Surrounded By Geniuses

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Greetings.  Many of you will recall the theme song for the very popular TV show "Cheers"--a classic comedy from the 1980's about a group of friends who hang out at a Boston tavern.  The title of the song (and the essential theme of the show) was the simple and important notion that we all want to be "Where Everybody Knows Your (or 'Our') Name."  It's a really powerful idea that speaks to the very nature of belonging, being part of something and of connecting with others in our various "communities" in some meaningful way.

So it should come as no surprise that all the companies and organizations we deal with would like to know our names.  And not just our first names but also our last names.  In fact, they'd like a lot more information about us than simply our names but that's a topic worthy of another blog post.

Which means that a typical interaction with Verizon, Apple, Johnson & Johnson or most other businesses will begin with their representative asking us what our name is "so we can better assist you."  But shouldn't we also know their names in case we need to follow up, sing their praises or refer back to a service experience that has gone less than perfectly?  Seems reasonable enough, unless you happen to be part of the customer service team at Wells Fargo.  Now I know that I wrote about them recently, but they continue to provide amazing insight on how not to provide great service.  Insight that should be beneficial to all of us.  And my latest request for help was another case in point on how some companies don't actually give a _ _ _ _ or a Flying Walenda about their customers.  

It turns out that I needed a simple document--i.e., a copy of the modification for my home equity credit line--and called Wells Fargo to get their assistance.  After dutifully following two minutes and forty-six seconds (but whose counting) worth of prompts I was excited when an actual human picked up the phone.  "Hi, this is Rachel," she began, followed by "Can I start with your first and last name?"  Then after a few essential security questions talk turned to the required document.  It was a legal document that I was told could not be faxed or emailed directly to me because "it had to go to a secure fax machine."  And when I told Rachel that our office fax machine was "pretty darn secure," she disagreed and indicated that I would have to have it sent to the fax machine at our local branch--something she would do the following day.  "Okay," I said realizing that I didn't have the time or blood pressure to change her opinion of the security of our fax machine.  And then I asked if I could have her full name and contact information just in case I needed to call back.  "We're not allowed to give out our last names," she replied, "and we don't have direct phone numbers or our own email addresses."  Wow! I thought. No last names and no way to be contacted directly.  Is that a tragic predicament for a customer service representative or what?

The next day I headed to our local Wells Fargo branch to pick up the fax.  A fax that, had it actually been sent, would have arrived at an exceedingly unsecure fax machine located right in the middle of the branch--just a few feet from the queue where everyone waits for a teller.  And when no one at the branch offered to call Rachel to find out what had happened to my document, I headed back to call myself.  But there was no way to get Rachel on the phone.  Instead, I got David who asked for my first and last name, along with a set of security questions, so he could pull up my record.  A record that included no mention of my conversation with Rachel.  And given that it included no notes stating that Rachel had found the desired document and was planning to send it to the secure fax machine at my branch, David quickly told me that he would be unable to help.  His reason was the belief that it would simply take too long to search on-line for this document and that I would have to talk with someone in the Line Management Department of the bank.  "Can you connect me to them directly?" I asked.  "No," he replied, "I'll give you the phone number" (so you can be put on hold by their office).  "Before we get off, can I have your last name and contact information," I inquired, "just in case I need to follow up?"  "We're not allow to give out our last names," he noted, "and there is no way to contact us directly."  "But you do have a last name," I continued.  "Yes I do."  "That's a relief," I concluded, hoping that there weren't an entire subculture of people in America without last names who were condemned to work at Wells Fargo.

Then after three minutes and thirty-seven seconds of being on hold at the new number I got through to LuAnn.  And while she also had only a first name, she was kind, thoughtful and somehow figured out how to find the document and fax it directly to me.  If only I knew her last name, I'd be delighted to send a letter to the CEO singing her praises as the one person at Wells Fargo who actually cares about customers.  And if only she knew her last name, she'd be able to take her skills to another company that might share her commitment to customers.

