Zappos Makes It Pay to Quit

The online shoe retailer Zappos has an interesting option for new hires in its customer-service call center. After the first week of a four-week training program, you can take that week's pay plus $1,000 and walk away. Yes, they will pay you $1,000 to quit.

Presumably, you take this offer if you realize the job isn't going to work out. It's like getting a bonus for making a mistake.

That's the employee perspective. Now let's look at Zappos' angle.

10% of new hires take the money. Giving these people a reason to self-select themselves out saves Zappos the additional three weeks of training and avoids the marginal performance likely to follow until they move on.

And it saves far more if it removes bad hires who would otherwise never move on—the disgruntled employees who find it easier to stay and complain than get another job. $1,000 is nothing compared to the cost of keeping, or eventually firing, these employees. (Assuming they are capable of being happier elsewhere, these employees actually might be the biggest beneficiaries of having a specific incentive to leave.)

Although Zappos' system is not quite to the level of a garden where the weeds pull themselves, it seems to be a clever approach in that direction.

[Original source on Zappos' pay-to-quit program: Bill Taylor's Why Zappos Pays New Employees to Quit—And You Should Too at Harvard Business Publishing's Web site]

Kindle and Amazon.com's Big Thinking

I admire Amazon.com, both as a long-time customer and as a student of business. Amazon.com pioneered much of what makes online retailing useful: one-click ordering, personalized recommendations, and user reviews, to name a few standouts.

Beyond that, Amazon.com long ago transcended the category online retailer by providing a platform where other retailers can merchandise their wares alongside Amazon.com's or via their own Amazon.com-hosted stores. In addition, Amazon.com created the first large affiliate-marketing program, where individuals or companies can merchandise Amazon.com products on their sites.

And in a more recent step, Amazon.com generalized its infrastructure to offer a cloud-computing service (basically, a giant on-demand computing system, available over the Internet) that other companies can rent time on, for almost any purpose, not just online retailing.

These developments have a common theme. They all anticipated important changes to how business could be done, and Amazon.com executed those changes early, before others grasped the concepts. However, as some of Amazon.com's recent initiatives have gone further afield from Amazon.com's core retailing business, critics have questioned whether Amazon.com is going too far. Is the company investing in areas that, at the end of the day, aren't a retailer's business?

That's the subtext to a shareholder letter by Amazon.com CEO Jeff Bezos, discussing Kindle, Amazon.com's electronic book reader. Other e-book readers exist, but Amazon.com decided to design and manufacture its own. In the letter, Bezos makes a compelling case that Amazon.com has both the expertise and missionary zeal to deliver a successful e-book reader where others have failed, yet he leaves unsaid why Amazon.com is doing it.

Here's why: Kindle is not just an e-book reader but also a service by which one buys books from (you guessed it) Amazon.com. If this is starting to sound familiar, recall that the iPod trumped existing MP3 players not just by providing better hardware but by linking the hardware to a well-designed service for buying music (iTunes). Thus, with both the iPod and Kindle, competitive advantage is about offering a superior total experience in buying and consuming musics/books.

Note the "total experience" concept, because it goes back to the question of what business a retailer should be in. For books, Amazon.com proved it can design a great buying experience. However, let's say digital books go the way of digital music, where the best total experience—and the dominant market position—comes from an integrated offering of hardware, software, and service. If that happens, just being an e-book retailer won't work. Go ask the formerly leading music retailers who watched Apple's iTunes Store go from nothing to the largest music retailer in the world.

Of course, it's not a foregone conclusion that the e-books business will follow the iPod/iTunes model. However, Kindle is a smart hedge in case it does, since Amazon.com has a lot to lose—or, with Kindle, to gain—in that scenario.

Whatever Kindle's fate, its existence illustrates why Amazon.com is different. Amazon.com detected e-books' potential for disruptive change and went well outside the standard retailer's playbook to adapt—envisioning and implementing a better way to buy and read books. That's big thinking.

I recommend you read Bezos' letter (here's that link again), plus his 1997 letter to shareholders, which is on the same page. Compared to the typical CEO missive, I think you'll find Bezos' letters refreshing.

(Postscript: The purpose of Bezos' shareholder letters is to explain Amazon.com's actions and strategy, but not too much. For example, the 1997 letter notes: "We are planning to add music to our product offering, and over time we believe that other products may be prudent investments." Apparently, he chose that sentence instead of, "We plan to expand into so many product categories that we won't be able to fit all their tabs across the top of the screen." ;)

When Stupid Isn't (Product People Behind the Scenes)

Long ago, I was a technology analyst. I tracked the technical and market development of new technologies in areas like artificial intelligence and digital video. The purpose was to forecast which technologies, companies, and products would be winners.

On a regular basis, I'd come across products where something was obviously wrong: nonsensical features, out-of-whack pricing, positioning for seemingly nonexistent audiences, and so on.

As consumers, when we see such things, we just shrug and move on. As a technology analyst, part of my job was to understand such anomalies. Were the people behind these products woefully misguided, or were they seeing something that others could not?

Over time, I met many product managers, product marketers, product evangelists, and the like. They were usually smart people who had reasons for why the seemingly wrong was right. Of course, those were judgment calls at the time; they were only right or wrong in retrospect. But most of the time, their perspectives were at least plausible, if not occasionally inspired.

This experience came to mind when I noticed Chris Anderson's post about why the publisher Random House is not necessarily stupid. Author and prominent netizen Cory Doctorow had gone off on Random House's Crown imprint for a limited-time free download of Scott Sigler's Infected before its publication:

Publishers are schizophrenic and often end up acting really dumb in the service of trying to do something smart. Crown is putting Scott's book online for free as a PDF, but they're taking it down after only four days -- presumably just in time to kill whatever momentum the downloads are generating....There's no coherent explanation for a ticking-bomb download like this one; it's like the hesitation marks on the wrists of a half-ass suicide.

Anderson contacted Crown and talked to Shawn Nicholls, Crown's Online Marketing Manager, who provided a coherent explanation.

"We definitely subscribe to the believe that offering something online isn't going to take away from sales," says Nicholls. "The one thing I tried to do when we started this was to make a distinction between free music and free books. A MP3 can be a substitute for a CD, but we're not at the place where a pdf is a substitute for a hard book."

But Crown also believes in the concept of artificial scarcity: "Our goal was to create some buzz. Four days of availability gives a sense of urgency and makes it more of an event," he says. And although Crown did take the book down from its official site, Nicholls said that they wouldn't stop people from mirroring it elsewhere for as long as they want.

Nicholls also provided numbers that suggest the promotion worked.

Reading Nicholls' comments, I not only recalled similar conversations but was glad to see such conversations are increasingly happening in the public (blogo)sphere. To take another example, here is Glenn Keels, Dell's Sr. Manager, Commercial Products Team, responding to critiques that Dell's Latitude XT tablet computer is overpriced:

Probably the most important thing to note about tablet PCs is that we are talking about cutting-edge technology here.  If we just released the exact same technology as our competitors, we would be missing opportunities to drive this market to the next level - and this is an opportunity we did not want to miss.  The result is that our product does carry a slight premium to our competition (emphasis on the word "slight").

We believe that when you take a look at like-to-like configurations AND the incremental technology (that customers have overwhelming told us they want to have), the value equation for the Latitude XT far exceeds that of competitive systems.

Keels goes on to provide a table summarizing key feature differences with competitive models from Lenovo and HP. Although product people at those companies would likely have their own representations of the playing field, I say bring them on. If the conversation can be had at this level, rather than through glossy one-sheets and other marketing shellac, consumers will be the winners.

The Unmeasured Medium of Meetings

If you've ever found yourself in a meeting where the most interesting thing to do is silently calculate the cost of the meeting to your company, this is for you: Payscale's Meeting Miser allows you to enter your company's city, then the job titles of those people present. Click the start button and watch the dollars add up in real time.

It's a free tool, provided somewhat tongue-in-cheek. Yet Meeting Miser strikes a chord because the internal business meeting is a largely unmeasured and unaccountable medium. Whereas you need to complete an expense report to buy a $35 toner cartridge for the office laser printer, you can blow $500 of people's time in a meeting at will. Of course, it's harder to measure the return on investment of a particular meeting than it is to justify the toner cartridge, but does that make it not worth trying?

In a world where you rarely hear the complaint "I was in too few meetings today," perhaps a more serious version of Meeting Miser—integrated into a company's scheduling and human-resources systems—would be an interesting experiment.

