The new year always seems odd because it's the one time per year that most people spend time thinking about how their lives can be better. The resolution. I'm going to quit smoking. I'm going to get in shape. I'm going to spend more time with my family. What is it about the rest of the year that makes people so blissfully ignorant of themselves? The new year is a reminder that time is indeed running out. It's the yearly motivator that gets people really inspired to change. That is, until February when the inspiration runs out, and they're smoking, eating a Whopper for breakfast and still not calling their mother.

This all seems very odd to me, because I'm the type of person who thinks about dying all the time. I'm not a particularly morbid person (beyond my love for death metal and horror movies), and I'm not the type of person who worries about dying. I simply tend to be constantly aware that death will happen. It's a natural part of the life cycle. It's also nothing to be afraid of. For this reason, I'm incredibly interested in things related to the Memento Mori, which translated from Latin roughly means "remember death" or "remember that you will die." Sure it's a touch macabre, but if you peel back the darkness what you'll find a reminder to seize all opportunities, and live each day to its fullest. Memento Mori is a daily affirmation, as opposed to a New Year's resolution which is an annual pipe-dream.

I got to thinking about this because I was talking to an old friend that I recently reconnected with and the topic of my tattoos came up. The question was "so, what's the story behind your arms?" Here's the story, but first a quick flash of context. In 2001 I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis, and spent 3 weeks in the hospital, and I almost died. It's a funny thing about almost dying. It really puts things into perspective. It was after that experience that I became accutely aware of my mortality and thus obsessed with the idea of Memento Mori.

Anyway, the story: on my right arm I there's two children playing in a field, one is flying a kite with a skull and crossbones on it, and the other is chasing a leaf. There's a small sapling tree in the foreground and it's dawn. Flying above the scene is a giant winged hourglass, with all the sand at the top. On my other arm is the same scene, only the tree is huge and old - twisted and leafless. There's two gravestones next to the tree and it's dusk. The hourglass has broken wings, and the sand is pouring out of the broken bottom of the hourglass onto the gravestones. As a quick lesson in Memento Mori imagery, a winged hourglass symbolizes the flight of time, and it's usually paired with a scythe to symbolize the certainty of death. I opted to keep the scythe out.

The tattoo was inspired by the line "all that breathe will share thy destiny" from William Cullen Bryant's poem "Thanatopsis", which is a beautiful poem which in a nutshell, talks about the idea that there should be more comfort in death because there's more souls there than that of on the side of the living. I'm not religious in the least, but I think that idea has it's share of romance. It's my reminder that today is the day.

That brings us back to New Years Eve. People need to cut out this resolution bullshit. Lives are lived one day at a time, not one year at a time. No one says "I know you had a bad day, but don't worry - next year will be better." So this year, please - ignore the pre-programmed desire to resolve to do something for next year. Just do it now. Know you need to quit smoking? NOW is the time. Not tomorrow. NOW. Resolutions are road maps for procrastinators. 2009 has 365 "todays", but only 1 "next year". Take advantage.

Brad Feld recently posted a blog "The Dynamics of Full Disclosure" after receiving an email from a reader asking if he had previously disclosed his affiliate status with Amazon after he posted a blog with a few recommendations for books he liked in 2008. It's best that you read his blog first, then come back here.

Now that we're up to speed, let's consider a two things:
1. Full disclosure has it's place and purpose
2. Reading someone's blog is a choice

The specific purpose for full disclosure by a writer is to uphold the trust they have with their readers (beyond any legalities that I have no place even attempting to speak about). Subtle as it may be, there does exist a trust relationship between writer and reader.

Since maintaining transparency is the most common way to foster trust online, being as transparent as possible is a must for a blogger. However, is it possible that someone can be completely transparent, yet still maintain a level of privacy? The answer should be yes. Some details have little to do with the writer/reader trust relationship, however because of the expectation of transparency unrealistic expectations are often cast onto the writer.

If someone blogs about a company they're financially invested in, where raising awareness with that person's readers could lead to the company growing and thereby creating a potential financial benefit for the writer, full disclosure is a must to maintain a "best intentions" position. This may full under the "duh" category, but it's important to lay the groundwork so we can discuss the gray area.

Lets mosey a few steps closer to the center of the black and white. If someone blogs about a book written by someone they know personally, it's widely accepted that the blogger will disclose their relationship so as to avoid the potential for an accusation of favoritism. I won't go far to say it's essential, but full disclosure in this case will certainly head off at the pass potential trust issues.

Let's go gray. Maybe I look at things differently that most people, but I always see online recommendations as friendly when they're coming from a person I follow or trust (as opposed to a business). Clearly the more that's left open to interpretation the more gray the area becomes. Because of this, there's really no right or wrong - just varying levels of up-tightness. More often than not, a list of recommended items will directly correlate to what the writer has found personally interesting or enjoyable. I find the best way to sort through gray area situations is to imagine them happening in a different context.