We win in business and in life when we are eager to know the names of people we have the privilege to serve.  And when we are eager to let them know our names too.

Cheers! 

Dear Wells Fargo

Greetings.  "Happy" is a very nice word and in recent years it has become a very popular idea in the world of business as companies work to make their customers and employees happy.  In fact, there are even books, articles, blogs and seminars dedicated to the simple proposition that happy employees make happy customers. And we all know that having happy customers makes it a lot easier for employees to be happy.  You might say that these two groups have a "symbiotic" relationship.

So you can imagine my delight (or happiness) when I called Wells Fargo and was told by the customer service representative that she was "happy to help."  Happy to help me complete a form that would enable our newest customer to directly deposit payments into our corporate account.  The only problem was the fact that she was unable to do it.  And so were the next three people I was handed off to during my thirty-five minute call.  Though each one began and ended our conversations by saying:

"I'm happy to help you!"

Sounds like this part of their training really worked.  They had taught them to be happy to help (or at least 'say' that they were happy to help) but not how to be helpful.  And I suddenly realized that I would rather have someone help me than be happy to help me.  Of course, I'd love both.  But given the choice, and a limited amount of time to spend on matters like this, I guess that I'd rather accomplish my objectives with the help of someone who isn't even that happy to help me.

And to make matters worse, I had an even bigger issue with Wells Fargo.  Because for some reason unknown to me I have been living without a banking relationship manager since mine decided to leave the bank.  Without telling me, or presumably her colleagues, that they might want to connect with a loyal customer.  I can only imagine that I fell through the cracks while they were all attending a workshop on the importance of being happy to help.  And when I made my status as a customer who was lost in the Wells Fargo wilderness clear to the representative on the other end of the phone she didn't even offer to remedy my situation.  Instead, she decided to offer me a business platinum credit card--a card I absolutely didn't need but one that she would be happy to help me obtain.  "No thank you," I replied in response to her insistence.  "I'm happy to not have a business platinum credit card.  In fact, I'd be kind of uncomfortable having one given that I don't even qualify to have a banking relationship manager."

We win in business and in life when we actually help those we have the privilege to serve.  And when our happiness is the icing on the cake.

Cheers and have a happy Presidents' Day Weekend!

Whacking Moles

Greetings.  Do you ever feel that you're not really accomplishing anything?  Or, that you're not accomplishing anything important?  If so, you can probably relate to the simple arcade game called "Whack-a-Mole."  Invented by Aaron Fechter in 1971, it's a fun test of reflexes and eye-hand coordination, and a great way to get rid of a bit of excess stress, energy or even hostility.  Simply use the appointed club to whack a bunch of pesky moles as they peek their adorable plastic heads out of their holes.  The more moles you successfully whack the more points you receive. And if you are remarkably skillful you win a prize...or the chance to play the game all over again.  It's fun and slightly addictive until you acknowledge that the moles are likely to win.  After all, they know their terrain (or the design of the game) far better than any of us ever will.

Taken as an arcade game, "Whack-a-Mole" is a lot of fun.  The real problem is the fact that many of us end up playing this game continually in our workplaces.  And it's often sanctioned by our leaders and managers who either: (a) delight in seeing how much we can do without getting any important work done, or (b) have no clue what important work needs to be done.  So they hide behind "the way we've always done things around here" or a set of business processes and practices that keep us from ever getting at the good stuff--while the world of more-focused competitors pass us by.  They even reward us to keep swinging at our own version of moles and praise us for the time, energy and conviction we bring to the battle.  Even if it's the wrong battle.

So here's your challenge.  Take a few moments to figure out how you can make a real difference in your company or organization's success by getting the stuff that doesn't matter off your plate and focusing your efforts on the work that's critical for the external or internal customers you serve.  Then developing your plan for being way faster, way cheaper or way more valuable to the folks who really count on you. By changing or reinventing the game focused on the results they need to achieve.  By questioning the way things are done and the things themselves. By looking for ways to drive new ideas that change the nature of your relationship with those you serve.  By becoming more flexible, adaptable and relevant to your market.  By using your club and your gift for innovation to strike the moles and challenges that really matter.