Customer Service Everywhere

"In most corporate cultures, customer service is regarded as an afterthought and a cost center," said Craig Newmark, explaining why great customer service is the exception, not the norm. Craig is the founder of craigslist, the world's most popular forum for classified advertising. It handles 8 billion page requests per month across 450 craigslist sites, each covering a specific geographic region in all 50 U.S. states and more than 50 countries (more info at craigslist's fact sheet). By his choice, Craig's full-time job is customer service representative, addressing craigslist users' questions, complaints, and problems.

Although almost any executive would agree with Craig's advocacy for better customer service, I see few following Craig's method of doing something about it, even part-time. To be clear, I am not counting executives who "talk to customers" by talking to executives at their biggest accounts. While that's good and appropriate, it's rarely the same as talking to the people who actually use your product.

An executive should talk to users directly because whether the executive's product delivers value is determined at the point of use, not at a power lunch with another exec. It sounds obvious, yet so much of corporate and product strategy is based on assumptions about users by people who do not regularly engage with said users. In theory, "customer intelligence" percolates up the corporate hierarchy and/or is collected independently from customer surveys. In practice there's no substitute for executives having ongoing, direct interactions with a representative sample of actual customers.

But let's not restrict this to executives.

Engineers should talk to users directly because it makes problems real. For example, if the people in your organization who regularly talk to users can't convince the engineer responsible that a problem matters, have the engineer talk to a couple users who have been burned by the problem. Your organization has an issue if you constantly need to invoke this, but on an occasional basis it can be just the right medicine.

Sales people should talk to users—after the sale has been made—to really understand how the product is used. That way, the salesperson can tell a story to prospects that is not just compelling but also realistic. "Realistic" is important because if expectations are set right, a whole class of customer-service problems disappears: those where Sales promised X, but after the product is bought and installed, Customer Service must now answer for the fact the product actually does Y.

Maybe it's too easy for me to take this position, because most of my career has involved a founder-level role in start-ups and business units within larger companies. In the early days of any effort, founders tend to work directly with customers—the execs, the users, and anyone else that might matter—because no one is more qualified to do so (and/or because no one else is available to do so ;). Along the way, it's natural to use this customer proximity to learn first-hand how to improve the product and the human processes that support it. These elements all fit together because a founder is often responsible for it all.

For bigger companies with established products, it's different. There are whole organizations for customer service versus product development versus market/customer research. At one of my start-ups, Personify, we were well down that path when we reached the 100-employee mark. Although I still spent a significant amount of time directly with customers—and often with users specifically—it tended to be with the more challenging ones: the biggest/highest-stakes customers, the most creative customers that were exploring the product's boundaries, and the most messed-up customers that needed turning around.

This sample was not representative. In retrospect, I think it biased my later product-design decisions in a way that favored the edges of the distribution, not the great middle.

Looking back, I had the advantage of having started from a position of being close to all the early customers. For an executive hired into an already established company, I suspect that the institutional barriers would be even higher to getting customer visibility that is first-hand and representative—short of taking Craig's path and living on the support desk.

But that's not a reason to avoid the issue. It's just a warning to be deliberate rather than having your customer contact occur as a byproduct of something else you're doing—at least if you're planning on using what you learn to inform other decisions.

Finally, having so far highlighted the benefits of people outside the customer-service org doing customer service, it's worth noting the reverse. People in Customer Service are great exports to other parts of the company, assuming you haven't offshored all of Customer Service and thus permanently siloed those people. At Personify, people who started in Customer Service and then went onto other organizations (such as Business Development, Product Marketing, and Presales) were often better performers than their peers. I believe it was because they had a tangible sense for what the company and its product actually did—and did not do—from the customer's perspective. We tried to explain it via presentations, documentation, training, and tag-alongs in meetings—all of which were no substitute for actually being there and doing it.

The moral of the story: When it comes to serving customers and particularly users, be there and do it. You don't have to be Craig Newmark, but be more than the person who only knows customers as concepts.

How to Hold a HiPPO

At a recent conference, I saw analytics blogger Avinash Kaushik talk about the dangers of the HiPPO: the Highest Paid Person's Opinion. From his speaker's notes for a similar talk:

I can’t say it any better, HiPPO’s rule the world, they over rule your data, they impose their opinions on you and your company customers, they think they know best (sometimes they do), their mere presence in a meeting prevents ideas from coming up. The solution to this problem is to depersonalize decision making, simply don’t make it about you or what you think. Go outside, get context from other places. Include external or internal benchmarks in your analysis. Get competitive data (we are at x% of zz metric and our competition is at x+9% of zz metric).

Be incessantly focussed on your company customers and dragging their voice to the table (for example via experimentation and testing or via open ended survey questions). Very few people, HiPPO’s included, can argue with a customer’s voice, the customer afterall is the queen / king! : )

Although Avinash's advice was about overcoming a HiPPO gone wild, I started wondering about the other side of the story: What if your opinion is the HiPPO in the room? How do you be a good HiPPO holder?

Before you say, "This doesn't apply to me," remember that the HiPPO holder is a relative position. In a meeting with your boss, you may be just one of the team; but if you in turn lead a team, or if you are influential with peers, you hold a HiPPO in some situations.

Realizing when you are the HiPPO holder is important because it will keep you on guard against the traps of being a bad HiPPO holder, the kind that stifles ideas just by being present.

What are the traps?

It's not just about politics. You pride yourself on being non-hierarchical, open, and politics-free—and thus assume when people agree with you it's because you have the best ideas. But even if you have minimized the politics, it's still less work for your people to agree with you than to do the spadework of collecting and analyzing data. If they don't have the time or incentive to dig for their own answers, they may not. (Promote the ones who do anyway.)

Metrics can have conflicts of interest. For example, company X has a call center where the key metric is call duration (lower being better for the company's costs). Because it's harder to measure, the company does not systematically track customer satisfaction with calls. As a result, "metrics-driven" decisions about the call center inadvertently favor churn-and-burn customer service practices. The point: Focusing on metrics doesn't relieve you of understanding whether bias is still at play. Your company's key metrics probably reflect those in charge's worldview, so if you are looking for out-of-the-box thinking, ask yourself if your metrics already have you in a box.

Don't mistake a lively debate for a good decision process. Open exchange of ideas is good. But in your team, do you really know whether the best ideas win, or whether the best debaters win? It's an especially important question if you pride yourself as one of the best debaters.

Those are a few traps I've observed. I'm sure there are many more to avoid, but I'll conclude by suggesting a principle for HiPPO holders to embrace: For big decisions, the HiPPO holder should focus on process, not outcomes. So if you own the final decision, be like a judge: Limit yourself to establishing and enforcing a fair process, then decide only at the end, based on the evidence.

This is consistent with Avinash's advice to depersonalize the process, but with a twist. He was assuming that a team should depersonalize the process to overcome the HiPPO's biases. If instead you use your HiPPO influence to incent and enforce an objective process, everybody is further ahead.

Misspelling for Profit

I'm not a fan of brand names like this...

Towlmastr

...that intentionally misspell words. The stickler in me automatically thinks less of a brand that uses this tactic. But judging by the number of brands that do it, the benefits must outweigh the costs.

For example, if we do an English-only Google search for that classic of commercial misspelling, "kwik," we get 1,330,000 pages. Gracing the top ten are:

Kwik-Fit "experts in tyres, exhausts, brakes and MoT testing"
KwikGoal portable, quick-to-assemble soccer goals
KWIK·SEW "has over 850 fashion patterns for the entire family"
Kwik Trip convenience store chain
Kwik-Site "makers of scope mounts for your rifle or shotgun, using a superior grade of aluminum  alloy"
Kwik Kopy "offers franchise opportunity in business office services stores"
Kwik ski and snowboard accessories
Ac-U-Kwik "your global resource for aviation information"
Kwik Lok "is to the plastic bag what the screw top cap is to bottled beverages"
Kwik Kerb "continuous concrete curbing and landscape edging"

Maybe it's just me, but "Kwik Kerb" does not come across as the optimal choice for my continuous concrete curbing and landscape edging needs.

That said, if a product is good enough, I can be won back over.

Private Prediction Markets for Companies

I've been a fan of prediction markets since I saw Idea Futures (now Foresight Exchange) on the Web in something like 1995. Although Idea Futures and other early Web prediction markets were public, the use of private prediction markets within companies has been gaining momentum.

To understand what a prediction market is and why it can be valuable to a company, look at this:

When Todd Proebsting, director of Microsoft's Center for Software Excellence, tested a prediction market internally, managers quickly gave it their blessing.

The goal: to have 25 members of a development team predict when a Microsoft product would ship (this was an internal product, not one sold externally). The prediction market was set up in August 2004, and the product that "had been in the works for a long time" was scheduled to ship in November 2004. Each "trader" received $50 in their account to start with, and was told that the more accurate their prediction, the more money they would make. The market opened with an initial price of on-time delivery set to 16 2/3 cents.

