Taking a bite out of the Deadly Carrot of Fear

Let’s say you’ve mapped out your Small-Business Tree. And you’ve even done some digging to discover the roots of your business, those things that sustain and feed and anchor you.

Which is great!

Except that you keep getting slightly disturbing information about one of your roots. You ask yourself questions like “Why did I go into business for myself?” and you immediately get the answer “Because I have to!

Hmm, you think. That can’t be right. That doesn’t feel good. It feels kind of … icky and frightening. Let me just skip over that and try to get to some real roots.

And you do. You find some things that really feed your business and help you feel good. But lurking there, still underground, is that scary sentence: I have to. I’ve got to. I must.

OK. Let’s just sit for a moment and breathe, because (I swear I am not making this up) I literally just got attacked by chest pains because I’m thinking about this scary root. I’m sitting here typing a blog post and suddenly I can’t breathe.

After about 30 seconds it passes and I test my lungs with a few deep breaths. And sigh with relief. And recognition. Because I’ve been here before. Yes, I’ve apparently just liveblogged a panic attack.

Because who am I kidding here? When I was talking about you, and your root of “I have to,” I was really talking about me. My root. My fear.

Me: Why, hello there, fear. It’s not exactly pleasant to see you again.

My fear: That’s right! So maybe you’ll stay away from all this excavating roots silliness now! Yaaaargh!

Me: Um. Actually, I’d like to ask you what you’re doing.

My fear: You idiot. I’m protecting you. So just shut up and no one will get hurt.

Me. Okay. See, the thing is, you almost gave me a heart attack just there. You know, with the chest pains? So I’ve kinda got to ask you, do you think we could work out a way for you to protect me that won’t end up killing me?

My fear: …?!?

Me: I know. That’s not what you wanted.

My fear: No! I just want you to be safe!

Me: Safe from what?

My fear: Safe from …OR ELSE!

OK. Another deep breath. Because I see exactly what my fear is talking about here. It’s the hidden end of that “I must” sentence. It goes like this: “I’m in business because I have to be. Or else…”

  • I’ll get evicted.
  • I’ll go bankrupt.
  • I’ll have to get a horrible soul-sucking job that I will never be able to escape.
  • I won’t be able to provide for my children.
  • I’ll end up living in a van down by the river (yep, spoken in the voice of Chris Farley’s Matt Foley, Motivational Speaker)
  • I’ll die alone, penniless, and ten pounds overweight (thank you, Al Franken playing Stuart Smalley)

Yeah. Pretty crappy stuff, there. With all that hanging over my head, you bet fear can be a powerful motivating force. Lots of people stay in those horrible soul-sucking jobs because they’re afraid of losing them. (I did, for years, until I got laid off. Another story for another post.)

And if I listened to the fear, I would probably end up feeling like that was my only root. Or the only root that mattered, anyway.

My fear: Forget support, forget help and encouragement…the only thing that matters is that if you don’t make some money by the end of this month you’ll DIE!

Me: *whimper*

My fear: So hurry up and get marketing! Who cares if it’s sleazy!

Me: B-but…that’s not me.

My fear: No one cares whether it’s you or not! Grow some damn branches right now! Sucker some fools into giving us some bucks!

Me: But if all I have is one root and a few branches, that’s not a tree at all. That’s not what I want to be.

My fear: What are you talking about? We need the money!

Me: Yes, we do. But I want to help people, not squeeze money out of them. I want to be a strong small-business tree, with roots and a trunk and healthy branches. You’re talking about a carrot. Just a big fat root and no trunk and a few leaves. You’re the Deadly Carrot of Fear!

My fear: Am not! Am not! Lalalalala I can’t hear you!

Me: OK, it’s OK, I want to give you a new job.

My fear: …??

Me: I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. The Deadly Carrot of Fear is ridiculous, I know. And you can’t stand feeling ridiculous.

My fear: No kidding.