We win in business and in life when we change the game.  And in the process create greater value for ourselves, our organizations and our customers. 

Cheers!

Rethinking Netflix

Greetings.  Netflix is in the news today on the heels of a major price increase, a dramatic decision to break the company into two businesses, a rapid decline in its stock price and an amusingly self-serving, cover your butt 'apology' and marketing letter to its customers (see below).  Or at least that's my take on the letter...though you might have a slightly more favorable impression of this communication from Reed Hastings--the company's brilliant Co-Founder and CEO.

But from my vantage point it seems as though this remarkable company just might have peaked and is now trying to maintain its brand and stock price on the backs of its devoted subscribers.  The one thing that is clear is the rapid decline of its original DVD delivery business--a business model that crushed Blockbuster and other brick and mortar movie rental companies as it revolutionized the industry. In the process, Netflix earned a cult-like following of folks who sang its praises as they expanded their own movie viewing horizons in a world with nearly unlimited choices.  All at a very reasonable price.  And when the company added the option of streaming films, it gave its customers two great delivery options with one simple point of access.

Now, however, Netflix customers will have to deal with two distinct companies (and one distinctly higher price).  "Qwikster"--the renamed and quickly dying mail delivery business, and "Netflix"--the future-focused streaming business will each have their own portals, their own offerings and separate prices (and bills) whether or not this is better for customers.  And while Netflix says that it really cares about customers and is still serious about the delivery business--saying only that "Qwikster" refers to "fast delivery"--the new name seems to refer to how quickly they intend to disinvest in this line of business, how quickly they came up with such a trite and laughable name for it and how quickly they have turned their backs on the customers who built their company's success.

Times change very quickly and great businesses must make smart choices to remain relevant.  And this might be another brilliant decision by the leaders at Netflix.  But the most enduring companies base their decisions on the needs and aspirations of their customers.  And in a market with new choices millions of Netflix customers are now voting with their feet and wallets.

Dear Alan, I messed up. I owe you an explanation. It is clear from the feedback over the past two months that many members felt we lacked respect and humility in the way we announced the separation of DVD and streaming and the price changes. That was certainly not our intent, and I offer my sincere apology. Let me explain what we are doing. For the past five years, my greatest fear at Netflix has been that we wouldn't make the leap from success in DVDs to success in streaming. Most companies that are great at something – like AOL dialup or Borders bookstores – do not become great at new things people want (streaming for us). So we moved quickly into streaming, but I should have personally given you a full explanation of why we are splitting the services and thereby increasing prices. It wouldn’t have changed the price increase, but it would have been the right thing to do. So here is what we are doing and why. Many members love our DVD service, as I do, because nearly every movie ever made is published on DVD. DVD is a great option for those who want the huge and comprehensive selection of movies. I also love our streaming service because it is integrated into my TV, and I can watch anytime I want. The benefits of our streaming service are really quite different from the benefits of DVD by mail. We need to focus on rapid improvement as streaming technology and the market evolves, without maintaining compatibility with our DVD by mail service. So we realized that streaming and DVD by mail are really becoming two different businesses, with very different cost structures, that need to be marketed differently, and we need to let each grow and operate independently. It’s hard to write this after over 10 years of mailing DVDs with pride, but we think it is necessary: In a few weeks, we will rename our DVD by mail service to “Qwikster”. We chose the name Qwikster because it refers to quick delivery. We will keep the name “Netflix” for streaming. Qwikster will be the same website and DVD service that everyone is used to. It is just a new name, and DVD members will go to qwikster.com to access their DVD queues and choose movies. One improvement we will make at launch is to add a video games upgrade option, similar to our upgrade option for Blu-ray, for those who want to rent Wii, PS3 and Xbox 360 games. Members have been asking for video games for many years, but now that DVD by mail has its own team, we are finally getting it done. Other improvements will follow. A negative of the renaming and separation is that the Qwikster.com and Netflix.com websites will not be integrated. There are no pricing changes (we’re done with that!). If you subscribe to both services you will have two entries on your credit card statement, one for Qwikster and one for Netflix. The total will be the same as your current charges. We will let you know in a few weeks when the Qwikster.com website is up and ready. For me the Netflix red envelope has always been a source of joy. The new envelope is still that lovely red, but now it will have a Qwikster logo. I know that logo will grow on me over time, but still, it is hard. I imagine it will be similar for many of you. I want to acknowledge and thank you for sticking with us, and to apologize again to those members, both current and former, who felt we treated them thoughtlessly. Both the Qwikster and Netflix teams will work hard to regain your trust. We know it will not be overnight. Actions speak louder than words. But words help people to understand actions. Respectfully yours, -Reed Hastings, Co-Founder and CEO, Netflix p.s. I have a slightly longer explanation along with a video posted on our blog, where you can also post comments.