"The price of 'before November' dropped to zero right away," Proebsting said. "The price of 'on time' in about two to three minutes dropped to 2.3 cents on the dollar." Translated, that's more than 30-to-1 odds against on-time delivery.

Then the woman who was responsible for scheduling started trying to convince her colleagues who were buying and selling future delivery dates. "She was able to talk (on-time delivery) up to around 3 cents," Proebsting said. "People really enjoyed moving the price...They loved this."

"The next day the director comes into my office and said, 'What have you done?'" Proebsting said. But further investigation showed that the product actually was behind schedule, even though nobody was telling management, and it eventually shipped in February.

Enough said.

(The excerpt is from Declan McCullagh's News.com coverage of a recent "micro-conference" on the subject, hosted by Yahoo.)

Follow Up: Harvesting Power from Human Motion at Large Scale

Last year, I speculated about whether it would be possible to harvest power from human motion on a large scale. "On a large scale" was the key part, since devices already exist to harvest power on a small scale, such as combat boots that generate a small amount of power while the wearer walks. To provide a contrasting example, I asked whether one could harvest the vibrational motion of a highway overpass as vehicles passed over.

Lately, architect Claire Price has been in the news with plans to try something along these lines. Here are a few excerpts from a recent BBC article by her:

Reading this, your body at rest is emitting about 100 watts into the environment. If you're sitting in an open plan office, count the number of surrounding colleagues and you don't need to be a maths genius to appreciate the possibilities of tapping into all that wasted energy....

"[H]eel-strike" generators, powered through the pumping motion of a footstep, can be embedded within a boot heel. These devices currently achieve upwards of 3 - 6 watts of power output. So the 34,000 commuters who pass through Victoria underground station at rush hour, for example, could theoretically generate enough energy to power 6,500 LED light fittings - energy that today is disappearing into the ground....

Elsewhere in the world, researchers are also looking into how energy harvesting devices can be embedded within roads or how they can be used to create a self-powering heart pacemaker or even an artificial limb....

We [Price's UK-based firm, The Facility Architects] are applying and testing our ideas practically within a building project within the next year, including a sprung floor fitted with heel-strike generations to harvest the energy from people walking across it. This power output will then be wired back to provide the lighting within that building.

We also plan an LED light fitting with its own micro generator. This unit will convert vibrations from passing trains, lorries or planes to provide continuous light without the need for wiring into the grid.

As of last year, I was unable to find anything on the large-scale version of harvesting power from human motion. So I'm glad that whatever work was/is being done is now in the spotlight.

I hope it succeeds.

Latitude with Attitude

What's wrong with this picture?

Dell_with_apple_sticker

It's a Dell Latitude notebook computer with an Apple decal over the Dell logo. If you look carefully, you can see the Dell logo showing through.

Because some of Apple's notebooks are a similar color and have the logo in the same place, this customization is a particularly clever visual hack.

The perpetrator told me he was inspired by his love of iPod/iTunes—an example of a brand that's loved trumping a brand that's respected.

Wal-Mart and Economies of Density

Today's a-ha moment is brought to us by Thomas J. Holmes, professor of economics at the University of Minnesota. In an interview about his paper “The Diffusion of Wal-Mart and Economies of Density," he says:

Holmes: Briefly, Wal-Mart has an incentive to keep its stores close to each other so it can economize on shipping. For example, to make this simple, just think about a delivery truck: If Wal-Mart stores are relatively close together, one truck can make numerous shipments; however, if the stores are spread out, you wouldn't have that benefit. So, I think that the main thing Wal-Mart is getting by having a dense network of stores is to facilitate the logistics of deliveries.

There are other benefits, too. Opening new stores near existing stores makes it easier to transfer experienced managers and other personnel to the new stores. The company routinely emphasizes the importance of instilling in its workers the “Wal-Mart culture.” It would be hard to do this from scratch, opening up a new store 500 miles from any existing stores....

Holmes:
For the sake of this discussion, let's say that Wal-Mart's most desirable location, or “sweet spot,” when it was starting its business was a town the size of 20,000. One strategy Wal-Mart could have pursued would have been to go around the country opening stores in its sweet spot locations and then later go back and “fill in” less desirable locations. With this alternate strategy, the first store in Minnesota would have opened a lot sooner than it actually did, as there certainly are locations in Minnesota right in Wal-Mart's sweet spot. But with this strategy, stores would initially have been much more spread out. Wal-Mart would have lost the gains from having a dense network of stores.

Instead, Wal-Mart waited to get to the plum locations until it could build out its store network to reach them. It never gave up on density.

[Interviewer]: And when you see what it's done, with the benefit of hindsight, it seems like the right thing to do, almost the obvious thing to do. But that would suggest that other retailers would have also recognized the benefits of density and should have engaged in the same behavior. Did Wal-Mart invent, if you will, this retailing idea?

Holmes: It is useful to contrast Wal-Mart with Kmart, as both opened their first stores in 1962. Wal-Mart, from the very beginning, was different from Kmart. Wal-Mart built up its store network gradually from the center out; Kmart (and Target, for that matter) began by scattering stores all over the country. Early on, Wal-Mart focused on logistics, with things like daily deliveries from its distribution centers, early adoption of advanced communication technology and so forth. Kmart did not do these things. A customer going into these two stores might not be able to see much of a difference between the two stores. But underneath, in the way that merchandise was getting on the shelves, these stores were very different.

And for a visual kicker, see this 26-second video, plotting the locations of Wal-Mart stores from 1962 to 2004.

[I found the references to the interview and video at Marginal Revolution. There are working versions of Holmes' paper online, but since the URLs have a non-permanent feel about them, I suggest you just search for the paper's title in your favorite search engine.]

Dave Ibsen, Webby Winner

Congratulations to my friend Dave Ibsen, whose 5 Blogs Before Lunch won "Best Business Blog" in the 2006 Webby awards.

Dave's blog primarily covers marketing, advertising, and branding topics. It's a companion to his consulting practice, which I recommend to those in need of technology- or consumer-marketing insight.

Given who else won Webby awards this year, Dave seems to be in good company.

Starbucks and the Meaning of Coffee

I don't drink coffee, but I've always been interested in the rise of Starbucks. Behind the business success there always seemed to be a more profound societal factor at work.

I never gave this topic much thought, but a few paragraphs in an article otherwise about "fair trade coffee" crystallized the point: Starbucks scored the ultimate marketing win by redefining what coffee means in our society.

In the mid-’90s, as Starbucks stores popped up in rapid succession and the image of the overworked exec lost some of its appeal, coffee became associated with epicureans rather than workaholics. The luxury item of a leisure class, coffee was suddenly less speed than valium. “Almost overnight, coffee switched its meaning,” comments Scott Hamrah, a semiotics consultant and expert in the field of brand identity. “It became the opposite of what it meant before. First it was this stuff that you drank that allows you to be a machine. Then it became this moment of serene contemplation.”

Retailers encouraged the switch by providing space for contemplation. As cafés appeared in urban crannies and suburban strip malls, they were stuffed with couches, books, and artwork. Consumers were encouraged to stay, peruse the paper, and ask for a second espresso. The act of ordering became a self-defining ritual; Starbucks developed a faux Italianate patois that made everyone sound like a sophisticate. “It’s amazing to me that these terms have become part of the language,” Starbucks’ Dawn Pinaud confesses in Mark Pendergrast’s coffee history Uncommon Grounds. “A few of us sat in a conference room and just made them up.”

This “second wave” paved the way for the rise of the coffee connoisseur. Java cognoscenti, and the marketers who sought them, started talking varietals and altitudes. Most significantly, they spoke of origin. In place of French Roast and Breakfast Blend, coffee joints were stocking Ethiopian, Sumatran, Jamaican. For producers, the interest in origin is a step toward developing a marketable identity, which is crucial to expanding their market. “Everybody knows that in this world of branding, if you are a coffee farmer and you are anonymous, you are in the buyer’s market,” comments George Howell, a businessman involved with the Cup of Excellence competition.

I don't know that I buy the distinctions above (epicureans versus workaholics versus serene contemplators), but you don't need a semiotics consultant to understand that something big changed. Unlike those that came before it, Starbucks didn't just sell coffee; it redefined what "the coffee experience" meant to millions of consumers and, in many respects, to America at large.

Maybe it's because I don't drink coffee, but I had not perceived that particular big picture before.

