A few years ago, I decided I wanted to learn to play the drums. I've always loved the drums. Whenever I listen to music, I hear the drums first. I can listen to a great jazz drummer like Art Blakey for hours on end. I'd give up almost anything to be as good as Glenn Kotche of Wilco.
The path to learning the drums is pretty clear. You sign up for some lessons, you get some pads, you get some sticks, you learn some drills, and you practice. And you keep practicing. Every surface—your desk, your leg, your steering wheel—becomes a drum. You get better over time, but you never really stop practicing.
This is how we learn most things. Whether you want to be a writer or a musician or a painter or a baker or an accountant, the way to get there is fairly clear. Not everyone's going to be as good as he or she would like to be, but at least you know where to start. Lessons, classes, books, internships, workshops... All of these things are accessible to most people who want them.
One of the interesting things about picking up the drums was that I realized it had been some time since I had actually tried to learn something new. We spend most of our childhoods learning new things. But as you get older, the frequency with which you develop new talents slows down. Sometimes it stops completely.
That said, when I first started playing, I was bad. I sounded like someone was tripping over a drum set and knocking it on the floor. When you suck so badly at something new, it's comforting to know there are other things that you actually are good at. And being bad at drums reminded me of what I have gotten pretty good at: making money.
Today, I run 37signals, a software and design firm that I co-founded in 1999. Sales have grown at double-digit rates every year for the past decade; so have profits. (Like many private companies, we don't disclose revenue.) How did I learn how to do this? I have a degree in finance, but I don't remember taking any classes that even remotely taught me how to make money. I've read plenty of business books. Same thing—lots of talk about money, but not much about how to actually make the stuff.
One thing I do know is that making money is not the same as starting a business. For entrepreneurs, this is an important thing to understand. Most of us identify with the products we create or services we provide. I make software. He is a headhunter. She builds computer networks. But the fact is, all of us must master one skill that supersedes the others: making money. You can be the most creative software designer in the world. But if you don't know how to make money, you're never going to have much of a business or a whole lot of autonomy.
This is not about getting rich (though there's certainly nothing wrong with that). Instead, for me, making money is about freedom. When you owe people money, they own you—or, at least, they own your schedule. As long as you remain profitable, the timeline is yours to create.
It took me a long time to figure out how to make money. Here's how the lessons unfolded.
Shoes, Tennis Rackets, and More Shoes
Understanding the buyer is the key to being a strong seller
It started when I was about 14. In Illinois, that's when you can start working (with your parents' permission). So I went with my dad to get a worker's permit and got a summer job at the local grocery store. I don't remember learning much there. But a year later, at my next summer job, the lessons flowed.
I was working at Shelby's Pro Shop, a golf and tennis retailer in Deerfield, where I grew up. I sold shoes and tennis rackets. I didn't play tennis, but I learned how to be a very good tennis-shoe and tennis-racket salesman. That's because I made the discovery that people's reasons for buying things often don't match up with the company's reason for selling them.
Manufacturers used to dispatch reps to the pro shop to educate us on their latest and greatest technologies. They'd tell us about the new ethylene vinyl acetate midsoles that made shoes more comfortable; the Goodyear-brand rubber outsoles that made the shoes more durable; the new variation of Nike Air that was miles ahead of the competition.
They thought they were arming us with facts that would impress the customers. But, it turned out, none of that stuff mattered. In fact, it had a negative effect. When you describe things in terms people don't understand, they tend not to trust you as much. Trust is important. You can bluff your way into money, but for only so long.
Once I stopped slinging the technical terms, I realized that when customers shop for shoes, they do three things. They consider the look and style. They try them on to see if they're comfortable. And they consider the price. Endorsements by famous athletes help a lot, too. But the technology, the features, the special-testing labs—I can't remember a single customer who cared. I sold a boatload of shoes and tennis rackets that summer.
Understanding what people really want to know—and how that differs from what you want to tell them—is a fundamental tenet of sales. And you can't get good at making money unless you get good at selling.
I learned this as a teenage shoe salesman, and it still drives how I operate.
To be sure, this is hardly a unique insight. But judging by the number of companies and products that totally miss the mark, day after day, it's a lesson that needs to be learned again and again.
