Bandwidth & the BCG

As has been mentioned before, I am no longer a n=1 business.  One of my proudest achievements of the last 12-18 months is the emergence of a team of focused, committed, high-performing associates who deliver my stuff at least as well as me.  Not only do my colleagues treat the work as seriously as I ever did, their fresh eyes see innovations and opportunities that have been passing pass me by.

I deliberately hand over interesting projects and not only when I can’t be in two places at once.  In the medium term this should expand our active client base but for the moment I am embracing personal financial pain in order to radically change my working life.

I am freeing up bandwidth to chase opportunities in an entirely new domain; by this time next year I plan to describe myself as the CMO of a tech start-up.  I will still own and operate a pharma consulting company but it will no longer be the first line of my LinkedIn profile.  In BCG matrix terms I am relegating my old business to ‘cash cow’ status in order to make room for a ‘star’.

I’m excited at the prospect of solving brand new problems in an unfamiliar commercial space.  I’m looking forward to being ‘inexperienced’.

I’m reminded of advice given to me by an improviser in 1991, the year I quit working for other people...

Enjoy not knowing

This is not a complaint

My working life began in 1989 when I finished my Business degree and became a ‘Trade Marketing Associate’ for Unilever Australia.  I have been self-employed since 1992.  I have been operating on a Headcount: 1 model since 2003.  I have never been as busy as these last four months.  The last time I got to the bottom of my ‘To Do’ list was June.  My working day begins with an new iteration of the urgent doing battle with the important.  Client demands have crowded my every personal project, including, obviously, this blog.

But this is not a complaint.  What very bliss it is to have built a thing, business, and find that it is in demand.  My diary is full and my mind is entirely focused on doing this one next task as well as I can.  The operational part of my business has no choice but to operate under the assumption that the fundamentals are in place.

Even so, I wonder about the longer-term sustainability of it all.  The next round of plane flights need to be booked tonight whether I'm fatigued or not.  I am busy because I have a reputation for high standards.  In such a world there is no such thing as a small mistake: any slip-up costs me with time, money or kudos.  This is self-employment at its least forgiving.

The obvious solution is to take on staff, at least someone to deal with the more bone-headed stuff like collating expenses and organising hotels but to do so would be to shift away from a business model that has served me so well for almost ten years.  I hesitate because I question my ability to forgive.  Of late I've started snapping at my suppliers for (often imagined) inefficiencies.  God knows what I'd be like to share an office with 40 hours a week.  If I'm going to go back to being a boss then I have to improve my communication and get better at setting expectations and rediscovering the knack of cutting a bit of slack.  I'm unconvinced that I'm up to the task.  

Right now I'm approaching this new phase suspicious that if I take on staff then they will let me down.  In the space of 400 words I've gone from not complaining about being busy to actually complaining about imaginary staff.  Even so, I suspect that 2013 will be the year they stop being imaginary.

Confidence = space

In business I come across as a confident person. I've been doing what I do for a long time now so when I'm brought in to think about an issue I've got a pretty good idea of what the unspoken issues are likely to be and what solutions might fit.

I do everything I can to ensure that my clients have confidence in me because it lessens my workload. A worried client costs me time on additional phone calls or face-to-face meetings that are quite hard to monetise. I need my contacts to exude confidence in me when they're discussing the project at all those internal meetings that I neither get, nor want, to be invited to. When that goes missing I get the dreaded phone call asking for an early look at a draft and my timeline is shot, which can be disastrous for the overall project.

Generally I am paid to design and deliver training programmes. A large part of what 'design' entails is making intelligent decisions in the right order. My favourite example of this is deciding on the PowerPoint template design before anyone knows how much text needs to be displayed on the screen.  It creates unnecessary conflict and heartache every time. The motivation behind this rookie error is usually as simple as someone senior in the organisation asking to 'see something' as assurance that the project is on track and the slide template looks like an easy and uncontroversial thing to show the bosses.  A better response to the political pressure is to have a meeting and run through the development timeline, explaining what decisions will be made in what sequence and why

I see my clients' confidence in me as a tangible asset that allows me to run projects at the pace that best serves that project. As with any asset it needs to be protected: good communications, dressing well and face-to-face meetings early in the process.