Prosper and Zopa Bring the Business Model

An ongoing theme in the Web 2.0 world is concern about the lack of business justification for many new companies' existence—or as Russell Beattie recently put it, "the complete loss of business perspective." But despite the occasional missile launched by the likes of Russell, much of the tech blogosphere's concern feels perfunctory, like the last half-second of a radio ad when the announcer blurts "some restrictions may apply."

That said, I'm OK with the suspension of disbelief necessary for many Web 2.0 companies. You never know what some of them may figure out along the way, and I salute them all for trying. It's how innovation happens.

Where I get surprised, though, is when an Internet start-up emerges with the business case front and center, and it doesn't get much attention. I'm referring here to Prosper, a company that launched in February. Except for a mention on TechCrunch, there is a notable lack of commentary about Prosper from the tech blogosphere A-listers. In fact, I didn't find out about Prosper from my usual feeds; I heard about it from my wife Jacqueline, who read about Prosper in the Economist.

What is Prosper? It's a people-to-people marketplace for loans. Quoth the Prosper Web site:

The way Prosper works is intuitive to people who have used eBay. Instead of listing and bidding on items, people list and bid on loans using Prosper's online auction platform.

People who want to lend set the minimum interest rate they are willing to earn and bid in increments of $50 to $25,000 on loan listings they select. People who lend can easily diversify using "standing orders", which automatically make many small loans to different borrowers.

Prosper follows a UK-based company, Zopa, with the same idea. (By the way, for a great example of an effective corporate blog, check out Zopa's. )

The core concepts for Prosper and Zopa are:

  • They are lighter weight, more efficient middlemen than institutional lenders, enabling better rates for lenders and borrowers.
  • By directly connecting lenders and borrowers—making them real to each other—Prosper and Zopa are lowering the risk of default while attracting investors who want to add meaning to where they put their money (helping start a particular person's small business, for example).
  • With Prosper, borrowers can affiliate into groups, which have incentives to bring in new Prosper members and thus they become Prosper's vir(tu)al marketing team.
  • Both companies charge a small commission on each loan: 1% to the borrower.

Whether these concepts work in practice has yet to play out, although Zopa seems to have made solid progress in its first year. The real test on risk and fraud issues will be when the services become popular enough that they routinely attract, and hopefully defeat, bad or malicious users.

But the unknowable future aside, the interesting thing about Prosper and Zopa today is they are innovating in the business model first, technology second. Given the amount of talk about start-ups with those priorities reversed, you'd think that Prosper and Zopa would merit more attention, especially considering the potential parallels to what eBay did for person-to-person selling.

And speaking of eBay, one of Prosper's board members is Bob Kagle of Benchmark Capital, an early investor in and current board member of eBay. Oddly, Benchmark also lists Zopa as one of its portfolio companies. Another Prosper investor is Omidyar Network, the investment group established by eBay founder and board member Pierre Omidyar. So if either Prosper or Zopa gets traction, look for eBay to buy it faster than you can say "Skype."

In the meantime, I love the idea behind what these companies do, and I wish them luck executing their plans.

The iPod Generation

Ipod_posters
Hip and young, Apple's iPod advertising follows a path originally set by Pepsi's "Pepsi Generation" ad campaign. Originating in the 1960s, that campaign was one of the first to ignore a product's attributes and instead highlight the lifestyle of the product's consumers.

Along with inaugurating lifestyle advertising, the clever twist of "Pepsi Generation" was this: Young people responded because it talked to them, and older people responded because it touched an impulse toward being young again, if just for the trivial choice of which cola to drink.

Now fast-forward 40 years, to the recent past. Lifestyle advertising is commonplace, although less so in the tech-product marketplace. In 2003, iPod ads appear that show youthful silhouettes losing themselves in music. Millions of consumers respond, including George W. Bush and Queen Elizabeth, whose generations have yet to be represented in the iconic ads.

In 2004, the circle connects as Pepsi and Apple team-up on a promotion whereby consumers can win Apple iTunes downloads by purchasing Pepsi. Where Steve Jobs once taunted then-Pepsi CEO John Sculley about "selling sugar water," Jobs apparently learned some lessons from Sculley's business nevertheless.

[The photo of iPod advertising is from flickr user CharlieBrown]

Airborne: Neither Vitamin nor Aspirin

AirborneIn product marketing, it's often said that you are either selling aspirin (making the customer's pain go away) or vitamins (making a normal situation better). So how should we view Airborne, a line of products associated with preventing colds?

Last Sunday's New York Times tell us that Airborne had $90 million in sales in 2004, despite carrying a disclaimer on the box that says Airborne is "not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any disease." Technically, Airborne's main product is a dietary supplement, untested by the Food and Drug Administration.

The Times article all but grimaces at Airborne's success via folksy marketing, which includes cartoons on the box and the tag line "Created by a Teacher!" But are the people who collectively buy $90 million worth of Airborne irrational and/or deluded? When you think of Airborne as a medicine, perhaps so. But when you think of it as an insurance product, where a few dollars may buy you better odds on a plane flight during cold season, it's more plausible.

Thinking that way makes Airborne seem like a vitamin. And if we were to look at the ingredients, Airborne would indeed qualify for something in the vitamin or herbal remedy aisle. But here's the twist: Per the folksy marketing, Airborne targets the everyman and everywoman, not the echinacea-chomping types who frequent the vitamin aisle. The result is a cross-over product: a vitamin (literally) that is often sold next to the aspirin (figuratively)—or, to untangle the medicinal metaphor, next to the Tylenol and Sudafed, both of which Airborne now outsells.

So, although the "Created by a Teacher!" positioning is enough to make me, and maybe you, reject Airborne out of hand, the lesson here is that millions of people were waiting for this product and, more important, its positioning. They just needed their vitamins repackaged as something more like, but not quite, aspirin.

Opportunities in Image Search

Below are the first 20 results of a Google Images search for a two-word phrase. What do you think the phrase is? (You can click on the image to see a full-sized version.)

The answer: "computer salesman" (with the quotes)

I found one result (the Mac OS X guy) reasonable, and another (the woman with the iPod) on the borderline. That's a 10% hit rate.

Among the other 90% were a wolf, a hydroplaning car, a stick figure, Elizabeth Dole, two books, and a guy standing by a telephone booth. Also present were several cartoons, some of which could be relevant if I wanted cartoons, but I didn't. (The Advanced Image Search feature did not support filtering-out cartoon images, although adding "-cartoon" to the search got most of them.)

As far as I'm aware, Google Images' results are primarily based on the text adjacent to the image, as opposed to deep analysis of image content. Thus, if we were to look at each result's surrounding page, we would probably find something about a computer salesman. In some cases, this approach works—for example, searching "U.S. flag" yields good results. In others, per "computer salesman," it doesn't.

Two opportunities here:

(1) Need an instant party game? Have someone search for terms on an image-search site and then, based only on the results, let the audience guess what is being searched. The searcher can give hints like "you're getting warmer/colder." For maximum fun, search a word or phrase with largley (but not totally) misleading and surreal results.

(2) There is plenty of room for a better general-purpose image search engine. I say "general purpose" because specialized photo sites already do better by manually attaching keywords or tags to photos. Professional stock-photo sites employ people who do that; photo-sharing sites like Flickr spread the keywording burden among the user base. These efforts lead to better results, but they are limited to a much smaller universe of photos than all public photos Web-wide. So the opportunity is to make image search smarter while keeping the photo universe big.

Where is the Pets.com of Web 2.0?

Pets_com_puppet The question, "Are we in another bubble?" continues to circulate around the blogosphere. Recent answers are mostly flavors of no (for example, Scoble, Battelle, Malik). So let's ask the question, what would qualify as a yes?

Measured by the NASDAQ, the first Web bubble really got frothy in 1999 and peaked in early 2000. Around then, a common model for consumer-focused Web start-ups went like this:

(1) Raise tens of millions in venture capital.
(2) Pick something that sounds good with an "e" in front of it or a ".com" after it.
(3) Hand a big chunk of your venture-capital money to Yahoo, AOL, and a few other portals in exchange for traffic; optionally, do a Super Bowl ad or similar big-media spend.
(4) Do an IPO based on your "momentum" from (3).

The bubble part of this arrangement was that the public markets bought it, rewarding now-infamous players with IPOs. With its sock-puppet mascot, Pets.com is perhaps the most memorable example. There were many others.

Fast forward to today. Where is the Pets.com of Web 2.0? I'm not talking about fallen stars; it's too early for that. I'm asking whether any Web 2.0 company looks like one of the big dot-bombs in bubble mode.

When we see fledgling companies bank wads of venture capital so it can be spent primarily on marketing programs, and when the economics of those marketing programs don't matter, and when the financial markets hand-out the rewards anyway, then we'll know to ring the "Bubble 2.0" bell.

