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Over Deliver and Keep ‘Em Coming Back for More

“Do you know anyone in Togo?”

Brand loyalty is built on relationships.

I picked up the call over 20 years ago on a July 4th afternoon. The voice at the other end of the line belonged to an AT&T customer service representative who’d flagged a series of calls from my number to a tiny country on Africa’s Gold Coast. By going beyond her job description (or contract, or scope), she saved me hundreds of dollars and countless hours spent trying to straighten the mess out. She made my life a little easier.

Brand loyalty isn’t always logical, but it has a long memory. AT&T is an entirely different entity than it was then, but I continue to have an emotional connection with the brand. I told this story to an AT&T call center representative once when I was trying to untangle a bill. I’m not sure they got it.

The market has changed, as have my needs. AT&T long ago laid off the people who did what that woman did. I hope she is happily retired — or teaching companies how to bond with customers for life.

I recently moved into a building served by another provider and got a quick refresher on the bare-knuckles world of the consumer broadband industry: bait and swap, if-you don’t-like-it-take-your-business-somewhere-else. No brand loyalty there.

A friend once critiqued a piece of work I did, “Remember, over deliver and keep ’em coming back for more.”

On whatever scale you’re operating, those are words to the wise.

The Boy Who Wants to Be a Scientist

I took the iPod out of my young friend’s ear and suggested he would make a great mayor. “I don’t want to be a mayor, he said. “I want to be a scientist.”

I was impressed.

I have a young friend who wants to be a scientist.

“What kind of scientist?” I asked.

“An engineer,” and then he paused. “I want to be everything.”

My admiration grew. My friend is 10 years old — 11 next month. I met him at the Helping Hand Home for Children, where he’s spent the last couple of years after a rocky experience in the foster care system. Next week, he goes back to the family from which he was removed.

I replaced the earpod and looked at him. My friend is at the intersection of many of the great debates of our time — race, abortion, economic opportunity, multiculturalism. I don’t know why he was taken from his family, but whatever it was, it must have been pretty horrible. To become a scientist, a mayor, or a repairman in a power substation will require super-human work, hope and magic. If he fails to pull it off and becomes homeless, goes to jail or abuses his kids, we’ll be the ones who pay the price. Literally.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could make my friend’s path a little easier?

Solutions to complex problems happen when people begin to talk with one another. A few weeks ago, inspired by an editorial on civil exchange, I signed up for red bench training. The genesis of the idea came from Dr. Betty Sue Flowers, a business consultant, poet, educator and administrator and communicator (who is also a native Texan and former director of LBJ Presidential Library):

I think people don’t feel they have permission to talk about something that makes them as vulnerable as love, so we don’t usually talk about it in public. I once had the idea of having a red bench in every corporation. And the red bench to be an invitation to conversations that matter. So if you sat on the red bench, you were saying, I’m open to having a conversation about love, or a conversation about truth, or something that matters to me. Dr. Betty Sue Flowers

The red bench conversations encourage people to build relationships. (Photo courtesy of Christy Tidwell)

Civil exchange is a prerequisite for collaboration, which is the way most things get done. Note that Dr. Flowers proposed red bench conversations as part of a project she did for Royal Dutch Shell. Here in Austin, Interfaith Action of Central Texas runs a program built around the idea. iACT Executive Director Tom Spencer wrote the editorial that prompted me to act. Check it out in your community.

We may be able to begin a conversation that will help my young friend. He would make a great mayor.

Stand up straight!

I came of age during the dawn of the fashionable slouch. Despite my mother’s admonitions to keep my shoulders back, I conformed to the preferred silhouette: the pelvis forward, knees bent. It has not served me well.

Millennials, take heed. The long-term effects of gravity are not to be denied. If you start slumped, you may end up standing with your nose touching your knees. Be forewarned: Stilettos and brilliant leather bags that weigh as much as a mid-sized dog give home-court advantage to the earth’s pull. Downward. Full disclosure: I did my time tramping about Manhattan in Bruno Magli heels. I’ve reformed: Forget about sex appeal. Opt for good sense.