We win in business and in life when we continue paying attention to the marketplace.  And when we never believe that our genius gives us the right to ignore those we have the privilege to serve.

Cheers!

Inventing Poor Service

Greetings.  I can only assume that the folks at Best Buy, the giant electronics and appliance retailer, make a lot of money from selling service contracts.  And I also assume that, as they face greater competition from other big box stores and on-line retailers, "service" is likely to become an even bigger part of their business strategy.  What I can't assume is that this industry leading company has taken the time to figure out how to provide an efficient high-quality service experience.  Now I realize, according to most of the top consumer affairs publications, that it's not a good idea to buy the extended warranties that are enthusiastically offered on most product purchases.  But given the added complexity of many new appliances and the fact that our three growing kids generate more dirty laundry than several small countries, I decided to cave in three years ago and purchase a five-year plan for our new washing machine.  And three years into our relationship this proved to be a wise investment when the washer seemingly lost the will to perform.  In fact, each load brought a veritable symphony of issues that included:

• The inability to complete a large load
• The habit of becoming unbalanced constantly
• The proclivity to make obnoxious beeping sounds
• The tendency to shake uncontrollably
• The inability to complete a medium size load
• The need for continuous adult supervision
• The inability to complete any size load
• The tendency to always act guilty
• And so on...

But thankfully, or so I thought, we had a Best Buy service agreement which meant that we were covered for these and any other maladies that might bring down our washer.  "Covered" to the extent that we had five weeks and twenty hours to wait to get the machine back up and running.  If that seems like a bit more time than one might expect to repair a simple machine, let me explain how the folks at Best Buy figured out how to create a system for making their service repairs take so long...

First, it took ten days to get a service appointment given the schedule of the one technician assigned to our small corner of the U.S.  He was just slightly too busy we were told.  And when he arrived for the initial visit he quickly looked at our machine, scratched his head, and proclaimed that it had "software problems." "How do you know this?" I asked with a sense of curiosity having just completed my first four-hour service window with only a bit of apparent wisdom to show for my time.  "Because this model always seems to have these problems," he replied. "Awesome," I responded, "so you can simply install the new software and we'll be ready to go?"  "I could if I had the part," he continued.  "But I don't have one on the truck."  Which struck me as a bit odd given that my initial call identified in detail the machine in question and its particular problem.  "No, we don't actually stock these parts even though they fail regularly," he noted as if giving a lecture for a new class that might be titled: Great Moments in Customer Service 101.  "Which means what exactly?" I inquired.  "I'll have to order the part and you'll have to make another appointment."  "Perfect," I thought...that way I can devote another week and another four hours to getting this puppy up and running.

