the story is in the telling

Big Life

Tomorrow.

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Let's turn the corner.

Big decisions are being made today. After you vote, you may be wondering what to do with yourself. Let’s skip to tomorrow for a minute.

I don’t know about you, but this election has allowed me to put a name on people who I feel are out of line, ignorant, entitled or dangerous. Last weekend my kids and I watched an ominous black truck with tinted windows fly down our quaint neighborhood street at freeway speeds, giving the finger to us as we gestured to slow down. Then the police officer we reported it to, took a fairly indifferent view about it — standing in front of us with a crew cut and Blackberry device, talking about personal rights and the precariousness of interpreting speed limits as a “bystander.” It occurred to me, with sickening unease, standing there as a concerned mother, my girls flanking either side of me in soccer cleats, hanging on every word (police interactions are pretty exciting) — ohhhhhh, he’s not one of us. He’s one of them.

It’s like in the movies when you want to report a fanged, bloody-toothed alien to some authority who will save you, and realize that everyone in charge is secretly…also a fanged, bloody toothed alien. But I gotta break this cycle.

In my mind, I have efficiently and confidently put these people who feel so different from me and mine, into a category. That category has a figurehead who has made it easy to wrap people we disapprove of into one “uneducated” burrito.

I have to unwind myself from the judgment I have gotten pretty righteous about casting, not because it’s natural — but because it’s become easy. Having a name for anyone I consider “other” has put me on a slippery slope of habitual divisiveness.

Tomorrow is a new day. Whatever happens, we are humans first. “They” — people whose problems we may not understand, whose families we don’t know – were given a voice, an identity, and it hasn’t brought out the best in many of us. But with a little impulse control, I’d like to return to my better self sooner than later.

We can turn against each other, or toward one another. But it starts in small, daily doses.

Here’s to tomorrow.

Small Business

ROR.

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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.

Big Life

Joy.

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In a previous post, I talked about how these days, there isn’t one of us who doesn’t wear multiple hats. Having a side hustle is the norm. You may be in real estate, but you also dabble in raw food. If you’re a business owner, you may also lead a meditation group or be a professional sax player. My guess is that this speaks to our innate need to build a portfolio of interests to keep our lives full and interesting. Still, there’s another conversation I’m noticing at play lately, one that challenges a related paradigm. It’s this:

For many of us, the parts of our companies that make the most money aren’t always the parts that give us the most joy. And the parts that give us the most joy often don’t generate the commensurate revenue — and these are the ones that require more of our time than they justify on a P&L. I’ll use myself as an example: this blog doesn’t sell anything, promote anything, defend anything or ask for anything. It’s a mode of self-expression that often leads to productive conversations, but in and of itself — isn’t much of a ‘business,’ which is okay with me. And the reason it’s okay with me is that it allows me to say what I need to say, without being beholden to a client’s needs, or to a customer profile or to a creative brief. It gives me the freedom to work out ideas to an audience of smart, like-minded people, and figure out what I think about stuff. It nourishes me and gives me a creative outlet. It forces me to synthesize ideas. To take risks. To publish.

It also rounds out my client work. I don’t look to those projects for personal expression or fulfillment because I am able get these from other sources (although I’m no less attached to their success.) I show up to those teams/people/missions — whole.

I come across many successful people who are embarrassed (and even apologetic) at how much time their podcast / craft / favorite outside activity takes because it doesn’t deliver a big check. But my argument is that without it (and this may go against the conventional wisdom) — how good would you be at getting the big check at all? How happy would you be? How upset would you get if you couldn’t do that joyful thing?

The way I see it, the thing you love to do is your IV. It gives you the medicine you need to do everything else. And, the cost of not doing it is bigger than you might think.

Don’t make yourself wrong for how it performs. It has a different purpose, and puts money in a different kind of bank.

Small Business

Words.

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Do words really matter?

For me, they carry the weight of the world. They are both my compass and my currency. I hang my hat on them — professionally, of course, but in any meaningful relationship, they are an active agreement.

I write this from a place of imperfection. I’m not a model for it, but I strive to be. Anyone who knows me knows that breaking my word causes havoc inside me. When others break their word, it disorients me — plagues me — questions my investment in them.

When someone says, “I’ll see you at six o’clock” — I believe them. When they say, “We’ll pay your invoice tomorrow,” I believe them. When they say, “We want to make something with you / work with you / co-create with you,” I believe them.

