Mindshare Marketing

One of my writing projects in high school was to write a letter to my future self.  I was supposed to grill myself on the to-do list of life, make sure I had stuck to my 15-yr old ideas of the world, and ask questions about what things looked like in the future.  I never managed to get a copy of that letter back from my freshman English teacher, but I can still remember a lot of things from it.  I used a really nonchalant tone, asked whether or not future-me had a girlfriend, quizzed him on his job and whether or not he was happy, and asked how fast his flying electric car went.

Well, it’s been a few years and I can finally start to see that “future” I was asking about come into focus.  I studied physics in college because I wanted to work for the design teams at either Honda or Toyota developing the next generation of hybrid cars.  No, not the electric ones.  After all … everyone keeps telling me how unfeasable electric cars are.  They have limited ranges, there is no convenient place to re-fuel, and they don’t have nearly as much power as their gas-guzzling ancestors.  Hybrids were the way of the future, according to the automakers’ spokesmen, and I wanted a piece of it.

Now it’s even a few years after college and I’ve moved on to other interests.  Yesterday, though, I took a walk down memory lane at OMSI.  Among other things, I got to wade through a sea of ten-year olds, play with water wheels, solve mindbending puzzles, and try to squeeze my way through the hatch of a submarine.  I relived the excitement of playing with science, and it was a blast.  Outside, though, I got another reminder of my past loves in life; I actually saw and electric car hooked up to a refueling station!

It might not be the most attractive tricycle in town, but it’s entirely electric and not a figment of my imagination.  I do stop to wonder, though, why I abandoned the concept of electric cars in the first place.  I bought into the message from Detroit that electricity was an unfeasible fuel source for transportation.  Now, here it sits, powering a real car.  Go figure.

Now switch gears and think about your business.  We live in a time of economic frustration, to put things midly.  Media analysts talk every day about the ups and downs of stock and financing.  The newspaper rarely shows us a ray of sunlight in the growing storm of both personal and business bank accounts.  But think, really think, about the situation your company is in.  Are you really as “bad off” as the rest of the market, or are you buying into the the brand the “experts” are trying to place on this decade?

Tomorrow marks the beginning of a new year.  This is a time for a general reevaluation of our positions and goals as things move forward.  I urge you, write a letter to your future self.  Ask him whether or not his life is still moving in the right direction.  Grill her about the reasons behind decisions that led her to where she’s at.  Ask him to explain what the future looks like and how it compares with your assumptions from today.

You might not get the opportunity to shake future-you’s hand, but hold on to the letter and it will be the next best thing.

I’ve had some very troubling things happen over the past week, and to not express my disappointment would be a disservice both to my conscience and to you.  As most of you know, I run a small publishing company called Jumping Duck Media.  With Jumping Duck, I publish books, produce websites, consult on publication projects, and occasionally take the time to design websites with custom functionality.  I’m not a ‘professional’ web designer, but it’s a skill I possess and one that is in high demand.  Because of this, I take extra time to help people out and make sure everything comes in well under budget - particularly for smaller operations that can’t afford one of the ‘professionals.’

Recently, I worked on a project with an international client.  It was challenging, depressing, and exciting all at once.  I had to hire help because the project pushed me to and beyond the edge of my expertise.  After several weeks of hard work, I had a very robust, completely custom content management system that was ready for translation from English to his native language.

The original agreement we had was for him to pay a certain deposit up-front and the remaining bill on completion of the project.  I’ve done things this way for quite some time: it gives me the working capital I need to complete the project and doesn’t overly tax the client until they actually have to pay.  In this instance, though, he took the completed project and disappeared.  The domain for his email address has become unregistered and, as an international client, I have no way to track him down and collect the rest of my bill.

Yes.  I was conned.

My first reaction was to stop coding altogether.  This was a challenging project that tested my skills, mental resolve, work ethic, and sense of self-worth.  I already had another client on board and extended his project by over a month just to cope with the feelings of betrayal I had.  Until a few days ago, I was still seriously considering shutting down the coding wing of Jumping Duck just to avoid this in the future.

Then I realized just how off-brand that would be for me.  Jumping Duck Media, above all else, stands for challenging the status quo and doing the impossible.  I help first-time authors get their works printed and on the shelves next to the big guys.  I help low and no-budget operations build and manage websites that rival market leaders.  I also stand for the idea that everyone deserves some level of trust - at least until they betray it.

To abandon this principle, even in the midst of a moderately dishonest world, would be to abandon my brand and the ideals that drove me to establish Jumping Duck in the first place.  What appeared a few weeks ago to be a test of my confidence in humanity has become a test of my dedication to my brand.  Can I really continue to place trust in strangers in spite of what happened?  I can try and, for the sake of the continuing success of Jumping Duck Media, I hope I actually can.

How many times has business (whether actual contracts or market volatility as a whole) challenged the principles behind your brand?  In a world dominated by outsourcing and off-shoring, can a brand based on the idea of being “authentic American” product survive?  In times of increasing financial stress, can an open-source software company stay afloat?

It can be challenging to stick to your brand in times of stress, but it does nothing more than strengthen the brand you started out with.  When the stress is relieved, the dust clears, and the world takes time to assess the aftermath … will you still be standing tall?  Or will you have sacrificed too much to stay competitive?

Merry Christmas to all!  And to all a safe, relaxing, and fun weekend!

~Yeah, that means no real post today :-).