I went to a Conservative Party gathering last week. It was a question and answer session entitled: “Are we getting the message across?” I was a guest of my mother-in-law. Despite being charmed by a fundraiser (and despite various political flirtations throughout my life) I've no particular party loyalty and intend keeping it that way. But my haste to caveat this column with that distancing should surely be an answer to the question they set themselves: no, the Conservatives are not getting the message across.
In fact, I came away deeply concerned. This was a political movement that had lost touch with what it stood for. Even from the panellists (including Tim Montgomerie, the articulate founder of ConservativeHome.com), I found no popular message worth propagating. And I don’t mean that as a disagreement. I mean that as a PR man who spends his day delivering “key messages” to “target audiences”.
To illustrate the problem, let me first state the core Labour Party message as I see it: social justice. Ask any Labour Party activist what motivates them and it will not be long before these two words fall from their lips. It is clear, it has meaning and it is a strong positive message that’s hard to refute: to not agree with social justice is to, presumably, support social injustice – so non-believers are immediately on the defensive. That’s a powerful message.
Yet I listened in vain for equivalent clarity with the Conservatives. Going by the discussion, here’s what this unselective grassroots Conservative gathering (and their “political class” panellists) think about their messages.
1) That “Conservative values” are nothing to be ashamed of (yes, but what are they?) and should be more robustly stated.
2) That the Big Society has no meaning and is a sop to the left (which they were potentially confusing with the majority of voters).
3) That there are too many people on welfare.
That's it (and I’m being generous). The rest of the debate was about the inherent pro-state (and therefore anti-Tory) bias of the BBC (I would agree to claims of it being anti-business) and the fact the CBI (that hugely popular mass movement!) should do more for small business, or maybe not.
The one word I wrote down in the entire “debate” – because it was the only statement delivered with clarity (by Montgomerie) – was “morality”. That here was the Party of Morality, he claimed. This went down well with the audience, but the trouble is, as a message, it is fraught with danger: one person’s morality is another person’s condemnation. Morality can be viewed as a form of judgement upon others that can quickly look and sound (and act) like intolerance. And wasn’t being seen as the “Nasty Party” one of the core problems with the Conservatives’ brand (at least according to Theresa May)?
So what’s all this got to do with fear of failure? Well, apart from the fact fear of failure stopped me from standing up and berating the lot of them for their appalling lack of vision, it’s the fact that my book, What’s Stopping You? is about coping and overcoming barriers to personal progress. It is about “achievement motivation” – the opposite to fear of failure and a goal for High-FFs (those with a high fear of failure). Yet Britain as a society puts up needless and destructive barriers to personal progress. Sometimes these are through prejudicial hurdles such as class, gender and race (although in my view class is the most pernicious as it cuts across gender and racial divisions) – but sometimes through structural ones such as our lowest-common denominator education system and our overly-complicated benefits arrangements that trap people in their current, often destructive, circumstances.
So why isn’t the Tory message one of "social mobility" – encouraging people to take control of their lives and improve their circumstances, not through government handouts but through their own determination and productivity? Certainly, there are some in the Tory party that state this – and some policies that encourage it – but as a unifying message it seems to get lost. And it also seems to be diluted by the obvious air of privilege that permeates the party, as it did the gathering I attended.
As a riposte to the “social justice” message of the left “social mobility” has the same degree of clarity, and is equally hard to refute as a cause. It at least can be claimed as inclusive, which is more than can be said for “morality” as a popular message in one of the world’s most liberal countries.
Yet, despite the efforts of Iain Duncan-Smith, I cannot help concluding that the Conservatives have lost the agenda with respect to social mobility. The party of the grammar school leaders (Heath, Thatcher, Major, Hague, Duncan-Smith, Howard), is now the party of the Eton boys. No less than 15 ministers went to that one school, which led even the Sunday Times to regret the fact “David Cameron has more Etonians around him than any leader since Macmillan”. Unfortunately, my audience also reflected this: I was at a pretty posh gathering with the odd “wide boy” millionaire being tolerated (presumably because of his donation). As activists, this lot were going to have difficulties turning a message of social mobility into votes.
Indeed, most of the entrepreneurs I meet are a long way from supporting the Conservatives (or at least admitting it) because they perceive a party of big business, landed interests and privately-educated privilege – the very elements of society most of them had to overcome for their business to prosper. Small businessmen are the bulwarks of the private sector. They are the very elements producing a net benefit to the UK’s economy – as are ambitious people generally. Yet the ones I meet seem to dislike the very party that is supposed to represent them. This is a disaster for the Tories and yet I see no attempt at trying to address this with respect to their core messages.
These days, the Conservatives advocating social mobility feels like a brewery advocating temperance. And this is a calamity for the Conservative Party in terms of its electoral chances (especially if the country adopts AV). It is also pretty bad news for the country. In fact, this state-educated Essex Boy so despaired of what he was witnessing he would have walked out had he not been required to escort his mother-in-law to Charing Cross Station after the event (which ended early anyway because the panellists all had other engagements, no doubt with their chums within the Political Class).
Yet the low point was to come. Archie Norman (another panellist: the former Tory Chief Executive – now Chairman of ITV) talked of the social mobility aspects of the X-Factor. This made me boil with anger – the previously inherent social mobility of the UK has been so eroded that the best the party of "getting on" could muster was some pathetic reality-TV programme that invites desperados to make total tits of themselves in their squalid attempt to be given the same life chances as the posh kids. Given me a break! Please remember Archie, of the thousands queuing at the auditions one kid makes it into your Magic Kingdom (and is spared the life of the Newcastle council estate) – one! If that’s what counts for social mobility in the UK of today, then we really are in trouble.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
....and where spending is essential
Blogging last week, I wrote about bootstrapping and where start-up companies should scrimp. I was making the point that the costs of starting a business are far less than many assume and much of the propaganda (trying to warn off the dreamers perhaps) states.
Yet there are also things not to scrimp on. Bootstrapping doesn’t mean “winging it” or cutting corners on vital requirements. Start-up businesses are also vulnerable businesses, and too many are exposed – perhaps to larger rivals or even the overly punitive employment laws.