House of Lies

Just finished watching the Showtime series House of Lies, which is based on a far duller book of the same name by Martin Kihn, formerly of Booz Allen Hamilton.  My guess is that it was pitched to the network as 'Mad Men-meets-Californication', which is okay by me as they're two of my favourite shows.

Some of it resonates: certainly the travel and also the sense that you're always getting money for old rope as you (successfully) apply the same solutions to client after client.  But working for the Hollywood approximation of large consultancy looks waaaay more fun than running a one-man shop in the real world.

Erasmus

As I was driving out to visit a brand new client last Thursday I was listening to Melvin Bragg's In Our Time programme on BBC Radio 4.  The topic of the day was the northern Rennaiscance philosopher Erasmus of Rotterdam (1466-1536) and much was made of the itinerant nature of his early career: -

"(Erasmus) is all over Europe, city after city...  He's always to be found around courts.  He's a great one for collecting patronage..."

And: -

"A lot of the writing is to please people because they are paying for his career..."

Perhaps it was because that morning's meeting was with a roomful of total strangers that the description so resonated.  Is there a better description of a consultant, or of any successful seller of financial services, than someone on and off airplanes, city after city, collecting the patronage of those who can pay for our careers?  Like Erasmus I am paid by the modern princes of Europe to be clever.  Nothing gives me greater confidence than knowing that the big boss wants the project to go ahead with my involvement.

But let's not stretch the comparison too far.  Erasmus fought a vicious, losing war of words with Martin Luther over the soul of the Catholic church and the fate of Europe whereas I help drug companies sell their drugs better.

Still, about halfway through that meeting someone described me as a 'thought leader', which was a nice thing for him to say.

Update on 2012-02-19 05:47 by Stewart

During the week a learned friend questioned the parallel with Erasmus and rightfully so.  With barely suppressed bemusement he pointed out that there aren't a great many points of comparison between the career of one of the foundation thinkers of Western thought and that of a jobbing management consultant circa 2012.

What I was trying to explore was that for those who think for a living the importance of patronage hasn't changed much in 500 years.  There's a stark difference in getting work out of an organisation where the big boss likes my way of thinking and one where he or she is indifferent.  For any project to proceed the very least we external suppliers need is the absence of a veto.  If the big boss dislikes what you do then any additional time and energy spent trying to change that is most likely a sunk cost.

Corporate karma

Tuesday of the first full week of the New Year is apparently the busiest day for job-hunting.  You've given yourself at least a day to get your feet back under the desk but not left it so long that the resolution to work someplace else has been forgotten.

This is also the week that old clients are most likely to get that Happy New Year! email from a consultant like me.  I send these out in waves to ensure that I properly personalise each one.  After all, these are all people with whom I have a history that must be reflected (leveraged) otherwise I might as well be cold calling. And like anyone embarking on that January job search I wait until Tuesday before starting.  That way maybe I'm less likely to be caught up in the First Great Inbox Purge of 2012.

 

With an augur’s intensity I watch my own inbox for replies.  There’s a hierarchy of outcomes from the exercise:-

1. The quick note proposing a call or meeting in the coming weeks is absolutely the most I can hope for
2. The longer note with specific feedback on last year’s results and the plans for the next twelve months isn't awful.  At least my contact took a few minutes to setout the issues that affect me personally
3. The email saying that there's been a change of roles but also giving me the name of the new contact (cc’d) isn't bad.  Managing a baton-change in a client organisation is part of my job
4. It’s hard not to read a quick note announcing a change of roles without any further information as ‘goodbye and good luck’
5. The cursory Happy New Year reply is the email equivalent of a stilted exchange of pleasantries whilst waiting for an elevator

Optimist that I am, getting no response at all is still reason for hope.  Maybe my contact isn't back at her desk for another week.  Maybe she’s gone straight into a procession of heavy-duty meetings.  Or maybe she’s surreptitiously on the job hunt herself, in which case there's no point me being on her radar until she either gets settled in a new position or resigns herself to the current role and refocuses on her 2012 To Do List.  I make a note to try again in mid-March.