Let's take Brad's post recommending the books for example. Would there be a different expectation of disclosure if you heard him talking about a few books while he was speaking publicly? How about if it was a conversation amongst a handful of people in a bar? What about if he sent you an instant message that linked to a book he liked? If you trust someone enough to consider their recommendations, then why worry about what they could potentially gain from that recommendation - regardless of the context.

It's a waste of time worrying about the minutiae of intention in a friendly setting when it's rarely anyone's business, and more importantly - really doesn't matter in the grand scheme. Here's an example: Jack Threads is an invite only site that gives you access to one awesome clothing item per day at a deeply discounted price. Anyone with a membership can invite an infinite amount of people. If I invite you and you sign up, I'll receive a $10 credit after you make your first purchase.

If I think the site is great, and I tell people how much I like it and they like it enough to sign up and spend money, then who cares if I get $10 in credit? Certainly not my friends. I'd be telling people about the site if the incentive didn't exist, and while I don't want to put words in anyone's mouth, I'd bet recommendations would still be made if Amazon canceled their affiliate program.

Clearly, there's a bond readers feel to the people they follow via blog or any other social media, however there sometimes exists an odd sense of entitlement that makes people feel they should be privy to whatever information they deem necessary. What happened to trust? If you need full disclosure in order to take a recommendation from someone you choose to follow, maybe you shouldn't be seeking out what they have to say.

If there was ever a year for me to take every opportunity to travel, it would be 2009. I'm still young, soon-to-be divorced, and able to work remotely. It's the last part that becomes complicated. How effective am I really for our team sitting in a hotel on my laptop on the other side of the world? Does it add any value, or just increase complexity and slow down productivity?

This question has been on my mind a lot lately, as I've been fortunate enough to be invited to speak all over the place in 2009 from San Francisco to Manila, Istanbul, New Zealand, Hong Kong and beyond.

The question is, who gets the most value from these opportunities? It could be argued that I'm out there, hitting the pavement, evangelizing our company - spreading the word. It could also be argued that my time is better served actually working at the office, and that these opportunities would bring more value to me personally than it would bring to our company.

What's the best way to make these decisions? How do you quantify results from these sort of opportunities? Is it dumb to even worry about results?

I would love to visit each and every one of those places. Meet local people, eat local food, experience local life. Clearly that has more to do with my not-so-secret desire to be Anthony Bourdain, but will 30-60 minutes of my time to speak provide any level of measurable result for our company, or is it simply a work-for-play trade-off to fulfill a personal desire?

Help a brother out...

Last night I followed a fragment of a Twitter conversation between @andrewhyde and @alabut about "community vs spec work". Al asked Andrew if he felt that design competitions were spec work. Andrew said via Twitter, "depends on the purpose, if [their] motivation is the love of design or the company, then it is a push, if the motivation is $ = bad".

For the sake of this post, I'm going to assume Andrew is talking about the motivation of the designer. I agree with the essence of what Andrew is saying, but I feel it's important to understand that the designer's motivation has fundamentally nothing to do with what makes work spec or not.

If the designer who has the most designs printed at Threadless was a talented yet greedy bastard whose sole purpose was monetary gain, that wouldn't change the fact that submitting to Threadless isn't spec work. The main difference between a design contest and spec work is the expectation of the end result.

For design of any kind, the more specific the expectation, the higher the probability you're entering into spec-zone. Alternatively, in a non-design setting such as Amazon's Mechanical Turk, crowdsourcing can be successfully utilized even with the expectation of a highly specific result.

As a business concept with a high trend value, proven success, and the perception of being easy - marketers and serial entrepreneurs want to try to find every way possible to use crowdsourcing.

Without an understanding what spec work is, in a design setting, the line between it and crowdsourcing easily is crossed. Consider this: According to AIGA, spec work can be defined as "the practice of requesting that design work be produced and submitted on a speculative basis in order to be considered for acceptance on a project". Jeff Howe, the Wired writer who coined the term "crowdsourcing" defines the process as "the act of taking a job traditionally performed by a designated agent (usually an employee) and outsourcing it to an undefined, generally large group of people in the form of an open call." See how there could be confusion between the two?

Here's the difference in a practical setting:

Spec Work
Hey there millions of fans, we know some of you are artists! We're putting out a new album called "Zebras Are Awesome". Wanna meet us and take home $500? Design a tee shirt with Zebras on it, be sure to use our logo in the artwork, then submit it to us. The one we like best is the winner!

Crowdsourcing
Hey there millions of fans, we're putting out a new album called "Zebras Are Awesome". We know some of you are artists! Wanna meet us and take home $500? To celebrate our new album, we want you to design and submit a tee inspired by your love for us. All of the fans will tell us which one they like best and we'll pick one!