Bootstrappers should know where to save money, of course. But they should also know where to spend it. Hopefully, some helpful suggestions below:
Accountants. A good accountant will save any small business a great deal of money. Tax, like death, is an inevitable feature of life but any entity should only ever pay its legal minimum. We should let the inefficient entities subsidise the efficient ones by investing in a decent accountant that can navigate the Byzantine world of any country’s tax structure. Moorgate’s accountant charges around 0.5 percent of the company’s turnover, and saves it around 5 percent (not just from tax efficiency). That’s a pretty good ratio in my opinion.
Compliance. Insurance, health & safety, anti-discrimination legislation, benefits etc etc. Like taxes, regulations are inevitable and seem to grow year-on-year (perhaps because politicians need to justify their existence). As with our financial phobia, compliance is also a classic area for those with fear of failure to neglect – leaving us potentially exposed, or – more likely – deterred from starting our own business. The solution is to treat it like a project – setting time aside to get to grips with the issues. Either that or we should hire someone to do it for us. Some small business accountants (including mine) can also act as outsourcing compliance officers, making sure the regulatory burden is met.
Presentations. These are the modern shop window for most companies – especially service providers – and it’s worth investing in pitch presentations that compete with the big boys in terms of image and message.
In Life’s a Pitch (2007), design and advertising consultants Stephen Bayley and Roger Mavity point out that the pitch is when you are asking someone to judge your future, which makes pitch documents worth investing in.
“The pitch moment, those crucial moments which give the opportunity for big change, all have one thing in common,” write Bayley and Mavity. “You are trying to get someone else to do what you want them to do – to hire you, to sleep with you, to lend you a million pounds to start your business…A pitch does not take place in the library of the mind, it takes place in the theatre of the heart.”
Or as Bud Fox (Charlie Sheen) said just before pitching Gordon Gecko (Michael Douglas) in the all-time business classic Wall Street (1987): “If life all comes down to a few moments. This is one of them.”
So make it a good one. There are 100s of freelance designers out there, many willing to work cheaply to build up their portfolios. Find one and use them to produce a tip-top presentation, although make sure it is a template that can be self-updated as freelance designers tend to have disappeared by the time they are next needed.
Same goes for branding – ask the freelancer to come up with a decent logo. Anything we do ourselves will be awful, no matter how good we think it is.
Get on the plane/train. It may seem obvious that clients/customers are impossible to win without first meeting them but this is an area where many bootstrapping entrepreneurs fall down. Interest from a client in another city or country will never be firmed up by email or phone. It requires a meeting, and that requires us to make the effort to see that person at their place of work, no matter where it is. So get on the plane and visit prospective clients, although always travel cattle-class. And if an overnight is unavoidable, source other potential meetings in the same city.
Sales. Never ever let go of sales and never scrimp on the sales effort – lunches, visits, presentations, whatever. And that usually means that the role of head salesperson remains with us, the company’s founder and owner. I'm often approached by “pearlfinder” type organisations on a regular basis that promise to set me up with meetings with prospective clients. I always make the same statement – I’ve researched my potential client base down to the 50 or so accounts I must have. With this done, I just keep banging on their door until I’m let in. The individuals may change, I may get passed from office to office, but that’s fine – the more people that know me inside the building the better. But I never delegate that role or buy in sales on a commission. Selling is my job.
Legals. Lawyers, like politicians, seem to like making work for themselves. And who can blame them given what they can charge? However, they are also a necessary evil and – at times – cannot be avoided. I learnt my lesson after having a PR agency attempt to poach a team-member despite them signing my self-written non-disclosure agreement that included a clause about not coming after my staff. Assuming I had a case for compensation, I went to a lawyer who said it was not worth the paper it was written on (and kindly didn’t charge me for the advice). Anything someone has to sign should, therefore, be seen by a lawyer (at least in template). That includes NDAs, contracts, staff dispute resolutions, confidentiality memos – the lot.
As a High-FF (someone with a high fear of failure), I absolutely hate handing money over to a lawyer. It feels like booking a yacht on the same basis as a metered taxi except I cannot see the meter. The answer? Like finding a good dentist, find a lawyer you like and stick with them – building up a relationship. And always ask for a quote beforehand – every time (by email at least). At that point they are bidding for the work, so they’ll pitch it lower than after you’ve engaged them. And I complain like hell if I feel stung. Lawyers hate complaints, which means they usually collapse when challenged on their charges (and they are some of life’s most accomplished horse traders, so don't be too afraid to ask).
Until he retired, I used a country solicitor from the Midlands – a friend of the father of my ex-girlfriend. He was an Aston Villa season ticket holder and we bonded over some great football chats at my not-quite-father-in-law’s rugby club. He was also as good as any London lawyer, far more trustworthy and a fraction of the price.
People. Moorgate’s juniors start on a better rate than the competition and have their salary raised more often. This means I get good employees that can absorb heaps of responsibility. Of course, we struggle to compete at the higher level so offer equity for long service. And that's genuine equity - not a smoke-and-mirrors profit share scheme that so many equity option-schemes turn out to be on closer inspection. So we may not have a Christmas trip to Paris or a bar on the roof for after work drinks, but employees are paid a good rate, move along faster, do more meaningful work and become a part-owner of the company – so who cares about the tired office block and scuffed desks?
Yet there are also things not to scrimp on. Bootstrapping doesn’t mean “winging it” or cutting corners on vital requirements. Start-up businesses are also vulnerable businesses, and too many are exposed – perhaps to larger rivals or even the overly punitive employment laws.
Bootstrappers should know where to save money, of course. But they should also know where to spend it. Hopefully, some helpful suggestions below:
Accountants. A good accountant will save any small business a great deal of money. Tax, like death, is an inevitable feature of life but any entity should only ever pay its legal minimum. We should let the inefficient entities subsidise the efficient ones by investing in a decent accountant that can navigate the Byzantine world of any country’s tax structure. Moorgate’s accountant charges around 0.5 percent of the company’s turnover, and saves it around 5 percent (not just from tax efficiency). That’s a pretty good ratio in my opinion.
Compliance. Insurance, health & safety, anti-discrimination legislation, benefits etc etc. Like taxes, regulations are inevitable and seem to grow year-on-year (perhaps because politicians need to justify their existence). As with our financial phobia, compliance is also a classic area for those with fear of failure to neglect – leaving us potentially exposed, or – more likely – deterred from starting our own business. The solution is to treat it like a project – setting time aside to get to grips with the issues. Either that or we should hire someone to do it for us. Some small business accountants (including mine) can also act as outsourcing compliance officers, making sure the regulatory burden is met.
