Airports

I travel a lot. Most recently, a weekend trip to Las Vegas to reconvene with the college guys. It was a three-day, two-night trip, but I didn’t have any luggage big enough to carry a suit yet small enough to fit carry-on.

I really don’t like being stuck and waiting around. (In fact, I’m sure my penchant for line cutting is fairly well documented.) Sometimes, it’s unavoidable. Good luck sorting through the trainwreck disaster they call airport security (we couldn’t call it a “planewreck disaster,” could we, TSA?). And the last ten minutes of sitting in the plane while it’s taxiing are totally unbearable.

Sometimes, maybe, the wait can be camouflaged.

I’m consistently delighted whenever I arrive at baggage claim and my bags are already there, ready for me to go. This happens…never. Maybe “consistently” was the wrong word. I doubt very much that we can make the baggage people work faster. It’s a bottleneck, much like forcing every passenger to remove their shoes, belts, and laptops.

Here’s an idea, perhaps: Why not design your airport so that it takes 15 minutes longer for me to walk to the baggage claim area?

  1. Walking, moving, progressing forward is not the same (and not nearly as bad) as waiting and standing still. The lady behind the counter announces “now boarding rows 1-6,” and folks jump out of their chairs to get in the next line. Passengers from rows 7-12 even start to shuffle into jockeying position for the next call. Progress. People like that. Why? The plane’s not going to take off any sooner. Doesn’t matter. Forward motion. (An abstract example: think about any website that has a loading screen, and how pleasing it is to watch the little bar progress from 0 to 100%.)
  2. It’s going to take just as long to get out to the street from the airplane, though more time is spent walking than waiting. What are you going to do? Complain about the airport because it’s too huge? Some nerve it has! If you gripe about anything, maybe it’s about indulging in that one last doughnut.  More likely, you just move.
  3. Ta-da! There are your bags, already there for you on the carousel. You’re ready to hit the streets.  Didn’t even have to wait a minute.

3D

Some ideas on 3D:

If James Cameron was really a genius (and frankly, thank goodness he isn’t), and he knew he was sitting on a multi-billion dollar blockbuster that would change movies and TV and media forever (much to my own chagrin), then why wouldn’t he make the (assuredly meager by comparison) investment in an ownership interest in a 3D-glasses manufacturing company? Consider how many theaters (and soon, home theaters) are now employing 3D glasses regularly (Here’s Wikipedia’s list).

Too bad, really, because he probably could have used more money.

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Here’s commercials for ESPN 3D. This doesn’t seem like a horrible idea to anyone else? Don’t you have a hard enough time keeping track of where you left the remote? Weren’t we all laughing about the humorous prospect of folks wearing glasses to watch TV like a decade ago? Or do we think this looks cool now?

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Why 3D flops, summed up in one poorly-shopp’d image:

Note: this image also viewable in 3D

“This 3D is pretty great. Wonder what this part looks like in 2D, though?”

This is what happens to you every 30 minutes of every 3D movie you’ve ever seen. Doesn’t happen to you when you’re watching HDTV. And I’d imagine it didn’t happen to anyone back when the first wave of color TVs were making rounds. Either 3D augments your total immersion in entertainment, or it’s a gimmick that’ll get boring before you know it.

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Here’s a bonus business idea: Lasik Surgery. The committee in charge of the doctors trained to perform Lasik should be having a field day with this 3D glasses stuff. Aren’t people spending thousands of dollars on surgery just so that they don’t have to wear glasses in order to do basic, normal stuff?

If you ask me, there should be parody commercials going off after every 3DTV commercial about how Lasik surgery lets you see in 3D without glasses. That’d be hilarious. The cost comparison is probably pretty close (think, “You could spend $2,000 to wear more glasses, or $2,000 to wear less glasses”). It’d go viral. And most importantly, we’d help put a halt to this whole 3D trainwreck that prompted the commercials in the first place.

Re: T-Shirts at Foam

I wrote two months ago about selling special T-shirts at Foam as a means of establishing a company culture, a bit more revenue, and allowing hipsters to get that $1 PBR if they really, really wanted it without compromising the price structure set up for the rest of normal human society.