Beyond misunderstanding its purpose in a community/customer-facing setting, I've also seen people trying to use crowdsourcing in interesting places.

Here's an example: Jake and I were recently interviewed for a blog focused on project management. The writer wanted to hear our thoughts on how crowdsourcing could be used in project management. Take a second to think about that. My thoughts? Set aside the "how", and concentrate on "why would you want to crowdsource your project management?"

There isn't some big secret to crowdsourcing. It's an incredibly simple and straightforward concept, which ultimately has limited applications. Within those applications it's up to whoever attempts to use crowdsourcing to take the time to fully understand its purpose and consider when its use is appropriate.

It should be a passion play; best used to activate the brainpower of either a dedicated community, or a group of people who have both a connection to a project/brand plus ample motivation to complete the task. It shouldn't simply be a substitute for something you can't, won't or don't want to do as a means to an end. The best applications of crowdsourcing are in a setting where the focus includes the advancement of a community, however, it's more important to the longevity of the concept first understand what is and is not crowdsourcing before worrying about how and where it's properly being used.

A couple weeks ago I was going to have dinner with my friend Matt in Boulder and we walked by something that got me pretty excited. Mustard's Last Stand "Chicago-style" hot dogs, right here in Boulder. Now I've been doing pretty good on the home-sick front, but when I saw that I got really excited. In Evanston, about 6 blocks from my Dad's house there's a Mustard's Last Stand, right there next to Dyke Stadium. There's no shortage of places in Chicago and the surrounding suburbs to get a proper Chicago-style hot dog, but Mustard's in Evanston is tops for me. Maybe it's because I always go there with my Dad that makes the experience that much better, but in a lot of ways, Mustard's feels like home.

Anyway, I make a mental note to go to Mustard's (in Boulder) as soon as I can. Last Friday, my friend Mimi and I strolled a few blocks over there at lunch to grab a couple dogs. I'm stoked. The first thing I ask the dude at the counter is "are you guys the same Mustard's as in Evanston?" "Evansville?" he asks. He has to check with someone else. Nope. Not the same one. This place is like EXACTLY the same place as in Evanston, which is weird. And now I'm worried. I order: two Chicago-style, everything. What they served me made me die a little on the inside. A Vienna beef dog with mustard, onions, tomatoes, pickle, sport peppers and sauerkraut. SAUERKRAUT? No neon green relish, no celery salt, and come to think of it, I don't think the bun had seeds on it! Mimi and I quietly talk badly about their "Chicago-style" dogs and then it hits me: did they use quotes on purpose? Are they trying to be funny? I wonder what they would come up with if they served a "Philly" Cheesesteak.

Nothing brings out a more violent bout of hometown pride like some place a thousand miles away claiming to serve the native cuisine you hold so dear. Yes, I'm talking about hot dogs. Hey, I'm from Chicago - what do you expect?

Yesterday someone graciously pointed out to me that both of my tail lights were out. Fearing there was some more major electrical problem going on (especially because it's a brand new car and I already had my A/C overhauled a month ago because it wouldn't turn on), I took the earliest service appointment they could give me. I brought my car to the dealer this morning and had the following conversation with the service manager...

Me: My tail lights mysteriously stopped working, and I'm concerned it's an electrical issue - especially because of the A/C problem I also recently had. It's a new car.

SM (service manager): I doubt it's an electrical issue because your middle brake lamp still works. Your tail lamps probably burned out.

Me: Both of them at the same time? That seems pretty odd.

SM: No, not really. I see this about a hundred times a week.

Me: A hundred times a week? Wow, that seems like a pretty major issue!

SM: Not really, it's a pretty common problem.

So, what did we learn today folks? Apparently, common problems aren't problems at all! Granted, I'm sure the "hundred time per week" was a little exaggerated, but even if it was only ten times per week I'd hope the repetition of the issue was being reported back to the manufacturer. Seems like a silly problem to ignore when "a hundred people per week" seem to be having it.

I usually have no issue with how people spend their money, but there's something about the notion of conspicuous consumption that is totally baffling to me. Case in point: Louis Vuitton sweatbands and towels.

If there's one place where it certainly doesn't matter who you are, it's the gym. Everyone is there for the same reason, and there's something nice about a place that levels life's playing field. I can't imagine why someone would find it necessary to spend that kind of money on something your body is just going to make disgusting, much less feel the need to quietly convey your "status" in a place where no one cares anyway.

If I was in charge of product development for Louis Vuitton, I'd see how far I could push it. If people are willing to drop large sums of money on "high class" versions of everyday items, I'd take it all the way and add items like cotton swabs, tampons and toilet paper to next season's line! At the very least, my customers would have the metaphorical experience of seeing where their money is going.