Of course, we can argue about other qualifications for a new bubble, but let's just remember how high the bar was set by Bubble 1.0.

(See also the Bubble Calibration Instrument.)

Frequent Flyer Cards Keep Airlines Alive

On Marginal Revolution (an economics blog), Gary Leff uncorks some eyebrow-raising facts about how "several major airlines have been kept in the air purely to support their underlying credit card business."

Great post, Gary.

Professional-Services Firms as Sales Channels

It was probably coincidence, but I've had a few recent conversations where start-up founders want to use professional-services firms as sales channels. The attraction is obvious: Unknown Start-Up isn't being taken seriously by Big Company, but what if Unknown Start-Up's stuff was pitched by Big Company's existing system integrator (or auditing firm or strategy-consulting firm or ad agency or whatever is appropriate for the start-up's business)?

While I don't claim to be an expert, I know enough to offer some observations. They apparently had value in those conversations, so I figured I would share them here.

1. Working through services firms does not solve your sales problems; it moves them. Where once you had to sell to customers, now you need to sell to services firms. For some companies, it's a more fruitful path. But don't kid yourself: You are adding another moving part to your sales machine. At least in the near term, it will require more effort and resources than going direct.

2. Most services firms are as risk averse as their clients. Training their people to sell your technology, not to mention deploy it, costs firms money. If that investment is necessary just to establish whether clients will bite, why should they do it? They are not like venture capitalists, who can afford to make many losing bets in exchange for a single big winner. They need to keep their people billed-out to clients.

3. The best entry point is through a professional-services firm's client. You may not be able to get Big Company to consider your start-up by itself, but can you at least intrigue someone there enough to pass you along to Big Company's professional-services firm? It's a night-and-day difference between your asking a professional-services firm to check you out versus one of the firm's clients asking that you be checked out. The latter can justify internal expenditures in the name of the client relationship; some partners might even get Big Company to pay for a small project, making an evaluation billable. Either way, it breaks through the problem in number 2 above.

4. Deal with partners, not the firm. Most professional-services firms are partnerships, where the senior members of the firm are partners in ownership. Typically, each of the firm's clients will have a partner in charge of the relationship. This partner is both chief sales rep and chief gatekeeper for that client. You must convince this person to be your advocate. You will not be successful going around him or her. Less obvious, you won't be successful going above either. There may be higher-ranking people in the company, but it's unlikely they will want, or even be able, to push your solution on other partners. Only when you've been part of multiple partners' successes is there a chance for a practice to form around you, and, from there, the sales leverage to start.

5. Don't give up proximity to the customer. Some partners will want to insulate the customer from you, so the customer only deals with the professional-services provider. This is especially true of advertising and marketing agencies, less so of technical professional-services firms. Don't let it happen. You want credit and referencability for your part. Also, if things go wrong, you need to know before it's too late; otherwise, the professional-services team could leave you holding the bag, saying "the technology didn't work."

If this all sounds hard, it is. A lot of ingredients must come together the right way, so invest in this sales channel incrementally. After all, your prospective partners will only go deeper based on results; the same should hold true for you too.

Richard Branson, Analyst

Here is an excerpt from a recent interview with Richard Branson, founder of Virgin Global. Referring to his retail-music business, he basically says that the original concept is running out of gas, that they're trying to evolve it to the next stage, and that they don't know if it will work.

Q: You said at the opening of the new store in Los Angeles that you have to adapt to make sure that Virgin stores are here 50 years from now. How do you do that?

A: You really have to be a chameleon to be in the music business, and in any business actually. Nothing lasts forever. What we're basically trying to be is a lifestyle shop, but very much reflecting the Virgin brand. So we have great books, we'll have the best films, the best DVDs and lots of nice little touches. We still want to have the broadest range of music, but we can't survive on music alone. I just don't think there's a future, I'm afraid, in that kind of store anymore.

Q: You have closed six stores in the United States and opened one. Any plans to close or open any other stores?

A: We've sorted out the loss makers now. If this store [the latest-generation Virgin Megastore, just opened in Los Angeles] works, you know we could do hundreds of them. But we've got to still make it work. And this industry is a tough one. Even trying to reinvent yourself is tough. Nothing is guaranteed. It's a much tougher industry than it was 20 years ago. We've invested a lot of money in our music retail company. We'll give people a big chance to see if they can deliver. And hopefully they will be able to."

The last paragraph sounds so...realistic. It's the celebrity CEO as analyst rather than cheerleader. I like it.

When the Means Become the Ends

Organizations can easily do the wrong thing by mistaking the means for the ends. Following are a couple examples I ran across in the past few days.

Misleading Metrics
Airlines are subject to on-time rankings, a means to demonstrate reliability and thus customer satisfaction. However, these rankings are only based on non-stop flights, so they don't consider flights that act as connections. And thus we have problems like what Ross Mayfield reports here:

It was abundantly clear last night when my connection was delayed that the airline industry is running on the wrong metrics.  Half of the plane missed their connecting flight, most by minutes, when doors were still open, but gates closed -- for sake of on-time-departure.  The last planes left within a half an hour and we were left stranded in Virginia without hotel rooms in the vicinity.

Much of the airline industry operates via the "hub and spoke" method of multi-hop trips, so this kind of scenario is not a fluke. While it's true that airlines will sometimes hold the connecting flight in close situations, the on-time metric creates a perverse incentive not to do so—despite the fact the metric exists as a proxy for customer satisfaction.

Method versus Mission
Former CIA Director George Tenet used to describe the CIA's business as "stealing secrets." In the CIA's Studies in Intelligence journal, Stephen Mercado critiques this mindset for conflating a method (stealing secrets) with the organization's mission, which is to provide actionable intelligence about national security. Mercado argues that another method—improving the CIA's analysis of freely available information ("open sources") such as from foreign newspapers—is more effective yet underutilized:

Despite numerous surveys putting the contribution of open sources anywhere from 35 to 95 percent of the intelligence used in the government, [open-sources intelligence's] share of the overall intelligence budget has been estimated at roughly 1 percent.

Mercado argues that the "stealing secrets" mindset is so deeply ingrained in the CIA's culture that the method has become the mission. After making an argument for open-sources intelligence, he advocates doubling its budget—to 2% of the overall intelligence budget—which is apparently a radical proposal.

Costing Out Email's Manifest Destiny

Robert X. Cringely recently explored the cost of all 202 million American Internet users having Gmail accounts that actually consume the free 1 gigabyte of storage. Let's call it the manifest destiny of email storage.

Cringely enumerated the costs of hard-drive hardware and data-center power necessary to make that storage available. He took the total, $30 million, to be a big number in relation to a "free" (that is, advertising-based) email service.

In a great response, Ethan Stock finished the math to show that, even with Cringely's assumptions multiplied by five, the capital-expenditure cost of one gigabyte of email per American Internet user is 62 cents, and the yearly operational expenditure is 8 cents. As Ethan indicates, the news here should not be how expensive it is but rather how cheap it is. Paying for it requires well less than a dollar per year in advertising fees (meaning Google's cut of the advertising spent) per Gmail user.

To be fair, near the end of his piece Cringely raised the ante by saying the addition of pictures and video will raise the cost by two orders of magnitude. However, that is a future scenario. Over the time it takes to happen, hardware costs and operational efficiences will have continued to improve. Not to mention, the average American's email storage requirements circa 2005 are well less than the gigabyte that Cringely posited before raising the ante. So the real costs have a lower starting point.

That said, it's always possible to create scenarios where these services become uneconomic. For me, however, the lesson here is how much can be economic.

Finally, it's worth noting that while Cringely thought that realizing email's manifest destiny would be hard and expensive, he still thought it would happen. And thus, in classic American fashion, the question between he and Ethan is not about whether something that seems improbably ambitious will happen but rather when it will happen.

Weather Entrepreneurs

Here are a couple news items about unusual, weather-related entrepreneurial efforts:

The Economist profiled a Canadian engineer, Louis Michaud, who wants to create artificial tornadoes as a source of power. If you've ever seen a wind farm, you know that humans already get power from wind. The traditional challenge has been to engineer ever more efficient wind turbines to convert wind to power. By contrast, Michaud is attempting to engineer more powerful wind. In essence, he wants to create the conditions that give rise to a natural tornado. The result would be a real tornado, albeit one (according to Michaud) confined to a single place and controlled in intensity, and thus instrumentable for generating power.

