tag:learntoduck.net,2014:/feedLearn To Duck2013-12-14T02:23:03-08:00Micah Baldwinhttp://learntoduck.netSvbtle.comtag:learntoduck.net,2014:Post/dont-lie-you-dont-care2013-12-14T02:23:03-08:002013-12-14T02:23:03-08:00Don't Lie. You Don't Care.<p>It began simply enough.</p>
<p>A post in my Facebook feed that was interesting enough that I wanted to click on it. After all, who doesn’t want to learn more about Satan worship and its effect on housing pricing?<br>
<a href="https://svbtleusercontent.com/ruxyascpocfxq.png"><img src="https://svbtleusercontent.com/ruxyascpocfxq_small.png" alt="IMG_1638.PNG"></a><br>
Link says “latimes.com” but instead of going to the article, it launches the App Store and lands you on the page to download the Digg Reader app.</p>
<p>Respect for being douchey. I get it. Me going to the LA Times makes you no money. Downloading your app gets me closer to ringing the cash register.</p>
<p>Except it didn’t. I will never use the Digg Reader, and am now writing a post telling everyone that I won’t.</p>
<p><em>deep breath</em></p>
<p>This is not a post about Digg. I met the guys. Good guys, hard working guys. Focused on driving news, engagement and proving traction. Cool. High five. </p>
<p>But as “Growth Hacking” has gotten more competitive and difficult, it has started to move into “Growth Hawking,” a disease that crushed search engine optimization and later social media marketing, and is fast working its horrible magic on app store optimization and all the other optimizations that are soon to come (can I get a Snapchat on that!?)</p>
<p>I was an early SEO guy. Early enough to remember taking photos of Google gift cards to get free Adwords and counting the characters in a page title to ensure a proper density of keywords. I was early enough to see it go to hell as the hawks moved in. In the drive to make a buck, they destroyed a perfectly good practice, and I was happy as hell to see Google fight back with Panda.</p>
<p>Now that <a href="http://archive.learntoduck.net/search-marketing/seo-is-dead/">SEO is dead</a>, the hawks moved on to social media. First came the experts, then the gurus, now the hawks. For $40, I can add 10,000 twitter followers. What the fuck?</p>
<p>The conversation about the importance of delighting customers is not quite complete bullshit. Yet. </p>
<p>Perhaps I am overly senstive to customer experience. Perhaps I am expecting too much. But, when it takes 25 minutes between making a decision to buy a product and actually clicking the buy button, something is terribly wrong. When I decide to cancel service, and you keep me on the phone (you forced me to call? Really?) artificially for more than 10 minutes hoping that remorse will find its way into my heart and I will dramatically, perhaps even tearfully, bemoan my mistake and take your offer for 25% off my bill?</p>
<p>In the drive to derive value from each customer, we are forgetting that our goal as entrepreneurs is to solve problems for life, not for the first $10.</p>
<p>The hawks are driving the creation of low-value apps that exist solely to drive large customer numbers to simulate traction so that large investment rounds can be procured. (No, I don’t see Snapchat as one such company. They are creating real value in the exploration of changing communication patterns among millenials.)</p>
<p>We need to take a stand. Refocus on delighting users in every tactic and strategy we employ. To start believing again that our companies will be around for a long time, and build as if we aren’t chasing founder liquify, and tell the hawks to stick it.</p>
<p>A link in a Facebook post may seem like a small thing, and I assume it was an oversight, but it destroyed my experience. Same with TiVo and their stupidity around allowing me, a customer for more than 10 years, to cancel service simply, and Microsoft and their moronic hoops that they force users through to spend money. And a dozen other companies that have amazing design and it takes me minutes to figure out how to do simple things…</p>
<p>Decide what kind of company you are creating. Decide what kind of customer you want. And be unflinching in your conviction to protect that user and their experience with your product.</p>
<p>Don’t fuck it up because you decide (or your investors tell you) that rapidly driving numbers is more important. Or be respectful, and don’t lie to me if you don’t care.</p>
tag:learntoduck.net,2014:Post/the-thin-line-between-creation2013-12-09T08:14:58-08:002013-12-09T08:14:58-08:00The Thin Line Between Creation<p>Last night, as I do most Sunday nights, I was catching up with all the shows I like to watch on Hulu. I wont bore you with the list, but lets just say that at least one includes a talking rabbit, another a talking robot, and yet another a barely talking human.</p>