Me: You don’t have to be scary or ridiculous. You could be a nourishing carrot.

My fear: Do I have to wear some kind of stupid costume? Because I’m sick of that. You know, big, bad, old me, fear, wearing the camouflage of reasonableness or practicality or prudence or safety.

Me: I know. I remember. I don’t want you to wear a disguise. I want you to be strong, juicy fear in all your glory.

My fear: Huh?

Me: Because you, my fear, are an affirmation of my growth. You show me where my path is and what I need to be careful of. And then I can work with you. We’ll be a team.

My fear: You mean… I’m good for something? Just me? Just being who I really am?

Me: Yes. Yes. Being your true, scary self. Showing up when I need you.

My fear: I’m not going to lose this job? You’re not going to laugh at me?

Me: Well, sometimes I’ll laugh, when I see what a good job you’re doing.

My fear: I’ll be the best Deadly Carrot of Fear ever!

Me: Thank you. I love you.

Whew. What a journey. I think I need to go eat some Wheaties for a strong heart.

Don’t be a cactus like the U.S. Mint

While visiting my family in Denver, I took my kids to take the free tour of the U.S. Mint. I remember going there as a kid, and being fascinated by the conveyor belts full of shiny pennies. This building was the source of my piggy-bank treasure! (I also have a memory of the gift shop, where I longed for a commemorative coin set that was far outside my childhood price range, but I digress).

My hopes were high. The Mint’s website boasts:

Touring the United States Mint is a fascinating experience for those of all ages and one that will be remembered for a lifetime.  Tours cover both the present state of coin manufacturing as well as the history of the Mint.  Learn about the craftsmanship required at all stages of the minting process, from the original designs and sculptures to the actual striking of the coins.

Sounds great, doesn’t it? My daughter has collected nearly all of the state quarters, so I was sure she’d enjoy learning about how the designs were chosen and engraved. Plus, my tech-geek side was tickled by the fact that this particular branch of the government has entered the 21st century; there’s actually an online reservation system for the tours!

But instead of an educational odyssey, I got a textbook object lesson in a large government bureaucracy acting like a cactus.

A business tree with no leaves.

That’s what a cactus is. Here’s a primer on the small-business tree if you need a refresher course. But basically the leaves in this metaphor stand for marketing, and marketing is all the ways a business touches the world (not just its customers, but its employees, suppliers, the public, etc.).

And the Mint is terrible at marketing. You don’t have to be Naomi or Seth to brainstorm multiple ways the Mint could tell a better story, make the tour experience memorable and fun, and do a heck of a lot of good in the process.

We are in the middle of a historic financial crisis, for heaven’s sake! Doesn’t the government want us, its citizens, to feel good about the institution that makes our money? Wouldn’t it be good public policy to increase consumer confidence in an institution like the Mint?

But there I go thinking like an entrepreneur again, forgetting that the Mint is a huge government bureaucracy (I nearly typed bureau-crazy) that apparently doesn’t care about the story it’s telling the public. In other words, it’s a business tree with no leaves (actually in this case the leaves are spines keeping people away, rather than leaves welcoming us in). A giant, spiny cactus.

10 things I hate about you (no, I don’t really hate them; that’s just snark)

Here are 10 ways the Mint disappointed me, and suggestions for sprouting leaves instead of spines. Although your business isn’t a government bureaucracy, see if any of these concepts might apply to you. Try mentally substituting your website, or your online purchasing process, for the tour process I describe here. Are you unintentionally putting up spines that keep your prospects from becoming customers?

