FRIDAY'S POST caught up with our 2009 Teacher of the Year the other day. We wondered how the new school year was going.
In our post last June you heard about Fred the Math Teacher's out-of-the-box idea of filing daily school lessons up on the web so students can watch them at home at night and then come to school the next day to do homework during class.
A lot of people wrote in to say Fred's a really smart fellow with a brilliant idea.
Fred's picked up where he left off last school year and is now going to a new level. Turns out he's expanded his novel approach to every one of his daily classes this school year. And the results are really encouraging, when you ask the kids. Which is what Fred did in a short video piece.
Go see for yourself at Fred the Math Teacher: The Movie.
Have a great Thanksgiving. Makes me think I'll be thankful for teachers like Fred the Math Teacher this coming holiday.
Twitter tjmorin
Friday, November 20, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Desire. Behavior.
Game changing innovation does best when addressing our desires. Innovating or automating behavior is a dead-end route.
Google didn't set out to automate how we find information. Had it done so, it might have created robotic library card-catalogue systems. Expensive. Heavy. Yuck.
Instead, it responded to our desire for better organized information. The result is easy search innovation that's changed the world's behavior in how it finds the information it needs. And met our hopes, desires for having quick, simple access to information at our fingertips in this knowledge economy.
Medtronic didn't set out to automate the behavior of the beating human heart. Otherwise it might've invented an artificial heart device. Instead, it responded to the desire of healthy, normal living while managing cardiovascular disease. Today it produces minimally invasive devices about the size of the coins we carry in our pockets. How excellent is that!
Would that our health care reformers pay mind to this as they advance efforts to reign in out-of-control costs while improving access in an aging country.
The next big thing for business software guys isn't automating more-and-more behaviors of their customers. It's going to be meeting the desires of people to be appropriately, commercially, efficiently, measureably social and community-centric in a business context.
Twitter's had some success here. But I suspect there's more to the desires of humans being social in business than what is being met so far by Twitter.
You want to be in on the next big thing at a time when our economy needs a lot of Next Big Things, you ought to be solving for desire, instead of solving for behavior.
-tim
twitter tjmorin
Google didn't set out to automate how we find information. Had it done so, it might have created robotic library card-catalogue systems. Expensive. Heavy. Yuck.
Instead, it responded to our desire for better organized information. The result is easy search innovation that's changed the world's behavior in how it finds the information it needs. And met our hopes, desires for having quick, simple access to information at our fingertips in this knowledge economy.
Medtronic didn't set out to automate the behavior of the beating human heart. Otherwise it might've invented an artificial heart device. Instead, it responded to the desire of healthy, normal living while managing cardiovascular disease. Today it produces minimally invasive devices about the size of the coins we carry in our pockets. How excellent is that!
Would that our health care reformers pay mind to this as they advance efforts to reign in out-of-control costs while improving access in an aging country.
The next big thing for business software guys isn't automating more-and-more behaviors of their customers. It's going to be meeting the desires of people to be appropriately, commercially, efficiently, measureably social and community-centric in a business context.
Twitter's had some success here. But I suspect there's more to the desires of humans being social in business than what is being met so far by Twitter.
You want to be in on the next big thing at a time when our economy needs a lot of Next Big Things, you ought to be solving for desire, instead of solving for behavior.
-tim
twitter tjmorin
Friday, November 6, 2009
Revelation
How do you greet revelation?
Mostly, I ignore it. Revelation moves in, then moves out. Mostly, it's months or years before I notice its movements.
Relevation is the subtle ingredient of awareness. Sometimes tough to hear in a noisy, media infested world. Sometimes difficult to embrace because it is so honest, so direct, so tough on illusion. Sometimes its patience lulls you to an easy place where you think you have all the time in the world to get back to it when, you know, it works best for you.
Revelation is about what's becoming, not what's been left behind. Which means its second-act is Mystery. And who really wants our play to go there from here.
Sometimes revelation breaks into life in a way that is impossible to ignore. Like when my wife called and said Those Words about our son: "He has cancer."
Sometimes it comes with a question that followed Those Words, "If it was time to take your boy, would he have cancer with a ninety-eight percent cure rate?"
Sometimes revelation hangs around long enough that you notice its greeting is all about life you cannot even imagine, like life ahead with a new spouse or partner, or with a new child. Something so good it makes you wonder, Am I worthy?
