What I Wish I Knew When I Was 20

by Tina Seelig

  “Problem blindness” applies to consumer product development as well. For example, automatic teller machines (ATMs) failed in early focus groups in which potential customers were asked if they would use a machine to deposit and withdraw money from their accounts, as opposed to going into a local bank to complete the transaction with a teller. These customers couldn’t imagine changing their behavior so dramatically. But in retrospect, ATMs represented a new and effective improvement for personal banking, one that few of us can now imagine living without.

  I’ve experienced problem blindness myself. About twenty-five years ago my husband, Mike, gave me a cell phone. This was long before cell phones were ubiquitous, and I had no idea I needed one. In fact, I got somewhat annoyed, thinking it was one more electronic gadget that would sit around unused. Mike urged me to try it for a week. It took me only two days to figure out I couldn’t live without it. I was commuting at least two hours each day and was able to catch up with friends and colleagues during the drive. I came back to Mike with sincere appreciation for the gift and now try to keep this story in mind when I look at new, potentially breakthrough ideas.

  The key to need finding is identifying and filling gaps—gaps in the way people use products, gaps in the services available, and gaps in the stories people tell when interviewed about their behavior. Michael Barry, an expert in need finding, told our class a terrific story about his work with Kimberly-Clark, the company that makes Kleenex, Scott paper towels, and Huggies diapers. Essentially, Kimberly-Clark was disappointed with their diaper sales relative to diaper giants such as Procter & Gamble (makers of Pampers) and brought in Michael’s team to help figure out how they could improve their business. By making detailed observations on how diapers are sold, assessing the messaging on diaper packages, and conducting interviews with parents, Michael realized that Kimberly-Clark was completely missing the point: they were selling diapers as though they were “hazardous waste disposal devices.” But parents don’t view them that way. To a parent, a diaper is a way to keep their children comfortable. Dealing with diapers is part of the nurturing process. A diaper is also viewed as a piece of clothing. These observations provided a great starting point for improving how Kimberly-Clark packaged and positioned Huggies.

  Upon closer scrutiny, Michael identified an even bigger opportunity. He noticed that parents became terribly embarrassed when asked if their child was “still in diapers.” Bingo! This was a huge pain point for parents and for kids on the cusp of toilet training. There had to be a way to turn this around. How could a diaper become a symbol of success as opposed to failure? Michael came up with the idea for Pull-Ups, a cross between a diaper and underwear. Switching from diapers to Pull-Ups served as a big milestone for both children and parents. A child can put on a Pull-Up without help and can feel proud of this accomplishment. This insight led to a billion-dollar increase in annual revenue for Kimberly-Clark and allowed them to leapfrog ahead of their competition. This new product grew out of focused need finding, identification of a clear problem, and the emergence of an opportunity.

  In my course, I use a Harvard case study about Cirque du Soleil that gives students a chance to hone their skills at challenging assumptions.4 The backdrop is the 1980s, when the circus industry was in trouble. Performances were predictable and stale, the number of customers was diminishing, and animal treatment was under attack. It didn’t seem like a good time to start a new circus, but that is exactly what Guy Laliberté, a street performer in Canada, decided to do. Guy started Cirque du Soleil by challenging every assumption about what a circus could be, and in doing so transformed a problem—a dying industry—into an opportunity.

  After showing video clips from the 1939 Marx Brothers movie At the Circus, I ask the students to uncover all the assumptions of a traditional circus, such as a big tent, animals, cheap tickets, barkers selling souvenirs, several acts performing at once, playful music, clowns, popcorn, strong men, flaming hoops, etc. I then ask them to turn these things upside down—to imagine the exact opposite of each one. For example, the new list would include a fixed building, no animals, expensive seats, no barkers, one act performing at a time, sophisticated music, and no clowns or popcorn. They then pick the things they want to keep from the traditional circus and the things they want to change.

  The result is a brand-new type of circus, à la Cirque du Soleil. I then show them video clips from recent Cirque du Soleil performances so they can see the impact of these changes. Most important, they see how unpacking and then challenging their assumptions exposed the possibilities for a brand-new type of circus that is more in tune with today’s audiences. This example illustrates one reason why the famous Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, which started in 1871 and was billed as the Greatest Show on Earth, went out of business in 2017. The company ignored the need to reinvent itself, while Cirque du Soleil challenged traditional assumptions about what a circus could be and was therefore able to thrive.

  Once we do this exercise with the circus industry, it’s easy to apply it to other industries and institutions, including fast-food restaurants, hotels, airlines, sporting events, education, and even courtship and marriage. Once you get the hang of it, this is an easy, back-of-the-envelope exercise you can use to reevaluate everything from breakfast to banking. The key is to take the time to clearly identify all of your assumptions. This is usually the hardest part, since, as described in the case about balloon angioplasty, assumptions are sometimes so integrated into our view of the world that it’s hard to actually see them. However, with a little practice, it becomes a useful way to look at your options in a fresh light.