  1. I expected high security (I totally get the need for metal detectors and all that). I expected to not be allowed to bring a camera, or a firearm, or anything remotely pointy. I didn’t expect that I’d have to wait outside on the sidewalk on a sub-freezing morning before being ushered through the screening process. Why not have a public waiting room with educational displays, where you can wait for your tour to begin?
  2. Oh, wait, there is a room chock-full of educational displays (they seemed to have been thoughtfully crafted and well-written, too) where visitors wait for the tour to begin (after the security screening). Unfortunately, you can’t get in until 10 minutes before the tour begins. So all that education is wasted because by the time you make it through screening you have four or five minutes to look at it before you’re herded into the tour. I wish I’d been able to take more time in that room. So why not put this room before the security screening?
  3. Better yet, why not create a public area that includes the educational displays, an information booth, and the gift shop? Let people browse for information as they browse for commemorative coin sets. Let them ask questions, and staff the shop and the booth with people who know the answers and care about sharing the Mint’s mission with the public. Tours could both begin and end here. Which leads me to:
  4. We left through a different door than the one we entered through (on the opposite side of the building, in fact), and we had to enter the gift shop through a third, separate entrance. Confusing! OK, part of this is just the geography of the building, but my suggestion in #3 could take this into account.
  5. Our tour guide was nice, but she was just doing her job. She recited long sentences in a near-monotone, didn’t explain terms like “assay” and “blanks” despite the children in her audience, and didn’t make eye contact with any of us. Any decent kindergarten teacher could have done a much better job at engaging us. Part of the problem was the “script” she’d obviously been taught, but part of the problem was that this public-facing position should be filled by someone with both passion and people skills.
  6. The (probably armed) silent guard following the tour group the whole time? A bit creepy. Yes, as I said, I totally get the need for security. But surely there’s a way to accomplish that in a less menacing way. Have the guard follow the group but remain out of sight, for example. Or have two “tour guides,” one of whom is really a guard and walks along the rear of the group while the other one leads the tour and takes the questions. If you’re allowed to ask them at all. Which we weren’t.
  7. No chance to ask questions! None! This both astonishes and outrages me. At the beginning of the tour we were told to hold our questions until the end. Fair enough, for a short tour (although question breaks could have easily been built into various stops on the tour). But at the end she basically herded us out of the building without inviting any questions. One person did ask her a question and got a rushed “only because I have to” response. The tour lasted 30 minutes. Why not make it 45, and build in time to answer questions?
  8. The whole tour felt rushed. We went through several rooms where there were displays and information along the walls (not to mention the room where you can look down on the actual minting machines), but there wasn’t time to take them all in, especially if you were trying to pay attention to the tour guide’s scripted presentation. Again, lengthen the tour by 15 to 30 minutes, give time for questions and time for information absorption.
  9. I like the online reservation process, but it’s just window dressing. You’re supposed to print out your confirmation page and bring it with you, and a guy with a clipboard checks you off with a pen (how quaint!) as you enter. To top it off, my (valid) confirmation number wasn’t on the guy’s list (because I’d just signed up a few hours before my tour). He let me in with zero hassle, but what does that say about the reservation process? That the Mint’s own employees don’t take it seriously, that’s what. If you’re going to require printed confirmations, at least print a barcode and invest in a scanner to let people in (from the freezing sidewalk) more quickly and more accurately.
  10. No free samples! On a full-production day, the Mint makes 20 million pennies. On a full-tour day (6 hourly tour slots x 40 people on a full tour), 240 people can tour the mint. Would it kill the government to drop a freshly-minted penny into each tourist’s hand? It would cost $2.40 per day. Yes, it’s a gimmick (these coins wouldn’t be collector-quality), but it makes the process real. Especially for children. Bonus: Imagine the marketing tagline! “Our tours are better than free, because we pay you!”

So, finishing up with the business tree metaphor, here’s how I’d map the business tree onto the U.S. Mint:

  • Roots: Well, the government needs to print (mint) money for its citizens. That’s pretty much the reason for the Mint’s existence. The Federal Reserve Bank depends on the Mint to provide coins for banks everywhere. Pretty strong, well-defined roots.
  • Trunk: The Mint’s sole client is the Federal Reserve Bank (though coin collectors also buy directly), and its product is coins. Very clear target market, and, as a government monopoly, its selling proposition is by definition unique.
  • Leaves: Here’s where the Mint fails at marketing (remember that every interaction with the public is marketing; even though we tourists aren’t the Mint’s direct customers, the way we’re treated helps inform public opinion of the institution). Sure, they have a website with information on it. Even some pictures. Yes, you can schedule a tour online. But the tour experience itself? Sorely lacking.

