Why? Why the new job? Why the new house? Why did you decide to take up needlepoint? Why did you get married/divorced? Anytime you make a big life decision, it’s the first question asked. But why?
People want context, a way to understand your thought-making process so you tell them a story. Here’s mine.
I spent 20 years in politics, running campaigns around the country. I often advise young people just out of school to join one because there’s no internship in which you’ll get more real hands on experience while learning how the world works (apologies to the military.) Its how I got my start.
It took me a few years after I opened my own political consulting shop, but I eventually discovered what I termed “the Michael Grossman client.” I only worked with Democrats in partisan races, which meant my selection of potential clients was halved to begin with. The remaining litmus test was two-fold: the candidate had to be able to answer why they were running in the privacy of their living room beause you don’t want to work for someone unable to articulate that answer. The second part involved me very openly explaining my philosophy of how a winning campaign is constructed—and at its center was defining the debate through a message contrast which benefitted the campaign that hired me. To some, that was too brash, but I made it clear if they didn’t agree, it was a sign we shouldn’t be working together, and I happily recommended other professionals who could help them in a way they would find more suitable.
Once I left the campaign world, though, I struggled to find the same kind of clarity about what I stood for, and why i pursued the clients I did. I made the classic rookie mistake of trying to be all things to all people, and in the process being nothing to anyone. Part of it was the fear of moving in a new direction after so long in one related career and the nagging concerns about paying my mortgage. But at the base of my fears during this walk through the wilderness was I lacked the same kind of crisp brand story and position. I was exactly the same thing I urged clients never to be—mush.
It was about the same time I discovered the wonderous world of cleantech. The inspiration of being around the pure oxygen of ideas and entrepreneurs helped me solve one of the key “why” questions, except in this case, a “what”question: what’s the focus of your business?
Eventually, I refined that a little more to include groundbreakers because it’s the ideas that inspire me, combined with my DNA programming to make a difference in people’s lives, which used to be satisfied by the political bug.
Phase 1 completed, it was time to move on to Phase 2: what’s my unique brand story? I already knew it, but the hard part was allowing myself to risk showing it. When you get to the edge of the diving board, you might very well know how to dive, but it still looks like a long way down—and i avoided jumping for all the usual reasons, i.e. no one wants to belly flop in front of others.
The result was predictable: my business wasn’t growing. To fix it, i needed to show the world the person I was—uncensored—which is ironic because almost all of my business over the years came from casual and unscripted conversations with people of all stripes who I had connected with just by being me.
Showing your unvarnished self is a hard thing for both people and brands because, at heart, we want everyone to like us. Giving yourself and your brand the freedom from that burden, though, is the most liberating and important step you need to take.
You are supposed to be an acquired taste, and your story isn’t supposed to connect with everyone. In my case, I’m a child of Vaudville who could probably name almost every comedian to ever appear on a Dean Martin roast. Mel Brooks? Count me in. That’s not everybody’s cup of lemon juice, but with the new site I’ve recovered my mission, my reason for being. It will be both easier for me to identify prospective clients and for them to connect with me.
Not all is roses, however. Having a strong brand means you have to deal with the inevitable rejection, but to be right about all of this means I have to root for my own failure. Five days in, though, so far so good.