Bad posture is insidious. It’s formed gradually over hours, days, years hunched over one device or another, a lunch or dinner table, leaning forward, elbows on the table. These are habits — bad habits that constrict our breathing and crumple our digestive tracts. No good will come of it.

Then there’s sitting — and air travel. I recently took a flight to California thinking I was prepared. I’d torn an article out of the New York Times on in-flight yoga poses. The challenge proved to be miniaturizing them for coach class – a physical, spiritual and social exercise. I mastered one — raising my legs. The others are going to require more practice, and less concern about my seat mates. Perhaps they will want to practice alongside me.

It’s taken me eight years of yoga classes and relatively diligent practice to be able to recognize what it feels like to breathe. It happens when you stand on flat feet, weight balanced and your spine reaching upward (new muscles!). While I wish I’d started sooner, I’m grateful to have finally figured it out.

Summer is a good time to not just think about this but to do something. The air is bad. It’s hot. There’s more exposed skin. All good reasons to look the world straight in the eye, take a deep breath and breathe.

Values and downsizing

I’m downsizing from a 2200 square foot house to a 640 square foot apartment. I always thought I’d be a little old lady in a rambling house with tomatoes and cats, but that may not be the case. I have to admit: it’s painful. I pack a box, then unpack it and add stuff to my Craigslist and Recycled Reads piles.

My mom’s books and Bibles; my dad’s medals and fishing gear. My piano and couches the dog (not me) sits on. Reckoning time: how much can I afford to store? Will I ever again (honestly) have the space to have these things with me?

My eureka moment came when I was staring at an anniversary clock my dad bought when he was stationed in Germany in the 1950’s. There’s no doubt my dad considered the clock valuable. He built a wooden packing box and encased it in straw like a nativity set. He bought extra globes in case of breakage. He shipped it back to the States, then to Turkey and back.

But the clock doesn’t fit anymore. It’s too delicate, and I’m not going to have space to display it. It’s going on Craigslist.

What I want to keep are the character traits the clock represents, the ones my dad drilled in — responsibility, tenacity, honesty, loyalty, hard work, a sense of fairness and punctuality (alas, that one is touch and go).

Luckily (some solace) It’s not just me. We live in a world with more people and fewer resources. Organizations have to be more agile, more collaborative and less tied to the shards of their pasts. A box full of memorabilia from my days at IBM: a hardbound commemorative issue of that grand benchmark of corporate publications, Think, resource binders doled out through continuing education programs and lots of award plaques. I only vaguely remember the projects. But the values I keep: respect for the individual, friendship, collaborative teamwork and innovation.

I’m hoping someone will see the clock on Craigslist and value it for something it represents to them. The past is precious, but there’s a lot more to think about, and I need to move faster to get where I want to go.

Reinvention and upside down tomatoes

I stopped into my favorite charity shop and watched a volunteer pull one of those grow-tomatoes-upside-down kits out of a bag. A botanical reinvention built on the premise that plants — like people, corporations and planets — can be reinvented to instantly adapt in ways that are painless, prompt, productive and profitable.

Reinventing the tomato plant -- upside down. — Reinventing the tomato plant — upside down.

Yes and no. Reinvention is systemic. It’s metric is survival. That tomato, for example, knows it’s supposed to grow up, so you’ll find it straining to turn itself upside upside down to be rightside up. This can be distressing to watch if you have rigid ideas of how things should be, but that’s the trade off.

I’m a boomer, raised on pap spun out by that evil genius of happy endings, Walt Disney. Did he know he was shaping an entire generation’s psychology? All those fairy godmothers, princes and ball gowns? I would have loved to have seen him locked into a joint script-writing project with the Brothers Grimm. The result would be very 21st century.

When Plan A and indeed B and C don’t work, I try to give myself a break. I realize I’m tapping my foot in anticipation of a fast, inside-out extreme makeover — fewer wrinkles, better real estate and clients who hang on my every word. Fascinating opportunities are out there. We just have to trash the old script — and pen a new one.

So, heave ho. We know what to do. Read the pundits. Keep moving forward. Cheerfully. It’ll soon be tomato season.

Delete that photo!

