Small Business

Small.

January 4, 2017 · By Amy Swift Crosby

My own team is small, but like many of you, I work with (and for) mid-sized to biggish teams. I often wonder — who is more agile? Flexible? Able to create good work, regularly, and deliver it on time? As a small team, you can only do so much, so fast, at a standard you’d be proud of. So you’d think bigger teams must be able to do more, faster, at a better pace — and deliver wow-factor more regularly — right? I’ve been wondering.

On a biggish team, let’s say 30 people, there’s more room for error/blockage. There may be a bottleneck. Maybe it’s a CEO / president / manager whose contributions, while helpful (or sometimes not), are too focused “in” the business rather than “on” it. Maybe they haven’t set enough vision for what everyone should be working toward, so people have questions…feel rudderless…wonder what their “why” really is at the organization — which creates apathy. Maybe there’s a particular department that hasn’t caught up to technology and how to apply that to smoother, more fluid systems. Maybe it’s one person — one! And that person can’t deliver what needs to be delivered, over and over, but they have a special tenure / relationship / situation that makes it hard to move / remove them.

I think a lot of us who exist in teams of 3-4 people pine for bigger, more, the ability to hire someone to do all the things that don’t get done. And there’s a reality to that — in many cases one more person would plug a lot of leaks. But this idea that bigger is always better, faster, smarter isn’t remotely true as a rule. Your team is as good as the heart and soul of the people on it, as efficient as the systems in place to hold the team together, and the talent behind the work that gets produced and delivered. Those three ingredients, big team/small team/growing team — is the secret sauce.

The bigger the house, the more windows to wash.

The right kind of small is the sweet spot of margins, client load and an intimate, happy culture. Finding it is the challenge.

Details.

December 5, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

H&M wisely tapped director Wes Anderson, a master of detail, to make a short holiday film. Note the focus on story, not clothes. Everything, in every frame, was a decision.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VDinoNRC49c

Isn’t it refreshing (I’d even say exciting) to go into a business / restaurant / office where they care about the details? Where a potted plant sits in ceramic instead of plastic? Where the floor of a fitness studio gets swept or mopped between workouts? Where the dentist gives you rose tinted glasses to ward off glare? Where meeting rooms are stacked with pens and pads of paper? Little things often move the needle on whether we come back / buy more / comment / reTweet/Gram / recommend.

I found myself at an athletic club recently, a bit perplexed by the clock on the wall that still hadn’t been changed since daylight savings time, a wrapper on the floor — right next to the garbage. The absence of Kleenex (anywhere.) Television sets in multiple corners — all on the same channel. And my favorite — an exclamation point after the gym’s address in the footer (maybe they’re excited about their location?)

Thoughtfulness often appears in the smallest of ways. And some would argue that customers don’t really notice these seemingly minute details because the bigger goal — the service or product itself — should take center stage. But it’s all part of the experience — from what they see on your website, to what they experience in person, to what they view on social media. You’re one brand, not five. And you’re always saying something — whether you put thought into it or not.To think our choices, as business owners, as brands, don’t impact sales, retention, loyalty — is a blind spot.

Sweat the small stuff.

You don’t have to do everything (resources are usually limited and most of us don’t have Wes Anderson-style budgets), but make sure what you DO decide to do is intentional and says what you set out to say.

Presentation.

November 28, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

No matter how obvious or clear or needed your product or service or personality is, we all need a presentation layer. The world doesn’t immediately “get” what we do without one. This is part of what we call “brand” — but let’s get away from that over-used, mostly misunderstood word for now. Let’s call it your skin or message, which encompasses not only the words you use but the images, typefaces, customer service experiences, decisions… that all go into the world’s experience of your product or service.

One of my favorite challenges is to work on a turnaround project, the repositioning a company who finds itself challenged in the marketplace, not because it isn’t amazing (it often is), but because they haven’t hit the right note in explaining why their offering matters. It’s a message problem, not a product problem.

This year, we had the honor and pleasure of working with S Factor creator and founder Sheila Kelley. The brand needed a shift in perception, and a new way to tell their story.

S Factor has been known as a pole-dancing workout. But to relegate it to that is like saying you use a computer to type, or your phone to make a call. A computer / phone / pole is the device — but the impact / results / value go so far beyond the accessory. Sheila created a brand that gives women a map back to their own feminine bodies and souls. Our job in refreshing their brand was about delivering an unapologetically feminine message — to capture the fierce, the soft, the angry, the joyous — the everything — that women could explore through S Factor. It was a message of reclamation, rejoicing and rebirth. But how do you explain that in a way that women want to hear it? How do you get the pole out of the way, without dismissing it? See how we did it here.