The Middleman Years
In which I sell electronics, knives, and throwing stars—and learn that it's all about passion
After a couple more summers at the pro shop, I decided to start my own business. It hadn't taken long to notice that retail was pretty simple: The store bought stuff from distributors, marked it up, and sold it at a profit. Why couldn't I do that, too? It turned out, I could. I got a reseller's license from the state of Illinois. This allowed me to buy stuff cheaply from distributors.
This is where I learned my second key lesson: Sell only things you'd want to buy for yourself.
I originally got the reseller's license so I could buy stereo equipment, computer equipment, a cordless phone, and a radar detector. (My rusted-out Datsun 510 was held together by bungee cords and duct tape, but I still liked to drive fast.) I soon realized that if I wanted these things, my friends probably did, too. I could sell them stuff below what they'd pay in the store and still make a profit. So I picked some prices that seemed reasonable, pitched my peers, and the orders came in. I didn't sell a lot, but picking up an extra $100 here and there is a big deal when you're a teenager.
I began offering more items. Somehow I got hold of some military-supply and sporting-goods catalogs. I cut out the pictures of the stuff that looked cool—butterfly knives, throwing stars, pocketknives, and some other things I'd prefer not to mention—and created my own catalog, which I photocopied and gave to my friends. The stuff, as they say, sold itself.
I didn't have a credit card—remember, I was in high school at the time. So I ordered the items COD, cash on delivery. I'd learn when UPS would be coming and feign illness so I could stay home from school. The delivery guy rang the doorbell, I gave him the cash, and he handed over the boxes. I don't know if they do COD anymore, but man, was it exciting back then. No one got rich—and I don't think anyone was injured—but it was a great education. And the lesson stuck.
That'll Be $20, Please
How, and why, to charge real money for real products
Around my senior year of high school, I started getting interested in computers. I also liked music. My collection of tapes and CDs was growing, and I wanted a better way to keep track of what I had and what I'd loaned out to friends.
This was before the World Wide Web. So I tossed one of those junk mail AOL CDs in the computer, installed the program, and convinced my parents it was worth the monthly fee. ("It'll help me research and study!" I argued.) I started searching for tools to help organize a music collection.
There were a ton of them. Most were made with software called FileMaker Pro, a program that makes it easy to create simple databases without really knowing how to program. FileMaker also lets you design your own interface, so you can make things look any way you'd like. Most of the music-organization programs were free and pretty lousy—ugly, hard to use, loaded with unnecessary features.
I decided to figure out how to make my own. I got FileMaker Pro (I paid for it with the stash I'd saved up selling stuff to my friends) and started messing around. After a few months, I had solved the problems I had with organizing my music. I knew what music I had, where it was, whom I had loaned it to, how much I paid for it. The solution was elegant and easy to use. I called it Audiofile.
Most of the music-collection products on AOL's file section were freeware. Download them, install them, and you don't owe the author a dime. There were a few shareware options (you pay if you use them, but it's mostly an honor system), but most were free.
I'd already learned that I really enjoyed making money. And I thought that Audiofile was good. And even then, I thought that if something was good, then it was worth paying for. So before making it available to other AOL users, I added a limit in the program—people could file 25 CDs for free; after that, it would cost $20 to unlock Audiofile and remove the limit.
I remember my first customer. One day my parents gave me an envelope. It came from Germany and had those airmail stripes at the top. I opened it up, found a screenshot of Audiofile printed on a piece of paper—and a crisp $20 bill. More envelopes rolled in. Over the next few years, Audiofile probably generated $50,000—not bad for a kid in college in the early '90s.
The lesson: People are happy to pay for things that work well. Never be afraid to put a price on something. If you pour your heart into something and make it great, sell it. For real money. Even if there are free options, even if the market is flooded with free. People will pay for things they love.
This lesson is at the core of 37signals. There are plenty of free project management tools. There are plenty of free contact managers and customer relationship management tools. There are plenty of free chat tools and organization tools. There are plenty of free conferences and workshops. Free is everywhere. But we charge for our products. And our customers are happy to pay for them.
There's another lesson in here: Charging for something makes you want to make it better. I've found this to be really important. It's a great lesson if you want to learn how to make money.