A friend whose opinion I respect forwarded me a photo taken when I did not — shall we say — look my best. It got me thinking: Does this require action? Should I tighten up my reputation management? Get a makeover? What do geezer rockers do about this sort of thing? Does Robert Plant worry about his hair? Closed eyes?

Can it get any worse? Add wrinkles! — Can it get any worse? Always!

We are well on our way in an era of visual communication. Some people are blessed with telegenic looks and would shine climbing out of a dumpster. Does the way Nigella Lawson looks sell cookbooks? Of course. For the rest of us, it’s luck of the draw (or click). Forget command and control. I once worked with a top-ranking executive who, confronted with an unflattering photo, dispatched his minions to buy up every available copy of the trade mag in which it appeared, a feat that can never be repeated. As for prep, the jury’s out. I recently caught myself reaching over to sort out a no-nonsense entrepreneur’s hair (female). She’d probably been up since 4 that morning. Working. Personally, I think candid photography before 9 a.m. is cruel and unusual punishment.

What does our appearance say about us? My mother, raised a Texas girl, never poured her coffee or opened a newspaper until her lipstick and hair were in place. I can’t remember a time when she didn’t look beautiful. Then again, I remember Hillary Clinton’s eulogy at Gov. Ann Richards’ funeral less for what she said (although it was memorable: she touched on just this subject) than that she looked exhausted — like she’d worked all night and still cared enough to show up and honor someone who’d been important to her.

As for me, I’m leaning in the direction of a well-developed sense of humor. That may be the point.

Sitting is the new smoking

A friend gave me the news: Researchers have discovered there is no way to compensate for sitting. Forget the morning run, yoga, walking the dog, weights. Sitting is the new smoking.

My back and shoulder had warned me. I felt long fingers of gravity pulling me down in the chair, tugging my thoughts and hopes down with them. Down, down, down. A change was in order. A new $500 chair? An iPad? Everything investment is a risk.

So I did what any risk-aware 21st century American would do: I posted my gorgeous Amisco computer desk on Craigslist and waited. I waited and forgot about the desk. Weeks later, two emails popped up, out of the blue. Lo and behold, there was a market for the desk.

What to do? Go with the flow. Linelle pulled out her $65. cash and took the desk away. I think she’ll give it a good home. And when I turned to look at the vacant spot, I had a rush of hope. So many possibilities! I could put a table in the middle of the room to use for cut outs and thinking. I could type standing up (my back had been hurting anyway). I could rethink my entire working life.

So here I am, in my new phase: typing on the top of a tiny old bookcase my mother kept in her bathroom. It’s the right height but a little teetery. I’ll have to look for a larger surface. I’ll have to innovate.

Change is good. It never comes when we expect or even want it. But it’s good.

Sotomayor and Chaotic Moon – stay curious, take risks and get better

Two fascinating encounters this week. Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor was in town to promote her book. By the time I got there, the crowd spilled out of the second-floor room where she was to appear, down the stairs and into the aisles of books. All ages – moms with kids, octogenarians (holding hands), students scribbling notes. We all pressed together – holding our breaths so we could hear. And yes, she was wonderful.

Sonia Sotomayor visits Austin. Photo by Pearce Murphy, The Daily Texan.

It was inspiring — the crowd, the diversity, the speaker, the very American-ness of it all. Coming on the heels of the inauguration and Martin Luther King Day, even the cynics among us had to take a breath.

Sotomayor closed with a grace note of thanks to her audience, but also a warning: Beware of false pride, she said. It stops the learning experience. I never thought I would be on the best seller list, she continued. But here I am.

A second wake up call — a rambunctious presentation by the irrepressible Whurley of Chaotic Moon — advocated the gospel of creative risk taking: instigate, collaborate and innovate. It was a fun, uppity, polished pitch that challenged us to “just do it” and a testimony to cross-generation collaboration. You need both the gas pedal and the brakes.

Chaotic Moon is pushing the boundaries of the creative “why not,” energizing the innovation efforts of companies like Toyota and Samsung. Sitting in the audience, I was in awe: What a shot-in-the arm their thinking must be to the research and marketing teams of those huge public multi-nationals.

Side note: Whurley differentiated innovation (it’s easy or we don’t do it) and invention (it’s hard), which reminded me of the brilliant Clayton Christensen column from last fall, “A Capitalist’s Dilemma” that made a similar point in relation to job creation.