I've long believed that no genuine marketing effort goes ultimately unrewarded.  Those efforts must be genuine, an ongoing part of the day-to-day job and not just the occasional paroxysm of activity intended to refill an otherwise empty calendar. And don't be surprised when that reward arrives from an unexpected direction.  Yesterday I got an unsolicited email requesting a meeting in Italy as soon as is convenient.  Not so much attributable cause-and-effect as ‘corporate karma’.

 

Approach the low-yield tasks with the right attitude and trust that the cosmos is taking note

Not saying 'no'

I'm sitting in Prague airport after yesterday's 1-dayer for a new client.  It will the last of 47 flights in 2011.

The job, a sort of six hour pitch to a pan-European mix of marketing and medical people, went well enough.  It was one of those situations where whilst the people who need to approve the project weren't in the room, there were plenty there who could kill it.  That gave me a very clear and not especially ambitious goal: to not have anyone say 'no'.

I had my usual mid-morning moment when it occurred to me that this may the last job I ever do; at the very least with this client and possibly ever.  This is my subconscience telling to relax, stop worrying about the next job and to simply concentrate on the people in front me.

By the time we decamped to the bar for too much Czech beer there was sufficient agreement that the project should go forward.  The clarity of a business model where you only attempt to be as good as your last job can be very liberating at times.

Identity Economics

I've just finished reading Akerlof & Kranton's Identity Economics, a pretty lightweight exploration of the obvious idea that there is a quasi-quantifiable cost to pursuing financial gain at the expense of one's personal identity.  Much of the book is driven by the idea that 'insider' behaviours, the conformist ones that further the goals of the organisation (but also lead to personal advancement), must outweigh the social cost of being seen to conform by one's sneering peers.  There's nothing much here that wasn't explored more eloquently in John Hughes' 1985 opus The Breakfast Club.

When discussing the effect that identity economics has on education the authors focus on ways in which well-run schools (such as the Core Knowledge group run out of Colorado) create a compelling 'insider' culture: -

Because identity is closely linked to dress and self-presentation, we consider it no coincidence that a Core Knowledge school might prescribe even the nature of a student's socks. 

Identity Economics. p. 73

The premise is that how we dress acts as a constant reinforcement of who we are: conformist 'insider' versus rebellious 'outsider'; and that this internalised effect is arguably more important than how others perceive us.

I'm interested in how this idea relates to how a consultant dresses when meeting a client, especially for the first time.  If Akerlof & Kranton's idea holds true then ahead of any other considerations we need to dress for ourselves.  If I don't feel that what I'm wearing reinforces a positive self-image then that dissonance will somehow out itself during the meeting.

When starting out in life this is in no way trivial.  You didn't make it at IBM in its pomp if you didn't aspire to dress like these guys.  Reductio ad absurdum: -

Before choosing a career you need to ask yourself if you like how the successful people in that field dress

When you're paying your dues in any profession you will need to wear clothes that don't distract from the perception of your work.  You will have to wait until you're game-changingly good at what you do before you can dress in a way that draws attention to who you are as opposed to what you do.  Of course this only applies if you're serious about your career (i.e. want to be one of Akerlof & Kranton's 'insiders').  Dress in a way that says 'fuck off to the man' and sooner or later the man will get fucked off.  With you.

I like how I dress for meetings.  By this I mean I genuinely enjoy wearing those clothes because they make me feel how I need to feel when meeting a new client: established, intelligent, perceptive and 'undistracted'.  It's taken me a while to understand this and I do my best to address the myriad shifts in how I feel about a certain suit or shirt when I walk out the door in the morning.

That I never achieved the same comfort in the clothes I wore as a stand-up speaks volumes: dressing like my audience made me feel like an impostor whereas dressing like me just made me feel old.  And Andrew Watts had already cornered the market in disheveled suits.

Funny. And good in bed

My wife and I are back in Australia. We're staying with her mother and family in Sydney for a week or so. Almost everyone in the household is either self-employed or working for a start-up, which offers up some really interesting compare-and-contrast breakfast table conversations.

Hal has had several successful careers but now works from home as a foreign exchange trader. The arrangement is that he trades for himself but as part of a global cohort whose aggregate efforts are on behalf of an investment fund.  The business follows a sort of league table approach whereby as he proves his abilities the organisation allows him to trade larger amounts and so earn more.