After all, paying for something is one of the most intimate things that can occur between two people. One person is offering something for sale, and the other person is spending hard-earned cash to buy it. Both have worked hard to be able to offer the other something he or she wants. That's trust—and, dare I say, intimacy. For customers, paying for something sets a high expectation.
When you put a price on something, you get really honest feedback from customers. When entrepreneurs ask me how to get customers to tell us what they really think, I respond with two words: Charge them. They'll tell you what they think, demand excellence, and take the product seriously in a way they never would if they were just using it for free.
As an entrepreneur, you should welcome that pressure. You should want to be forced to be good at what you do.
Model Madness
There are different pathways to the same dollar
Don't just charge. Try as many different pricing models as you can. That's a great way to get better at making money.
Before I launched 37signals, I worked as a freelance Web designer. I charged clients by the hour. I work quickly. But I soon realized that charging hourly penalizes efficiency. If I can finish something in an hour that might take someone else three or four hours, why should I be penalized? So when we launched 37signals in 1999, we charged clients by the project.
Source: Inc.
Showing posts with label entrepreneurship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label entrepreneurship. Show all posts
Do You Zoom?
What sets successful soloists apart? It's a thinking process I call zooming.
After working solo for more than two decades, I recently experienced an "a-ha" about what sets successful soloists apart. I believe it comes down to a single skill -- one that determines business success beyond all others. Is it the ability to sell? One's financial acumen? Surely it must be marketing, you say.
Actually, it's not a sales, marketing or financial skill, although those decidedly are key to creating and maintaining a profitable one-person venture. Rather, it's a meta-skill, part of a mindset that overarches both the activities and the attitudes of a successful soloist. This cognitive ability is a thinking process I call zooming.
Zooming implies several things. There's the appealing thrill of speed, of course -- just ask auto manufacturer Mazda, who has imprinted our brains with the audio brand of that young boy's voice whispering "Zoom, zoom, zoom..." But my notion of zooming embraces more than fast-paced action and response.
Zooming can also point to one's facility to adapt to change. In fact, entrepreneurial gadfly and change agent Seth Godin writes of "zoometry" and the knack to "embrace change without pain." Again, this flexibility is an indispensable talent for soloists -- but not as vital as my definition, I suspect.
Adopt the Power of a Google Map
My concept of zooming centers on the capacity to shift rapidly -- and repeatedly -- between a macro-view and a micro-view of one's business. Think of it as having the power of a Google map: in one instance you're at 30,000 feet, dealing with the long-range vision of your company; the next you're on ground level, addressing daily tasks and deadlines; then -- zoom! -- you're back at 30,000 feet again. This facility for blink-of-the-eye refocusing is crucial for soloists who are often faced with major decisions about the future of their company one minute, then turn and confront the puzzle of which toner cartridge to buy the next.
Reams have been written about the multiple hats that soloists must wear in running a successful one-person business: CEO, marketing director, customer relations, product development manager, IT specialist, janitor, and more. What's been missing, however, is acknowledgement that these hats often need to be slipped on and off in seconds, and repeatedly, throughout the day. Such demands can create an exceptionally stressful environment and diffuse the energy of even the most organized soloist.
Navigating the Zoom
Zooming doesn't need to be chaotic and relentless, however. Here are three ways to help build your zooming skills:
Recognize the reality.
As you craft your weekly, monthly or longer-term goals and projects, increase your awareness of the full range of decisions that will be placed upon you. Many times just increasing your sensitivity to the "height" of the decisions (e.g., ground level, 10,000 feet, 30,000 feet) helps clarify the process and reduces the stress level.
Play to your strengths.
Most soloists are stronger at one end of the zooming spectrum. In my years of advising soloists, I've seen many for whom allocating thousands of dollars for next year's marketing strategy is a piece of cake, while choosing a color for their Web site becomes a thorny problem. Make a frank assessment of your zooming strengths and weaknesses. Are you a big-picture person comfortable with 30,000-foot decisions? Or do you prefer to focus on micro-tasks? Recognize that successful zooming requires both -- and determine how best to enhance your weak side.
Cluster your decisions.
To augment your new-found awareness of zooming, try to cluster your decision making so that you are formulating judgments and choices of similar "heights" concurrently. For example, group ground-level tasks or 30,000-foot strategic decisions at different parts of the day, ideally at a time that coincides with the energy available to tackle them.