The connection? Curiosity and action. Sotomayor did not get to the Supreme Court just by acing her tests (though I’m sure that was part of it). She reinvented herself over and over again. She made consistent efforts to create a smarter, more broadly experienced and emotionally mature human being. She took dancing lessons at 50+ (I tell you, there’s something about those dancing lessons).

Two vivid reminders to continue to try, experiment, expand — radically — and get better.

I don’t wanna …

A colleague mentioned that he couldn’t wait until February when everyone’s New Year’s resolutions pooped out, so he could get in and out of the gym faster. I had a sudden vivid memory of waiting in line for a swim lane at the YMCA at 5:30 a.m. in January, shivering my skimpy Speedo and as the minutes ticked by, calculating how long it would take for a slot to open up.

So what happens in February? “I don’t wanna” outweighs “I’m gonna.”

I don’t think I’ve ever done anything worth talking about that didn’t start with “I don’t wanna …” So many excuses, so little time: I’m afraid I’ll fail; it takes too much time and energy; the traffic is bad; I didn’t know anybody there(!).

It's 9 a.m. and you're still in bed? — It’s 9 a.m. and you’re still in bed?

There are people who are smart, gutsy, competent and land in just the right place at just the right time — taking a job just as a company starts its climb back to the top, starting a company just before the market takes off.

But if I dig a bit, those people are disciplined and driven. They have a goal, and they’re committed to achieving it. They are not whiners. They make choices and act. Sometimes they fail. Can anyone imagine anyone more prolific than Seth Godin and his spare wisdom? Or locally, Maura Thomas‘ disciplined hashmarks, Marc Miller’s prolific Career Pivot posts, and Pike Powers’ iconic pike-o-grams?

So, I’m raising one last glass to 2013 and (slightly) revising the iconic Nike slogan: “If it gets you closer to your goal, just do it.”

3 easy steps to cultivating your sense of the ridiculous

Okay, I’ve had it. Fiscal cliffs, elected officials, desertification, homelessness, elephant poachers, capital gains, women’s health funds, underfunded public education, elected officials, dying newspapers, Lance Armstrong, Mopac at 5 o’clock, aging, abandoned children, cats and dogs. It’s all too much. Time for some silliness (if the aforementioned wasn’t the right kind).

Do the following at critical junctures of your day, while reading email, talking on the phone – or my personal favorite – after I’ve done something particularly stupid. It costs nothing, never fails to provide perspective and can be used at home, in the office, car or plane.

You’ll find this trick rarely fails to make you feel absolutely ridiculous — which for some reason opens a world of boundless possibilities. Here goes:

(1). If you know a basic swing dance step, skip to the next paragraph. If not do the following:

Stand feet together
Lift one foot (ladies, your right; gentlemen, your left). Put it back down. That’s Tap-Step.
Other foot: Tap, Step.
First foot: Step backwards and then bring the foot back in place. That’s Rock Behind.
So, that’s the basic swing: 1st foot – Tap.Step. 2nd foot: Tap.Step. First foot: Rock Behind.

(2). When you’re comfortable with the basic step, add a simple variation, a turn:

1st foot: Tap. Step.
2nd foot: Tap. Step.
1st foot: Rock Behind BUT as you bring your foot back into place, place it perpendicular to the other foot, pivoting 1/4 turn away from your 2nd foot. Bring the foot down in a step to pivot back around and face your (virtual partner).

(3). Now, add music. I prefer The Jingle Bell Rock. It is faster-acting than other options I’ve tried, particular when it’s not December.

The Chipmunks do a fine rendition of the classic "Jingle Bell Rock." — The Chipmunks do a fine rendition of the classic “Jingle Bell Rock.”

Use this tool with a music-playing device, device-less or device-free, depending on your attitude. You can sing to accompany yourself. Here are the lyrics. Learning them also helps with memory loss. I’m not sure about hair or weight loss, but could it hurt?

My January IP to you: Silliness. We’re going to need it.

p.s. Here’s the swing in action, but caution: Don’t allow yourself to be put in a mold. It’s the spirit of the thing. Innovate.