After a year or so he's developed a keen sense of the market and is highly aware of the the combination of volume and volatility (driven by planned and unplanned news events) he needs to thrive and has climbed several rungs on the ladder already.  To do so he's adopted all the necessary professional behaviours that I would say are actually more important when working from home than anywhere else.  He'd no more trade with a hangover than I'd walk into a training room naked.

As I looked at the procession of charts and numbers flickering across the three screens on his desk I thought, "I could do that."

Of course I did. Men of my age and education all reckon we're the funniest guy at the party, a porn star in the bedroom, a Navy SEAL in a bar fight and a 'big swinging dick' in front of the trading screens

A week I won't get back

I live in London and mostly work in Europe.  I have a few North American clients and would like more and I have one in Asia.  The rest of the Asia-Pac business is handled by an erstwhile business partner who lives in New Zealand.  I'd like to think I'm pretty good at long-distance collaboration.

This week I've been dealing with two quite different men who want to do me the favour of taking my work to new clients.  One is setting up a consultancy in the Middle East and reckons that he can generate a demand for our IP in the region and the other needs my skills to round out a product offering that he's making (speculatively) to a Canadian company.  Both men are entrepreneurs who have identified potentially lucrative opportunities that would never come across my radar.  But each has inserted himself between me and a client and I'm unsure how I feel about that because like most Headcount: 1 types I'm a control freak.  If anyone's going to be in front of a client or an audience it will be me.

This control freakery has been going on so long that I've learnt to treat it as a strength rather than the flaw it is.  Being unable to delegate means that my business will never, ever be scaleable, ergo it will never be saleable.  And as I've said before on these pages, when I get down about this I feel trapped.  If I can't relinquish control of the marketing interactions with clients in far-flung places that I'd never meet otherwise then when can I?

Isn't this just 20th Century Thinking?  Wasn't one of the key learnings from the life of Saint Steve Jobs that an overweening sense of control is a positive thing?  Merlin Mann recently described success, apropos of Apple, as: -

You get to decide who pays you

I suspect that my erstwhile partner doesn't care who pays us for our residual IP.  He sees this incremental (and essentially unearned) income purely as a bonus, as an undiluted good, and especially in markets like Egypt and Saudi and the Gulf.  I'm not sure I agree.   I want my collaborations to enhance not diminish what I do.  I want to finish a project with a stronger brand, a more interesting product and a new set of experiences.

And before we've even gotten to a proper pitch meeting each relationship has gotten bogged down in a separate legal morass.  I've spent the last week proofing licensing agreements and drafting cautionary emails.  The last seven days' efforts have been about protecting what's mine now instead of creating a better, cooler something for tomorrow.

My business is such that I can't license my way to wealth and I certainly can't sue my way there.  A week spent neither developing new ideas or delivering existing ones is a week wasted

Best thing last week

Monday morning.  Manila.  I'd asked the group for any opening thoughts.  A Filipino sales manager stands up and recites an obscure passage of my book verbatim.

I'm big in Mindinao.  No one can take that away from me.

Cold-calling a falling man

In these straitened times every client of mine is under pressure all the time.  The cultures of every pharma company pulse with implicit threat: -

Do more with less.  Do it sooner.  Do it right the first time or else...

Some days all of this makes self-employment feel a little better.  It feels as though I have more control over my destiny.  Arrant nonsense, of course, as there's nothing like a job scare to encourage a sales team to attempt a little DIY training.

This pressure on expenses is doubly felt by the pharmaceutical industry; not only is the sector going through the same GFC as everyone else but it faces a systemic threat in the number of hugely popular products that are coming off patent.  A branded medication can expect to lose as much as 80% of its sales within six months of patent expiry and by some calculations the big research companies (aka 'my clients') will lose a further $100 billion in sales to generic manufacturers in the next three years.

This is old news and the industry is responding.  Pfizer is closing research facilities in the UK and invest in sales teams in China.  Novartis has been positioning itself in the generics game with Sandoz since 2002.  Roche completed a takeover of Genentech in 2009 to try and dominate the biologics market.  This year Sanofi-Aventis has bought Genzyme and Takeda has bought Nycomed.  The M&A industry has plenty of reasons to love pharma.