Presentations. These are the modern shop window for most companies – especially service providers – and it’s worth investing in pitch presentations that compete with the big boys in terms of image and message.
In Life’s a Pitch (2007), design and advertising consultants Stephen Bayley and Roger Mavity point out that the pitch is when you are asking someone to judge your future, which makes pitch documents worth investing in.
“The pitch moment, those crucial moments which give the opportunity for big change, all have one thing in common,” write Bayley and Mavity. “You are trying to get someone else to do what you want them to do – to hire you, to sleep with you, to lend you a million pounds to start your business…A pitch does not take place in the library of the mind, it takes place in the theatre of the heart.”
Or as Bud Fox (Charlie Sheen) said just before pitching Gordon Gecko (Michael Douglas) in the all-time business classic Wall Street (1987): “If life all comes down to a few moments. This is one of them.”
So make it a good one. There are 100s of freelance designers out there, many willing to work cheaply to build up their portfolios. Find one and use them to produce a tip-top presentation, although make sure it is a template that can be self-updated as freelance designers tend to have disappeared by the time they are next needed.
Same goes for branding – ask the freelancer to come up with a decent logo. Anything we do ourselves will be awful, no matter how good we think it is.
Get on the plane/train. It may seem obvious that clients/customers are impossible to win without first meeting them but this is an area where many bootstrapping entrepreneurs fall down. Interest from a client in another city or country will never be firmed up by email or phone. It requires a meeting, and that requires us to make the effort to see that person at their place of work, no matter where it is. So get on the plane and visit prospective clients, although always travel cattle-class. And if an overnight is unavoidable, source other potential meetings in the same city.
Sales. Never ever let go of sales and never scrimp on the sales effort – lunches, visits, presentations, whatever. And that usually means that the role of head salesperson remains with us, the company’s founder and owner. I'm often approached by “pearlfinder” type organisations on a regular basis that promise to set me up with meetings with prospective clients. I always make the same statement – I’ve researched my potential client base down to the 50 or so accounts I must have. With this done, I just keep banging on their door until I’m let in. The individuals may change, I may get passed from office to office, but that’s fine – the more people that know me inside the building the better. But I never delegate that role or buy in sales on a commission. Selling is my job.
Legals. Lawyers, like politicians, seem to like making work for themselves. And who can blame them given what they can charge? However, they are also a necessary evil and – at times – cannot be avoided. I learnt my lesson after having a PR agency attempt to poach a team-member despite them signing my self-written non-disclosure agreement that included a clause about not coming after my staff. Assuming I had a case for compensation, I went to a lawyer who said it was not worth the paper it was written on (and kindly didn’t charge me for the advice). Anything someone has to sign should, therefore, be seen by a lawyer (at least in template). That includes NDAs, contracts, staff dispute resolutions, confidentiality memos – the lot.
As a High-FF (someone with a high fear of failure), I absolutely hate handing money over to a lawyer. It feels like booking a yacht on the same basis as a metered taxi except I cannot see the meter. The answer? Like finding a good dentist, find a lawyer you like and stick with them – building up a relationship. And always ask for a quote beforehand – every time (by email at least). At that point they are bidding for the work, so they’ll pitch it lower than after you’ve engaged them. And I complain like hell if I feel stung. Lawyers hate complaints, which means they usually collapse when challenged on their charges (and they are some of life’s most accomplished horse traders, so don't be too afraid to ask).
Until he retired, I used a country solicitor from the Midlands – a friend of the father of my ex-girlfriend. He was an Aston Villa season ticket holder and we bonded over some great football chats at my not-quite-father-in-law’s rugby club. He was also as good as any London lawyer, far more trustworthy and a fraction of the price.
People. Moorgate’s juniors start on a better rate than the competition and have their salary raised more often. This means I get good employees that can absorb heaps of responsibility. Of course, we struggle to compete at the higher level so offer equity for long service. And that's genuine equity - not a smoke-and-mirrors profit share scheme that so many equity option-schemes turn out to be on closer inspection. So we may not have a Christmas trip to Paris or a bar on the roof for after work drinks, but employees are paid a good rate, move along faster, do more meaningful work and become a part-owner of the company – so who cares about the tired office block and scuffed desks?
Sunday, February 20, 2011
How NOT to spend it
I’ve been writing a lot about bootstrapping lately – my favourite entrepreneurial word. Partly this has been in the context of the funding required for a start-up business, which is far less than many people assume. Much of the propaganda states that start-up companies must be well-funded. Yet this is not my experience. Most of the successful start-ups I know started small and stayed within their means for the first few years of operation. Meanwhile, many of the swanky companies that strutted around showing off their venture capital (VC) “round” of funding were in reality driving at break-neck speed towards a brick wall.
In his book Start Small, Finish Big (2000) Subway sandwich-chain founder Fred DeLuca (written with John P. Hayes) describes how he started with less than $1,000 worth of investment and bootstrapped his way to a fortune, citing Kinko’s founder Paul Orfalea as another example.
“Start small,” he implores, “it is better than never starting at all.”
By starting small, he states, we learn what to do and what not to do.
“Just because it is small doesn’t mean the business can’t grow,” he writes. “And while it is small you will have the time to learn the lessons that are essential to your future success.”
This is reinforced by two U.S. entrepreneurs Anthony Iaquinto and Stephen Spinelli Jr in Never Bet the Farm (2006). Indeed, starting with a shoestring operation is their ninth principle (of 15) for entrepreneurs.
Modest beginnings cushion your business against financial losses, they state, while the need to be efficient with money can spark creativity. And, if costs are kept low start-up companies can charge less for their products, meaning they can undercut the competition.
“Never reach for a gallon when you only need a quart,” is their pithy way of describing bootstrapping, although I would add some more practical measures:
Offices – the quickest way for any company to go bankrupt is to take high-spec office space that suits the inflated ego of the CEO rather than the cashflow of the company. If the office is a showroom for clients, this may – perhaps – be acceptable (although why not be clever and renovate a quirky space in the wrong area?). If not, a short-lease in a tired building in the secondary business district is an imperative, especially since there are no longer any IT barriers. Of all the business failings I’ve seen, the most common cause has been the inability to pay the landlord. If a flash office is a must (for meeting clients perhaps), you could always find the company with the office you most covet and approach them for a sublet on a desk-rate basis. My guess is at least one in four will agree.