Second, he returned a week later with the replacement parts and quickly made the repair.  He then suggested, with apparent confidence that this would definitely do the trick and headed off to his next appointment.  "Shouldn't we test this before you go?" I asked, lacking the full faith and confidence that should come with having service performed.  "I'm kinda over booked today," he noted, "but this will work for sure."  And as he was unable to stick around he missed the chance to see that our trusty machine quickly replicated the exact same problems that had warranted his two visits.  "Perfect," I thought.  I've just devoted another week and another four hours to not getting this puppy up and running.

Third, my call back to Best Buy generated another appointment for the following Tuesday.  And once again I rearranged my schedule in the hope that a new and better solution would arrive.  But when the next appointed day arrived I waited dutifully for the service technician to show up only to discover that they had made a mistake in transcribing my appointment and had me scheduled for Wednesday instead.

Fourth, I rescheduled for the following Tuesday and called the night before to confirm.  And on that day, near the end of my latest four-hour window a new technician named Anthony arrived from Virginia.  He had apparently been summoned to solve the mystery and seemed from the moment he knocked on our door to have a very different take on the problems afflicting our washer.  "It's the shock absorbers," he said with a quiet confidence.  "They consistently wear out in these machines."  "Awesome," I responded--experiencing a slight case of deja vu all over again, "so you can simply put the new shock absorbers in and we'll be ready to go."  "I could if I had them," he continued.  "But I don't have a set on the truck."  Which struck me as a bit odd given that my initial call identified in detail the machine in question and its particular problem.  And my seemingly never-ending interactions with Best Buy had only served, I thought, to reinforce the notion that I owned a specific Whirlpool Cabrio washer.  "No, we don't actually stock these parts even though they fail regularly," he noted as if giving a lecture for a new class titled: Great Moments in Customer Service 102.  "Which means what?" I inquired.  "I'll have to order the part and you'll have to make another appointment.  "Perfect," I thought, that way I can devote another week and another four hours to getting this puppy up and running.  Drumroll please! Though I should note that Anthony did apologize for all of the challenges we had faced in meeting our civic duty of wearing clean clothes.

Ten days later, near the end of my fifth four-hour appointment window, Anthony returned with the new shock absorbers.  And after helping him to install the little buggers, he hung around to see how the machine would perform with the correct fix to its problems.  Like a charm I'm happy to report.  Because it turns out that he was a fantastic service person...working in a company that clearly doesn't have its act together.

We win in business and in life by being skilled at delivering the service that our customers pay for.  And by making sure that any wasted time should be ours instead of theirs.

Cheers!

Politics as Unusual

Greetings.  It's mid-term election day in the U.S. and a chance for citizens to give their feedback to elected leaders.  It's kind of like getting a performance appraisal every two years for a host of things that are and aren't totally within your control. This includes a wide range of seemingly intractable challenges that require real leadership, innovation, collaboration, curiosity, open-mindedness, and even a bit of genius to resolve.  Skills that are in less than abundant supply judging by the behavior of most members of Congress on both sides of the aisle.  But, then again, nobody's forced to be a politician.  Though the picture below did give me reason to pause and question the central premise supporting this blog and all of my work to help companies and organizations to unlock the brilliance in all of their people.

If you're a regular reader of the Surrounded by Geniuses blog you know that I believe everyone has the potential to be a genius.  But our current state of political discourse makes me wonder if this notion needs to be amended.  

In a very basic sense, politics should be all about customer service and delivering compelling value in meeting the vital needs of constituents, the nation as a whole, and the world we must figure out how to share. And, it should be about acting responsibly in using limited resources to address these needs in new and better ways.  Because politics as usual isn't helping us at all.  And the folks who sign up for the job--and the egos and special interests that drive them--rarely have this purpose in mind.  In a place that should be all about servant leadership, it's striking that we find so few thoughtful leaders.

We win in business and sometimes in politics when we focus on doing the right things with a spark of genius.  And when we never forget what really matters to those we have the privilege to serve.

Cheers and please make sure to vote!

