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SMARTY.

The human side of business

Archives for October 2017

Big Life

Frequent Finish Lines.

October 31, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

There’s a big difference between…
Writing a book and publishing a blog post.
Running a 5k and finishing a marathon.
Climbing Kilimanjaro and taking a day trip up Mt. Washington.
 
Our world has become ever more crowded with ambitions of every sort, with social feeds detailing the enviable evidence of our friends’ (and their friends’) milestone feats – that it can sometimes have a defeating effect. “I’d have to train for months…to have a big idea…to quit my job…I’ll do it next year…I’d need a partner.”
 
In an evolutionary world, it only makes sense that people are doing more and bigger stuff all the time, right? The minute one person does anything – much less better, faster, or longer – 20 more succeed in breaking those barriers.
 
But big accomplishments are few and far between. They’re promises worth keeping to ourselves, without question – but to overlook smaller dreams – or dismiss them as a distraction, unimportant or trivial –  is to miss accessible opportunities to make meaningful dreams come true.
 
Indulge me on this one.

I recently set my sights on learning Michael Jackson’s Thriller dance in two weeks. This was not without sacrifice. Over the course of my 14-day mission, I set aside some important work, made less interesting dinners, commuted in rush hour traffic, and dropped one ball in the form of a missed meeting. But…it was a short-term goal that felt semi-realistic, and that meant I finally (kind of) felt like a legendary pop star who I must have watched on MTV 100-plus times as a kid. Looking at my life, which admittedly doesn’t have a lot of room for “more”, this actually seemed do-able.
 
And it was… So. Much. Fun.
The learning.
The practice.
The performance.
All of it.
 
Grand finish lines are wonderful, but they aren’t the only goals worth having.
Of course you should write a book, renovate a house, get a degree, pitch the show,  launch the podcast and sell the business. But you could also take the class, do the gig, submit the work or enter a smaller, local race.
 
More frequent finish lines are everywhere.

They aren’t without effort, intention, and logistics. But they’re within reach.
 
And what they might deliver is a reunion with the kid inside who still wants to feel giddy, nervous and beside herself with excitement. This kind of glee can’t be manufactured. But it can be cultivated.
 
Look around.
Decide on your “yes” thing.
Punctuate the finish with a date, a registration, an unveiling, or by pressing send…
 
And then…do it.
 
Mama-say-mama-sa-mama-coosa!

Small Business

Copycats Part Deux.

October 24, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Could I get that recipe... please?

Last week’s post acknowledging the frustration of seemingly being imitated in the marketplace spawned an unusual amount of mail in my inbox. People have a lot of feelings about this topic. I think it actually goes even deeper than my original conclusion.
 
Here’s the thing.
 
Often in life, people ask …
 
Who does your hair?
What’s that recipe?
Where was that vacation?
Who designed your house?
Where did you buy that?
 
And most of us are only too happy to share our good finds with friends. But all of that changes when you suddenly run into those friends during Spring break at your secret little spot, or when they make a habit of bringing your signature chocolate chip cookies to Book Club, or they suddenly have your wardrobe. It’s just awkward. And weird. Not because they acted on your recommendation, but because they missed a critical element in the currency exchange of shared resources: acknowledgment.
 
How about checking the vacation dates?
Or citing the source?
And running it by… if it’s gonna be exactly the same?
 
It’s funny how a simple nod or inclusion in the process changes the dynamic entirely. It’s also interesting that when it doesn’t happen, you get a lot of insight about someone’s level of (or lack of) awareness.
 
It’s easy to diminish this stuff as unimportant or trite, but at the heart of any sharing of information is a sense of pride in having discovered/perfected/cracked the code of said thing.
 
Is it worth deep introspection? Probably not. But, it is nice to get a little credit when a personal rec has clearly been applied and deployed. But what’s even more valuable is to notice who gives a high-five (publicly or otherwise), and who does not. It can inform future decisions, and open the door to what else this person overlooks/presumes/takes for granted.
 
I don’t think any of us aims not to be generous or to see the worst in friends, but there’s something to be said about the art of selective reveals.
 
A simple “Oh, I don’t use a recipe – it’s an ad hoc salad,” should do the trick.

Small Business

Copycats.

October 17, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

I recently came across a newsletter style blog, similar to what I publish here, penned by someone I worked with in the not so distant past. There was a strange similarity to it – with some of the tics, cadence, and themes, that I recognize in my own musings.

At first, I was shocked.
Then, annoyed.
And after that, I am pretty sure there was some eye rolling and judging on my part.

Feeling copied does not bring out the best of me, or anyone, really.

At around this same time, a ceramicist friend whose work has a recognizable color, shape, and stripe, had a similar observation. He questioned whether his signature style had been channeled by a much more famous studio mate.

Another former colleague discovered the entrepreneurial network she founded being duplicated by a former member.

And for anyone who makes and distributes products, you’re used to getting knocked off. But it doesn’t change how deeply irritating it is when it happens.

When words, ideas, a product or style feel co-opted – used by someone else for profit – it burns in the belly. Those on the receiving end want justice and credit. Our desire to right the wrong can produce feelings of preparing for battle or at the very least a child-like tantrum, though neither deliver a very satisfying resolution.

So assuming legal issues are not at stake, and the knocker-offer didn’t violate a patent, what can we really do when we see a version of our work, authored by someone else, in the marketplace?

One option is to quietly seethe, become resentful, grow-chip-on -shoulder, blame your failures on other people, and otherwise shrink into a person you wouldn’t be friends with…much less want to become.

