Slightly Askew

Huddle ten web designers together. Ask them to build you a website.

Then huddle a website designer, a taxi driver, a child, a grandmother, a butcher, baker, and candlestick maker, an accountant, and a student together. Ask them to build you a website.

Which group builds the most innovative website?

The ten web designers undoubtedly are the most experienced group. They’re the group that most business owners would put their faith in. It’s the safe group to choose.

But I’m not so sure that experience is always the best option. (Let it be said: I prefer my pilots with plenty of experience. And my dentists.)

Experience is a very useful thing. But with experience often comes the status quo. How many times have you sat next to a new recruit who nods at every opportunity and babbles: “yeah, that’s how we used to do it at [company name] too”?

How good will someone be at a job because they’ve done it before?
How interested?
How hungry?

Apparently, Southwest Airlines won’t employ people who have experience at another airline unless they’re convinced the potential recruit can unlearn all those bad habits (again, let’s hope this doesn’t extend to the pilots).

Is it silly to ignore these experienced people? Well, Southwest Airlines have been consistently profitable for 35 years - you argue it with them.

So if you’re planning on being different, growing an enthusiastic workforce, and reaping the rewards - ask yourself how much experience you really need.

In the wrong hands, experience becomes competence. Before you know it, you’ve gone from competent to adequate. And being adequate is something to avoid.

1. There a no shortcuts.
2. Don’t waste time with things that make you unhappy.
3. You can’t fake it.
4. It’s never as scary as you think it’s going to be.
5. Books are still great.
6. Stay positive; worrying achieves nothing.
7. It’s okay to be shit at things.
8. Honestly is still the best policy.
9. It’s not you, it’s them.
10. The only thing that proves you can do it is doing it.

Seth talks about authenticity.  How much fakery do we accept?  What crosses the line?

When Howies sold out to Timberland (the footwear and clothing company; not the producer du jour), my friend Zoe with an umlaut sent me an email titled:

They all sell out in the end

Does it really matter?  Why?

Well, yes it does matter.  It matters because we care.

If you’re authentic enough, people start to care about your money-making enterprise as much you do.  Give us a warm, fuzzy feeling and something to talk about and we’ll buy more of your products, we’ll read your email newsletters and RSS feeds, and yes, we’d love to come to your village fete in middle of London.

We wear (or otherwise) your products because they align themselves with what we believe in and aspire to.

So - going back to Howies - let’s see what a Timberland’s President and CEO, Jeffrey Swartz, had to say about matters:

“We are excited and inspired by the brand potential we see in Howies and are pleased to welcome them to the Timberland family.  We look to invest in like-minded brands that are focused on innovation, authenticity and integrity, and Howies encompasses all of these core values. Together we will leverage our complementary strengths to bring our brands to new consumers and new markets.”

It is, perhaps, ironic that the only thing jeopardising Howies’ “authenticity and integrity” is Timberland.  Well, that and Mr Swartz’s irksome use of the word ‘leverage’.

Not because Timberland is a bad brand.  But because Howies built one of independence; with two fingers firmly raised towards take-take-take multinationals.

To me, these two companies curdle.  A bit like when I was seven years old and thought that mixing cherryade and milk would produce a sumptuous milkshake.

Zoe said that it made her sick too.

I wrote my first ever Amazon review a few days ago.

It was about the rather wonderful Kenwood Smoothie To Go SB055.  Here’s a brief excerpt:

This smoothie maker will not, of course, change your life. But it will make you forget all those horribly awkward previous incarnations that got used once every six months. You know the ones: dishwasher safe but too big to fit in the dishwasher; quickly became scummy around seals and spouts.

Good eh?

I got a warm fuzzy feeling from writing that review - albeit a capitalist one.  Rewarding Kenwood for their innovation by giving prospective customers a delicate but honest shove in the right direction - at zero cost to supplier or customer.  The only cost is my time.

You do it too.  Maybe not on Amazon, and maybe not with the verve and swagger of I, but you do do it.

Down the pub, over dinner, or on the phone.  We’re always talking about products that make us happy, or service that makes us frustrated (if you want frustration, try finding a customer support number in 30 seconds on www.123-reg.co.uk).

So if you want more customers, give your existing customers - and anybody else for that matter - something good to talk about.

Easter eggs anyone?

I got some tickets to see The Boss at the Emirates Stadium off Ebay.  A bargain, I think.  Although they haven’t arrived yet, so I shall reserve judgement.  The last time I saw the great man, he played Thunder Road first.  If Heaven exists, I imagine it sounds like those first tinkling piano chords.

I’m watching less and less television as I approach twenty-six-and-a-half.  So when I do choose to watch it, I generally avoid ITV.  Two independent sources told about some dancing dog on Britain’s Got Talent though, so I had to resort to YouTube.  I wasn’t disappointed.

Why is it that if you play an acoustic guitar and a harmonica, like Bob Dylan or Neil Young, people think that you’re a musical genius?

Strap a pair of cymbals to your knees, though, and people cross the street to get away from you.

Now, maybe it’s just me (and it usually is), but does anyone else love being a passenger in the back of a car at night?

There’s something about just sitting there, staring out of the window, seeing the glow from distant buildings light up the landscape.  The experience works all the better if there’s a good tune on the stereo.  Actually, it needn’t be particularly good; the naffest of song can enhance a moment.  Digressing slightly: I was once in a helicopter, flying over the Grand Canyon, and our pilot piped that nauseating Celine Dion song from Titanic into our headsets.  And it was quite beautiful.  No, honestly.

I’ve always preferred night to day.  Not in a gothic, take-your-shoes-off-and-garble-Led-Zep-songs-backwards manner; it’s just I’ve always liked the peace and quiet, and a little me time.  And me time isn’t a euphemism for a five-knuckle shuffle (which, in turn, is a euphemism for wanking - if you’re a little on the slow side).

And if you don’t agree with me, you’re wrong - cos Bruce is on my side:

Show a little faith; there’s magic in the night

And that’s from Thunder Road, if your music taste beggars belief.