Or maybe it's telling you something's not right. Maybe its greeting is about a dead-end career or a stale relationship or a dear long-held belief or a deadly addiction. Something's dying; there's no energy; life in you or around you is draining away. Maybe you don't notice and you die or live a life without any life.
Sometimes revelation is a slow burn that creates just enough smoke and flame you can't help but notice. Maybe it's a business deal or some other hope stone that rolled off a tall cliff and you say the words my friend once said after getting swept up innocently in a good-deal-gone-real-bad, criminally-bad: "This is big trouble."
And maybe revelation pays its call and can't cut through the power and the glory and the omnipotence. As in There's No WMD Here. With Mission Accomplished the potent and powerful shrug and respond Then Glorify Elsewhere. And revelation moves on. Leaving the power and the glory and the potent in a boiling pot of cable television talking heads, moving no one, nowhere.
Revelation sometimes has two words serving up its alert: Holy Smokes or Holy Hannah or Holy Whatever-from-the Gutter.
When I hear them, revelation is nearby. It's in the house. My house. When I hear them I know the bets I placed on hope and fear, belief and unbelief, life and death are being called. Those words mean the jackpot of awareness is somewhere nearby.
But, here's the thing, maybe revelation's always been in the house.
What if it's me who moves in and out?
Maybe greeting revelation and letting it greet me means I'm finally home.
How do you greet revelation? What words call you home? Where do you go from there?
Mostly, I ignore it. Revelation moves in, then moves out. Mostly, it's months or years before I notice its movements.
Relevation is the subtle ingredient of awareness. Sometimes tough to hear in a noisy, media infested world. Sometimes difficult to embrace because it is so honest, so direct, so tough on illusion. Sometimes its patience lulls you to an easy place where you think you have all the time in the world to get back to it when, you know, it works best for you.
Revelation is about what's becoming, not what's been left behind. Which means its second-act is Mystery. And who really wants our play to go there from here.
Sometimes revelation breaks into life in a way that is impossible to ignore. Like when my wife called and said Those Words about our son: "He has cancer."
Sometimes it comes with a question that followed Those Words, "If it was time to take your boy, would he have cancer with a ninety-eight percent cure rate?"
Sometimes revelation hangs around long enough that you notice its greeting is all about life you cannot even imagine, like life ahead with a new spouse or partner, or with a new child. Something so good it makes you wonder, Am I worthy?
Or maybe it's telling you something's not right. Maybe its greeting is about a dead-end career or a stale relationship or a dear long-held belief or a deadly addiction. Something's dying; there's no energy; life in you or around you is draining away. Maybe you don't notice and you die or live a life without any life.
Sometimes revelation is a slow burn that creates just enough smoke and flame you can't help but notice. Maybe it's a business deal or some other hope stone that rolled off a tall cliff and you say the words my friend once said after getting swept up innocently in a good-deal-gone-real-bad, criminally-bad: "This is big trouble."
And maybe revelation pays its call and can't cut through the power and the glory and the omnipotence. As in There's No WMD Here. With Mission Accomplished the potent and powerful shrug and respond Then Glorify Elsewhere. And revelation moves on. Leaving the power and the glory and the potent in a boiling pot of cable television talking heads, moving no one, nowhere.
Revelation sometimes has two words serving up its alert: Holy Smokes or Holy Hannah or Holy Whatever-from-the Gutter.
When I hear them, revelation is nearby. It's in the house. My house. When I hear them I know the bets I placed on hope and fear, belief and unbelief, life and death are being called. Those words mean the jackpot of awareness is somewhere nearby.
But, here's the thing, maybe revelation's always been in the house.
What if it's me who moves in and out?
Maybe greeting revelation and letting it greet me means I'm finally home.
How do you greet revelation? What words call you home? Where do you go from there?
Friday, October 30, 2009
Bob the Leader
Bob the Leader has been a leader as long as I've known him. I learned this first-hand way back in ninth grade when he told me he was into reading and writing poetry.
Back in the day of our Catholic all-boys hormone hot-dish, a place our Benedictine masters had us believe was high school, guys didn't tell other guys those things unless they had the stuff to live dangerous lives of saints-in-waiting-to-be-stoned or maybe as leaders of a community of some sort some day.