Furniture – one rule of any central business district is that there is more office furniture in circulation than there are offices to put it in. If a bit of mixing and matching is acceptable, I reckon an office can be furnished virtually for free – something we managed at Moorgate because the landlord had a storeroom full of furniture from a previously bankrupted tenant (nice stuff it was too – no doubt from a company that had burnt through its VC money).
Computers and other equipment – again, don’t buy the best. Our printers are from eBay and our computers collected from a variety of unlikely places (though swept for bugs and backed-up nightly). They do the job and are unseen under the desk, so – unless you absolutely need high-spec computers – just buy the minimum needed only when needed.
Transport and travel – take the tube or the bus. Never take taxis – they were for when the old company footed the bill. As for air travel – I used to envy the guys at the front of the plane. Now I see it as their compensation for having to work for some soulless organisation that’ll make them redundant in a heartbeat.
Entertainment – don’t throw big parties. They are impersonal and wasteful and you’ll never compete with the big boys. Targeted one-on-ones are far more effective, or maybe some (very) judicious mixing. And instead of a headline-grabbing restaurant why not source an intimate family-run bistro (maybe outside the central business district) and make it your own. If you go often enough the owner will greet you like an old friend, which will act as an informal business reference to boot. Bonding events for staff can be treated in the same vein – even the end-of-year gig. Again, fantastic Christmas parties are for the corporates offering compensation for a yearlong endurance of a soulless organisation, although young employees may value them nonetheless. Instead, I buy the team individual gifts, usually a nice book tailored to the preferences they have shown throughout the year. And the family-run pub host our very atmospheric and festive gig.
Recruitment agencies – use only as a last resort. With both Metrocube and Moorgate I have been almost constantly recruiting with about a 50 percent success rate over all (i.e. keeping an employee to the point they are promoted). Yet I have noticed that staff sourced from recruitment agencies are no better – though sometimes better qualified – than those I have sourced from free or cheaper options such as the gumtree.com or Craigslist. We have also learnt to be clever – online university careers boards are a great option, and we offer incentive schemes for staff introductions. Anything is better than the dreaded 20 percent of annual salary agency fee for a candidate that had, usually, done no more than put their CV on monster.co.uk, or had simply answered the agency’s advert on gumtree.com.
Club memberships – avoid. Especially in London (though I suspect other cities are no different), the noughties saw a proliferation of private members clubs for PLUs and wannabe PLUs. Yet unless our potential clientele consists of Shoreditch Twats (or their equivalent in other cities) or trainee or junior architects and graphic designers you are simply wasting your money. If you need such clubs to impress clients they are nearly all desperate enough to rent rooms by the hour (and those that are not are probably too trendy to make a good impression on a client).
Otherwise, such clubs will suggest to a client that you are either trying too hard or are perhaps too keen on your social life. Many even have a no suits rule, which is hardly the way to make your clients feel comfortable. Instead, why not be imaginative and meet contacts at an art gallery or museum café – some, such as the Tate Modern in London, even have membership areas for a fraction of the price of those up-themselves hangouts?
I would also extend this rule to those overly-flash gyms. Certainly, my gym membership is a vital part of my existence – my bolt-hole when the stress is getting to me, as well as my daily sanctuary allowing me to think and reflect and produce enough endorphins to get me through the day. Yet it’s in the same building as our office and, given the tired building, is also a somewhat tired gym, which I love. The monthly fee is less than half that of the flash gyms in the same area and has all the equipment I need. It also has friendlier staff – not least because they leave me alone.
In his book Start Small, Finish Big (2000) Subway sandwich-chain founder Fred DeLuca (written with John P. Hayes) describes how he started with less than $1,000 worth of investment and bootstrapped his way to a fortune, citing Kinko’s founder Paul Orfalea as another example.
“Start small,” he implores, “it is better than never starting at all.”
By starting small, he states, we learn what to do and what not to do.
“Just because it is small doesn’t mean the business can’t grow,” he writes. “And while it is small you will have the time to learn the lessons that are essential to your future success.”
This is reinforced by two U.S. entrepreneurs Anthony Iaquinto and Stephen Spinelli Jr in Never Bet the Farm (2006). Indeed, starting with a shoestring operation is their ninth principle (of 15) for entrepreneurs.
Modest beginnings cushion your business against financial losses, they state, while the need to be efficient with money can spark creativity. And, if costs are kept low start-up companies can charge less for their products, meaning they can undercut the competition.
“Never reach for a gallon when you only need a quart,” is their pithy way of describing bootstrapping, although I would add some more practical measures:
Offices – the quickest way for any company to go bankrupt is to take high-spec office space that suits the inflated ego of the CEO rather than the cashflow of the company. If the office is a showroom for clients, this may – perhaps – be acceptable (although why not be clever and renovate a quirky space in the wrong area?). If not, a short-lease in a tired building in the secondary business district is an imperative, especially since there are no longer any IT barriers. Of all the business failings I’ve seen, the most common cause has been the inability to pay the landlord. If a flash office is a must (for meeting clients perhaps), you could always find the company with the office you most covet and approach them for a sublet on a desk-rate basis. My guess is at least one in four will agree.
Furniture – one rule of any central business district is that there is more office furniture in circulation than there are offices to put it in. If a bit of mixing and matching is acceptable, I reckon an office can be furnished virtually for free – something we managed at Moorgate because the landlord had a storeroom full of furniture from a previously bankrupted tenant (nice stuff it was too – no doubt from a company that had burnt through its VC money).
Computers and other equipment – again, don’t buy the best. Our printers are from eBay and our computers collected from a variety of unlikely places (though swept for bugs and backed-up nightly). They do the job and are unseen under the desk, so – unless you absolutely need high-spec computers – just buy the minimum needed only when needed.
Transport and travel – take the tube or the bus. Never take taxis – they were for when the old company footed the bill. As for air travel – I used to envy the guys at the front of the plane. Now I see it as their compensation for having to work for some soulless organisation that’ll make them redundant in a heartbeat.