I found this today:

I bet you they read my alt text and listened

I bet you they read my blog and listened

Now, it’s a little bit pricier than I’d want, and I’m not enough of a soccer nut to go in every game, but that’s okay.  The Scottish Arms is an upscale pub (not an Irish pub…but you know) in the Central West End.  It’s a totally cool place, but it’s not my home base.  This particular program isn’t for me, and in fact, it’s better that the club is a little exclusive.  No way to show your true Scottish Arms colors if there isn’t a little bit of a hurdle for entry.

I bet the regulars love it, and I bet that the bar’s seeing returns on the program as well.  I’ll find out for sure when I talk to the owner in the immediate future, and I’ll let you guys know.

Kites

Saturday afternoon I went to Forest Park to read books, write, and nap.  And by convenience, to watch a lot of people fly kites.

Two thoughts for the kite industry:

  1. How come nobody has ever made a kite shaped like an umbrella?  I just imagine that it’d be really funny to see an umbrella on a string in the sky, floating in the wind.  Might even be practical, too, for Seattle-based or Tropical Rain Forest-based kite enthusiasts.  Those poor devils used to need to buy two pieces of equipment.
  2. Why hasn’t anybody commercially sold spring-loaded kites?  I’m envisioning something like one of those t-shirt launchers you’d see at sporting events, except the rolled-up material is attached to a string.  Once the string completely unravels, *POOF* you’ve got a kite.  The hardest part of kite flying is actually getting the sucker in the air.  Although you could argue that much of the pleasure of flying the kite is derived from doing that work.  Still, I could see the short-term potential for some kind of informercial.

That’s all there is to say about that.  Kites aren’t that complicated.

T-shirts at Foam

Eleven recently stopped selling its proprietary T-shirts at Foam, the coffee shop below our office. I’d hoped the endeavor would have transpired a little differently (read: I wish more of them sold), but alas, retail T-shirt sales have been a lower priority than things like “make the magazine” and “don’t get screwed by the government for doing a bad job on your taxes.”

Foam has T-shirts too. I don’t know for certain, but I suspect that their tees haven’t been selling as well as they’d like, either. They too have got the ambitious (but attainable) goals of becoming a cultural hub on Cherokee during the night and during the day. I think that having T-shirts, or apparel, or some other badge of authenticity for fans would be a terrific opportunity to help develop such a culture. A few ideas have been rolling around in the back of my head for a while, and I thought I’d flesh it out some.

But first, let’s figure something out: What went wrong? Did Foam overprice the market? They currently sells their wares for $15 (formerly, for $18). We aren’t in the most affluent area of town, and a $15 new article of clothing might seem far less attractive than the $3 options at the Salvation Army down the street. Although……Cherokee has entire businesses that thrive on $20+ transactions. I’m thinking printmakers like Firecracker, or all of the artistic work done at Art Monster. People do come to Foam and spend $20 on a night’s worth of beer—heck, The Mud House fills up two nights a month selling luxurious $50 dinners. Is disposable income the problem? Doesn’t seem like it.

The bigger issue, I think, is the art. Foam’s T-shirts are iconic. Foam, however, is not. Eleven’s tees have this dichotomy, too. A place like the Hard Rock Café, or a band like The Who, can sell iconic T-shirts because the art is already built-in and can be related. The Who has a consistent message that can be conveyed and shared simply via their logo (doesn’t it make you feel like sex and rock & roll? Like smashing a guitar on something? Like screaming YYYYYEEAAAAAHHHH at the top of your lungs?) What’s Foam’s message? Do you think of beer, or of coffee, or of a live acoustic set? Are any feelings ingrained enough yet that you can relive them just by proxy of Foam’s logo? My guess is that Foam is still just an infant coffee shop, and their iconic tee doesn’t have much more significance than a billboard advertisement. The shirt needs more art, in order to help create and support the message. (For the record, by the way: I mean this objectively, not critically. I love Foam, and I hope they’ll be an icon soon enough. Plus I know the owner and half of the employees will invariably end up reading this and I needed to get a line of defense in.)