Value Added

Greetings.  It's the start of a new week and a chance to reflect on the extra value we provide to our customers and colleagues.  Oh, I know, providing extra value is not one of your weekly metrics...or even part of your balanced scorecard...but it just might be the most important thing that any of us can do to build a real bond with those we have the privilege to serve.  And it's as simple as encouraging them to stretch their thinking about how to get something done, or supporting their efforts to imagine a world of possibilities by giving quick and helpful feedback on a new idea or an important question.  

But too often, many of us take the opposite tact.  Failing to take employees, colleagues, and even customers' ideas seriously.  Trying instead to poke holes in their latest thinking.  Suggesting why they won't work instead of why they might be a spark of genius.  And suggesting that they get back to the not-so important stuff in their in-boxes rather than trying to help us reach our greater potential as companies and organizations.  Even giving the impression by our lack of interest that we think they are idiots instead of geniuses.  

I recently saw a bumper sticker that read:

"I'LL TRY BEING NICER IF YOU'LL TRY BEING SMARTER."  

And I started thinking about the importance of kindness and encouragement in sparking innovation and unlocking the genius in all of our people.  The simple notion of taking the time to listen to a half-baked idea that might be filled with promise. 

We win in business when we encourage those around us to reach beyond their everyday jobs in an effort to help us grow.

Cheers! 

It's Not Our Fault

Greetings.  Traveling is a great way to experience good and not-so-good customer service.  So it seems fitting that our trip to Sweden would begin with some exciting lessons.  The excitement began when we arrived at Dulles Airport to check in for our flight.  As a bit of background information you should know that we always arrive at the airport three and a half hours early for international flights.  It's a great way to avoid traffic on the Beltway and check in before a long line forms.  That way we can sail through security, find seats at the gate, handle a few last minute emails, and then play soccer in the center of the terminal until it's time for boarding.  It also gives us the chance to make sure that everything is okay with the seating assignments I arranged six months earlier and confirmed 48 hours ago.  But this year, when we arrived at the SAS counter we were excited to learn that our seats had been changed due to "a change in aircraft."  It seems that SAS had decided to send a plane with more business class seats and that decision meant shifting around all of us lucky devils in coach.  So instead of the five window and aisle seats we had arranged, we were now moved to the middle of the plane.  And, better yet, it was totally beyond the control of anyone working at the SAS counter or the gate.  In fact, the new seat assignments were made by a computer somewhere else and, as the humans working there were quick to point out, "it's not our fault."  And given that neither the computer nor the computer that supervises the computer that made the new seat assignments were willing to talk with us, we were stuck.

But we survived the flight and arrived safely the next morning.  Which, in the final analysis, is the most important requirement for any flight.  Comfort would have to wait until we arrived at our destination.

And wait it did, because the remarkable power and value of our reservations would rear its funny head again when we went to pick up our rental car at Europcar.  For some strange reason, we arrived at their desk with a sense of confidence and optimism about quickly picking up our car and heading off to the beautiful Swedish countryside.  An optimism fueled by their sign that read "inom 5 minuter ar du pa vag" which means--for you non-Swedish readers--that we would be on the road within 5 minutes.  Now that's a cool promise.  And they came within an hour and 55 minutes of achieving it.  Because as I stood, with our confirmation and my Europcar "Privilege" card in hand, I was told that they had no record of our reservation or us.  And that they were completely out of cars.  They did agree that we had an actual reservation and that we actually existed, but it seemed as though our reservation had been made--and possibly canceled--by a Europcar computer and an international call center in England.  And they were quick to tell us that the mistake was "not our fault."  In fact, their initial response was that it was either our fault or the fault of some alien being posing as part of the vast company they worked for.  That was a pretty amusing answer.  And it wasn't until we mentioned that we were the customer and the call center was part of the very same company that they worked for that they started thinking about the problem with their initial response.