The New York Times had a long article about companies attempting to do business in the Arctic. Included is the story of Pat Broe, who in 1997 bought a disused port in northern Canada, paying the Canadian government $7 (yes, $7; $10 Canadian at the time). But now, with the Arctic ice cap having shrunk to its smallest size on record, Arctic shipping lanes are becoming possible for ever longer stretches of the year. For some ships, these lanes can offer shortcuts that save thousands of miles. And conveniently, Broe now has a port along one of the key routes. He's estimating potential revenues up to $100 million yearly. He also owns the rail line out of the port, which he snagged after the Canadian government denationalized it.

Apparently, playing the weather futures markets wasn't enough fun for these guys.

Rogue Bloggers and Double Agents

Perhaps you've heard of Mini-Microsoft, an anonymous blogger at Microsoft. According to Business Week, he "may be the most notorious blogger on corporate life," because he frequently attacks Microsoft from within, names people who should be fired, and otherwise airs dirty laundry by the cart-load. Mini claims he's dishing tough love, telling truths that need to be told before the company can reform itself.

So, at the height of his mainstream-media notoriety, it was interesting to see Mini go ga-ga over Microsoft's Company Meeting 2005: "I think our customers are going to be delighted silly this coming year! ... Any vestiges of doubt or ennui get blown away once you actually see what we are on the verge of shipping." (His review of the meeting starts a little ways down on this page, under "Post Company Meeting.")

I am not doubting Mini's authenticity, but this turn of events inspires a question: How long will it be until a PR agency orchestrates this type of prodigal-son moment on behalf of one of its clients?

That is, if a company already suffers from bad press and low credibility, who better to be the change agent than a conveniently anonymous rogue blogger? Like Mini, the rogue blogger would have enough inside dirt to make some news, getting the mainstream press to anoint him or her as a tantalizingly credible source. Some of that dirt might even be things the company wants to get out but can't officially say--for example, that a recent executive "resignation" was really a firing for poor performance (message to shareholders: we know that needed fixing).

Having built credibility with a mix of juicy tidbits and question-authority attitude, the rogue blogger could then, at a critical moment, lock onto company messaging: "I have seen the light!" Or the rogue blogger could subtly change perspective over time, grudgingly giving ground to the relentless progress the company is making.

Of course, this rogue blogger would be a double agent, operating in the darker parts of the ethical gray zone. Most legitimate companies and PR agencies will not go there.

But for the inevitable ones who do go there, will it work? I hope not, but we might never know if it does.

Google Playing Clickstream Catch-Up

Lately, there's been a lot of informed speculation about Google's forays into WiFi access points and dark fiber. Last night, Scoble weighed in thusly:

So, why do I fear Google's wifi? Well, if you own the last few yards in between people and the Internet you can really learn a lot. You can watch everything those people click on, what pages they visit, what browsers they use, how often they turn on Skype, and a lot of other stuff.

Isn't it the case that Microsoft already has this data on millions of MSN subcribers that use the MSN network to access the Internet? Same for AOL. And depending on its ISP agreement with SBC, perhaps Yahoo too.

The point: When it comes to having access to full user clickstreams (not just those at google.com), Google is actually playing catch-up. So if you fear Google in that regard, you should have plenty of fear to spread around.

Yet elsewhere in the same post, Scoble seems impressed that MSN search "learns from usage patterns." No indication of whether these are usage patterns just at MSN search or from the larger MSN clickstream pool, but either way it hints at this coin's flipside: Clickstream data can be helpful not just to companies but to Web users. It can be used in the aggregate for improvements to the audience-wide user experience, or it can be used at the individual level, providing differentiated, personalized experiences.

Today, companies mostly use clickstreams at the aggregate level, because profiling and personalizing via the clickstream requires much more technical effort; it also requires finding an elusive sweet spot where user benefit and trust outweigh privacy risks. But a site that finds that sweet spot, as arguably Amazon.com has done, has enormous advantages.

Now let's up the ante and talk about the advantages of finding that sweet spot not just at the site level (what you do at, say, Amazon.com) but Web-wide (what you do everywhere): Who will be best at collecting and using people's full clickstreams in a way that everyone wins enough to participate?

Because of the technical and privacy challenges, the contestants are barely out of the starting blocks, which makes Google's game of catch-up a potential game of leapfrog. I feel a Google Don't Be Evil™ opportunity coming on.

Harvesting Power from Human Motion: Small to Large Scale?

You may have read about the backpack or combat boot that generates power from its wearer’s walking. These are small-scale examples of “power harvesting” from human motion. They work by clever use of devices and/or materials that convert motion to power. The power generated is small but potentially enough for a mobile phone or other personal electronics. And if we get a little futuristic, the power could be used for wearable computers or smart clothing.

For me, these technologies invite the question of scaling-up. For example, can a highway overpass be instrumented to harvest the vibrational motion from thousands of heavy, fast-moving cars and trucks? Can the overpass’s surface be adapted to harvest power directly from contact with those cars and trucks’ motion?

How would this work? A core technique of small-scale power harvesting is the use of piezoelectric materials. When these materials bend or stretch, they create power. Instead of having a small wafer of piezoelectric material in a shoe, how about thousands of wafers arrayed throughout an overpass? What if they were connected to the surface so that they bent and stretched with the forces of multi-ton vehicles constantly zipping by?

This isn’t my area of expertise, so I don't know the answers. But the questions illustrate the more general opportunity of thinking bigger about harvesting (some might say recycling) energy that humans are already expending. From a societal point of view, it would be a welcome area for innovation.

Companies as Products

With the tech sector heating up again, it’s a good time for venture-funded entrepreneurs to think not only about their companies’ products but also their companies as products: Unlike your actual product, your company-as-product operates in a capital marketplace of investments, IPOs, and acquisitions. Managing this marketplace matters as much as anything else you do, both in normal times and especially when financial markets get exuberant.

A scenario to consider:

Advances in technology have led to a small but fast-growing market with huge potential. Jack’s start-up has the best product and is executing well. Jill’s start-up is a me-too clone of Jack’s, created later and still playing catch-up.

Although her product is less-developed, and her business is well behind Jack’s, Jill is far more aggressive than Jack in the company-as-product marketplace. The IPO market is hot, and she gets there first, selling the concept of her company—which is a clone of the concept for Jack’s company—to the public markets.

As Jack watches from the sidelines, he knows that his business is the one that actually has the substance behind Jill’s story. But when Jill’s company raises $100 million in cash from the IPO, Jack has a problem. Jill now has the resources to shore-up her product and, in the meantime, overwhelm Jack’s marketing and sales efforts with five times the feet on the street. In addition, Jill is bathing in the free publicity of being the poster child of this hot new market.

Now the investment bankers are knocking on Jack’s door, saying he could be like Jill, having a big IPO. But having gotten out first, Jill can use her resources to damage Jack’s IPO. Ouch…she just used some of her IPO cash and inflated stock to buy the one company Jack was actually worried about, a bunch of rocket-science types whose next-generation technology is disturbingly good. Now that technology is in the hands of Jill and her expanding sales and marketing machine. Between this move and her PR from the IPO, she is defining the playing field.

As Jack prepares his IPO, he now is on the defensive for being the me-too player.

Is this fair? If you said no, you missed the point. Jill leapfrogged Jack because she seized an opportunity in the larger system, using the companies-as-products market to vault her forward in the actual-products marketplace. It’s fair as long as you realize that the game is played at both levels, especially in times when financial markets are exuberant and thus less discerning than they should be.

The lesson: Although many tech entrepreneurs might like to focus entirely on building great products, building a great company can also require playing like Jill, or at least actively blocking Jill-like plays from competitors. That requires thinking about companies as products.

Consumer Apps for Real-Time Biofeedback

Look for some interesting companies and products to come from the commodization of technologies related to real-time biofeedback. Let’s illustrate with an example.

Yale Professor Robert Grober has developed a device that lets you hear your golf swing. Ingredients: an instrumented golf club, with sensors that wirelessly transmit data to a receiver, which in turn converts the golf club’s telemetry data into an audio soundscape. Different swing parameters contribute to the soundscape, allowing the golfer to “visualize”—through sound—his/her swing as it happens.

The “as it happens” part is critical, because the core skill in golf is developing muscle memory to swing and putt correctly, consistently. Getting the feedback of what you’re doing while you’re doing it is much better than, say, reviewing a video of your swing.

Grober’s company, Sonic Golf, has a Web site, which explains why this product is becoming real now:

Sonic Golf products are enabled by the convergence of four technologies, each one of which is driven by an existing industrial base:  1) silicon based sensors, including MEMs accelerometers (automotive industry) and gyroscopes;  2) low power hand held electronics, including micro-power microprocessors and micro-power A/D converters (PDA and cell phone industry);  3) digital music synthesis (sound cards, computer multimedia/gaming applications);  and 4) the IEEE 802.15.4 communications protocol (Zigbee) for extremely low power (mW), relatively low bandwidth (100s kB/sec) wireless communications.

