the story is in the telling

The Process Is The Answer.

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Sometimes you have to pull the wagon and know you're going somewhere good (despite the trailer park.). Image thanks to @denisebovee

Most of us view our days and processes as increments of time toward a finish line, an answer or at least a conclusion.
“If I do this, then X will happen, and I’ll get / feel / know / earn Y.”

That’s natural. I think great meditators and highly conscious people are some of the only ones who don’t do this – as they are wise enough to view the process as the answer, the time as the finish line, and the end of the day as the simple conclusion of the question. But it’s hard to argue that importing your MailChimp contacts or making images for the website or pitching work is as conclusive or exciting as getting funded for an internet show, landing Podcast sponsorship, getting a call from Maria Shriver about….well, anything. One is process toward an end goal, the other is a goal realized.

So how to stay equanimous – and as joyful in the process as in the fireworks? Know that it’s mostly process. And knowing that, make it part of your life’s work – part of a bigger contribution, part of an impact that can only be seen for about a mile, but that resonates for miles and miles. Because it does. That blog you wrote/product you made/speech you gave/video you made? It changed someone’s view. And her family benefited. And her child had a idea because of it. And she slept better that night. And woke up ready to tackle her own miracle. And so forth. You cannot know – it’s impossible – your ultimate, cascading, winding, surprising impact is infinite. But being “in” the process of impact at the very least is a brightening reminder of WHY you do what you do. Let the answer remain elusive. And do it anyway.
This isn’t to say profits don’t matter, strategy doesn’t matter – yes the fundamentals of business are the infrastructure for impact to prevail. Tighten those up! Make them resilient and smart.

Then, do your work.

Deep-ish thoughts on a Tuesday. Why not.

I Can’t Believe Anyone Thinks This Still Works.

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Special? No. Nothing special about this.

The first is an oldie but goodie.

1. A random phone number from upstate New York calls to tell you, “Amy Swift! You’ve won a cruise! Just stay on the line to collect your prize with our customer service specialist!” Who thinks this still works…and if it does, and only on the elderly or infirm, are you really getting an ROI on this mockery of direct sales?!

2. The second is a new tactic that goes like this (at least when he calls me):
“Hey Amy it’s Rob calling back from First Finance” …dude calling back? We’ve never – ever – talked… “Just wanted to follow up on that small business loan we talked about” oh yes that we talked about…never “and make sure you make the deadline to get your paperwork in…” …oh yes! All my paperwork that I don’t have… 
This familiar, level-jumper approach is designed to fool someone (it’s hard to imagine who)  into thinking we have an established relationship. It’s pretty hilarious to hear these people play the ‘casual, busy agent just doing his job and I promise you we aren’t strangers’ routine.

3. The third is the lowly sandwich board. All a sandwich board does for an establishment is make it look like it’s the kind of place with Ladies Night or Dollar Taco Tuesdays. And maybe that’s the mission and audience. But most establishments use it as a way to hook a passerby into a meal or drink – and many are probably decent places. Unfortunately the fold-over-sidewalk-sign discredits before the conversation even begins. Why? ‘Cause mostly it’s tacky, in neon writing, and leads with price.

As much as a certain type of guy will still make comments when you walk down the street or as he passes by in his Camaro, a certain kind of business will always think mediocre strategies will yield extraordinary results. But we’re all getting smarter, more exhausted by the marketing noise, and so much less tolerant of idiotry.
It all used to upset me. #whybother #stopwastingmytime #dontcallmycellphone There’s  a lot to be upset about in the world. Bad marketing should be the least of it. But for me, it pushes buttons. Isn’t it nice, as a small business owner, to put something more thoughtful into the world? Gosh we’re awesome (nothing like a little superiority to get you going on a Tuesday.)

Go forth …and say it better!

Rebel Rebel.

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Photo from www.pleasekillme.com

Real stars are original.
They are inspired by and moved by and informed by other art, culture, poets, writers, leaders – YET… they are totally, radically, uniquely themselves. They don’t imitate.
Many worthy stars are never recognized, and others do something, usually for a long time, with only a little recognition. You get the feeling they’d do it whether anyone was watching, or not.
Others go big – take big stages, draw millions of sales, become household names and references.
But what I love about a David Bowie, for instance, is that he expressed despite disagreement or finger pointing or rejection. He said what he had to say in the way he had to say it. Masculine. Feminine. Androgynous. In Spandex.

That’s brave. That’s rebellious! And that was before digital had the power to take your weirdness and multiply it  – in seconds. He did it despite….whatever resistance was there for him.
A real star leaves you with a message, a question or a thought-provoking dream. You can buy it or not, play it or not, read it or not. They’re going to say it whether you’re listening, or not.

As a business owner, you can’t take “promotion” off the table entirely because essentially you’d be muting your message. But what if you just changed the intention from, “how can I sell this?” to “how am I going to express myself today?”

It’s a little more artful.
Long live Bowie. A rebel worth remembering.

Commitments. The Fourth Kind.

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Two members of the Polar Bear Club. I live with the crazy guy on the right. See the live action plunge here.