Entertainment – don’t throw big parties. They are impersonal and wasteful and you’ll never compete with the big boys. Targeted one-on-ones are far more effective, or maybe some (very) judicious mixing. And instead of a headline-grabbing restaurant why not source an intimate family-run bistro (maybe outside the central business district) and make it your own. If you go often enough the owner will greet you like an old friend, which will act as an informal business reference to boot. Bonding events for staff can be treated in the same vein – even the end-of-year gig. Again, fantastic Christmas parties are for the corporates offering compensation for a yearlong endurance of a soulless organisation, although young employees may value them nonetheless. Instead, I buy the team individual gifts, usually a nice book tailored to the preferences they have shown throughout the year. And the family-run pub host our very atmospheric and festive gig.
Recruitment agencies – use only as a last resort. With both Metrocube and Moorgate I have been almost constantly recruiting with about a 50 percent success rate over all (i.e. keeping an employee to the point they are promoted). Yet I have noticed that staff sourced from recruitment agencies are no better – though sometimes better qualified – than those I have sourced from free or cheaper options such as the gumtree.com or Craigslist. We have also learnt to be clever – online university careers boards are a great option, and we offer incentive schemes for staff introductions. Anything is better than the dreaded 20 percent of annual salary agency fee for a candidate that had, usually, done no more than put their CV on monster.co.uk, or had simply answered the agency’s advert on gumtree.com.
Club memberships – avoid. Especially in London (though I suspect other cities are no different), the noughties saw a proliferation of private members clubs for PLUs and wannabe PLUs. Yet unless our potential clientele consists of Shoreditch Twats (or their equivalent in other cities) or trainee or junior architects and graphic designers you are simply wasting your money. If you need such clubs to impress clients they are nearly all desperate enough to rent rooms by the hour (and those that are not are probably too trendy to make a good impression on a client).
Otherwise, such clubs will suggest to a client that you are either trying too hard or are perhaps too keen on your social life. Many even have a no suits rule, which is hardly the way to make your clients feel comfortable. Instead, why not be imaginative and meet contacts at an art gallery or museum café – some, such as the Tate Modern in London, even have membership areas for a fraction of the price of those up-themselves hangouts?
I would also extend this rule to those overly-flash gyms. Certainly, my gym membership is a vital part of my existence – my bolt-hole when the stress is getting to me, as well as my daily sanctuary allowing me to think and reflect and produce enough endorphins to get me through the day. Yet it’s in the same building as our office and, given the tired building, is also a somewhat tired gym, which I love. The monthly fee is less than half that of the flash gyms in the same area and has all the equipment I need. It also has friendlier staff – not least because they leave me alone.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Before you die: get a life
Currently reading Help! Oliver Burkeman’s wonderfully-engaging book on the self-help and psychology world, based on his regular column in The Guardian. There’s plenty in it, so I doubt this will be my last sampling, yet one recently-read passage has already caused me to nod in agreement: on those “things to see/do before you die” books.
My objection to these books isn’t their content, which is little more than a ranking of places, cities, films, books, hotels etc: vertical guide books, if you like. It’s the notion that we must see and do certain things to have lived the required “good life”. Such lists discourage us from pursuing a good life, defined by our own values and desires and standards. This is shallow in the extreme: life as a “seen that, done this” box-ticking experience that will surely leave us in despair – there being a near-endless supply of boxes to tick in order to prevent feelings of inadequacy.
Burkeman, meanwhile, is surprised by the phrase “before you die” – finding it a strange concept to embrace in a culture “so intent on avoiding thinking about death”. Instead, he recommends the Russ Harris approach. In The Happiness Trap the psychologist sought perspective in the pursuit of the good life by suggesting that we transport ourselves to our 80th birthday and ask ourselves two specific questions.
1) “I spent too much time worrying about….”
2) “I spent too little time doing things such as….”
As an exercise this is not dissimilar to the goal-setting recommendations of many self-help gurus who ask us to imagine our own funeral in order that we can judge whether we took the right path prior to our arrival at this final destination. That said, the guru’s exercises also cause me to react. Again, they subject us to what others think of our life, rather than encouraging us to properly evaluate what we want (our funerals inevitably being judged by the number and quality of attendees and by the speeches given on our behalf). Hence Harris’s questions being a refreshing alternative to both the “before you die” fashionable-life fascism and the “live a good life” (according to others) fashionable-funeral fascism.
This still leaves us with the dilemma of answering Harris’s questions, however. Here’s my go (done in 10 minutes over an early-morning coffee):
1) I spent too much time worrying about....
....trying to become somebody I wasn’t.
....other people’s principles rather than my own.
....being liked by shallow people.
....what I must see before I die.
2) I spent too little time doing things such as....
....following my own path.
....enjoying the moment.
....enjoying my own family.
....telling fashionable thinkers where to get off.
That said, I’m guessing my funeral might not be the event of the century.
My objection to these books isn’t their content, which is little more than a ranking of places, cities, films, books, hotels etc: vertical guide books, if you like. It’s the notion that we must see and do certain things to have lived the required “good life”. Such lists discourage us from pursuing a good life, defined by our own values and desires and standards. This is shallow in the extreme: life as a “seen that, done this” box-ticking experience that will surely leave us in despair – there being a near-endless supply of boxes to tick in order to prevent feelings of inadequacy.
Burkeman, meanwhile, is surprised by the phrase “before you die” – finding it a strange concept to embrace in a culture “so intent on avoiding thinking about death”. Instead, he recommends the Russ Harris approach. In The Happiness Trap the psychologist sought perspective in the pursuit of the good life by suggesting that we transport ourselves to our 80th birthday and ask ourselves two specific questions.
1) “I spent too much time worrying about….”
2) “I spent too little time doing things such as….”
As an exercise this is not dissimilar to the goal-setting recommendations of many self-help gurus who ask us to imagine our own funeral in order that we can judge whether we took the right path prior to our arrival at this final destination. That said, the guru’s exercises also cause me to react. Again, they subject us to what others think of our life, rather than encouraging us to properly evaluate what we want (our funerals inevitably being judged by the number and quality of attendees and by the speeches given on our behalf). Hence Harris’s questions being a refreshing alternative to both the “before you die” fashionable-life fascism and the “live a good life” (according to others) fashionable-funeral fascism.
This still leaves us with the dilemma of answering Harris’s questions, however. Here’s my go (done in 10 minutes over an early-morning coffee):
1) I spent too much time worrying about....
....trying to become somebody I wasn’t.
....other people’s principles rather than my own.
....being liked by shallow people.
....what I must see before I die.
2) I spent too little time doing things such as....
....following my own path.
....enjoying the moment.
....enjoying my own family.