In other words, the key enabling technologies are available off-the-shelf, at reasonable cost. Besides the obvious variations on Sonic Golf for other sports, how else might these technologies be applied?

Let’s start with a system for improving posture. If you are unaware of this market, a Froogle search for “posture” yields 19,000 listings for product prices at retailers. As with a golf swing, learning to sit and stand correctly is well-suited to biofeedback using real-time sound. However, the market is no longer just golfers; it’s everybody. (Cue ominous voiceover: “Bad posture not only affects how others perceive you. It hurts your health.”)

What about a smart chef’s knife, which uses sound to tune the user’s skills at slicing, dicing, chopping, mincing, and such? How about a bicycle that teaches kids to ride it?

If we assume that component costs drop so low that almost anything can be “sonified,” what happens? Smart chopsticks, anyone?

SRI Media Futures Program

SRI International is one of the world’s largest independent research organizations. When I was there in the early to mid-1990s, you could walk across the campus and pass groups working on artificial intelligence, economic development programs for post-Soviet states, improvements to the public-education system, an easy-clean oven surface, military communications networks, cancer drugs—you get the idea. If you’re into inventions and innovations, definitely check out the SRI timeline.

At SRI, if you could find government or corporate entities to fund your research, you could largely do whatever you wanted. In 1991, I and two colleagues, Ed Christie and Paul Di Senso, decided that the world needed a research program about the future of digital media. This was before DVDs, DirecTV, digital cable, Tivo, and the rise of the commercial Internet. The outlines of these technologies were becoming visible on the horizon, and we bet that a lot of companies would want to know what was going to be real when.

We somehow wangled internal seed money to get the program started and thus was born the Media Futures Program. It was a “multiclient” research program where various client companies would each kick-in a yearly fee and then receive back the sum-total of research. In essence, it was a market-research business, albeit with an SRI twist. We combined quantitative survey research about consumer demand, an engineering view of technology feasibility and costs, and business analysis of strategic, competitive, and regulatory factors. Put another way, we did original research on what people wanted, what technology could deliver at what cost, and which companies were likely winners.

I was one of the two research leaders. That meant that I managed half the projects, presented results to clients, and participated in much of the sales effort. I also had the fun of getting hands-on with a lot of different research tasks: evaluating the early HDTV prototypes, creating a Monte Carlo simulation of factors involving video-on-demand uptake, and authoring a lot of documents about audio and video compression, which became the linchpin technologies of MP3 players, digital-cable boxes, and many other devices.

(Now that Google has made the Usenet archives searchable back to the 1980s, the technically inclined can see what we were talking about when today’s common digital-video technologies were being hashed out in 1992-1994.)

As the idea of “digital convergence” heated up—thank you, Wired Magazine, for casting cable and telco CEOs as rock stars—our little research program got big. Apple, AT&T, Disney, Microsoft, Philips, Sony, and most of the “Baby Bells” were clients, as were dozens of others U.S., European, and Asian players.

Ironically, we got most of our notoriety from making negative assessments. In 1992-1993, interactive TV and video-on-demand were the big ideas, which everyone was pushing hard. Our research indicated that the proponents were living in a fantasy world in terms of their ability to deliver such services at anywhere near economical costs.

We were not trying to be contrarians. In fact, we said that interactive television and video-on-demand would make sense someday, but a set of intermediate products and services would emerge before then. The most important of those were DVDs and broadcast digital video, which we called correctly as the big winners of the late 1990s. But because we ripped interactive television and video-on-demand, that was “news.”

In market research, being known as negative is not usually a ticket to success, but we called things as we saw them. And for those willing to read past the headlines, we highlighted plenty of opportunities in what were then seen as less-sexy areas. Ultimately, however, the final verdict came when the companies whose visionary CEOs we were undercutting kept renewing their participation in the program.

We also did consulting projects for specific companies. My favorite was a job we did for Technicolor’s CEO and executive team. We helped them decide to get into the manufacturing and distribution of prerecorded CDs and DVDs. This was well before the first DVD was released, but they went with our call that DVD was going to be big—it was not a slam dunk given that analog videodisc and an earlier digital format, VideoCD, both failed. Today, Technicolor is now a dominant player in that business, with the capacity to produce 1.5 billion DVDs per year.

It was a great time and a great team: the three founders plus honorary founder Michael Gold (abducted from SRI’s engineering labs) and exceptional colleagues Adam Gross, Dave Rader, and Joyce Thom.

In 1994, I and two different SRI researchers had started another program, iVALs, which focused entirely on the Internet as a medium for measuring and understanding what consumers wanted and, ultimately, using that knowledge to personalize media back to them. That meant I did progressively less Media Futures until I and the iVALs colleagues left SRI at the end of 1995 to form Personify.

But I’m pleased to report Media Futures kept going strong, continuing to scan the horizon of new digital-media markets as they emerged. Its current incarnation is Digital Futures, part of the SRI spin-off SRI Consulting Business Intelligence.

Personify Retrospective

Personify Personify started before the dot-com boom and outlived most of those claimed by the bust. Yet its six-year run included an intense dosage of the good, bad, and ugly of that era.

I led the original founders in January 1996, and I stayed for the whole thing, through August 2002. My official title was CTO, but at one time or another I also sold our products, served on the board, deployed software in the field, was interim CEO, hacked out random fixes for bad customer data, cut partner deals, and did whatever else needed doing. Together, these activities were the best input possible for my most frequent role: something like a VP Products, working with a team of exceptional people in defining, designing, and delivering products that were among the most advanced of their type.

The Technology
Personify was one of the early players in enterprise Web analytics. For the sake of a definition, "Web analytics" means software that helps measure and analyze a Web site for the purpose of making it more effective. "Enterprise" means the software does enough—and costs enough—that buying it is a corporate decision, not something a Webmaster expenses on a credit card. At this level, our initial competitors were start-up companies Accrue, Andromedia, and NetGenesis.

The name Personify aptly summarized the vision: (1) enable a Web business to analyze and personify its audience, to understand what people wanted not as a whole but as segments and even individuals; (2) then use the learnings to make better business decisions and, ultimately, to personalize what people see.

Today's analogy is when Amazon.com learns about you and then adapts your experience accordingly. For the late 1990s, it was a big vision to fulfill as a software provider, where your solution needed to work across a wide variety of sites, which don't have Amazon.com-like resources to make it successful.

Although the competition could spin similar visions, their technical foundations were Web-site reporting tools. These tools were engineered for large-scale reporting on site traffic (page counts, session durations, bytes downloaded, and such) but ill-suited for what came to be known as CRM (customer relationship management), where the center of the data universe is customers (or, in this case, Web-site users). We were the only ones taking a CRM approach to Web data. We had privacy-protected user profiles, data-mined segmentations, and on-the-fly analysis of behavioral, purchasing, and demographic attributes. For 1998 and several years after, it was a unique feature set.

The Value
With Personify, a marketer could discover (via data mining) a set of behavioral segments, evaluate each segment’s relative value to the business, and then explore what made each segment click: Which outbound advertising campaigns are delivering my “Core Buyers” segment? Are my on-site content investments paying-off for the “Researchers” segment? Is my latest wave of promotion just drawing the low-value “Price Predators” segment?

From day one, Personify customers were able to explore and answer these questions instantly. Later, we added a module that integrated with email and Web-site systems, so Personify data could drive personalization—for example, “Target this special email only to ‘Core Buyers’ who have not visited in three months.”

In sum, we were in the business of enabling “difference marketing,” where a business adapts itself to the key differences among customers, rather than making every decision based on Joe or Jane Average. In traditional direct marketing—the businesses behind the catalogs and credit-card solicitations you get in the mail—difference marketing had already proven the superior approach. But because difference marketing was fueled by data, and Internet data was like a new kind of jet fuel, there was an opportunity to do even better.

The Ascent
We were seed-funded in spring 1996 by U.S. Venture Partners. We spent the rest of the year as a garage shop called Affinicast, proving the basic opportunity and technology. Having passed that test, we spent 1997 building the product and the core of a company to market, sell, and support that product. We also changed the name to Personify.

In February 1998, we launched the company and previewed the product at Internet Showcase, where we won a "Best in Showcase" award. The first official release was in June 1998, by which time we already had paying, referenceable customers and a fan club of analysts and industry types.
1999 was pure growth, as we scrambled to hire salespeople and support personnel to chase the demand. To reinforce the core, we acquired a 30-person professional-services company, Anubis, which specialized in data-warehousing technology. It was a great injection of talented, dedicated people.