To their credit they then tried to locate a suitable car at one of the other car rental companies at the airport.  And when this failed, agreed to contact another Europcar location in the hope of solving our problem.  They finally found a car at a location in downtown Gothenburg--about 25 kilometers away, and told us that we could go there to retrieve it.  All five of us.  Along with our five large suitcases, four backpacks, a rolling computer bag, and a shortage of sleep.  Yes, we do pack un-light.  But remember, this is Sweden where summer weather has a bit of variation and you wouldn't want to be ill-prepared.  We then suggested, again trying hard to think of ourselves as customers who were about to spend close to two thousand dollars to rent a Volkswagen Passat diesel station wagon (or "combi" as the locals call it), that it might be their responsibility to get the car to us.  Now that sounded like an interesting idea, and after a bit of discussion they agreed to send one of their team members downtown to round up the vehicle.

He returned about an hour later with the car and we were finally on our way.  To their credit, they were quite pleasant and ended up being quite helpful and understanding once they realized that it was part of the responsibility of working for a company that offers and reserves goods and services in different locations around the world.  Even an apparently less than coordinated and collaborative company.  And, they were even willing to give us the rate that was quoted in our written confirmation instead of the new and significantly higher rate that came up in the computer.  Thank goodness for that as I was beginning to think that I might have to talk with the computer that supervises their computer.

We win in business when we put the customer at the center of our business.  And when we figure out how to own and solve the problems we create for them.  All in less than five minutes.

Cheers!

The Semi-Private Room

Greetings.  If you've ever stayed in a hospital or visited someone there, you know that patients (a.k.a., "customers") stay in one of two different types of rooms.  The first type is a "private" room, given this name because it is the temporary home for one patient.  In other words, it's a private place for you to recuperate in the privacy of the appropriate healthcare staff and supported by visits from family, friends, colleagues, and clergy who bring cards, flowers, plants, chocolate, balloons, good cheer and well-wishes during assigned visiting hours.

The other type of accommodation is called a "semi-private" room, given this name to convey the notion that you are almost alone and almost have privacy.  Privacy created by a remarkably simple curtain that is somehow infused with the magic of privacy.  But, in fact, this room is the temporary home for two patients--you and a total stranger who is also there to recuperate along with appropriate healthcare staff and whatever entourage accompanies them in their time of need.  And while it is possible that this person could end up becoming one of your best friends, it's not likely.  And it's even more unlikely that you will ever receive even semi-privacy in a semi-private room.  Because this marvel of modern marketing is simply that. A marketing concept that obscures the reality that you are sharing a small room with a total stranger and a relatively modest curtain.  And a sick stranger to boot. Complete with coughs, sneezes, moans, groans, screams of pain and delight, and all manner of good and bad habits that are only magnified by their condition and confinement.  It's something you'd never do in a million years if the hospital and your insurance company didn't force you to.  And something your parents always cautioned you against as a child.

If I was only slightly amused by the idea before, I'm quite concerned now after my father's recent back surgery.  It was an operation that seems to have gone very well assuming he survives his time in a semi-private room.  Sure we asked for a private room.  After all, dad is 86 and an extremely light sleeper.  But they were all taken. So we got with the program and actually had a delightful first roommate.  He had also had surgery and despite his pain was kind and thoughtful, had an extremely positive outlook, and was fun and interesting to talk with.  Plus, he was quiet at night and had no disease of the contagious variety.  One could actually imagine becoming his friend under different circumstances.  But he left the next morning, creating the opportunity to test the real meaning of semi-private...