....telling fashionable thinkers where to get off.
That said, I’m guessing my funeral might not be the event of the century.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
The tiger that's home in time for tea
Amy Chua the “Tiger Mother” is in London. In case you’ve not heard, she’s the Chinese woman stirring controversy with her book The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother in which she describes the terror regime she instilled on her children in order to turn them into over-achievers – famously banning one from going to the loo until she’d perfected a violin piece.
I’ve not read the book but my wife almost certainly will. Of the two of us, she is definitely the “Tiger Parent”. But, then again, that’s the right way round – recent surveys have concluded that the level of the mother’s education is the key predictor for the educational level likely to be achieved by the child, which – given the amount of time spent with the kids – is obvious when you think about it. My father was wholly absent from my education: a remote figure occasionally grumbling about me “ending up on the scrapheap” without ever feeling the need for proactivity in order to avoid such a fate. And, before you ask, this is not a “woe is me” moan – just a lament that so many fathers feel their role does not extend to the micro-education of their children.
Yet the reverse seems to be the case when it comes to the child’s career. Particularly for boys, the all-important role model with respect to career attainment is their father. And the influence may even be subliminal, as it was for me. My father’s cajoling me to join the building professions (he was a structural engineer) eventually failed, although – years later – I have to recognise that, after all, I did take after him. He spent his days as a small businessman in a slightly scruffy office on the outer fringes of London (Brentwood in fact). Well what d’you know – here I am running a small business (a public relations agency) from a slightly scruffy office on the fringes of Central London. Something has always felt right about it – more so than working in an enormous steel-n-glass bank, no matter what the rewards in terms of money and prestige. And despite the company’s growth, I’ve resisted smarter offices, as well as merger and acquisition opportunities that would change what feels like my natural habitat.
It may also explain why I felt so at home in my previous role with Metrocube – an e-business incubator that, in reality, consisted of two “no-frills” buildings on the fringes of London’s financial district that we filled with small companies hoping to grow (I was the CEO but Metrocube was the brainchild of its chairman Charlie Hoult, who is now trying to repeat the trick in Newcastle). Here were a series of small companies (over 200 passed through the doors during our 2000-03 existence) viewing scruffy offices located in secondary areas as at least their immediate future.
So if it’s to be like father, like son, are we condemned to make the same mistakes? I hope not. In my view my father made a fatal error with respect to running his business (at least in terms of its potential growth): he arrived late and left late. He clearly wasn’t lazy. No small businessman or woman can survive being anything other than a Trojan when it comes to effort and diligence. Yet his routine undermined him in the office and eroded his family life – hence one of my strongest recommendations to any small business start-up being to start early and leave at a reasonable hour.
I’m at my desk at seven. Yes, that’s 7am. Here’s why:
• I’m always first in. If there are any surprises overnight (from our Singapore client, perhaps), I know about it first and will have developed a strategy (and often executed a remedy) prior to others arriving. I’m therefore totally on top of the day and in the driving seat (sorry to mix metaphors). Meanwhile, my father had to catch-up. Any crisis would have had time to escalate before he arrived, meaning he’d have lost control of it, unbeknown, while still eating his Shreddies.
• Dad always arrived around 10am by which time everyone else was in. Yet his team could have arrived at 9.55 and he’d have been none the wiser (in fact he used to moan that this was probably the case). We start at 9am – so I’ve been in and working for two hours prior to the others joining me. Because they know this they make due effort to arrive on time. Those consistently in at 9.05am get a warning (sorry if that seems draconian but it’s unfair on the others and corrosive on the culture of the office). The point is that it’s my company and I know what goes on with respect to the people that work here. And they're my standards they have to adhere to. Meanwhile, I remember my father complaining that his chiding of staff for being late (as reported by his deputy) was sometimes rebuffed with a “well what about you?” riposte.
• Between 7 and 9am is a wonderful time to work. My mind is clear and I’m raring to go. Projects that I assume will take days can be dealt with in those two highly-focused hours (Power of an Hour by David Lakhani is a good book in this respect). Indeed, my best and most creative thinking is always at that time. Sure, it took a little getting used to but it’s now a habit, and one I’d hate to change – not least because there’s little traffic on the road and the dawn light is lovely.
• And it’s allowed me to write a book: What’s Stopping You? coming out in April. Lots of people have asked me how I found the time while running a PR agency and juggling a young family. While my wife may also require praise at this point (as well as my team at Moorgate), a key aspect was those two core hours – I managed around 2,000 words a day, all before 9am. Articles and speeches promoting the book, as well as this blog, are all, again, thanks to that critical window.
• The benefits also extend to the other end of the day. For instance, there is no “stay late” culture at Moorgate, which the team appreciates. We are focused on being efficient during the working day, making the evening (and weekends) entirely our own.
• Indeed, at Metrocube I noticed that the companies within the incubator with a “late-start, stay-late” culture were less professional and, consequently, likely to be less successful (despite their appearances of commitment). Even the “all nighter” brigades looked like they were playing at it to me, many with dartboards or pool tables or fridges full of beer (all clues they were an unprofessional set up in my view). Few people (other than strippers) do their best work in the evening, so no wonder they needed games and beer to occupy the time that should have been used for recharging their batteries away from the office.
• And there have been benefits for my family. I miss the morning chaos at home (another bonus – my father grumpily read the paper with it going on around him) but I’m usually at home by 6pm, meaning I’m there for the far more rewarding bedtime routine. Each evening, I get some quality time with my two boys denied to many busy fathers. And I can even get involved in their education, usually through my choice of bedtime reading. History of the English Speaking World anyone?
I’ve not read the book but my wife almost certainly will. Of the two of us, she is definitely the “Tiger Parent”. But, then again, that’s the right way round – recent surveys have concluded that the level of the mother’s education is the key predictor for the educational level likely to be achieved by the child, which – given the amount of time spent with the kids – is obvious when you think about it. My father was wholly absent from my education: a remote figure occasionally grumbling about me “ending up on the scrapheap” without ever feeling the need for proactivity in order to avoid such a fate. And, before you ask, this is not a “woe is me” moan – just a lament that so many fathers feel their role does not extend to the micro-education of their children.