  My colleague Rich Braden, who has taught with me for several years, decided to use this exercise while planning his recent wedding. He and his fiancée made a list of about fifty assumptions for traditional weddings, including wedding rings, formal dress, bride wearing white, wedding vows, fancy cake, professional photographer, band/DJ, and kissing the bride. They then turned all of those assumptions upside down and came up with a new list of ideas, including no rings, casual dress, wearing tie-dye, no vows, pie and ice cream, cell phone photos, karaoke, and high-fiving the bride. They then chose to keep some of the original assumptions and to change up others, crafting a celebration that was perfect for them.

  This practice can be used for anything! At Stanford Sierra Camp, near Lake Tahoe, Morgan Marshall was in charge of housekeeping for many years. He decided to turn the entire process on its head, making the most hated task into the most loved one. As you can imagine, everyone on the staff dreaded having to do the dishes for the entire camp. But Morgan turned dishwashing into the most plum job. Those who wash dishes get to pick the music in the kitchen, crafting elaborate playlists to accompany the activity, and they come up with a theme and dress accordingly. I’ve seen people dressed as fairies, disco dancers, and cowboys. They essentially turn dishwashing into a party. Also, the staff meets frequently with the goal of coming up with more and more effective and efficient ways to do the job. Finally, there is a policy that nobody is done in the kitchen until everyone is done, so everyone is there to chip in if needed, joining the party. Amazingly, the staff eagerly looks forward to their time in the soapy bubbles.

  Some people are particularly good at identifying and challenging assumptions. In their quest to find solutions to seemingly impossible problems, they question the limits of what is reasonable and possible. They start their lives over in exotic locations, they take on projects that have a grand scope, they make choices that seem radical, and they carve out a new path that leads them into uncharted territory.

  Consider Anne Wojcicki, the founder of 23andMe. She challenged a tremendous number of assumptions by questioning who had access to each individual’s genetic information and, after years of work, was ultimately able to provide direct-to-consumer genetic testing at 23andMe. This required challenging government regulations, challenging the way genetic testing was done, and challenging consumers to see the value in owning thei
r own genetic information.

  Or Leila Janah, the founder and CEO of Samasource, who questioned how we provide support for people in developing countries by giving them work as opposed to handouts. Instead of seeing poor people as targets for charity, she devised ways to give them work to support themselves and their families.

  Or Pat Brown, the founder and CEO of Impossible Foods, who has created a vegetarian substitute for meat products. He challenged the assumption that people want to eat animal meat. He realized that people eat meat not because they want to kill animals but in spite of the need to kill animals. His company, Impossible Foods, reverse engineered meat to create an alternative, made entirely from plants, that is indistinguishable from ground meat.

  Stories about challenging assumptions are told weekly in STVP’s Entrepreneurial Thought Leaders series.5 In each case, these entrepreneurs question the status quo and look at the world with fresh eyes. Of course, their paths are filled with potholes. But they expect this and foster a mindset that every pothole can be filled along the way, paving a path to success.

  We often watch in awe, preventing ourselves from taking the same leaps. In many cases, much smaller challenges seem just as daunting. Changing jobs or moving across town may feel just as risky as traveling to an exotic location or launching a new company with a grand mission. It’s much more comfortable to stay locked in a role that’s “good enough” than to reach for an alternative that has a higher degree of uncertainty. Most of us are content taking small, reliable steps. We don’t get very far, but we don’t risk stumbling either.

  * * *

  If you want to consider what your life would look like upside down, consider using the challenging assumptions exercise for yourself. Make a “before” list with all of your assumptions about how you spend your time, including when you wake up each morning, the specific days and hours you work each week, the length of your commute, the type of work you do, the people with whom you work, the amount of time you exercise, with whom you spend your free time, what you eat for dinner, what you do in the evening and on the weekends, where you go for vacation, how much money you save each paycheck, how you feel at the end of the day, when you go to sleep, etc. Make the list as long as possible, unpacking as many assumptions about your life as you can.

  Then consider alternatives to all of these by creating an “after” list. The items on this list should be the opposite, or an exaggeration, of the things on the “before” list. For example, if you exercise by yourself for twenty minutes each day, the alternatives would include no exercise at all, taking an exercise class at a gym, or running with a dog. And if you spend your free time watching TV or knitting, then alternatives might be volunteering at a soup kitchen, learning how to skydive, or taking an improvisation class.

  Once you have your lists, mix and match from the “before” and “after” lists to craft a brand-new set of scenarios. Switching even one of the assumptions might be enough to shake up your life in an interesting way. Remember, there are boundless options to explore if you are willing to identify and challenge your assumptions. To quote Alan Alda, “Your assumptions are your windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in a while or the light won’t come in.”6

  * * *

  Despite the fact that one can make a profit by solving big problems, Randy Komisar stresses in his book The Monk and the Riddle the importance of having the zeal to solve an important problem, as opposed to being motivated to make money.7 To explain the difference, he compares a missionary who passionately pursues an important cause to a mercenary whose drive is only to serve his or her own interests. By focusing on finding solutions to significant challenges with missionary-like zeal, successful companies are born. This message is echoed by author Guy Kawasaki, who says it is better to “make meaning than to make money.”8 If your goal is to make meaning by trying to solve a big problem in innovative ways, you are more likely to make money than if you start with the goal of making money, in which case you will probably not make money or meaning.