This can make life a little tricky for a Headcount: 1 consultant trying a few cold calls but with one eye on his summer holidays.  Here's an ex-client's response to my friendly hi-how's-it-going email: -

Yes i do remember you.  It is probably not the right time to come in -- we have just been taken over by XXXX so things are a little unsettled at the moment.  Sorry can't help at this time

 Not my finest moment as a salesman.

How to dress like a consultant

In the past I've mused about the dangers of overdressing for meetings.  The reverse is also true; the Epicurean Dealmaker usually blogs on the inner workings of Wall Street but this week he's taken aim at a risible WSJ article on women's 'business fashion'.  In the consultancy game, whether you're a man or a woman, this is advice is worth heeding: -

Clients of professional service organizations generally do not want the people who work for them to be flashy, extravagant, or prone to calling attention to themselves.  They want service.  They want reliability.  They want sobriety.  Calling excess attention to yourself in any way that is not directly related to identifying, analyzing, and solving the client's needs is both offputting and counterproductive.

An old truism of the theatre is that you shouldn't ever perform in front of anything more interesting than your act.  In front of the client it's just as important to be more interesting than your clothes.

In life, actually.

A price-maker but a date-taker

I've found myself musing on the nature of success.  When you're in the middle of a life how do you know if it's going well?

This is especially acute if you're self-employed and thus denied the external loci of the annual performance review, the promotion achieved or denied and the size of your bonus.  What indicators can you look to to vindicate the choice you made to go out on your own?  I don't think it's enough to get to the end of the tax year and check the bank account, especially as money is rarely the chief reason why people start their own businesses.  Making money is necessary for survival but not sufficient for success.

I need an array of projects at different stages of the development cycle.  These projects should be with a range of clients and preferably spread around the world.

My development cycle runs something like this: -

• Initial inquiry ➙ credentials presentation
• Identified need ➙ costed proposal
• Project sign-off & timeline agreed
• Design ➙ delivery ➙ invoice
• Feedback
• Initial discussion on follow-up

My business model relies on me delivering twenty or so projects a year.  Obviously life is so much easier when they spread out over the calendar rather than the stress of 'feast or famine' but of course that's preferable to no projects at all.

Because my work requires largish numbers of people to be herded into a single room I have very little influence over the delivery date of the project.  I'm a price-maker but a date-taker.

Summer is always quiet in Europe because of holidays.  January is busy because everyone wants kick-off meetings which means that December is a high-stress month of preparation interrupted by the 'silly season'.

So can I achieve this even spread of projects over the year?  Geography helps as America takes shorter summer holidays than Europe and my Asian clients operate with less seasonality still (Chinese New Year notwithstanding).  More important is upping the variety of my offering: if my business is built solely on 'energiser' sessions for sales teams then I'm going to be busy at New Year and a la rentrée and no other time.  That's not going to make me feel successful.

A good starting point is actually documenting the development cycle.  Understanding where each active project is sitting on the continuum helps me to spot upcoming periods of stress.  It also forces me to keep prospecting for new work through the busy patches and it forces me to develop offerings that aren't so seasonal; for example working with smaller, more easily assembled groups of marketing as well as larger sales teams.

If in the course of a week I'm pitching, writing proposals, meeting new clients for the first time and actually delivering a project then I'm pleased.  Whenever I can see months that look like this I sometimes go crazy and start wishing for a vacation.

The self-employed: often pleased, rarely happy.

A Decent Proposal

I've spent much of the last week grinding out a proposal for a large project.  Often I find writing the document to be harder work than actually delivering the project.  There appear to be possible three explanations for this: -

1. Parkinson's Law.  After an extremely busy stretch my time is freer and so a task that would otherwise have been properly completed in hours expanded to take days
2. Big Projects need Big Documents.  The job is unquestionably large and quite complicated (multimarket, potentially requiring multilingual delivery, etc).  Ironically, it's the simplicity of my approach that's got me invited onto the project team yet my instincts are screaming out for a long and complex proposal
3. The Unseen Audience.  One of the advantages in making a face-to-face presentation is that I know exactly who I'm speaking to.  This sounds obvious but consider the alternative: an emailed PDF (or PPT presentation) will almost certainly be circulated amongst stakeholders who I am yet to meet.  I have no idea of their needs, level of involvement or even their level of written English.  Do they need to understand my background before getting into the detail or are they going to go straight for the costings?

