At the Edinburgh Festival 1

For the next ten days I'm in Edinburgh performing at the largest arts, music and comedy festival in the world.

It is an especially brutal marketplace with the supply of shows far outweighing the demand; there are literally thousands of shows being staged.  They range from Joan Rivers to the 125th iteration of the Cambridge Footlights Review that gave rise to John Cleese and Peter Cook; and from serious, experimental theatre in purpose-built venues to stand-up comics in dingy rooms with a single mic.

Over the next few days I'm going to try and make sense of the stand-up comedy scene up as a market.  Being a stand-up is pretty much the ultimate n=1 proposition; you create and deliver your own product and your personal brand is your biggest asset.

Early on your personal style counts for far less than a proven ability to perform for a certain amount of time.  Strangely, the promoters who put the shows together are more concerned about the length of a show than it's content so comics must prove themselves able to be able to work to a time-based demand.  We're asked if we can do a 'tight ten' (ie a solid ten-minute routine that will work for most audiences) with no questions whatsoever about the content of the set.  Getting a reputation for 'not sticking to time' can be fatal for a newer comic.

Most promoters book acts solely on the basis of time and then leave it up to the comics themselves to worry about if their sets are too similar in topic matter or even if they're right for the audience in question.  It is within these strictures that all but the ultra-talented have to work to build their brands.

We had an audience of 16 last night.  The Festival average is 4.

Itemised quotes

The economic downturn has shown up on my doorstep in the form of requests for greater detail in pitch documents.  In the last week two different clients (one old, one new) have referred project proposals to Purchasing who have then demanded very specific financial breakdowns.  I had to remind myself that purchasing departments usually have a precise mindset that deals more easily with large quantities of tangible low-ticket items (say, widgets) instead of small quantities of intangible high-ticket items (consultancy).

Because Purchasing Officers / Managers are intentionally removed from the project itself I sometimes find it hard to avoid seeming evasive when I can't break down my figures past a certain point.  "I cost what I cost" is obviously an unacceptable response.  

It is vital to work out whether the person you're dealing with is coming from an administrative or negotiating standpoint.  With an administrator it's simply making the numbers add up, but today I made an incorrect assumption and ended up in a negotiation over day rate before I knew it.

I await the outcome.

Will Ferrell movies

I'm back in the US running a week-long programme.  It's a long time to spend with a group of strangers.  It means that the people I'm working with get to see me in a semi-social context as well as a straight professional one and we won't be strangers at the end of the week.

Personally, the biggest challenge is dinner.  No one wants to 'talk shop' but so many other topics are off limits; religion and politics are fraught, not everyone follows sport (and my knowledge of the 'Big Four' American sports is no better than passable) and you can only say so much about your kids to a complete stranger.

My background presents an additional challenge.  Because everyone else at the table has a pretty similar set of experiences (for starters they all ended up working for the same pharmaceutical company) being a self-employed Australian who lives in the UK arguably makes me more 'interesting' than everyone else.  It's bad manners to dominate a conversation, especially when I've been holding forth all day in the training room.

My solution is to get everyone to nominate their favourite Will Ferrell film.  He's made so many and they're mainstream enough for everyone to have seen and enjoyed at least a couple.  This gambit is good for at least thirty minutes of pleasant, unmemorable yet professional conversation.

His cameos in The Wedding Crashers and Zoolander were his best work for mine.

No excuses

I know I link to Seth Grodin a lot but this really is about all of us little guys.

Opportunity cost

Currently I'm pitching on a huge project; a train-the-trainer roadshow made more complicated by being pan-European and with the usual disconnect between the centralised marketing function in Paris and the regional sales teams.

I can already guess that the project will swallow every available moment of my life between now and deadline with multi-country teleconferences, endless rewriting of PowerPoint slide decks and one-line emails about the need to install an updated version of Adobe Acrobat.  Because I won't let myself to do bad work I will do all of this regardless of the financial deal I strike this week.

Whilst I want the job and I'm prepared to handle the hassle that will come with it I'm also aware of the opportunity cost of getting the pricing wrong.  It's going to be hard enough dealing with all the frustrations brought about by the client's internal politics without having to turn down more lucrative work because I'm overcommitted.  If that happens I'll really struggle for motivation.  This is what undercharging feels like and it's when I do my worst work so I need to factor a sense of opportunity cost into my pricing.

The jobs that have hurt my reputation the most have always been the cheapest.