Turns out Bob's now leading a community. His makes its way in the cut-throat competitive construction materials business.
They're doing well in this economy. And Bob the Leader's doing it the way he did it in ninth grade: leading with the heart of a poet; maybe as the only poet in the cut-throat construction materials business.
How's that for dangerous....
Bob the Leader's seen this kind of economy before. Last time was the early 90s. That's when Bob nailed the deal to supply and deliver the drywall for The Mall of America. And all that drywall for the Mall of America is how he and his team and maybe even America beat the recession back then.
His secret was the same in the 90s as it is now: "Old fashioned values like hard work, honesty, doing what we say we're going to do, never lose their sense of fashion, and wear smartly if you're brave enough to wear them every day."
Bob the Leader goes even deeper when he cuts to the heart of Community Centricity, "Overcoming oneself is about the struggle over the destructive ego. Selfless service is what we should offer up. Success and happiness are not the primary goal, but a byproduct of service and doing the right thing."
Hey Washington, Wall Street, Cable Wide Mouths, are you listening to this guy...?
Today to make sure they're on track, Bob the Leader leads his company regularly through real-life scenarios, testing itself to see if it is holding true to its values, its beliefs.
When he does this, Bob offers one simple thought: "Bottom line should be read last, like an epilogue to a good book."
Oh my, how that is well said. And said, I should imagine, as all men of letters in the cut-throat construction materials industry would say. Makes me wonder how great it would be if more of our companies and communities had leaders as poets.
Do you know poets with the values of Bob the Leader, leaders who are poets in your midst?
Wouldn't their values wear smartly in our communities if we were brave enough to wear them daily?
--tim
twitter tjmorin
Back in the day of our Catholic all-boys hormone hot-dish, a place our Benedictine masters had us believe was high school, guys didn't tell other guys those things unless they had the stuff to live dangerous lives of saints-in-waiting-to-be-stoned or maybe as leaders of a community of some sort some day.
Turns out Bob's now leading a community. His makes its way in the cut-throat competitive construction materials business.
They're doing well in this economy. And Bob the Leader's doing it the way he did it in ninth grade: leading with the heart of a poet; maybe as the only poet in the cut-throat construction materials business.
How's that for dangerous....
Bob the Leader's seen this kind of economy before. Last time was the early 90s. That's when Bob nailed the deal to supply and deliver the drywall for The Mall of America. And all that drywall for the Mall of America is how he and his team and maybe even America beat the recession back then.
His secret was the same in the 90s as it is now: "Old fashioned values like hard work, honesty, doing what we say we're going to do, never lose their sense of fashion, and wear smartly if you're brave enough to wear them every day."
Bob the Leader goes even deeper when he cuts to the heart of Community Centricity, "Overcoming oneself is about the struggle over the destructive ego. Selfless service is what we should offer up. Success and happiness are not the primary goal, but a byproduct of service and doing the right thing."
Hey Washington, Wall Street, Cable Wide Mouths, are you listening to this guy...?
Today to make sure they're on track, Bob the Leader leads his company regularly through real-life scenarios, testing itself to see if it is holding true to its values, its beliefs.
When he does this, Bob offers one simple thought: "Bottom line should be read last, like an epilogue to a good book."
Oh my, how that is well said. And said, I should imagine, as all men of letters in the cut-throat construction materials industry would say. Makes me wonder how great it would be if more of our companies and communities had leaders as poets.
Do you know poets with the values of Bob the Leader, leaders who are poets in your midst?
Wouldn't their values wear smartly in our communities if we were brave enough to wear them daily?
--tim
twitter tjmorin
Friday, October 23, 2009
Believe
Thomas Merton the monk had in his daily journal 46 years ago this line from Karl Barth:
"Everyone who has to contend with unbelief should be advised that they ought not to take their own unbelief too seriously. Only faith is to be taken seriously..."
Lordy.
Is that a line invented for today or what? What if all of our talking TV heads began their shows with that line? What if Congress made that a law? That'd be acceptable government over-reach, wouldn't it?
Knowing what to believe, whether in someone or something or yourself, is next to impossible these days. And keeping the faith once you believe is even harder.
Today you can get to unbelief before the next commercial break. And stay there forever.