A client once described to me a phenomenon known as 'fear-based slide proliferation': -

When addressing an unknown audience (or one that's scary in some other way) the temptation to add in just one more PowerPoint slide can be irresistible

This is apposite because what I'm describing here is the effect of fear.  Freelancers fall prey to Parkinson's Law because we're terrified of not being busy.  Big projects are a high stakes game.  An unseen audience can seem unknowable.  The impulse to work harder and longer in the face of such things is natural.  My business is built entirely on project work.  I do a relatively small number of high-value projects a year so proposals are a vital part of my workstream.  It just frustrates me that I'm not more efficient at writing them.

But as inevitable as death comes the moment when I have to embrace that unsettlingly liberating feeling that comes as I hit 'send'.

How IP goes AWOL

Twice in the last seven years my intellectual property has been appropriated without my permission.   I'm not sure if two incidents of blatant theft since 2004 is a lot but it's certainly more than I want to deal with.

Both times the culprit was an overambitious yet cost-conscious training manager who had invited me in to make a credentials presentation.  In both the rip-off was based on introductory slides from that first meeting and despite the intrinsic simplicity of my ideas each end product of it all was rudimentary to the point of being completely useless, yet still vaguely linked to my brand.  The worst of all worlds.

I'm told that in each cases like this the plagiarists' thinking would have followed a progression such as this: -

1. That's such a simple idea!  I wish I'd thought of it.
2. That's such a simple idea!  I've often thought something similar myself.
3. Ideas like that are pretty commonplace.  It's really all about delivery
4. That idea has been around forever.  Much of the delivery techniques are probably already in the public domain
5. Why would I pay this guy to deliver ideas that are no better than my own and which he probably lifted from someone else anyway?

In other words, a pernicious internal monologue that begins with admiration and ends in defiance.  Left uninterrupted it costs me stupid amounts of time and emotional energy to arrive at a financial settlement that will 'make things right'.  Even worse, it also sets back my relationship with that company by years.  The sort of people who pass off others' work as their own usually have a highly attuned political sense and are going to do everything in their power to stop me ever getting back in the building.

This phenomenon, albeit rare, is why I have to out so much stock in my personal brand: my ability to convey my own ideas better than anyone else can is the reason why I make credentials presentations instead of watching them.

The business world's often cavalier attitude to plagiarism ('getting caught is the real crime') is also one of the differences between B2B and B2C.  When you're selling direct to the public at large the progression is likely to be: -

1. I wish I'd thought of that
2. I wish that I could do that
3. I wish I was doing that
4. I don't have time / energy / talent to be doing that but I'm so happy that someone out there is doing it and I get to enjoy it

Commerce isn't anywhere near as squeamish as Art on matters of originality.  You have to call the foul because it's unlikely that anyone else is going to do it for you.

2B or not 2 B2C

On Thursday I did what I suspect was one of my last ever stand-up gigs.  I'm not sure when the absolute last one will be but it's fair to say that I have many more gigs behind me than ahead.  It was a pleasant enough show run by an old comedy friend in a country pub.  My set went well but it's a long time since a gig felt like a portal to anywhere special and in the five years I've been learning this craft my life, especially my business life, has moved on.

This was crystalised for me by a throwaway line in a podcast about the 90's Dotcom boom.  The discussion centred on the two basic business models operating at that time:-

Business-to-Consumer (B2C) versus Business-to-Business (B2B)

A distinction that perfectly illustrates the divide between my comedy and my consulting.  It is the divide between Art and Commerce.  As much as I like to think I have something to say to other individuals (B2C, Art), I have twenty plus years evidence that what the cosmos wants to reward me for are my insights into how companies operate and how they could do so better (B2B, Commerce).

Set out in print it's obvious.  I am a journeyman comic who's happy to pick up a few quid for a twenty minute set in the back room of a pub in rural Wiltshire but I am also one of the highest paid consultants in my field with clients all over the globe.  My ability to make a few punters laugh on a Saturday night is passable whereas the effect I will have on your pharmaceutical sales/marketing operation is unsurpassed.

