Speak my language
A client told me this week that McDonald’s is called something different in pretty much every country.
In Australia and New Zealand, it’s “Macca’s” (do a Google search for that, and you’ll see what I mean). In France and the Philippines it’s MacDo, in Japan it’s Makku, in Korea MakNal.
Whether you classify Macca’s as a source of nutrition or not, my client’s remark triggered a thought about food, which is the subject of a project I’m doing with the United Nations between now and end-2022.
We’re working on a strategy for environmentally sustainable food systems on a global scale and what’s very obvious is that ANY discussion has to be held in three languages:
the language of economics (so governments and agribusinesses can set budgets that factor in costs and benefits);
the language of health (so governments can predict populations’ nutritional wellbeing); and
the native language of my client, environmental (so that the use — and consequences — of land, water, fertiliser and herbicide can be understood).
In addition, each of the above has to be wrapped up in a fourth language, governance (so that incentives and regulations can be crafted).
Question: What languages do you need to speak to get business done across disciplinary or organisational boundaries?
How do you know if you’ve over-simplified?
Have you noticed the trend in dramatically simplifying complex information?
I’ve long been a fan of the best TED Talks: who wouldn’t want a 20-minute summary of an expert’s life work? Or, have you noticed the way infographics have taken over the communication of datasets (I can’t stop looking at the charts on Visual Capitalist, and here’s a link to what’s regarded as the best statistical chart ever drawn, Charles Minard’s depiction of the 380,000 lives lost in Napoleon’s campaign in Russia in the winter of 1812). And, what about Blinkist? It serves up key ideas in nonfiction books in chunks, in a fraction of the time it would take to read the whole thing.
I even realised that, right now, my reading pile has three books with one thing in common: they’re condensed late-career (and popularised) alternatives to authors’ much weightier tomes, often clocking in at 20% of the page count, but sacrificing none of the actual argument. (In case you’re wondering whose books I’m reading, take a look here, here and here).
Recall the famous line, “If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.”, which artfully recognises the skill, and time needed, to abbreviate and simplify. (And, a door prize for you if you know who said that!)
Question: How do you know when you’ve successfully distilled a complex idea down to its essence?
Every billionaire is a policy failure
I’m not an outdoorsman at all, so when my son Jasper and I prepared for our trip to snowy New Zealand this past July, we had to borrow and buy pretty much everything.
One place I befriended was my local Patagonia outlet, where I was surprised to discover that they discourage purchases. The staff actively talked me OUT of buying more things than I needed and then patiently explained that EVERY item can be brought back for repair, free of charge, for its entire lifetime.
This minimalist philosophy is the ethos of Patagonia’s founder, Yvon Chouinard, who has sent shock waves through the business world by just giving his company away. The New York Times this week reported that all of Chouinard’s $3 billion net worth is now placed in a trust that contributes to climate stability.
At 83, he has been for over 50 years the former rock climber turned ‘reluctant businessman’ and his 40-something children don’t want the money either. Chouinard himself drives a rattly old Subaru, wears raggy shirts, and doesn’t own a computer or mobile phone. His wife Malinda, and children, Fletcher and Claire, hold the view that such concentration of wealth is undesirable, and indeed can be seen as a societal failure.
What I find fascinating about this story is how it shows that wealth is nearly always a proxy for success. Even some of my clients, even though they’re non-profits, have a focus on growth measured by top-line revenue. In my strategy work, I talk them out of treating this metric with more reverence than it deserves, but we have to then begin the hard work of working out what matters more than dollars.
Question: What does success really look like in your organisation?
Your comments and ‘likes’ are important to me for two reasons: they help me see that you’re enjoying what you read, and the various algorithms that drive this newsletter also then ensure that 5MSM gets to more readers. So, please click the ‘heart’ - I really do appreciate it.
We’re now at 5000 readers a week (as close as I can estimate), so do also pass on 5MSM to anyone you think might enjoy a short, insightful read each Friday.
Please look around you for signs of success that are non-financial and I’ll be with you again next Friday.
Andrew
A reader wrote on one of my blogs that there was much more to the topic that I had written about. My answer is "to that I have no doubt". It is very difficult to be brief and keep the reader interested and stimulated-isn't it? You do such a good job, Andrew. I aspire to write as well as you do. Your topics are always interesting! Stimulates so much thought in me. I share your insights into purpose and this used as a metric rather than dollars. It can work, oh so well but businesses often do not have the means or wisdom to consider it differently.
Hey Andrew - as Practice Manager -my boss and myself have measured our success by the success our people in their careers and life in general.