Yet the reverse seems to be the case when it comes to the child’s career. Particularly for boys, the all-important role model with respect to career attainment is their father. And the influence may even be subliminal, as it was for me. My father’s cajoling me to join the building professions (he was a structural engineer) eventually failed, although – years later – I have to recognise that, after all, I did take after him. He spent his days as a small businessman in a slightly scruffy office on the outer fringes of London (Brentwood in fact). Well what d’you know – here I am running a small business (a public relations agency) from a slightly scruffy office on the fringes of Central London. Something has always felt right about it – more so than working in an enormous steel-n-glass bank, no matter what the rewards in terms of money and prestige. And despite the company’s growth, I’ve resisted smarter offices, as well as merger and acquisition opportunities that would change what feels like my natural habitat.
It may also explain why I felt so at home in my previous role with Metrocube – an e-business incubator that, in reality, consisted of two “no-frills” buildings on the fringes of London’s financial district that we filled with small companies hoping to grow (I was the CEO but Metrocube was the brainchild of its chairman Charlie Hoult, who is now trying to repeat the trick in Newcastle). Here were a series of small companies (over 200 passed through the doors during our 2000-03 existence) viewing scruffy offices located in secondary areas as at least their immediate future.
So if it’s to be like father, like son, are we condemned to make the same mistakes? I hope not. In my view my father made a fatal error with respect to running his business (at least in terms of its potential growth): he arrived late and left late. He clearly wasn’t lazy. No small businessman or woman can survive being anything other than a Trojan when it comes to effort and diligence. Yet his routine undermined him in the office and eroded his family life – hence one of my strongest recommendations to any small business start-up being to start early and leave at a reasonable hour.
I’m at my desk at seven. Yes, that’s 7am. Here’s why:
• I’m always first in. If there are any surprises overnight (from our Singapore client, perhaps), I know about it first and will have developed a strategy (and often executed a remedy) prior to others arriving. I’m therefore totally on top of the day and in the driving seat (sorry to mix metaphors). Meanwhile, my father had to catch-up. Any crisis would have had time to escalate before he arrived, meaning he’d have lost control of it, unbeknown, while still eating his Shreddies.
• Dad always arrived around 10am by which time everyone else was in. Yet his team could have arrived at 9.55 and he’d have been none the wiser (in fact he used to moan that this was probably the case). We start at 9am – so I’ve been in and working for two hours prior to the others joining me. Because they know this they make due effort to arrive on time. Those consistently in at 9.05am get a warning (sorry if that seems draconian but it’s unfair on the others and corrosive on the culture of the office). The point is that it’s my company and I know what goes on with respect to the people that work here. And they're my standards they have to adhere to. Meanwhile, I remember my father complaining that his chiding of staff for being late (as reported by his deputy) was sometimes rebuffed with a “well what about you?” riposte.
• Between 7 and 9am is a wonderful time to work. My mind is clear and I’m raring to go. Projects that I assume will take days can be dealt with in those two highly-focused hours (Power of an Hour by David Lakhani is a good book in this respect). Indeed, my best and most creative thinking is always at that time. Sure, it took a little getting used to but it’s now a habit, and one I’d hate to change – not least because there’s little traffic on the road and the dawn light is lovely.
• And it’s allowed me to write a book: What’s Stopping You? coming out in April. Lots of people have asked me how I found the time while running a PR agency and juggling a young family. While my wife may also require praise at this point (as well as my team at Moorgate), a key aspect was those two core hours – I managed around 2,000 words a day, all before 9am. Articles and speeches promoting the book, as well as this blog, are all, again, thanks to that critical window.
• The benefits also extend to the other end of the day. For instance, there is no “stay late” culture at Moorgate, which the team appreciates. We are focused on being efficient during the working day, making the evening (and weekends) entirely our own.
• Indeed, at Metrocube I noticed that the companies within the incubator with a “late-start, stay-late” culture were less professional and, consequently, likely to be less successful (despite their appearances of commitment). Even the “all nighter” brigades looked like they were playing at it to me, many with dartboards or pool tables or fridges full of beer (all clues they were an unprofessional set up in my view). Few people (other than strippers) do their best work in the evening, so no wonder they needed games and beer to occupy the time that should have been used for recharging their batteries away from the office.
• And there have been benefits for my family. I miss the morning chaos at home (another bonus – my father grumpily read the paper with it going on around him) but I’m usually at home by 6pm, meaning I’m there for the far more rewarding bedtime routine. Each evening, I get some quality time with my two boys denied to many busy fathers. And I can even get involved in their education, usually through my choice of bedtime reading. History of the English Speaking World anyone?
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Diary-keeping for grown-ups: a practical guide
January’s gone and I’ve yet to renew my diary, always a concern in case I cannot find my preferred style. Yes, I write a diary – and would recommend the same to anyone: especially anyone trying to overcome insecurities such as fear of failure. Indeed, just about every self-help book on the shelf (including What’s Stopping You? – my own due out in April by Wiley/Capstone) insists you start a diary (or journal, if we want to be more American about it) - as does CBT, NLP and any other progress-related methodology.
I started a diary in 2002. Fed up with being fed up, I wondered whether my moods were altered by my diet and had started jotting down notes in a page-per-week diary sent by a supplier. I’d even started testing my moods against the time of day, days of the week, seasons and even the phases of the moon (easy in the better diaries). Soon, I was no longer just writing “mood” but adding descriptions such as “anxiety” or “irritation”, or even “elation” or “contentment”.
Quickly, my page-per-week diary couldn’t cope. I bought an A5 page-per-day diary and started writing it all down. I was soon addicted. I found that recording my moods helped to rationalise them. Neural hijackings (the instant impact on our brain and reasoning of negative incidents, causing us to react emotionally rather than rationally) still happened, of course – and were still unwelcome. But they seemed to dissipate almost as soon as I’d starting writing about them in my diary, although the pen indentations on the page still attest to the state I can get myself into.
Indeed, diaries need to be practical if they are not to be reduced to the pubescent nonsense of our youth. So what should we include? Just my experience, but the following seems to work:
Moods – any episodes of anger, depression, frustration, hurt. The aim is to be as explicit as possible and to record our feelings at the time. So if we felt something like: “that Johnson’s done it again – he’s stolen my idea the totally brainless idiot who couldn’t have a single unique thought of his own but will probably end up my boss arrrgghhhhhh” then that’s what we write down. Yet it may also help to leave a space underneath for a more reflective comment. This could range from “it turns out Johnson told the boss it was my idea. He is a good guy, so why was my first reaction so angry?” to “I need to get Johnson onside. My feelings towards him are irrational and undermining me – my move” to “I’m still angry about this but thank God the anger only appeared here and wasn’t shouted across the entire fifth floor”.