A long walk

Today was hard.  I slept poorly and unusually for me, late.  It was one of those days where I overcomplicated even the simplest tasks.  Around midday it occurred to me that anything attempted today would take longer and be done worse than if I put it off until tomorrow or next week.

Instead I wrote a list of the simplest things I could think of doing for the afternoon: office filing, doing some laundry, preparing something nice for dinner, finishing the book I'm reading and so on.  At the top of the page was 'go for a long walk'.  So I walked through London to a coffee shop on a busy high street, I bought a coffee, sat in the window and watched the Friday world go by, then I walked home again.

Sure the week ended with a whimper not a bang but at least I ended it with a sense of agency.

The Long Tail

I'm reading a 2006 book by Chris Anderson (editor-in-chief of Wired magazine) called The Long Tail.

Whilst its difficult to relate much of the book to my Headcount: 1 model, I was happy to read his thoughts about self-published books: -

"The book becomes not the product of value but the advertisement for the product of value - the authors themselves.  Many such noncommercial books are best seen as marketing vehicles meant to enhance the academic reputation of their authors, market their consultancy, earn them speaking fees, or just leave their mark on the world.  Seen that way, self-publishing is not a way to make money; it's a way to distribute your message."

p77

Anderson is intrigued by the potential of digital technology (including improved efficiencies in print production) to allow more of us to produce and distribute our ideas.  Every consultant is in the ideas business and we're running out of excuses for not getting them out into the marketplace.

A houseguest

For the past few days an old friend of mine from Sydney has been a houseguest.  She visits London about once a year and it's always lovely catching up with her.  My wife and I feel very strongly about keeping up good links with Australian friends and family and nothing beats chatting with someone face to face.

But for the person who works from home houseguests are always going to be a mixed blessing.  My friend is having a holiday at my place of work.

There's no easy solution to this.  London real estate is far too expensive for me to have a flat large enough for my workspace to be isolated and my friend is here to see me not Nelson's Column.

The best and politest thing I can do is arrange my workflow such that I'm not especially busy for the time we have a guest.  Where that isn't possible I try and stick to my 5am starts and get work done before my holidaymaking friend wakes up.  Otherwise all I can do is close the door, put on the Bose Noise-Canceling Headphones I wear on planes and work quickly.

When we have visitors it's all too easy for me to adopt a curmudgeonly or even misanthropic persona and leave my wife to play hostess.  But that defeats the whole point of self-employment.  One of the chief joys of working for yourself is arranging life so that you get to have wine over a midweek lunch with an old friend when the opportunity arises?

Houseguests are a good thing.

Dressing for meetings

Beware of overdressing for meetings with client, especially if you're going to be at their offices.  As a consultant you want to be seen as a colleague and not a job applicant.

My rule is to go 'one up' on clients.  I try to dress marginally more formally than they do.

• If they wear chinos + jacket + tie then I'll wear a suit
• If they go without the tie then I'll wear chinos + jacket + tie
  
• If they wear open-necked shirts then I'll wear jacket + open-necked shirt (my preferred)

I will always at least carry a jacket and I never wear jeans, even at an off-site meeting.  I always wear leather shoes (not trainers) and socks (so no boat shoes).  I'm also aware that many clients have different dress rules for Fridays.

I know that some suppliers, especially creatives, get a buzz out of dressing as informally as possible because 'they can'.  To me that's tantamount to rubbing the client's nose in the fact that he's a wage slave?

For this reason I'd rather be overdressed and have a client poke a little fun at me for being 'stuffy' than be underdressed.  I can always claim to have another meeting that day where the client isn't as 'cool' as this one (flattery will get me a lot of places).

And a client who complains about any aspect of how I dress on more than one occasion is telling me, in code, that she doesn't want me to get the gig.

Keep a journal

From time to time we all need to bitch about clients, suppliers and colleagues.  When you work alone there is a sometimes a danger in that any human contact becomes a surrogate for these 'office conversations'.  Before you know it you're spraying your world with indiscretions.

My solution is to keep a journal.  That's a grand name for what is actually a series of MS-WORD files kept very separate from my work folders on my computer.  I don't write every day, only when I feel compelled, but when I do I allow myself to write down absolutely anything I'm feeling.  Because no one else will ever read these pages I can use them to hope, plan and most importantly vent.

Writing honestly is its own reward.  Over the ten years I've been doing this I've assembled a record of conversations with myself that is now a genuine resource.  Let's say I'm nervous about an upcoming meeting, I can easily review how I felt last time I was in a similar situation; what did I write before the meeting and what did I write afterwards?  What went well and what would I have done differently?