What can you, as a small-business owner who wants a live and vibrant business, take from this example? What parts of your purchase process, or your website, throw up barriers to your readers/customers/prospects? Which parts work really well and can be celebrated?

Disguised Learning, or Real-Life Business Tree Roots

So I asked my 7-year-old daughter (previously featured in this post for her genius problem-solving ability) what she did in school today. Along with her science project, math, reading, and recess, she said she did something called “disguised learning.” It went something like this, and I swear I didn’t make any of this up:

Me: What’s disguised learning?

Genius Daughter: It’s when we’re doing something that we think is fun but we’re really learning something.

Me: Like what?

GD: Like building with k’nex. Kids think they’re playing but they’re also learning about building geomectrical forms, and shapes, and how to connect things, and science stuff.

Me: Oh. So what’s the difference between disguised learning and regular learning?

GD: Well, some kids think disguised learning is, you know, funner.

Me: But doesn’t it kind of defeat the purpose of disguised learning to call it disguised learning? I mean, if you know you’re supposed to be learning, it’s not really disguised, is it?

GD: Well, it’s still funner.

Disguised learning. What a hoot. The things they’re teaching kids these days (and my internal grammarian is sniping, they can’t teach her to say more fun?). I had to laugh.

And then I cried. You know why? Because I’ve just been through about two months of “disguised learning” in my personal life, and let me tell you, it’s not funner.

Even though I can’t begin to count the number of times I’ve thought (or heard from friends, or read in a supportive email) that this is actually a learning experience and a growth opportunity. Yeah, I know that, in my head. Which seems to be functioning reasonably well. My heart, not so much.

Let’s see, how to segue to a business lesson in a non-cheesy way? I don’t know. So I hope you like cheese.

So here’s the part that’s related to business:

All of it.

Because for a sole proprietor (or solopreneur, or work-at-home mom, or any of several other names for a one-person business), our lives and our businesses just aren’t separable. Some people are better at compartmentalizing than others, of course. I’m not one of them. It’s all connected, baby.

That’s what the metaphor of the small business tree is all about. Your unique tree is an organic, living thing that grows and changes. And it grows from roots that are inextricable from your personal life, family, friends, and all the rest.

I mentioned in my roots post that my children are some of my most important roots, for example. I have a strong desire to integrate my business and family life so that I am not absent from their lives while I am working. And I want them to remember, when they grow up, that they had a mom who didn’t have an ordinary job — she created an extraordinary business and had fun with it. That’s my hope, and that hope is a strong root of my business tree (even though it’s a root that points at the future).

I have lots of other roots, of course. My business partner, my office, my sexy black MacBook, my idea of who my Right People are, my genuine joy when I help someone to become empowered with technology. All that and more. Much, much more.

But sometimes a root gets chopped off. Something that was a strong sustaining force changes, or disappears. This happens all the time, in small ways. Clients come and go, or the economy takes a hit, or your computer crashes and your hard drive is hosed. Bigger things might be a loved one losing a job, or dying, or getting in a car accident. You get the idea.

When a big, important root is lost suddenly, it feels like the tree is unbalanced, about to topple. How can my tree possibly survive without this root? This is the question that has come up for me, personally, recently. And since we all know by now that business and life are the same thing, what I’m really asking is How can I possibly survive without this root?

Which leads to the next question: Who am I without it?

And I remembered a recent post from Havi in which she mentioned “the deep, complicated, loving, challenging relationship that I have with myself. And the commitments I make to myself to keep getting better at learning how to give myself love, and stuff like that.”

