, deserving home.

About 4:15pm on an overcast and not particularly nice Monday afternoon I headed out for a walk to clear my mind. I passed a gangly teenage boy with his bike, struggling to make the tape on a cardboard sign stick to a streetlight post. It read, “On Sidonia Street – LEMONADE”. Red felt pen on a piece of cardboard, hard to read for sure, never mind at 50mph. But at my pedestrian scale and pace the message was clear.

The tradition of the summertime lemonade stand lives on. But it took on an even deeper meaning. Here was this kid on a Monday, 4:15pm, overcast, with his lemonade stand fully 500 feet back, and even up the crest of a hill further away from his sign, with zero sightline from the road, putting in his time and ideas in the hopes of making money of his own. #entrepreneur

I altered my planned walking route, turned around and picked up the pace home, hopefully before the last glass of the day was poured, to retrieve my $5 bill. I’ve carried that bill on probably 50 trips since finding it. All over the country, to Canada, to Mexico and to Japan last month, looking for the right reason to pass it on. Today I found it.

Meet Noah, on the right, holding his $5 bill. He’s 15. And that’s his buddy Charlie on the left. He’s 13.

Noah, on the right, with his $5 bill

I told them the story of the $5 bill, where and how I found it, and what it meant to me. I told them the responsibility I felt to give it away to just the right person. They told me today was their first day in business, and it was a dry run for a busy sunny Saturday or Sunday when they’ll serve more people. They had to work the kinks out. And they described their market area a.k.a. community. "It's a great street," said Noah. "Lots of people walk here and everyone is really nice". 

I asked how sales were. “We’ve been open about 30 minutes before you got here and we have $3 so far. Now $8,” said Noah. Then he volunteered, “I know, our sign is in the wrong direction and it’s hard to read.” I handed him the thick black Sharpie pen I had brought as well, so they could make their message more readable.

And for $5 I had the best glass of lemonade ever. They were serving 2 choices, a small white cup, or a larger red cup, and the choice of regular or pink lemonade. Noah poured me a big red cup of pink lemonade, complete with ice. 

Best pink lemonade, ever. 

As he slipped the well-travelled $5 into the plastic money box on top of his lemonade stand his shy smile said it all. He was proud of being in business and doing something on his own. And to me, Noah was not just an excited new entrepreneur, but a metaphor of a positive future. One Noah at a time, doing what he does, with pride and commitment builds community.

I left knowing the $5 I found two years ago was finally where it was meant to be. And it truly made my day. Maybe my week.

Read about how I first found the $5 bill here: http://tstinkthink.blogspot.com/2014/07/paying-it-forward-shows-up-in.html

Small-scale Public Art Makes a Big Statement About Place

I stay sane (somewhat) when I travel by walking every morning , no matter what city I am in. Some I visit more often than others. Sometimes there are great gaps between visits and it’s fun to see the changes and evolution, either good or bad, these places go through. This morning it was Tacoma. It was my first time back in almost a year. The changes were evident, and not just because the economy has improved. There were still a number of downtown storefronts that were empty, vacant for what appeared to be some time.

The University of Washington has committed to a campus in the downtown core, with 5,000 students attending. The result is a plethora of shops, restaurants, renovated and re-gentrified downtown urban residential, from old character homes subdivided into suites, to tired and largely uninspiring vanilla apartment buildings with signs advertising, “Completely new interiors!”, to new hip urban lofts over retail. This didn’t all happen in the less than a year since I last took my early morning walk along Broadway Avenue. Clearly.

Last visit I was inspired by the very public display of public outreach the city went to in order to collect input on what to do with the downtown. On the side of an old building were large black chalkboards, inviting residents to complete phrases like, “DOWNTOWN to me is …” and “I live DOWNTOWN because …”. Very cool, and some surprisingly thoughtful input. And gutsy to be that wide open in seeking input.

But back to the empty, distressed retail spaces. They still exist today, but the City of Tacoma has embraced this reality, and rather than hiding from it, or relegating it to some form of expected urban blight, they’ve found a powerful way to celebrate it. There are storefronts turned into art galleries. Large, expansive window displays, spanning near full city blocks, filled with art, sculpture, prints (part of the hipster culture in Tacoma, with a print made for many of the independent bands that are the lifeblood of the region’s local music scene), each one curated and narrated with the care given to the works of the Great Masters. I’m not that awake at 5:30am when I walk, so I found myself working to shake off the grip of the sleepy cobwebs in my brain to enjoy the display.