We've all heard the Socratic quote, 'An unexamined life is not worth living'.  Isn't one of the joys of self-employment the opportunity to live an 'examined life'?

Client dinners

This week I ran a two-day project for a UK client  at a country house hotel in Oxfordshire.

As is expected at such events I dined with the team in the evening.  This wasn't a chore as it was a small group of mature, interesting professionals who were very comfortable for the conversation to flow between work and non-work topics.  Most but not all drank wine.  As I had emails to attend to I left as the others ordered coffee.

As corporate dinners go this was a good one.  The bad ones begin with a group decision to abuse the company Amex and end with a drunken argument (or worse) with the management when the hotel bar closes.  The worst client dinner I can recall ended with the police being called.

As an external supplier its a common sense rule that you never get drunk in front of a client.  A less obvious caveat to that rule is that you should never bear witness to a client's drunkenness. 

There is no upside whatsoever in dealing with a client who was vomiting in a gutter the last time you saw him.

Jet lag

I flew to the US last Tuesday evening and home again on Friday night.

Whilst in the US I was fine, functioning at an extremely high level and converting a trip that I was ambivalent about into a real winner.  But since getting back to London I've struggled against fatigue.  I had a comedy gig on Saturday night (preparation for my Edinburgh Fringe Festival show) that went well enough but since then I've been unable to think straight.  I'd planned a relatively short To Do List for today but I'm not sure how I would've coped if I'd been genuinely busy.

I know its no more than a cost of doing business and I feel guilty about complaining even here (see previous posts) but sometimes I worry that my fortysomething body is feeling its age.  I read somewhere that typical 'active' McKinsey's consultant is in his or her early 30's; on days like this I understand why.

Back in Princeton

Work has taken me back to the US.  I arrived yesterday after a progression of travel disasters that will one day make a great stand-up routine (let's just say I found myself at a Starbucks at 530am, with my bags, hotel-less and into my 20th hour of wearing the same clothes).

That afternoon I had a meeting with a prospective client, a guy I've built up a decent relationship with over the last four months, and I was faced with a problem: what to say about my nightmarish travel experience?

I'm on the horns of a familiar dilemma.  Riffing about the series of mishaps is a chance for us to bond.  The reason why so many comedy routines are travel-centered is that 'the travel disaster' is a universal experience (amongst the middle class people who go comedy shows at least).  Talking about my day will act as an ice-breaker and we can have some fun swapping stories before getting down to business.

But in doing so, am I accentuating the fact that I am a UK-based supplier trying to break into the US market, at some level I'm reminding him that I'm not based in New York or Philadelphia?  Even if its only at a subconsciously, am I restating the fact that travel experiences like yesterday have to be factored into my costs in some way?

The situation was even more pronounced when I lived in Sydney, which is at least ten hours flying time from anywhere.  The fact that much of the world sees Australia as an exotic place was always a potential negative for me: what could I gain by reminding the client that when the project's over I'm going back to somewhere exotic and he isn't?

Never complain about jetlag and save the 'travel nightmare' stories for friends and family.

Response times

My rule of thumb is as follows: -

Phone call: respond in 12 business hours or less

Email: respond in 24 business hours or less (or Sunday night)

I gain absolutely nothing from stalling on client response.  Any thoughts that I might seem desperate are in my head.  Why wouldn't I want to signal that I'm eager, enthusiastic and ready to work at every opportunity?

Presence

For over ten years every page of every document I create has my email address on it.  Every person who has ever met with me has walked away with a document.  Where possible I try to agenda phone meetings with pre-sent PowerPoint presentations so that everyone has the same visuals in front of them simultaneously.  Of course my email address appears on every slide.

Presence in a marketplace is built up over years.

Business cards

My very first business card carried seven pieces of information: -

1. My name
   
2. Company name
3. Office number
4. Fax number
5. Pager number
6. Street address
7. Mailing address

When mobile phones and email came along that ballooned out to ten pieces: -

1. My name
2. Company name
3. Office number
4. Fax number
5. Mobile number 
6. Pager number
7. Street address
8. Mailing address
9. eMail address
10. Website

The card was a disaster zone.  I had to beg graphic designers to take on the project

The impression I wanted to create was that (a) not only was I the most contactable man on the planet; but also (b) that my business was substantial enough to have a street address and a receptionist.  It all cost money: phone, fax, mobile, pager, email and postal address to be contacted, plus a street address (that I didn't otherwise need) to give the impression of substance.