By comparison, The Mud House down the street has sold out of their stock on tees. The shirts say (in an artistically designed fashion) “Everybody Must Get Sconed” – a play, of course, on a Bob Dylan track, and on the owner’s propensity for making tasty scones. The shirts barely even say “Mud House” – it’s almost an afterthought. But the shirt, design, and message all help to convey the feel of the Mud House brand which (also arguably) might not be strong enough to stand on its own (not that I don’t love it, of course).

As another cautionary tale: High upfront costs with high profit potential is a very risky model for an upstart business with shaky cash flow. By the grace of God we managed to pay for everything, and through goading friends and family members into buying shirts we’ve managed to cover our costs (hey – where’s yours?). But there’s still shirts left over. Better, instead, may be the model of Pappy’s Smokehouse – which cooks just enough BBQ meat every day so that they slightly can’t serve the entire market. If you swing by near the end of the day, chances are they’ll be completely sold out of chicken, pork, or whatever your favorite is. Which, from a business perspective, either means less inventory (for a durable good like our tees), or less waste (for a non-durable good like chicken, which needs to be thrown out if it’s unsold). They could sell another few sandwiches each day, but because they don’t, folks are that much more inspired (and happy!) to show up bright & early or wait on obscenely long lines during lunch rush.

In conclusion: if Foam or Eleven had a big reset button, or if we ever decided to order more tees, we’ve got to go creative and add more value to the tee shirts in a way that is consistent with and enhances the brand behind the cloth. We’ll have plenty of time for iconic material once we’re big and famous, but for now, we need more art. And in addition, we can create value through scarcity.

But hell, while we’re here…

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Here’s some things that pique my interest as far as Eleven’s tee-shirt interests are concerned:

  • Shirts individually numbered. I think people love that kind of thing (from my days of collecting hockey cards, I sure do!) – especially if it’s numbered out of a limited set. You can buy a shirt from Eleven, or you can buy shirt #7, or you can buy shirt #7 out of 25. Which seems most valuable? If we’re selling a quantity in the order of tens or dozens, how difficult could individual numbering be?
  • Shirts that are event-based. Add value to the tee because it’s tied to fond memories of the event, and create scarcity because there’s only one chance to buy.
  • Shirts produced to order. What if we only brought two shirts to the vendor stand or unveiled a design online that would go away in a week, and whoever wanted to buy one would write their size and address down and be mailed a shirt when the time’s up? This would completely eliminate the risk of overstock, however, it might also require an additional print run (printing the samples, and then printing all of the orders). Plus, now we have to ship everything for an extra buck or two.
  • Shirts produced individually (?). Our aforementioned neighbors, Art Monster, do custom graphics. What if they designed each shirt individually, or even, designed your shirt in front of you at a party while you watched? Maybe that’s too far.

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More interesting than that, I think, is the potential for Foam’s tees. What I’d be interested to see is…well…culture based. As I mentioned, they’re looking to develop a culture around being on Cherokee Street, and in Foam, and spending time doing creative things with creative people (at least…that’d be my guess). I think having a membership or club of some sort would go lengths to advance that goal, and I think building that club around art (such as creative T-shirts) would be just the kind of off-beat, uniquely engaging program to attract serious attention and participation from the mass public.

Another factor: Unlike Eleven, Foam’s business is selling physical products. And there’s a huge opportunity there to add value (and art) to the tees. Say each t-shirt purchase comes with a free cup of coffee. Maybe it even comes in a special cup. Consider the psychological difference. Perhaps our customer was planning on buying a cup of coffee anyway (after all, I mean, she is in a coffee shop). Now, it’s as if that $18 t-shirt is only $15 (or so). All of a sudden, she’s thinking I’m saving money by buying a t-shirt. And that, in my mind, is an absolutely beautiful thing.