Obstacles – No matter how prepared you are,” says Anthony Robbins, author of Awaken the Giant Within, “you are going to hit a few rocks along the river of life”. The diary is the place to record these rocks and try and formulate a way around them. Just writing problems down can create a clarity-of-thought that removes the emotional clutter.
Goals – not just the big stuff (which are perfect for the Notes section at the back) but the next steps that help us make progress towards those goals (annually renewed of course). In fact this is the most important aspect of the diary – making our diary the key tool for recording those small, positive, victory-by-victory building blocks of achievement. High-FFs (those with high fear of failure and my target audience for What’s Stopping You?) need to create a map to chart their progress. Our diary is that map.
Results – how did the next step go? Did the call get the result you wanted? Yes, how come? What’s next? No, why? What went wrong? Again, what’s next? How do we get passed this setback?
Controlling displacement activity – I used to record my alcohol units. Then I realized I was drinking too much and used the diary to record progress towards keeping my in-take to my weekly limit. When this kept failing I gave up drinking and now put a zero in that corner every day. Too much time on the internet or watching TV is also recorded – again with an admonishment.
Self-flagellation – anyone reading my diary (heaven forbid – this is the most private of documents) would be shocked at how hard I am on myself. Yet that’s the point. High-FFs beat themselves up all the time. I’m not asking we stop beating ourselves up – just that we do it constructively. Any beatings need to involve a “lessons learnt” element as well as practical next steps.
Self-congratulation – but also record the triumphs. I use a tick system to note what I am pleased with. The creation of new, more positive, neural pathways in the brain involves tiny steps taken in the right direction. Over time, this will build our confidence and move us towards a better place. It’s an exciting journey but it must be recorded if the steps taken are to lead anywhere sustainable.
Experiences – I love rereading my diary from my wedding day, or when my first son was born, or the crazy day my second son was born and my first son ended up in hospital. It has helped me record the ups and downs of my life and cured me from that horrible High-FF habit of looking back and only seeing the bad stuff. I can honestly say that the years since starting my diary have been the best of my life – and I think writing a diary helped me not only remember that but realize it.
And if you think writing a diary embarrassing or cheesy or a bit angst-ridden and adolescent: get over it and write the diary anyway. It’s the single most transformative action I have ever taken.
I started a diary in 2002. Fed up with being fed up, I wondered whether my moods were altered by my diet and had started jotting down notes in a page-per-week diary sent by a supplier. I’d even started testing my moods against the time of day, days of the week, seasons and even the phases of the moon (easy in the better diaries). Soon, I was no longer just writing “mood” but adding descriptions such as “anxiety” or “irritation”, or even “elation” or “contentment”.
Quickly, my page-per-week diary couldn’t cope. I bought an A5 page-per-day diary and started writing it all down. I was soon addicted. I found that recording my moods helped to rationalise them. Neural hijackings (the instant impact on our brain and reasoning of negative incidents, causing us to react emotionally rather than rationally) still happened, of course – and were still unwelcome. But they seemed to dissipate almost as soon as I’d starting writing about them in my diary, although the pen indentations on the page still attest to the state I can get myself into.
Indeed, diaries need to be practical if they are not to be reduced to the pubescent nonsense of our youth. So what should we include? Just my experience, but the following seems to work:
Moods – any episodes of anger, depression, frustration, hurt. The aim is to be as explicit as possible and to record our feelings at the time. So if we felt something like: “that Johnson’s done it again – he’s stolen my idea the totally brainless idiot who couldn’t have a single unique thought of his own but will probably end up my boss arrrgghhhhhh” then that’s what we write down. Yet it may also help to leave a space underneath for a more reflective comment. This could range from “it turns out Johnson told the boss it was my idea. He is a good guy, so why was my first reaction so angry?” to “I need to get Johnson onside. My feelings towards him are irrational and undermining me – my move” to “I’m still angry about this but thank God the anger only appeared here and wasn’t shouted across the entire fifth floor”.
Obstacles – No matter how prepared you are,” says Anthony Robbins, author of Awaken the Giant Within, “you are going to hit a few rocks along the river of life”. The diary is the place to record these rocks and try and formulate a way around them. Just writing problems down can create a clarity-of-thought that removes the emotional clutter.
Goals – not just the big stuff (which are perfect for the Notes section at the back) but the next steps that help us make progress towards those goals (annually renewed of course). In fact this is the most important aspect of the diary – making our diary the key tool for recording those small, positive, victory-by-victory building blocks of achievement. High-FFs (those with high fear of failure and my target audience for What’s Stopping You?) need to create a map to chart their progress. Our diary is that map.
Results – how did the next step go? Did the call get the result you wanted? Yes, how come? What’s next? No, why? What went wrong? Again, what’s next? How do we get passed this setback?
Controlling displacement activity – I used to record my alcohol units. Then I realized I was drinking too much and used the diary to record progress towards keeping my in-take to my weekly limit. When this kept failing I gave up drinking and now put a zero in that corner every day. Too much time on the internet or watching TV is also recorded – again with an admonishment.
Self-flagellation – anyone reading my diary (heaven forbid – this is the most private of documents) would be shocked at how hard I am on myself. Yet that’s the point. High-FFs beat themselves up all the time. I’m not asking we stop beating ourselves up – just that we do it constructively. Any beatings need to involve a “lessons learnt” element as well as practical next steps.
Self-congratulation – but also record the triumphs. I use a tick system to note what I am pleased with. The creation of new, more positive, neural pathways in the brain involves tiny steps taken in the right direction. Over time, this will build our confidence and move us towards a better place. It’s an exciting journey but it must be recorded if the steps taken are to lead anywhere sustainable.
Experiences – I love rereading my diary from my wedding day, or when my first son was born, or the crazy day my second son was born and my first son ended up in hospital. It has helped me record the ups and downs of my life and cured me from that horrible High-FF habit of looking back and only seeing the bad stuff. I can honestly say that the years since starting my diary have been the best of my life – and I think writing a diary helped me not only remember that but realize it.
And if you think writing a diary embarrassing or cheesy or a bit angst-ridden and adolescent: get over it and write the diary anyway. It’s the single most transformative action I have ever taken.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)