I was so terrified of seeming insubstantial and coming across as 'fly by night' that I was renting an office to create an impression for clients who couldn't have cared less.  

Contactability is all that matters and now my card carries only five pieces of information: -

1. My name
2. Company name
3. eMail address
4. Website
5. Mobile number

The only people who ever have a problem with this are individuals within client organisations who are politically opposed to my project, and competing suppliers.  Uncannily, both use the phrase 'fly by night'.

With 'political' opponents I respond by saying that I operate across so many time zones it makes no sense to have a receptionist answering the phones for only eight of 24 hours.  Besides, if you really do want to contact me you'll call my mobile anyway.

With competing suppliers it's all about competitive advantage.  If I take on unnecessary overheads then I lose mine.

Stand-up comedy

A confession: I perform stand-up comedy on the weird and wonderful London circuit.  I've been going for a few years and I'm starting to get paid for the occasional spot but no one's suggested that I give up my day job.

It's great in so many ways but what I love most is the immediate feedback.

As a consultant I can wait months to hear if my recommendations were effective or if the training program I delivered bore fruit.  Sometimes I never hear anything at all.  The isolating effects of self-employment often feels like I exist in a vacuum.  Stand-up comedy is the exact opposite: the feedback is immediate, binary and potentially brutal.

They either laugh or they don't.

When they don't laugh its horrible.  When they do it's wonderful.  And best of all, it happens in an instant.

A compliment

Recently a long-standing client came to me with what she said was 'an unusual request'. We've worked together on a number of highly successful projects and she's always been challenging but this was something different: she asked me to design and deliver a program to teach her team to be more like me.

Working for yourself you get some good days and not-so-good ones and this was one of the very best.

Beware of 'mates rates'

Let's say I need a new website.  A friend has a web designer friend who has just gone freelance and he gets in touch.  We grab a coffee to chat about what I need and what he offers.  The conversation moves onto the obvious common ground of the vicissitudes of self-employment; there is bonding, even a sense that we're kindred souls.  Inevitably, in the name of our new friendship, he offers to do the work for me at 'mates rates'.

Superficially it makes sense: he's new to self-employment and not all that busy right now.  Thinking aloud he says that there seems to be a synergy between us.  He muses that maybe we could even look to collaborate on projects in the future.

I haven't said a word.  I shouldn't have even agreed to meet for coffee.

Even though he doesn't know it, the deal on the table is that he'll sell me some surplus time in order to buy access to my client list.

What do I get?  Because we're 'mates' I don't get to shop around and compare suppliers because that would imply disloyalty.  I don't get to change specs as my needs change because any move on my part to expand the project will be discouraged: he gets no additional return on the deal for any extra work I need done.

Worst of all I lose the right to insist that deadlines are met.  I know that if a 'real' client comes along I'll immediately drop down the priority list.  I'm left in the perverse position of hoping he's not that good a designer because I don't want him to be busy!

By agreeing to a bargain I give up all the advantages of being 'the client'.  I don't get to expect the level service that I give as a supplier.  The absolute best I can expect of the deal is a decent website done at cost plus a favor owed.  The worst is very, very ugly.

So I don't accept 'mates rates'.  Not from lawyers, accountants, web designers, graphic designers, writers, printers, anyone.

I don't accept them and I certainly don't offer them.

Serviced offices

My last full-time, permanent employee was in 2000.  Since then I have been a one-man band.

A few years ago this unsettled some prospective clients.  They worried about doing business with a supplier so small he couldn't even afford a secretary; 'fly-by-night' was often the expression used.  So companies like Regus made (and still make) good money offering a way around this: the virtual office where someone to answers the phone in your name, sorts the mail and hires out meeting rooms by the hour.

Obviously, virtual offices are all about client perception: letting the little guys appear bigger than they really are.  But I feel their worth has diminished greatly over the last few years because absolutely everyone now knows they exist.  When clients in mainland China start asking if your business address is a 'real office' then no one's fooled by a different voice answering your phone any more.

I still use a Regus mailing address because its easier to deal with some government departments and suchlike if mail goes to a corporate address but I gave up the rest years ago.  I hold meetings at the client's office or hotel lobbies, and once your mobile number gets out that's how everyone finds you anyway.

As a small-shop consultant there is a logical consistency to this issue that clients understand if you explain it properly.  You're hiring me because of my personal brand and our one-to-one connection.  If I put people around me that only puts distance between us.