  What do the entrepreneurs, venture capitalists, and inventors described previously have to do with the students who started with five dollars, paper clips, or orphan socks and were challenged to create as much value as possible? A tremendous amount. All of these examples reinforce the idea that there is great benefit to identifying problems in your midst and then relentlessly working to solve them. This doesn’t mean that this process isn’t scary—it is! There is always a risk that your endeavors won’t work out. As Elon Musk, world-famous inventor and entrepreneur, said in an interview, “I actually think I feel fear quite strongly. . . . There are just times when something is important enough that you believe in it enough that you do it in spite of fear.”9

  Problems and opportunities are abundant, just waiting for someone willing to find inventive solutions. This takes acute observation, coordinated teamwork, the ability to execute a plan, a willingness to learn from failure, and creative problem-solving. But the first requirement is to have the attitude that the problem can be solved. I have found, for myself and my students, that the more experience you have tackling problems, the more confident you become that you can find solutions.

  Several years ago I was in Scotland teaching in a weeklong entrepreneurship boot camp, run by James Barlow at the Scottish Institute for Enterprise. Attending were fifty college students from across the country who were studying a wide range of disciplines, from criminology to cosmetics. Most of them had had no exposure to entrepreneurship at all. At the beginning of the week, many were completely overwhelmed by the first assignment, which required them to come up with and then sell a new product or service. Each team was given fifty British pounds of starting capital at 6:00 p.m. and had a total of eighteen hours to complete the project. The goal was to get them out of their comfort zone and into the real world. Many of the students told me they were on the verge of going home. They didn’t need to tell me this, because the panicked looks on their faces said it all. But they all stuck with it and were pleasantly shocked by what they accomplished. One group became “umbrella walkers,” assisting people who got caught in an unexpected rain; one group set up an impromptu speed-dating station at a local bar; and one started a makeshift shoeshine stand on a busy downtown street.

  But this assignment was just the beginning of their experience. By the end of a week’s worth of challenging activities, including scouring newspapers to identify problems, brainstorming to come up with creative solutions, designing new ventures, meeting with potential customers, filming commercials, and pitching their ideas to a panel of successful executives, they were ready to take on just about any challenge.

  One team that stands out in my mind was composed of three young women, for whom all of this was brand-new. They were shaking in their shoes when the first assignment was given. By the end of the week, however, they had come up with a fabulous idea that earned high praise from the panel of judges as well as seed funding from investors. They developed a mobile, at-home bra-fitting service based on their observation that most women are embarrassed by the process and often end up with ill-fitting bras. Their video commercial was tasteful and convinced everyone that this was an interesting opportunity.

  On the last day of the workshop, one of the young women said to me, “I now know that there isn’t anything I can’t do.” She, along with all the other students, already had the bulk of the skills they needed to accomplish amazing things. All we offered them was tangible proof, along with a healthy dose of permission, that they could turn the problems around them into opportunities.

  That sentiment is echoed by Jared Lindzon in his New York Times article about how he beat his fear of rejection, failure, and vulnerability by literally jumping out of a perfectly good airplane with a trained skydiver.10 In that moment he realized that by doing the scariest thing he could imagine doing, and realizing that he wouldn’t die, there were few things in the world to truly fear.

  Chapter 3

  Bikini or Die

&nb
sp; The famous psychologist B. F. Skinner once wrote that all human behavior can be viewed as adaptive to either the individual, the gene pool, or society at large.1 However, these three forces are often at odds, causing significant tension. The rules made by society are a huge presence in our lives, created by the government, religious groups, employers, schools, neighbors, and families. Every day, physical signs tell all of us what to do, written instructions direct us how to behave, and social guidelines urge us to act within specific parameters. The social rules and norms are designed to make the world around us more organized and predictable, and to prevent us from hurting one another.

  Because our community crafts the explicit rules around us, we often find ourselves in situations in which we are driven to break the rules to satisfy our personal desires or the drives of our species. In fact, we also make lots of rules for ourselves, in large part encouraged by others. These rules become woven into our individual fabric as we go through life. We draw imaginary lines around what we think we can do—lines that often limit us much more than the rules imposed by society at large. We define ourselves by our profession, our income, where we live, the car we drive, our education, and even by our horoscope. Each definition locks us into specific assumptions about who we are and what we can do. I’m reminded of a famous line from the movie My Dinner with Andre that states that New Yorkers “are both guards and prisoners, and as a result they no longer have . . . the capacity to leave the prison they’ve made, or to even see it as a prison.”2 We often make our own prisons, with rules we each create for ourselves, locking us into specific roles and out of an endless array of possibilities.