From an early age it seems as if we're programmed to aim first for Art.  My parents stumped up for lessons in music and drama and art.  They spend their weekends ferrying me and my sisters to performances on stage and sporting fields across rural NSW.  Yes, I know that a child's participation in sport or art is its own reward but buried in there somewhere in there was the message that if I had the talent then Art (including sport) was the direction my life should take.  How many conversations have we each endured with disillusioned friends and colleagues revealing that they were actually 'quite good' at some Art or other, lamenting the day they threw it over in favour of the financially secure embrace of Commerce?

Commerce is Plan B.

In generations past Art was something that you did on the side.  Few people could afford to give up their day jobs.  Nowadays new media's appetite for 'content' has led to rampant inflation in the earnings of our top sportsmen (but not sportswomen), actors, comics and the like.  Papers and magazines responded by overpaying snarky columnists to retain readers.  Needing something or someone evermore 'outrageous' to write about they in turn opened the door for the BritArt master branders like Tracey Emin and especially Damien Hirst to parlay scarcely deserved notoriety into massive financial windfalls.  For a chosen few Art now pays like never before.  The rest of us stand, necks craned, on the far side of the velvet rope.

I've suffered ferocious writers block with my comedy for almost two years.  It's gotten so bad that in the cause of generating interesting and unique material I've contemplated taking on some strange, arduous new experience like the Three Peaks challenge, the Alpha Course or fatherhood.  This is what middling comics do when they've extracted all available humour from their upbringing and neighbourhood.  Yet my experiences as a stand-up have helped take my consulting to another level.  Not only has my ability to command attention in a room been strengthened but my arduous experiences in comedy have also afforded any number of interesting and unique angles as a consultant.  Oh, the irony.

I am a quite exceptional marketing consultant and an entirely unexceptional stand-up comic.  My talents obviously lie in B2B.  Why is it so hard to admit this fact?  When I meet someone at a party why do I want to describe myself as a performer and writer rather than as 'a marketing consultant who helps drug companies sell their drugs better'?

What isn't to be just isn't to be.  I think I'm sufficiently free of self-delusion to know that I'm not just one more stand-up gig away from fame and fortune.  The fortune is more or less covered.  It's the fame I'm denied.

35 & unhappy at work?

How long does it take to get good at something? I mean genuinely properly world-class good? Good enough for the world to beat a path to your door. Good enough for you to consistently exceed the expectations of that world when it does.

The answer sort of depends on your chosen field but usually the answer is: -

Longer than you'd like

And certainly longer than every Internet self-help guru who says that whatever your age, all you've got to do is want something badly enough and put enough time aside for your ascent to be automatic. Even if you go buy some shiny Apple products to help you along the way.

Can we be honest? There are few fields of endeavour that you can enter for the first time at 35 years of age and make it to the very top. Even fewer at 40.

The obvious example is anything that requires extreme physical performance; only the deluded expect to become professional athletes after about 25.

But there are barriers even in seemingly non-ageist careers like Law when you do the maths. If you're going to start studying Law at 35 you're about five years away from actually practising and, unless you're truly exceptional, your chances of making partner at a Magic Circle firm are zero. At 40 you won't have the stamina to put in the hours required of an Associate. Of course you may still end up with a job that you love but can you honestly clock up the hours to get genuinely good?

Besides which, does the world really need another lawyer?

I've long envied those contemporaries who just knew what they were going to do in life. It gave them an internal consistency that translates into a massive career advantage. Early on they got called unimaginative and dull but as the years go by their ascents have come to be seen as inexorable.

I am not that person. Never was. I was the clever kid who, when told that he can achieve anything he wanted in life, believes it a little too much. Intoxicated by the possibility of everything led to years of focusing on nothing. Only in the past few years have I reconciled myself to the fact that I will never ascend to the top of any organisation because I've never shown the slightest loyalty to one.

People like me are plagued by the F Scott Fitzgerald observation that 'American lives have no Second Acts'. So plagued that often we never getting around to having a First Act.