The new roommate had lots of issues, apparently returning to the hospital on a somewhat regular basis.  In addition to physical ailments that were still being diagnosed, he also suffered from some form of dementia that made him quite anxious and even hostile toward the medical professionals treating him.  This resulted in frequent and loud outbursts as they attempted to check his vital signs, take xrays (in the room), draw blood, bandage his sores, and eventually put in a central line.  Outbursts that included an amazing grasp of nearly all the x-rated words found in the English language, along with equally compelling threats to anyone who came near him.  This led to an impromptu meeting with his family members, doctors, nurses, and techs that at one point brought eight additional people to his half of the 12 foot by 18 foot semi-private room.  And given the ever-shrinking quarters, even required a wonderful nurse to climb over Dad and onto his bed in order to connect an oxygen tube for his roommate.  I should note that the room was also filled with two hospital beds, two reclining chairs, four visitor chairs, two tray tables, two night stands, two TVs, two regular waste baskets, and a gigantic red bin for hazardous waste.  Talk about an environment that could challenge the leading feng shui masters!  But the real excitement occurred when his primary doctor called for an infectious disease specialist and we began to imagine the limits of a simple curtain and a bottle of hand sanitizer.  Not that I'm a heartless guy, but this did not seem like the optimal environment for a quick and healthy recovery from back surgery.

Of course, every situation presents an opportunity for innovation.  So during my hours of visiting Dad I started to imagine semi-private hotel rooms--perfect for our troubled economy--and giant misting bottles of body sanitizer that could protect someone from head to toe in a hospital filled with germs.  I also thought about ways to reinvent the semi-private room as a necessary part of someone's return to health.  By changing it's basic design and it's "component" parts.  By doing a better job of matching roommates.  By thinking about the real "moments of truth" in the experience of being a patient and how to make each one of them more meaningful and health-building.  By providing more knowledge and guidance.  By using music, images, and scents to strengthen the environment for healing.  By improving the privacy they afford.  By enhancing the collaboration of healthcare professionals.  By incorporating a sense of humor and optimism.  And that was just the beginning of a world of possibilities. 

We win in healthcare, business, and life when we avoid words that obscure the real truth.  Maybe the real genius of a semi-private room is its total lack of privacy, and the challenge it offers to innovate in our efforts to restore health and well-being to those we have the privilege to serve.

Cheers and stay well!

Accentuating the Negative

Greetings.  I don't watch a lot of television--except for sports, the news, and an occasional show about music, history, or geography.  But when I do turn the TV on, I'm often amused by commercials for products designed to help regular people cope with the very difficult challenges they face.  Products designed to resolve our most "debilitating" personal problems.  You know, the problems that cause us so much personal discomfort and embarrassment.  The ones that subject us to daily, if not hourly, scorn and humiliation...often forcing us to hide or live a public life of shame.  Problems which condemn tens of millions of semi-normal people from all walks of life to live in fear as they search desperately for a solution.

No, I'm not talking about the most serious and life threatening diseases.  Diseases for which we can only hope there will someday be a cure.  Or hunger, poverty, or homelessness.  Those are problems that are also searching for a solution that no one is selling on television.  What they are selling are solutions for dandruff--that scourge on modern civilization, and one of the greatest barriers to self-esteem and personal and business success.  Or so the ads would make it seem.  Because it's hard to imagine, after watching a dizzying array of commercials, that anyone with this dreaded condition could ever make a good first impression, have a successful job interview, enjoy a party or other social gathering, or ever find the one person of their dreams--especially if he or she is an Italian supermodel.

And because we're all on the lookout for dandruff, we have little time left to notice how remarkable people are and what they could add to our lives, our companies, and our community initiatives.  Unable to get beyond the flakes to see everyone's real skills and the possibilities that they bring.

As crazy as it sounds, we live in a dandruff-centric world...too often focusing on the insignificant "defects" in people at the expense of appreciating their special gifts and all the stuff that really matters.  Conditioned by commercials to believe that hair, or weight, or the way someone dresses or speaks, or the music they listen to or the food they eat, or the part of the world they come from, is the best surrogate for their worth and ability to be brilliant.  

 

We win in business and in life when we focus on the things that really matter.  On the magic and potential for genius in everyone.  Maybe it's time to get beyond the superficial to the real heart of what it takes to innovate, collaborate, and grow.

Cheers and enjoy the weekend and the World Cup!