The other is to get curious. Why was I inspiring to them? Why does it feel like me or mine…and could it simply be that he or she is tapping into the zeitgeist? A coincidence? What is this triggering in me… my ego, image, fear of losing customers… or is something else at stake?

A different option comes courtesy of Marcus Buckingham who, in response to discord, says:

“Assign the most generous possible explanation, and then believe it.”

It’s possible that copying you was the closest this person could get to creating something worthwhile. It’s also possible you’re wrong about any number of theories.

It’s hard to trace the lineage of an idea, and even when we do, there’s often not much we can do about owning it. But what we can do is shine like the crazy diamond we each are, and decide that there’s enough to go around. And then believe it.

Karma will likely take care of the rest.

Small Business

Contact High.

October 10, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Airplane metaphors abound, but basically, don't get stuck up here.

At a time when being acknowledged feels like the exception rather than the norm, opportunities to connect with your people are everywhere. Giving attention, in the right way, is like sending an emotional gift certificate.
 
Most of us reading (and writing) this blog grew up on autoresponders.

They were invented solely to help businesses stay in touch, without all the heavy lifting of customer service and marketing spend. But decades later, these messages have lost any sense of real connection. At this point, they feel pretty canned. So while as owners, we appreciate their efficiencies, as consumers on the receiving end, our reaction is to hit delete.
 
Which is why, in 2017, it is (almost) extraordinary to hear directly from a small business owner. When an owner reaches out, herself, not in response to a complaint or as part of a PR strategy, but just because, it delivers a contact high – for both customer and owner. Sure it could be argued that an owner’s time would be better spent at the 30,000ft level, but the reality is that direct contact actually moves the dial.
 
Automation makes a lot of sense in a lot of cases. But unlike their bigger competitors, small business owners have the opportunity to cultivate real human connection with a customer or client. Of course you can program your CMS or email marketing campaign to regurgitate what you’re saying to every new customer or every transaction, even go as far as customizing communications with their first names – duh. But when people get a sincere/curious/thoughtful note from the face of a business, it goes a long way to plant the seeds for a lifelong relationship, one that will grow and deepen year after year, and a customer who will sing your praises to their tribe who trust her recommendations.
 
The cost is relatively small – minutes.
The win is proportionately big – years.
 
I’m not saying automation isn’t great and useful, but it creates a false reassurance that we’re connected to the people who buy our stuff.
 
Richard Branson once wrote me a personal note after I gave him a detailed (ahem!) review of his Virgin Atlantic first class service. They became a client, and I became a loyal customer.
 
If Branson can do it – so can we.
 
Here’s to saying hello for no reason. We can almost always learn something new by talking to the people who buy/read/follow or otherwise make it possible for us to be in business.
 

Big Life

Intentional Tension.

October 3, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

The other afternoon, I struck up a conversation with a fifth grader, a friend of the family, about how school was going this year. She described something her teacher was doing prior to a test, that to me felt stressful. It doesn’t matter what it was as it relates to this story, but when I pressed her for an explanation, here’s what she said:

“Oh, she does it on purpose,” she told me as a matter of fact. “To create intentional tension.”

!!!

Of course, I lost my (metaphysical) marbles. Teaching fifth graders, who haven’t yet hit the apex of anxiety, how to practice being anxious, seemed nothing short of genius. And it got me thinking.

What if at an early age we set up a controlled environment, with skilled oversight, expressly designed to teach us how to speak up for ourselves (or others)? To express needs?

Put a different way, it would be a space in which to learn restraint and then reward, deliberately; to exist between discernment and persuasion and to experience different ways of managing and resolving a conflict. What if we practiced…having a “practice”… in preschool?

Rather than promoting kindness because it’s the right thing to do, which most schools (understandably) embrace, what if we designed highly controlled uncomfortable situations, to help kids navigate them – and make more informed choices – from the start?

If we can do a mock U.N. at school, why can’t we apply that to training for our most challenging emotions?

Practicing worst-case scenario may not replicate the exact experience a stressful event creates, but kids become adults. And adults have the power to create or destroy.

Tools don’t give us wiggle room… as much as options.
And we should have options… from the get go.

Practice, in this case, is a double entendre (my favorite happy accident):
It’s both the rehearsal we do in preparation for a future event, and the thing that grounds us in the here and now.

We know events will happen.
And we also know, all we have is now.

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About Me

photo of Amy Swift Crosby

Amy Swift Crosby is a brand strategist and copywriter who has positioned or voiced messaging across the commercial spectrum, from icons like Ford, BVLGARI, Pottery Barn, Pantene and Virgin, to boutique brands like The Wild Unknown, fitness franchise Barre3 and the rebrand of legendary metaphysical bookstore, Bodhi Tree. She has leveraged this expertise to help entrepreneurial women and small businesses owners hone their skills, mission and message, while uncovering their own “voice.” This blog explores “the human side of business,” and universal themes like uncertainty, anxiety, the tension between engagement and disconnection, personal value and most importantly, of finding - and hearing - our own voices in our everyday life.

Photo - Andrew Stiles

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SMARTY began as a thriving community in Los Angeles and Boston with weekly panel discussions and events designed to better understand the mindset and growth strategies behind successful entrepreneurs. Today, SMARTY is a weekly blog written by Amy Swift Crosby who chronicles her life as a creative, parent, entrepreneur and spiritual seeker. As an urban refugee living in a New England seaside village, she unpacks topics ranging from uncertainty and doubt to the built environment and advertising. More on Amy.

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