I've known Bob the Leader for years and just learned the other day how he leads his company regularly through real-life scenarios, testing its beliefs to see if it is holding true in the cut-throat, competitive, construction materials industry.
More with Bob the Leader next week. Until then I'll wonder a lot about how many and how often companies and communities hold all-hands chalk-talk sessions, game-planning what they seriously believe and whether they are keeping the faith.
I like these words from Merton and Barth from so long ago because we're all in communities, whether family, work, civic, school, church, and we are surrounded and pounded relentlessly by serious unbelief these days.
All we need, these gurus tell us, is to know and then to hang on tightly to our beliefs. No matter, they say, if they're tiny or grand.
Getting serious about what your community believes means you're on your way to faith which means you're on your way to hope, which are waypoints to good, to life, to destiny.
How does this work for you? Does your company or community know what it believes? And what about its unbeliefs, fears, predjudices, angst, power-trips? Does it see them too? And take them not too seriously?
--tim
twitter tjmorin
"Everyone who has to contend with unbelief should be advised that they ought not to take their own unbelief too seriously. Only faith is to be taken seriously..."
Lordy.
Is that a line invented for today or what? What if all of our talking TV heads began their shows with that line? What if Congress made that a law? That'd be acceptable government over-reach, wouldn't it?
Knowing what to believe, whether in someone or something or yourself, is next to impossible these days. And keeping the faith once you believe is even harder.
Today you can get to unbelief before the next commercial break. And stay there forever.
I've known Bob the Leader for years and just learned the other day how he leads his company regularly through real-life scenarios, testing its beliefs to see if it is holding true in the cut-throat, competitive, construction materials industry.
More with Bob the Leader next week. Until then I'll wonder a lot about how many and how often companies and communities hold all-hands chalk-talk sessions, game-planning what they seriously believe and whether they are keeping the faith.
I like these words from Merton and Barth from so long ago because we're all in communities, whether family, work, civic, school, church, and we are surrounded and pounded relentlessly by serious unbelief these days.
All we need, these gurus tell us, is to know and then to hang on tightly to our beliefs. No matter, they say, if they're tiny or grand.
Getting serious about what your community believes means you're on your way to faith which means you're on your way to hope, which are waypoints to good, to life, to destiny.
How does this work for you? Does your company or community know what it believes? And what about its unbeliefs, fears, predjudices, angst, power-trips? Does it see them too? And take them not too seriously?
--tim
twitter tjmorin
Friday, October 9, 2009
Pete the CMO
I gathered two quick impressions of my friend Pete the CMO the other day.
First, he's easily impressed. Surprisingly so for a New York Chief Marketing Officer guy.
Just take him to lunch at the down-home Five-Eight cheeseburger joint in Minneapolis. The $12 bill for two will impress him so much he'll grab the tab. In Manhattan, where Pete hangs out, $12 wouldn't get you half-a-burger. And Pete, as you'll soon read, knows a bit or two about restaurant tabs.
Second thing about Pete, he's one of our planet's best marketing/social/community nurturing talents. And what a great talent to have at this moment, the moment of Community Centricity.
Two-plus years ago Pete was a C-level marketing guy at Avaya leading global this-n-that. One thing about the chiefy levels of Corporate America: For all its power and trappings, it is a lonely place. And Pete recognized there was no place, no community of CMO peers focused exclusively on helping each other.
Sure there are plenty of high-brow conference panels, boards and trade groups out there; places where Pete says "You get sold to." But nothing exclusively comprising "peers who know as much about my challenges and problems as I do," Pete said.
So Pete did what any social marketing community nurturing guru would do: He started having dinners with fellow CMOs as his day-job travels took him around the country.
In early 2007 Pete organized his first CMO dinner. Six people showed up. The roundtable dinner discussion ranged from helping one CMO who'd just been promoted get more comfortable in the new role to brainstorming better customer engagement ideas with another CMO to thoughts about building trust and reputation with another CMO.
Wow. To be a fly on that table.....
Today Pete and The CMO Club he founded (after jumping off the corporate C-Level high dive) numbers more than 800 Chief Marketing Officers. "It's called a club on purpose," Pete says. "Everything is driven by the CMOs in the club." And it's Pete's full-time job to listen to what the club needs and wants.
Today Pete hosts dinners for CMOs in 15 cities three or four times a year.