Here’s how we tie pieces together and make even more magic happen:

  1. When you buy a Foam t-shirt, you get a free cup of coffee. Subsequently, every time you come into the store wearing your Foam tee, you get a dollar off any purchase. Foam is ahead of the game as long as you buy fewer than 15 cups of coffee in a given month, but even still, I’d wager that if you’re buying 16 cups of coffee a month, Foam’s still ahead of the game.
  2. Seed the program very small. Start out by invite only, and pick out a handful of Foam’s regulars. Encourage anyone wearing a Foam t-shirt to sit down and chat with anyone else wearing one. In doing so, we build Foam’s creative culture, and we build buzz among people who aren’t in the loop yet (why do I always see cool groups of people in Foam tees? How do I get involved?).
  3. Have shirts co-sponsored to help offset costs of printing. Wouldn’t APOP Records like to have a small logo on the club tee, especially if this month the design was more music-based? Perhaps Foam’s coffee or beer suppliers might be willing to chip in so that Foam’s regulars are more primed to choose their product.
  4. Lastly, and most importantly, introduce a new shirt on a monthly basis (or bi-monthly, at first). Of course each shirt is artistically designed (haven’t we discussed this at a great enough length already?), but have somebody new design it each round. Your October T-shirt will still look awesome in November, but you won’t get price benefits unless you stay in the club. (Did you get the new shirt yet? Did you hear who’s designing the next one?) And of course, your December t-shirt is $5 off if you’re wearing November’s shirt, and it’s also $5 off for every additional shirt you buy for a friend.

Now we’ve got a loyalty club and a culture, and maybe even a new revenue stream if we’re really crafty. And we can keep building. Foam’s got an acoustic set next weekend, and there will be no cover if you wear your Foam Culture tee. Or, Foam’s having a free wine tasting event Wednesday night, with an open invite to anyone wearing their Foam tee. Set up an email list, and let people vote on the next t-shirt design. Hell, let them vote on the next beer they want Foam to bring on tap. Or vote on which beer this month is going to get a dollar discount to absolutely everyone who comes in, courtesy of Foam Culture. Can you imagine? For $15 a month, I get to help decide what of my favorite things are featured in one of my favorite places, I get to share my favorite things with other people, and on top of that, I’m even getting a price discount to do so. Wow. How powerful is that?

Invent a Holiday

11/11 might be a great day to invent a holiday.

It’s not there yet, though.  Sure, the party was great.  But where do we go from there?  How do we make the party about something bigger, better, stickier, more universal than simply “let’s throw a party because it’s our namesake?”  (How do we do the same with our business and our movement?)

Could it be the day that Eleven cemented its status as legitimate?  Probably.  But that might not be big enough.

Does it mark the start of a social mindset revolution among people in St. Louis?  Maybe.  But let’s not get too ahead of (and full of) ourselves.

Just a few thoughts.  What else could we invent and celebrate?

Playing the Percentages

Through Bill Simmons’ latest column, I found this awesome math & probability article on ESPN detailing Bill Belichick’s controversial 4th-and-2 play call last week.  I thought I’d touch on it with some thoughts from a business/decision making/organizational-supply-chain-management perspective.

Context:  Patriots’ ball on their own 29-yard line, winning by 6 points, just over two minutes to go.

Objective: Maximize Patriots’ probability of winning the football agme.

Decision Tree:

Read: I didn't feel like stealing a fresh copy of Photoshop

Thought I’d dust off Microsoft Paint for a change

How to read this:  Belichick has to decide whether he wants to go for it on 4th-and-2.  Each circle represents a point of action that’s out of his control (it’s in Tom Brady’s), and each square represents a point where the ball changes hands (it’s in Peyton Manning’s).  If Belichick decides to Punt, he gives Manning control – and if the Colts score, the Patriots lose.  If Belichick decides to Play, he gives Brady control.  If Brady converts (and further, if they hold the ball), the Patriots win.  If Brady doesn’t convert, Manning takes control, and if the Colts score, the Patriots lose.

How to interpret this:  As per the article, if the Patriots punt and give the Colts the ball deep in their own territory, the Patriots’ probability of winning is 79%. Or in other words, there’s only a 21% likelihood that Manning can take the ball all the way downfield in around two minutes and score a touchdown.  (Though, given how Manning has been playing this season, you could argue this is a lowball estimate.)

But if they play, we know the probability of converting based on empirical data is 55.7%.  And assuming the Pats are able to convert the 4th down (putting us at the top-most circle in the diagram), there’s a 92% chance that they’ll be able to hold the ball for the win.  If not, the Colts have a 34% likelihood that they’ll drive for the touchdown – giving the Patriots 66% odds of winning in that situation.