I saw connections everywhere. The printmaking culture, and the shop advertising barely scented soap, and purveyors of other local handmade goodness. The “green” culture so prevalent in the NW, and the sign in the local brewpub window advertising “Bike to a Business Thursdays” and get 10% off. The slip street with the yoga studio, music store and one of those galleries suggesting you uncork your creativity by sipping wine as you paint, and the name of the street, Opera Alley. By about 20 minutes into my walk I am wide awake and these connections are popping out at me at every turn.

 

A bus stop-like structure rising from the sidewalk interrupted my pace – the Tollbooth Gallery. Billed as the “World’s (or at least the South Sound’s) Smallest Art Gallery” – put in place with a vision to create site-specific experimental art, it was a simple and brilliant idea. If it can withstand the rains of the Northwest and still function, with both audio and video intact, I’m thinking this has potential everywhere. The exhibit on display today in Tacoma explores the evolution from film to video and celebrates the short format. The film being shown was simply about a stump that washed up on shore in Commencement Bay and the role trees, and pulp and paper have had in the evolution of the Northwest’s identity.  

This act of slowing down, and looking up from the small iPhone screen in my hand at any given moment, made me see the potential for connection, and the power of this simple interactive format, as a way to bring to life the rich traditions and cultures of different communities. Long live independent small-scale public art I say!

 

 

Paying it Forward Shows up in Unexpected Places

And maybe that’s the point. Like tucked in the rim of a Life is good ball cap in the Seattle-Tacoma Airport. When shopping a week ago for an inspirational pick-me-up for my brother Richard, who’s going through a tough time, I discovered this $5 bill tucked in the rim of a mustard-colored hat displayed on a hat holder. Not one that was on the table and more likely to be picked up, but the one on the display rack, placed there intentionally. I checked it for size, pulling back the rim, and viola. The folded $5 bill fell out into my hand.

Finding a $5 bill there was so incongruent it made me think. But it was clear within moments that this was an intentional random act of kindness, or an example of someone paying it forward. Like when you pull up to the window at the Starbucks drive-thru to pay for your drink and the barista tells you the driver in front of you bought your drink. Someone had left this to be found, and I was the one to do so.

The responsibility I feel for that $5 bill has been with me all week. Clearly it must be passed along, but where and how? Leaving my hotel room in Dallas a few days ago I was greeted by the housekeeper, a woman with the most glorious ear-to-ear grin who wished me a great day, authentically, not just obligatorily. So I thought, maybe it’s meant for her! Then I remembered my travel habit of always just leaving the key to my room on the desk when I leave the final time. So, no chance to go back in and plant it somewhere she would find it. Must mean it’s meant for another time and place.

I feel the power of the gift I am now required to leave. And the energy, emotion and the mystery of the giver who placed it in the rim of that cap in Seattle. It’s already travelled from Seattle, to Kelowna, to San Diego, to Dallas, and now back again to San Diego since being in my protective possession. Where it will end up I don’t yet know, but I hope the small act of placing it somewhere to be found by a total stranger will have the impact it has had on me. You don’t get to know when or where kindness will show up. And when it does? Breathe it in, and pass it along.

 

Keep up with the comps? Or create a new path?

Plenty of business travel = many hotel nights. One flag is much like the other, and in fact most times on check-in I forget which loyal customer card to pull out. Free WIFI, free bottled water, complimentary made-to-order breakfasts, free morning newspaper. Whatever it is, the hotel world suffers from conspicuous competition. 

It got worse a few years ago, when every big brand jumped on the "save the environment" schtick. It seems each hotel branded their own version of their giving back program with a clever name and a promise they care about the good of the planet. 

After spending a few days in San Francisco this week at the Pacific Coast Builders Conference (and earning another 3 nights' of hotel stays!) I'm struck by the fact that home and community development share the same challenge as the hospitality world. 

Too much time focused on the competition and what they are doing = "competitive myopia" (credit to Youngme Moon, author of Different). And nothing generates conformity quite as completely as a good comparable metric staring you in the face. When we spend too much time keeping up with the comps and looking over our shoulder at what they are doing we lose the point of it all, which is to create excitement, energy and sustainable meaningful moments of truth and delight that our customers can't get anywhere else, or  from everyone else doing the same thing we do. 

What's the next big idea in home and community development? I'm not sure I heard it this week. I heard a lot of good variations on a theme. And I came back to my daily reality with the belief that there's white space out there to be occupied by creative minds with the guts to take a risk and the follow through to deliver, and a renewed belief that we need to tear it all away. 

Stop looking at each other. Start thinking like a discerning customer again. What would they like to see from our business? How would they like to be treated? What would we keep and what would we toss out from our business models today? Clearly a few more hours of thought needs to go into this "how might we" ...