The CMO Club website (www.thecmoclub.com) is an exclusive place on the web for its members. It's one of the best social media & community sites out there. Which is the reason well over 100 CMOs spend time there every day listening and learning from one another.
And twice a year The CMO Club hosts its Thought Leadership summits. It's quite an experience to be in a room for two days with high wattage corporate marketing execs.
Like last spring when Pete and his club thought it would be good to hear from a group of young millenials about their perspectives of today's market and work world.
CMOs didn't react so well when one kid on the panel bragged about his habit of being on Facebook during staff meetings. Darn near started a food fight. And lunch was still 30 minutes from being served.
I remember watching Pete, waiting for him to panic. Not a chance. He loved every minute of it.
Because Pete gets community. And community is at it's finest when it is open, dynamic, engaged, authentic and, yes, even messy.
As a community, The CMO Club is one of the finest. 40-50 new CMOs join every month. And here's the thing, of all the stuff Pete does to breathe life into The CMO Club, there's one thing he doesn't do: sell.
One CMO told Pete the secret sauce of the club is simple. "You have my best interests in mind." Pete's approach is to let the club evolve as the members will have it evolve.
For Pete the CMO, doing this well means he follows. And the club leads. And the club grows.
That's Community Centricity.
Isn't it funny how the more you follow your community, the less you have to sell?
--tim
twitter: tjmorin
First, he's easily impressed. Surprisingly so for a New York Chief Marketing Officer guy.
Just take him to lunch at the down-home Five-Eight cheeseburger joint in Minneapolis. The $12 bill for two will impress him so much he'll grab the tab. In Manhattan, where Pete hangs out, $12 wouldn't get you half-a-burger. And Pete, as you'll soon read, knows a bit or two about restaurant tabs.
Second thing about Pete, he's one of our planet's best marketing/social/community nurturing talents. And what a great talent to have at this moment, the moment of Community Centricity.
Two-plus years ago Pete was a C-level marketing guy at Avaya leading global this-n-that. One thing about the chiefy levels of Corporate America: For all its power and trappings, it is a lonely place. And Pete recognized there was no place, no community of CMO peers focused exclusively on helping each other.
Sure there are plenty of high-brow conference panels, boards and trade groups out there; places where Pete says "You get sold to." But nothing exclusively comprising "peers who know as much about my challenges and problems as I do," Pete said.
So Pete did what any social marketing community nurturing guru would do: He started having dinners with fellow CMOs as his day-job travels took him around the country.
In early 2007 Pete organized his first CMO dinner. Six people showed up. The roundtable dinner discussion ranged from helping one CMO who'd just been promoted get more comfortable in the new role to brainstorming better customer engagement ideas with another CMO to thoughts about building trust and reputation with another CMO.
Wow. To be a fly on that table.....
Today Pete and The CMO Club he founded (after jumping off the corporate C-Level high dive) numbers more than 800 Chief Marketing Officers. "It's called a club on purpose," Pete says. "Everything is driven by the CMOs in the club." And it's Pete's full-time job to listen to what the club needs and wants.
Today Pete hosts dinners for CMOs in 15 cities three or four times a year.
The CMO Club website (www.thecmoclub.com) is an exclusive place on the web for its members. It's one of the best social media & community sites out there. Which is the reason well over 100 CMOs spend time there every day listening and learning from one another.
And twice a year The CMO Club hosts its Thought Leadership summits. It's quite an experience to be in a room for two days with high wattage corporate marketing execs.
Like last spring when Pete and his club thought it would be good to hear from a group of young millenials about their perspectives of today's market and work world.
CMOs didn't react so well when one kid on the panel bragged about his habit of being on Facebook during staff meetings. Darn near started a food fight. And lunch was still 30 minutes from being served.
I remember watching Pete, waiting for him to panic. Not a chance. He loved every minute of it.
Because Pete gets community. And community is at it's finest when it is open, dynamic, engaged, authentic and, yes, even messy.
As a community, The CMO Club is one of the finest. 40-50 new CMOs join every month. And here's the thing, of all the stuff Pete does to breathe life into The CMO Club, there's one thing he doesn't do: sell.
One CMO told Pete the secret sauce of the club is simple. "You have my best interests in mind." Pete's approach is to let the club evolve as the members will have it evolve.