UPDATE: Apparently the product developers at Louis Vuitton read my blog!

Tom passed me this great article about asymmetrical competition, written by Umair Haque. The focus was on Obama, but he was kind enough to mention Threadless in his examples.

So where do we see asymmetrical competition happening in the corporate world? The real question is – where don’t we see it happening. Here’s a short list of asymmetrical competitors: Tata, Embraer, Ryanair, American Apparel, Whole Foods, Cipla – and, of course, players like Google, Apple Craigslist, Wikipedia, and Threadless. (emphasis mine)

This has started to make it's rounds online, so I'm feeling pretty comfortable posting this on my blog. Taking myself out of this equation (even though I think it's pretty cool to be on the cover!), I'm so proud of what Threadless has become. We truly have the best team out there. Check out the article here

Note: I got rid of the blog I posted about this and am replacing it with the article I wrote for Vitamin. It's just a re-written version.

April 30th was my birthday and I took the day off. It was supposed to be a relaxing day. It began by making pancakes with my wife, then playing video games for a while. Soon after I went to get a massage followed by some lunch. Lunch threw my day off. We went to a new-to-the-neighborhood, upscale, sit-down sandwich place called Jerry’s. Their menu is gigantic. I figured that deciding what to eat would be the biggest problem I’d have there. I was wrong.

After we ordered, we noticed three new tables of people seated at various times. We also noticed that about 20 minutes had passed without food. Again, we’re talking sandwiches, not exactly the type of food you’d expect to wait a long time for. A little more time passes and our waiter comes out to tell us that he’s sorry, but our order was “stuck behind a giant take-out order”. This changed my mood from anxious to frustrated …

… and now a tangent on how my mind works:

If someone walks into a sandwich shop to place a giant take-out order, they can safely assume they’ll be waiting a for awhile. If my wife and I sit down in a sandwich shop and order two sandwiches, we assume it won’t take very long. If the kitchen would have understood these common assumptions, they would have realized that the length of time added for the person waiting for the take-out order by having two additional sandwiches made (ours), would have been minimal compared to their overall wait time for their “giant order”. In reality, the take-out customer would likely not even notice the extra time. Instead, the restaurant left two different sets of customers waiting for the same amount of time for two drastically different-sized orders.

My point? Scientific thinking in the kitchen doesn’t always have to yield foam and/or crunchy, flavored air — it can lead to a better experience for the customer.

Back to the story. To make matters worse, after waiting for almost 45 minutes, the three other tables that were seated after us got their food before we did! Once our food finally did arrive, something interesting happened: my sandwich was so good that the frustration I felt for having to wait 45 minutes for it was calmed significantly. Significantly, but not completely … hence this article. If the food wouldn’t have been worth the wait, then this would be an entirely different story. At the very least, their food was great, and that’s a start. However, like in many businesses, the product is only part of the experience.

Before I continue, I’d like to point out that I’m well aware that this restaurant may not have any ongoing problems with their customer service. Our bad experience could easily be, and most likely should be chalked up to “sometimes, shit happens”. I’m an eternal benefit-of-the-doubt giver, but the experience did get me thinking about how this relates to the type of business I’m in.

Remember our server who apologized for the tremendous wait? He didn’t make sure the customers waiting the longest got their food first. The lesson here is to back up your apologies with actions; don’t just apologize to your customers because you think you should, or worse … to make yourself feel better.

In his book “The Last Lecture”, Randy Pausch points out that “a good apology has three parts: ‘1. I’m sorry’; 2. ‘It was my fault’ and 3. ‘How do I make it right’. The last part tells about your sincerity.” Consolation is a vastly overlooked area of customer service, which is essentially Randy’s third part of a good apology.

At Threadless, if something goes wrong that’s our fault, you’ll get a coupon code for money off your next purchase. It’s a great way to say to your customer, “We’re human and we’re sorry but sometimes these things happen. So, here’s something we hope will help soften the blow”.

Consolation could be your only chance at a do over with a customer. Take that chance.

What else could anyone who handles a product-driven, customer-service-related company learn from my experience? First, know that simply having good products won’t retain your customers (but it does certainly help). At Threadless, we’re well aware that the impression between product and customer is fleeting, while the impression between company and customer is long-lasting.

Next, recognizing an issue or problem on the approach is almost always better than reacting to it at the intersection. At the point of intersection, the damage has already been done and the only thing left to do is play damage control. In most businesses, it’s usually two different teams of people who handle the “approach” (strategy/planning) and the “intersection” (customer service). A huge part of being on the “approach” team is understanding, and more importantly — caring, that every approach you miss, the “intersection” team has to clean up for you.

So, as a customer, does this mean that I’ll go back to Jerry’s? Sure I will. Their “product” is great. Only next time, I’ll probably just get it to go.