Working backwards: Putting the ball in Brady’s hands gives the Patriots a 55.7% chance of winning 92% of the time, and a 44.3% chance of winning 66% of the time.  Their overall odds of winning the game by giving Brady the ball, therefore, are 80.5% (92*.557+66*.443).  Which is better (sliiigghtly) than letting the punter do his thing.

But the science of management and organizational behavior deals with way more than just numbers.  There are an infinite number of intangibles.  On the one hand, this basic calculation doesn’t consider dozens of other minute possibilities (consider that the Pats convert the 4th down but then can’t hold the ball – we’d still need to figure out the odds of the Colts driving to score).  Or maybe Belichick had a feeling that his punter wouldn’t be able to kick effectively (I’m envisioning the second-to-last play from the movie The Replacements – skip to around 7:30), and that therefore, the win probability from punting the ball was strikingly lower than it seemed at the surface.  Who knows.

But most importantly, it’s awfully tough to justify at what was probably the most critical point in the Pats’ game – if not, their entire season.  Belichick wagered big – and lost big.  There’s already been a ton of fallout from fans, press, and I can only imagine, from the players too.  A good manager should know that sometimes the highest-percentage play isn’t always the smartest – sort of like how you probably wouldn’t bet $100 for a 1-in-1000 chance to win 100,001.  You win overall (by a dollar!) if you make the bet every time, but maybe you’re better off taking the safe route and pocketing the $100.  Or, in Belichick’s case, saving face and letting Manning win the game instead of losing it for himself (@2:00 in).

From Your “Friends”

Spotted this in the supermarket a week or two ago:

Your friends seem to think you're thirsty.

Your friends seem to think you’re thirsty.

We could do a psychological dig here and get into some whole “be wary of who your friends are, and what their motives might be.”  But screw that.  Let’s just appreciate this on the surface level that all the students’ friends are alcohol companies.  Hah.

This Shouldn’t Be Illegal

Saw this post titled “Seriously.  This should be illegal.” on Kotaku, a video gamers’ blog:

One commenter lovingly calls this a stupid tax.

One commenter lovingly calls this a "stupid tax."

Commenters are furious.  “How could BB charge good money for something so simple!?  I could do this!  They could charge 20% of that and it’d still be profitable – this costs them nothing!”

Nobody ever said the internet populous was brilliant (however good Wikipedia turned out to be), but anyway, there’s a lot of reading between the lines that justifies the price.

The thing about service professions is that they universally have high margins per sale.  You think the guy cutting your hair couldn’t do it for half as much?  20% as much?  Hey – all he’s doing is working a pair of scissors, right?  I could do that!

What the unassuming public thinks you’re buying here:

  1. Guy comes to your house,
  2. Connects some cables,
  3. Powers the system on to download updates.

What the actual consumers of this product are buying:

  1. The personal, undivided attention and time of a trained professional,
  2. The guarantee that you won’t screw something up that’s very important for your kids,
  3. An excuse not to read the instruction manual full of jargon,
  4. The use of their own time to do other things, like make $130.01 an hour.

It’s easy for everyone on a blog – a video game blog, no less – to lampoon Best Buy for shamelessly inflating prices.  What they don’t realize is that Best Buy, although they’re an electronics giant, gave up on internet- and computer-savvy consumers a long time ago as their core market.  Best Buy is still around (and Circuit City isn’t) because of, ironically enough, their service.  People above 50 swear by it.  Any time my Dad need something electronic, the first thing he does (after calling and asking my opinion) is mention that he’s going to Best Buy.  Sometimes, I get calls from my parents while they’re already in Best Buy.

My parents (not exclusively, but figuratively) are Best Buy’s core customers.  My generation buys a TV, computer, or game system because the technical specifications meets our high standards at the best price.  Best Buy can’t do this – they have storefronts to pay for while TigerDirect is in a warehouse in the middle of nowhere.  The 50+ generation buys a TV to impress their friends and coworkers and a game system to amaze their kids.  I can’t imagine asking my Dad to set up a Nintendo Wii – even if I walked him through it over the phone.

What’s an extra hundred bucks to see your kids’ jaws drop as everything’s powered on for the first time and works perfectly?