Although continually zooming from high-level to mundane decisions and back again may be both mentally and physically draining, the sense of accomplishment you'll feel from checking off both the miniscule and the titanic from your To-Do list can be invigorating. With practice, you'll be zooming as effortlessly as Google's servers allow us to switch between macro and micro landscapes -- and the map you'll be charting points the way to your solo business success.
Source: Terri Lonier
After working solo for more than two decades, I recently experienced an "a-ha" about what sets successful soloists apart. I believe it comes down to a single skill -- one that determines business success beyond all others. Is it the ability to sell? One's financial acumen? Surely it must be marketing, you say.
Actually, it's not a sales, marketing or financial skill, although those decidedly are key to creating and maintaining a profitable one-person venture. Rather, it's a meta-skill, part of a mindset that overarches both the activities and the attitudes of a successful soloist. This cognitive ability is a thinking process I call zooming.
Zooming implies several things. There's the appealing thrill of speed, of course -- just ask auto manufacturer Mazda, who has imprinted our brains with the audio brand of that young boy's voice whispering "Zoom, zoom, zoom..." But my notion of zooming embraces more than fast-paced action and response.
Zooming can also point to one's facility to adapt to change. In fact, entrepreneurial gadfly and change agent Seth Godin writes of "zoometry" and the knack to "embrace change without pain." Again, this flexibility is an indispensable talent for soloists -- but not as vital as my definition, I suspect.
Adopt the Power of a Google Map
My concept of zooming centers on the capacity to shift rapidly -- and repeatedly -- between a macro-view and a micro-view of one's business. Think of it as having the power of a Google map: in one instance you're at 30,000 feet, dealing with the long-range vision of your company; the next you're on ground level, addressing daily tasks and deadlines; then -- zoom! -- you're back at 30,000 feet again. This facility for blink-of-the-eye refocusing is crucial for soloists who are often faced with major decisions about the future of their company one minute, then turn and confront the puzzle of which toner cartridge to buy the next.
Reams have been written about the multiple hats that soloists must wear in running a successful one-person business: CEO, marketing director, customer relations, product development manager, IT specialist, janitor, and more. What's been missing, however, is acknowledgement that these hats often need to be slipped on and off in seconds, and repeatedly, throughout the day. Such demands can create an exceptionally stressful environment and diffuse the energy of even the most organized soloist.
Navigating the Zoom
Zooming doesn't need to be chaotic and relentless, however. Here are three ways to help build your zooming skills:
Recognize the reality.
As you craft your weekly, monthly or longer-term goals and projects, increase your awareness of the full range of decisions that will be placed upon you. Many times just increasing your sensitivity to the "height" of the decisions (e.g., ground level, 10,000 feet, 30,000 feet) helps clarify the process and reduces the stress level.
Play to your strengths.
Most soloists are stronger at one end of the zooming spectrum. In my years of advising soloists, I've seen many for whom allocating thousands of dollars for next year's marketing strategy is a piece of cake, while choosing a color for their Web site becomes a thorny problem. Make a frank assessment of your zooming strengths and weaknesses. Are you a big-picture person comfortable with 30,000-foot decisions? Or do you prefer to focus on micro-tasks? Recognize that successful zooming requires both -- and determine how best to enhance your weak side.
Cluster your decisions.
To augment your new-found awareness of zooming, try to cluster your decision making so that you are formulating judgments and choices of similar "heights" concurrently. For example, group ground-level tasks or 30,000-foot strategic decisions at different parts of the day, ideally at a time that coincides with the energy available to tackle them.
Although continually zooming from high-level to mundane decisions and back again may be both mentally and physically draining, the sense of accomplishment you'll feel from checking off both the miniscule and the titanic from your To-Do list can be invigorating. With practice, you'll be zooming as effortlessly as Google's servers allow us to switch between macro and micro landscapes -- and the map you'll be charting points the way to your solo business success.
Source: Terri Lonier
Lessons From Business Masters Pt. 2
“If you pick the right people and give them the opportunity to spread their wings and put compensation as a carrier behind it you almost don't have to manage them.” - Jack Welch
Lessons From Business Masters Pt. 1
“It takes 20 years to build a reputation and five minutes to ruin it. If you think about that, you'll do things differently.” - Warren Buffett
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