That sentence took my breath away. Because she is talking about discovering and then consciously nurturing her own roots. And she said it in a way that I could hear. And it clicked for me, even though I’ve said in past posts that you can choose to grow the roots you want. I couldn’t hear my own advice until it came to me in different words.

So I get to grow new roots, consciously. I get to decide who I am, and by extension what I want my business to look like. And yes, that’s complicated and challenging, but it’s also deep and loving. And learning how to give myself love is a root that no one can ever chop out from under me.

A chopped-out root can’t just be replaced. The tree will always bear a scar. But healthy trees can survive a lot. I recently visited a redwood grove and saw 300-foot-tall trees that were nearly 2,000 years old. Several of them were completely hollowed out at the base (I assumed by fire). You could literally walk inside these trees and be in a living cave. And they were still growing! Inspiring isn’t even the word. Hmm. There’s probably another whole post about redwoods in there somewhere. But that’s for another day. For now, I’m going to honor my commitment to self-care by getting some sleep, and looking forward to tomorrow.

How about you? What are your roots? What can you do to consciously nourish them today, right now?

Climbing to the Top of Your Small-Business Tree

We’ve previously discussed two sections of the small-business tree, the roots (your business life-support systems) and the trunk (your USP and your ideal customer). Now we’ll move up to the leafy canopy and explore the branches.

Branches (and twigs, and leaves) are the most visible part of the tree. When someone else learns about your business, they are seeing the branches (or perhaps one specific branch, or even just one leaf on one branch). So the business term that matches up most closely with “branches” is “marketing.”

Remember, however, that marketing is more than just advertising. I agree with Seth Godin‘s view, which is that everything your business does is marketing. Every interaction with the world, whether it’s with a current customer, a potential customer, an employee, a vendor, or other business owners, is marketing in action.

Some fairly obvious branches of your small-business tree:

  • Your website
  • Your business card
  • Your logo
  • Your advertising
  • Your office or store
  • Your email signature
  • Any profiles you maintain online (such as LinkedIn, Facebook, Twitter, etc.)

And here are some less-obvious ones:

  • The colors and fonts on your website…and whether you make it easy to search
  • The way you answer your business phone, and your voicemail greeting when you don’t answer
  • How you pay your business’s bills, and whether you pay them on time
  • Your privacy policy (is it in English, or legalese?)
  • How often you email your subscribers, and how easy (or hard) you make it to unsubscribe
  • What you call yourself (not just your business name, but your title: Are you the CEO? The Chief Vision Officer? The Headmaster?)

Branches are a great metaphor because they can contain sub-branches, twigs, and leaves. So your website might be one of your business’s main branches, a branch you spend a lot of time and energy maintaining, and each page or post could be called a leaf. The placement of your images and navigation are leaves. The way you link to other sites can be a leaf too.

Some of these leaves, such as sales pages (or, in the brick-and-mortar world, stores), have an obvious function: They are an entry point for outside energy, in the form of money, into your business. But even non-transactional leaves, such as regular blog posts, your “About Us” page, etc. are an entry point for outside energy, in the form of attention, into your business. Yes, setting up the sales page(s) is important. But don’t neglect the branches and leaves that surround them.

Finally, each leaf and branch, no matter how high up in the tree, is connected directly to the roots. In a real tree, a chain of connected cells brings water up from the roots to keep the leaf firm and shiny, and another type of cell has the job of sending sugars (made in the leaf from the sun’s energy) down to the roots for storage.

For a business, this connection is accomplished by constantly asking a simple question:

Is this business leaf congruent with my business roots?

You can evaluate any business decision by connecting with your own roots. Don’t forget that you need to travel through the trunk to get there. Does the leaf you’re contemplating serve your ideal customer? Does it match up with your USP? Will it send energy to your roots, and is it a natural, organic growth from those roots?

Food for thought, eh? Even as I type this post, I’m finding leaves I want to fix and change on this site. Did any of the items in this list inspire you to think differently about your marketing? Tell me with a comment!