The Peak
By early 2000, Personify was widely regarded as a hot commodity. We had just raised private money at a $500 million valuation. We had turned away multiple acquisition approaches and were preparing an IPO filing. Having watched companies in our competitive set go public to billion-dollar market caps, our investors were hungry for a home run, as were the employees, all of whom already knew somebody who got dot-com rich.

By the peculiar financial standards of the day, we looked good. We had already doubled our 1999 revenue in the first quarter of 2000 alone. For that quarter, we reported $1.25 million in revenue, using a conservative accounting practice that only recognized the value of a contract over time. When you combined the fast growth with the conservative accounting's trailing indicator, it was obvious that we were heading for something like $10 million in new business that year.

The other standout for Personify was the customer list: Our IPO filing listed more than 50 customers, many of whom were household names. Given the media's interests at the time, we probably got more buzz out of serving Drugstore.com, eToys, Petopia, and DrKoop.com than we did Barnes & Noble, Volvo, J. Crew, L.L. Bean, or REI. A lot of these companies were dabblers in what we enabled—sophisticated clickstream data mining, analytics, and targeting—but they paid real money nonetheless.

We filed to go public in May 2000, two months after the NASDAQ peaked. At the time, no one knew it had peaked. When we filed, the NASDAQ had bounced back near its position at the start of 2000. But the markets were jittery, and the Internet IPO window was in the process of closing—for years, it turned out.

The Fall
Despite the non-IPO letdown, we ended up exceeding $11 million in new business for 2000 anyway, acquiring customers such as American Century, Bose, Continental Airlines, the New York Times, Nieman Marcus, and Volkswagen. These names reflected the fact that in early 2000 we stopped pursuing the dot-coms, raised our prices, and aimed squarely at corporate America. As a result, the average deal size climbed above $250,000. But despite doing bigger deals, with bigger customers, and capturing far more revenue, the Personify of early 2001 was no longer worth $500 million, or anything close to it.

This irony was not unique to Personify. As the Internet boom hit its limit, the super-inflated valuations of Internet companies were punctured. To put it in airline-safety speak, a loss of cabin pressure occurred, except the oxygen masks didn't drop. Valuations had gotten so disconnected from business fundamentals that when the fall came, the decompression was massive, overwhelming whatever other factors might normally contribute to a business's value. For a lot of Internet companies, the plane outright crashed; for those like Personify, it leveled-off just above the treetops, running on whatever fuel was left in the tank.

In 2001 and 2002, our (former) dot-com customers were not the only ones suffering. More important for us, big corporations were hurting too. Accordingly, they were putting big software purchases on indefinite hold, whether from Internet upstarts like us or from the likes of Oracle and Siebel. Everybody's numbers were way down; the real question was who had the cash to survive until things got better, whenever that might be.

It didn't get better soon. Although we had enough substance to raise some additional private money in the early part of the bust era, it was a far cry from the war chest that would have been had from the IPO. So we did as virtually all others and managed the business's costs against the falling revenues. That meant multiple waves of layoffs in 2001 and 2002.

Nevertheless, by 2002 Personify reached the point where our products would win deals and then the company's financial condition would un-win them. Typically, a prospect would want to buy but be concerned about whether we'd be around next year. Assuming that other prospects would have the same concern, each would walk away, putting us on the wrong side of a self-fulfilling prophecy: No one buys because they think no one else will buy.

We had not helped our cause when, in 2001, we absorbed a start-up that wasn't viable alone but had some cash. It also had some debt. The deal gave us the appearance of being a consolidator in a consolidating market, but it was too little, too late. The cash was nice, but the debt was a time bomb, with a fuse set for mid-2002.

The Final Cut
By mid-2002, we were running out of time and alternatives. In an effort to circle the wagons, we agreed to be acquired by the only other then-independent company from our original competitive set, Accrue. As of late July 2002, we had a signed term sheet, the final documentation was prepared, and all Personify employees and customers were going to be carried forward.

Then a bad thing happened, symptomatic of a time when bad things happened a lot: A creditor we had inherited from the 2001 cash/debt deal was now in bankruptcy (too many boom-financing deals had already gone bad) and at the last moment decided cash was king. Although the creditor had signed the acquisition term sheet, the creditor scuttled the deal on the day it was to be finalized, instead making a play for our remaining cash by effectively killing the company.

This event took down Personify, which paid-out what was left to creditors and closed in August 2002. Accrue later ran out of gas as well; after a bankruptcy filing, its assets were resurrected as a different company.

Meanwhile, the next generation of enterprise Web analytics players had emerged in the late 1990s. They were either new companies (founded a few years after the first generation) or smaller, lower-end providers that were transitioning up to serve the enterprise. The new generation's offerings had less functionality but were packaged as easy-to-buy application services. This value proposition was the right recipe for the bust era: Customers who couldn't make big purchases could perhaps find a few thousand dollars a month out of a marketing budget; and since you could pay monthly and turn it off whenever, the "going concern" issue didn't matter. Since then, the best of that generation (companies like Omniture, CoreMetrics, and WebSideStory) have filled-out their features and raised prices to pick-up where the first generation left off.

Clever versus Stupid
"It's such a fine line between clever and stupid," observed David St. Hubbins in the movie This Is Spinal Tap. Let's explore that line.

In retrospect, Personify should have been acquired. We declined multiple opportunities. But at the time, an acquisition was not so obvious.

Even when we did our private financing at a $500 million valuation, Personify was substantially undervalued against companies with similar financials that had already gone public. Yes, a huge portion of everybody's valuation was hot air, but those who went public transformed their hot air into large amounts of cold cash, maintaining their independence in the process. It was an appealing path. Looking back, it was arguably the only path for an Internet enterprise-software company like Personify to have a shot at remaining independent through the bust, taking the boom's loose money and squirreling it away for the long winter.

And it wasn’t just about the money. Personify had taken the big-vision approach in a time of great change. It was a rare chance to build a company of consequence. A quick way to kill that chance would have been to pull the ripcord on an acquisition, thereby becoming a cog in someone else’s machine.

Of course, the IPO path was only open for a limited time. We narrowly ended up on the wrong side of the line, that fine line. And thus history tells us that we should have sold out to an acquirer at the top, notching a $500 million win for the employees and investors. But this lesson amounts to little more than “buy low, sell high.” (Thanks for the tip.)

Endings as Beginnings
The good news is that the dozens of people who comprised the Personify core have long since gone on to great things. (Because Personify had so many heroes, I’ve avoided naming-dropping a few at the expense of others. They are all deserving. I’ve also omitted discussion of a few villains because life is too short.)

Of the first 80 employees, 15 have since been founders of companies, often together in pairs or threes. For my part, I went on to start another company, which was acquired by CNET in late 2004. Although it was a different kind of venture, it was informed by many Personify lessons.

As for the technology, last I heard it was still running at several sites. That included one doing the whole vision—analytics integrated with personalization—on a terabyte-scale Personify database. My heart warms at the thought.

And on that note, I say this: Whatever you do, you better enjoy what you’re work on and who you’re working with, because the big payoff may come or not—and statistically speaking, you'll be looking at "not" more often than not. (Yes, that was my attempt to coin a Yogiism.) Even on Personify's worst days, there was always the quality of the core people—of whom there were many, in all parts of the company—who thrived on doing what had not been done before and doing it well. If instead we were slogging something just to make a buck, the game for most of us would have been lost before the outcome. I'm glad I was a part of it.

SRI iVALS Program

In 1994 and 1995, I led a research program at SRI International called iVALS (Internet Values and Lifestyles). It was the dawn of the commercial Internet, and we were among the first to measure, analyze, and segment the Internet audience.

I had been at SRI since 1990, mostly in another research program, the Media Futures Program, which was about the commercialization of digital-media technologies. A regular theme of the Media Futures Program was that when a networked, interactive form of digital media arrived, the game would change: Not only could the consumer actively control what he or she saw, but an electronic newspaper or catalog could adapt itself to the consumer’s interests by learning from the user’s behavior. Compared to broadcast media or print, it would be more like a two-way conversation.

In the early 1990s, interactive television (ITV) was supposedly going to be the medium that made all this real. We studied ITV in enough depth to realize that the technologies of the day were too costly to use at large scale, no matter what the visionary CEOs proclaimed.

But something else was happening that most people didn’t notice but for which we had a front-row seat: the dawn of the commercial Internet. SRI had been on the receiving end of the first Internet packets in 1969 and since then had a deep Internet culture. Thus, we were among the first to see and use new Internet technologies of the early 1990s, such as Gopher, WAIS, and this thing called the World Wide Web.

When the Web appeared, we realized that it