But words don’t mean the same thing to all people. The only way to know if your employees / partners / teammates / clients share this value, is to listen to them, and watch them. Do they say one thing and do another? Are their feet in the same place as their sentences? Does their money / action follow their enthusiasm / said commitments?

This is why it is such a pleasure to work with clients, partners and collaborators who not only embrace this philosophically, but who live it actually. “Our work is our word” was the perfect tagline for this group of general contractors (voted Best Place to Work in SF). They represent a small legion of people who still care about the weight of words, and build great things because of it.

Thank goodness.

Small Business

Machinery.

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You have more in common with the Long Island Cross Sound Ferry than you think.

We all have, and are part of, machines. For small business owners, free agents and hired guns, if the machine isn’t working, we really feel it. It’s one thing to be a Fortune 500 company and have a frayed cable or a leak, but small groups, boutique studios and entrepreneurs feel malfunctions, weaknesses, disloyalty, apathy, distraction, immaturity, inexperience, flat-lining, criticism, failed leadership, poor time management, missed opportunities, weak representation,…deeply. Our teams are our machines and when they’re squeaky or broken, we all feel the pain.

There are multiple parts, but if you’re reading this blog, you probably function in two ways: you’re the engine in one scenario (within your company) and you’re a supporting gear in another (to your client, customer, audience). When you’re the engine, it feels like you’re in a constant state of auditing/managing/driving the parts. Are they meeting deadlines? Stepping up? Generating the right thing at the right time? Are they proactive? Thoughtful? Are we doing the work we know we can do? Communicating with each other enough?

And to your client, are you listening? Delivering? Asking the right questions? Nailing the mission? Do they feel heard and successful with you?

It’s not realistic to think the team is always perfectly oiled and high-functioning. We’re humans, not wire rope and metal. But if we agree that no matter what, we’ll come to the table with not only our core talents, but a willingness to lift a little more, pull a little more, take on just a little more, then that little bit adds a bank of goodwill and productivity to the whole. Measuring and counting doesn’t generate that feeling or result.

But there has to be a baseline of agreement for that generosity to continue. And the agreement has to be that we assume the best, highest intentions of everyone involved, until proven wrong.

Even machines feel attitudes. When one really works, it’s because it not only performs, but the team/machine feels genuinely good about it.

Small Business

Face Time.

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Slack me.
Skype me.
Google Hangout with me.
Text… if I don’t answer those.
Email …as a last resort.
And call me… if it’s an emergency.

This isn’t how I feel, but this is how it is. It’s the modern way we work. And it’s great, mostly, but it deceives us into some false assumptions if we aren’t careful about real time versus screen time with people.

All of us are so grateful for the connection economy that we rarely question the need to look-into-thine-eyes. The truth is that our worlds rely on this incredible world of multi-media-multi-platform communication — it’s the only way I get to live in a seaside village in Massachusetts with good schools and .03% crime, and the only way you get to do business in Colorado, India, New York, Berlin, China or San Francisco from a juice bar in LA. There’s no argument there.

But nothing — ever — will replace or stand in for real time, together, in the same room. Not all the time. But some times.

When you don’t see your team for long enough, Feelings (capital F intentional) emerge. Stories mount. Illusions become conclusions. Tone festers. When partners / employees / stakeholders don’t spend time in the same space, they don’t relax into all the benefits of true human connection. As much as we love our agility and flexibility and our short commute from kitchen to office, we also rightfully yearn for reassurance that when I see blue, you also see blue. And, that you and I are more than just animated screens with a scope of work to perform for a check each month.

You relish and live off of the words of your lover after days or a few weeks of separation. But weeks that turn into months that turn into quarters that turn into seasons? That’s not a relationship that you’d choose — in fact if you’ve ever been there, you’ll notice that problems that were never there, or that were only a whisper, turn into a shout. Contact is curative. The same happens between work teams. We all benefit from periodic ‘touch’. The virtual workforce is a miracle and blessing, but don’t mistake it for what happens when people share air.

Make time for face time.
The airfare / cab fare / gas prices / walk down the hall …pay for themselves in a bank account of better vibes and most likely, better work.

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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

The Brandsmiths Podcast



Brand Strategists Hilary Laffer and Amy Swift Crosby tackle business questions with candid, (mostly) serious and definitely unscripted workshopping sessions. Guests – from small business owners to CEOs, executive directors and founders – bring their head-scratchers, hunches and conundrums to Hilary, the owner of a boutique creative agency in Los Angeles, and Amy, a copy writer.

 

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