For Pete the CMO, doing this well means he follows. And the club leads. And the club grows.
That's Community Centricity.
Isn't it funny how the more you follow your community, the less you have to sell?
--tim
twitter: tjmorin
Friday, October 2, 2009
Community Centricity
You ever been planning and budgeting a new business year and let the words of Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins frame your current market scenario like this:
Landscape plotted and pieced — fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
I've never used those words in a business plan but maybe I should. Those words all trades, their gear and tackle and trim suggest We. Not Me. As in only a customer and me. Or only a supplier and me. Or just an employee and me.
Those words and these All things counter, original, spare, strange suggest community. As in customers and suppliers and partners and employees and, then (and only then) me.
Together. Fickle, freckled (who knows how?).
You hear a lot of chatter about customer centricity these days. I don't really get it yet. And maybe no one I ask does either, since everyone has their own definition of it.
Even Wikipedia is useless. It devotes just 29 words to the topic.
Some big deal This Next Big Thing in business is.
Sounds a lot like the last thing: It's me against you. And if you're my customer or supplier or partner or employee you have MY money in your pocket and I'm comin' to get it swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim.
Maybe we're at a moment ripe for community centricity. Where you succeed because the other guy really knows, believes and trusts "you've got my best interests in mind."
That's what my friend Pete the CMO said the other day when I asked him about the secret sauce of The CMO Club, a community of 800 CMOs he founded two years ago. (More about Pete next week...)
Community Centricity says my customers, employees, partners, suppliers, even competitors are part of the story, this Landscape plotted and pieced — fold, fallow, and plough;
Community Centricity says everyone has something to offer and it is good and it isn't to be feared. So go ahead and comment on our work together and share it and rate it with your Facebook friends.
Community Centricity says I'm not only going to sell you my product, but I'm going to work with you to attract another customer for you because you have it.
Community Centricity says I'm going to organize a Twitter following of customers so you can learn everything from everyone I do business with: Good, Bad, and Ugly.
Community Centricity says I'm obligated to be a thought leader and deliver you the best ideas the market has to offer, whether I thought of them or one of my competitors did.
Community Centricity says, like Pete the CMO said, I have your best interests in mind in All things counter, original, spare, strange.
Then, and maybe only then, you'll trust me enough to buy something I have to offer.
Landscape plotted and pieced — fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
I've never used those words in a business plan but maybe I should. Those words all trades, their gear and tackle and trim suggest We. Not Me. As in only a customer and me. Or only a supplier and me. Or just an employee and me.
Those words and these All things counter, original, spare, strange suggest community. As in customers and suppliers and partners and employees and, then (and only then) me.
Together. Fickle, freckled (who knows how?).
You hear a lot of chatter about customer centricity these days. I don't really get it yet. And maybe no one I ask does either, since everyone has their own definition of it.
Even Wikipedia is useless. It devotes just 29 words to the topic.
Some big deal This Next Big Thing in business is.
Sounds a lot like the last thing: It's me against you. And if you're my customer or supplier or partner or employee you have MY money in your pocket and I'm comin' to get it swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim.
Maybe we're at a moment ripe for community centricity. Where you succeed because the other guy really knows, believes and trusts "you've got my best interests in mind."
That's what my friend Pete the CMO said the other day when I asked him about the secret sauce of The CMO Club, a community of 800 CMOs he founded two years ago. (More about Pete next week...)
Community Centricity says my customers, employees, partners, suppliers, even competitors are part of the story, this Landscape plotted and pieced — fold, fallow, and plough;
Community Centricity says everyone has something to offer and it is good and it isn't to be feared. So go ahead and comment on our work together and share it and rate it with your Facebook friends.
Community Centricity says I'm not only going to sell you my product, but I'm going to work with you to attract another customer for you because you have it.
Community Centricity says I'm going to organize a Twitter following of customers so you can learn everything from everyone I do business with: Good, Bad, and Ugly.
Community Centricity says I'm obligated to be a thought leader and deliver you the best ideas the market has to offer, whether I thought of them or one of my competitors did.
Community Centricity says, like Pete the CMO said, I have your best interests in mind in All things counter, original, spare, strange.
Then, and maybe only then, you'll trust me enough to buy something I have to offer.
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