We all make them – but the terms of those commitments vary – and typically fall into three categories…

The short-term ones are day to day. Could be about 40 minutes of cardio, or eating vegan before 5pm, or cycling to work instead of driving, or spending an hour with your child without checking your device. Those are relatively easy, and tend to get easier the more often we do them.

The mid-term ones are saying we’ll be there, and then showing up, or investing in a blog, telling the world, and then posting things, volunteering with people who depend on you. Those are harder – because it’s easy to negotiate out of them – but once in the groove, we tend to stay there.

The long-term ones are the biggies – getting married, having kids, buying real estate, forming partnerships, investing capital, making an effort with relationships – year after year. These ones write the music of our lives because they’re constantly there, reflecting back to us who we are and how we are. In some ways they’re the easiest (you don’t re-decide about them daily) and the hardest (you’re in it…today, tomorrow, the next day…and still….and still!). They reassure us and comfort us, but they’re the ones we take for granted. They anchor us, and provoke us – simultaneously.

But then – there’s the last kind of commitment – the fourth kind. The kind we don’t do enough…
Like deciding that the New Year is best kicked off by jumping into the icy Atlantic, with snow on the ground, and FULLY submerging under water. That one takes commitment AND a little bit of crazy.
It seems to me that we all have one, two and three pretty much covered. But what if we had a monthly wild card, like #4?! Could be in business – or personally – I don’t think it matters. But flexing that muscle seems important as we age and lean toward seeking safety (most of the time.)

Who’s in?!?!?

Happy New Year – looking forward to 2016 with you

Unscripted

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The Babylon of Customer Service: Babington House. Image from babingtonhouse.co.uk

Do you feel better when “Reservations” emails your hotel confirmation, or “Freya at Babington House“?

Do you feel better when the agent goes off script and says, “yah I hate it when that happens. Let me see what can be done,” OR, slowly, and much-too-long-windededly, says, “I’m sorry you had that inconvenience today. Let me go through the options on the menu that may help in resolving this issue. Would you mind if I placed you on hold while I review the materials (that I should already have memorized)?.” No one talks like this. Why does Customer Service?

So.
Yes I mind.
I mind that you can’t even talk to me without reading prompts.
I mind that you don’t sound like you’ve ever seen my problem before.
I mind that I can’t ask anyone there a real question without an answer that is pre-rehearsed, pre-recorded, pre-dehumanized…

Have all the policies you want – but package them with flesh and a beating heart, please.

Thank you One Fine Stay for being original. And flexible. And generous. Your policy said no. You said yes.
Thank you flight attendant Rob on the Jet Blue LAX – BOS route for being hilarious – we were patient because of you.
Thank you Tolbot Inn manager Dan who offered to call a friend at a hotel in another city to see if we could stow our bags while we toured for two hours. We didn’t need it. But you offered. And that was money in the bank.
Thanks Brittish Airways for making a miracle happen at 7am and running in heels through security.

Thanks to everyone who doesn’t act like a robot, who feels our humanity, and goes out of their way to make it better.
We’d do the same thing in your shoes, and should.
In the age of automized everything, let’s remain personal – as much as possible. As small business owners we can’t always, but we certainly can a lot.

Novelty

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I’m continuously fascinated by how living in a small town can lead to living a bigger life. Maybe it’s because I commute to LA and NYC often enough to feel connected to diverse worlds, but I still think no matter where you are anymore, the world is as you create it. Sometimes when I describe our relocation from Venice, CA to Manchester by the Sea, MA, I call it “when we calmed down.” I say that because I felt like I was living my life on Lincoln Boulevard or the 405, or conversely existing in non-gmo-organic-cotton-couture t-shirts and custom clogs…  in our costly but casual neighborhood …doing what people who live there do – which is buying expensive coffee and $18.00 pressed juice (still miss it), meandering our kids in $500 dollar strollers and essentially working hard at looking like we weren’t working very hard. But holy shit we were stressed! Our million dollar house was great but surrounded by drug deals and the thump of drive-by stereo base so deep it moved my home-delivered jars of almond-coconut-Mylk. Our friends with kids in school seemed pained by the process. Police lockdowns became a joke but as “funny” as they were, they bred a strange form of deep stress that we weren’t really all that safe.

I’m not really making an argument for small towns versus urban life – I love them both. But a pig roast at a friends house this weekend made me realize how much my own life has invited more novelty. There’s something about switching lives that’s kinda great. I recommend it. It has also been progressive for my professional life – which seems weird because now I have to go to my former cities to see clients – but I think I’m DOING better work, because I feel more inspired. Hmmm.
So here’s to switching it up. In the name of a new view, new circles, new problems even. Unexpected opportunities arise when you make intentional but disruptive decisions.

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About Me

photo of Amy Swift Crosby

I’m a brand strategist and copy writer. I mostly work with partner agencies or directly with the leadership or founding team at a brand. My primary mission is to connect design and messaging solutions to business missions. I work with start-ups and Fortune 500 companies, across beauty, hospitality, wellness/fitness, CPG and retail. This blog reflects my personal writing and explores our humanity – often as it relates to work, space, time and language. You can review my portfolio here or connect with me here.

Photo - Andrew Stiles

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