So here's my tip: -

If you reach 35 unsuccessful and unhappy then you need to think very hard before cutting all ties with everything that's gone before in order to invent yourself anew. No matter how much you pretend to be a twentysomething just starting out it'll be clear to the world that you're older (but not wiser)

Any choice you make from now until retirement has to be informed by what you've done before, no matter how unsuccessful or unsatisfying it was. A change of direction is okay. As is a change of emphasis or company or country. All of these can be made to fit a narrative. What makes most sense is tracking down the coolest company in the world that does what you do now and taking a paycut to be there. Relocate at your own expense if you have to.

But that Brand New Thing that you've always liked the idea of doing? Well, sooner or later you need to accept that there's a real reason why it remains undone. 35 is about that time.

If my comedy was going to put me on TV it would have done so by now. But I would've had to have been monomaniacal in that pursuit from about 23 onwards and I wasn't. Now I'm 43.

I'm 43 and I'm writing this on a plane to Vienna where I have to make a lunchtime presentation before flying to Stockholm for a dinner with a different client. Neither company is the slightest bit surprised by my workload or my promiscuity. They value me and accept that others value me also. After all, I've been doing this gig (consulting to the health care industry) for fifteen years. I've earned the right to charge what I charge. Every day I set out to re-earn that right.

I acknowledge that I left it pretty damn late in starting my First Act. I also acknowledge that whatever I do next must be an extension on those last fifteen years, an elaboration at best. A complete departure would be a negation of all of that and be like diving back into a poolful of hungry twentysomething sharks.

I have accepted that in every other endeavour I will be no more than an enthusiastic, if perhaps gifted, amateur.

If you want to successfully change your life at 35 try re-reading your resume before burning it.

Subcontractors II

More pan-European training projects = more non-English delivery = more hassles with bilingual subcontractors.  Good problems to have but problems nonetheless.

Last week it was a 'pilot' with a German team in Munich.  The rub was that this time the client sourced their own external trainer to deliver my programme.  Nice guy, 20+ years in sales training and pharma industry experience before that.  Was it ever going to be a decent fit?  Not even close.

Why is it that no 3rd-party trainer can stick to the script?  Every one of them is somehow compelled to 'add additional value' with some banal personal touch right at the beginning of my programme.  There appears to be two main reasons for this: -

1. The trainer needs to start with some element of content that he knows and trusts before diving into all this new stuff belonging to the pushy Australian taking notes at the back of the room
2. Putting his own spin on things is the best way for the trainer to make himself irreplaceable

As the guy who has to deliver a product that's replicable in any European context your motivation for dicking around with my stuff is pretty much irrelevant to me but even so reason 1. is more excusable than 2.  There's a case to be made for you getting comfortable in your own skin as you start, whereas trying to make yourself irreplaceable is always going to piss me off.  And I'm always going to have enough influence over the roll-out for you to want to keep me onside.

What really confounds me is the hackneyed nature of the stuff they crowbar into the precious first minutes of my carefully crafted programme.  Lately it's been decades-old vision intended to soften up the participants with some message about how nobody-knows-everything-so-everybody-can-learn-something-from-today or all-the-best-sportspeople-still-practice-the-basics or whatever.  It's a video for Christ's sake; the sort of one-way stimulus that hasn't worked in a high school or university in years.

By introducing himself in this way the trainer is making a performance error so basic that no stand-up comic makes it after even a few months: you're apologising for being there.  Worse, not only are you starting on the defensive by pleading a case for being listened to, you're outsourcing that rationalisation to a fucking video.

At the heart of this rant is a recognition that few trainers see the world as I do.  I doubt that my oh-so-experienced German colleague considers himself a performer.  Which might be why he made so many annoying technical errors such as sitting down whilst speaking and allowing the focus in the room to splinter during group discussions.  To be fair he only lost me completely when he introduced his collection of novelty sound effects (motorbike starting, jet taking off, air raid siren).

I'm guessing that even in German there's a difference between amusing and bemusing your audience.

Great Merlin Mann piece

Using the analogy of a sandwich shop, Merlin Mann teases out some lovely truths about the relationship between a smaller external supplier and a new client.  

1. The Sandwich Guy can’t do much for you until you’re hungry enough to really want a sandwich.
2. Once you’re hungry enough, you still have to pay money for the sandwich. This won’t not come up.

Couldn't have said it better myself.  In fact I didn't.