So proud of our work together, and so convinced that if our customers don’t get us — right away — we can’t blame them for not showing up.

Don’t put the burden on your audience or get upset when they don’t “get” you. Make it clear, moving and completely irresistible.

Uncover your truth. And then tell that story (or hire people who do it for a living.)

Editors.

November 21, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

La Caronne, a concept in New York City. A great example of saying yes, and no, to the right things.

I was recently in a LA/NYC hot spot — a true den of trends — where it felt like the team, earnest as they probably are, said yes a little more than no. Apart from wool-vested, man-bun clad bartenders and suspender wearing, Japanese denim-adorned waiters, they had somehow captured every interior restaurant trend of the past ten years, in 3,000 square feet. Macrame? Check. Distressed wood? Check. Subway tile? Check. Repurposed shipping container? Check. Faux-industrialized materials in every corner possible? Check. I saw Austin, Brooklyn, Portland and Venice — bundled up into one unedited concept.

Every writer, every designer, everyone, everywhere, benefits from an editor. If I could have an editor every time I publish this blog, I would, and typically I have a very good one edit my work before clients see it. Writers benefit because we can’t discard what we don’t know is in the way. We can’t replace ‘meh’ words with better words when those were the words that seemed best when we wrote them. Editors have a perspective that sees the good, replaces the less effective, and removes the rest. They de-clutter. They see the mission and make sure you’re meeting it. All creative endeavors benefit from such a person, but it’s hard to for some of us to admit it because we mistakenly see their participation as an intrusion on something sacred.

In my role as a brand strategist and writer, I often wear the hat of creative director as well. Overseeing design means I see what’s working, and what isn’t, and support the designer to land in the right place. It doesn’t mean I can design — I can’t. And it doesn’t mean I know more than she does — I don’t. But we all want the best work, and that usually requires a healthy tension between the first version and the third.

Editors are essential.
Find a good one.
Then, let them take your precious ideas, concepts and manifestations — and force a focus, a distillation and a commitment to something better.

Because it almost always will be.

Crazy.

November 14, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Isn’t it crazy how…
You can show up, but it wasn’t enough.
Put in the time, but it wasn’t enough.
Do more than most, and it wasn’t enough.
Pay attention, or so you thought, but it wasn’t to be.

It’s jarring and unsettling when a distant, almost absurd reality, turns out to be exactly how it really is. Especially when what was imagined felt so bright, hopeful, full of potential.

This happens on grand levels, as it did last week, and on micro levels, in our own lives. You think you’re headed down one road, but those plans or projects downshift, turn the wheel, stop the car. All while you were busy putting gas in it.

And there you are.
How does this happen?
How did it go that way when all signs pointed this way?
It’s a good question.

Usually it means you weren’t listening. Or, only listening to what you wanted to hear. And other times you couldn’t have seen it coming. Either way, the abrupt nature of this stuff is more than hard. It’s brutal.

I’m in a state of openness as to what’s next. My stages of grief have gone from shock, rage, sadness, more fury — and now stillness. The action will come, I’m sure, and the next right thing will show itself. But for now, I’m sitting on the edge. Perched. Watching for signs of life and the next road to take.

Because there will be one. But I know I’ll need to have a little perspective — and distance — in order to see it.

It’s okay to stop, to feel what you feel, to look back before you move forward.

It doesn’t mean you aren’t doing anything. It means this is what you’re doing (for now). Don’t mistake action for answers. Digestion is part of any sincere, complete process.

ROR.

November 1, 2016 · By Amy Swift Crosby

The Rate of Return usually measures how quickly you get back what you put out. You spend $ABC on Facebook ads and get XYZ number of impressions. It’s the gain or loss on an investment over a specified time period, expressed as a percentage of the investment’s cost. But (snore)… let’s simplify it and make you care.

I often think about ROR with an additional metric. When curve balls come, and they do, how long does it take you to regain consciousness? How many minutes, hours, days, weeks, months…does it take to find your balance again? To return to yourself and center? We all invest in people and projects that feel hopeful. When they don’t embrace us back, it can feel pretty chilly at worst, and a waste of our time at best.

Ideally, this process gets shorter and shorter. A meditation practice, a physical movement routine, a connection to something beyond yourself, usually supports the efficiency of the path back to your skin, your sanity — the truth that keeps your finger off the trigger. A little perspective also helps. “This has happened before, it will happen again, and I’m still here,” is one way to get into fast agreement with a rough moment.

The deepest wounds are usually around relationships, and how we feel appreciated / regarded / understood / seen and respected. And so often, the other person or people involved have little clue to their impact.

I’m chagrined at how slowly I’ve pivoted when the writing has been on the wall. But, you don’t know until you know.
And then, you know.