<p>In between pseudo-Sorkin quips, I, as I often also do, was zooming through twitter. Most of the time, Sunday night twitter is full of football, random links to articles and really bad jokes (still not sure why Sunday is so devoid of humor). And in the midst of all of the noise was this tweet by <a href="https://twitter.com/johnmaeda/status/409918684635754496">John Meada</a>:</p>
<p><a href="https://svbtleusercontent.com/uksqfe3avj9hq.png"><img src="https://svbtleusercontent.com/uksqfe3avj9hq_small.png" alt="Twitter___johnmaeda__Designers_are_skilled_at_...-3.png"></a></p>
<p>Now John, who I have never met, is the type of person that you tell people you once ate breakfast in the next room, and were too afraid to ask a very good friend for an introduction (Scott Belsky, it was not me when we ran into each other at the Ace in NYC. Just saying.)</p>
<p>Former head of RISD, now a design partner at Kleiner Perkins and something big at eBay, John drives a lot of the thought in the design community. As a “product guy,” I tend to really think about the things he writes and says.</p>
<p>It hit me that John was not describing just visual designers. Yes, a great designer can take all the pieces of the product and the needs of the customer and bring them together in fantastic ways, but the product team needs to do the same with the needs of the customer and the elements of the feature set, and the engineers need to do the same with the underlying technology and the needs of the customer.</p>
<p>And, if that is true, that not just the visual elements are considered design, then the line between Product, Engineering and Design becomes <a href="https://twitter.com/micah/status/409947706308558849">thinner to the point of completely blurring</a>.</p>
<p>When I stepped down as CEO to focus on product, I fully intended to build a traditional product/engineering/design organization. </p>
<p>Product makes; design creates and engineering builds.</p>
<p>But as we dove into it, it was clear that construct creates an imbalance of power reducing the necessary feelings of ownership and empowerment across the organization. Not to mention no longer reflect the realty of the internet itself.</p>
<p>While it is easy to simply dismiss this as the need for cross-training and whatever terms the MBAs of the world would dismiss this concept with, it’s deeper than that. For a product guy, the making of the product is sacrosanct. The battles I have had with product folks around features, customer research and the like have been seared into my brain. Designers and their distinct need to care about the curve of the letters, and engineers are no angels when debating frameworks, languages or button placement. </p>
<p>Traditionally, the PRD (product requirements document) was the document that ruled all. It clearly outlined each and every button and each and every action that would occur when that button was clicked. The designer would take that PRD and outline to the pixel where that button should live and to the shade the colors in each button state.</p>
<p>The engineers would often grumble about the difficulty of putting that button in that location and having it do that one thing, but they would do it, and lo and behold that feature would launch, and everyone was, well if not happy, at least satisfied.</p>
<p>But an interesting thing has happened. The weight of the product fell on the product team. Want to move the button? Ask product. Want it to look different? Ask product. Want to remove it? Don’t ask product. They will probably kill you.</p>
<p>Over the past month, I have tested the idea of not having product own, well, the product. What if instead of having one group own the product, we spread ownership across engineering, design and product, and empowered each to make product decisions. <a href="https://medium.com/design-startups/c012e5ad32f7">Want to move the button</a>? <a href="http://arin.me/post/48625085997/move-the-fucking-button-yourself">Move the fucking button</a>. But have a damn good reason.</p>
<p>Initially, it was an absolute clusterfuck. Engineers worked on what they wanted to. Design had little direction and product (well me), was getting crushed with managing product versus making product. But, suddenly over the last few weeks, things have started to gel. </p>
<p>The first thing I did was break the product down into clear components. The primary value was to allow management to understand how their decisions around sales and company direction affected the product and engineering effort. Want to close that deal? Cool, but then this wont get built. Want to drive in that direction? Alright, but then we need to spend time on building this.</p>
<p>(I understand thats standard product effort – but the difference was to break it into logical components, not features.)</p>
<p>Then once we made decisions around company direction, I sat down with the engineering and design team, and we worked through the prioritized product “pieces” to develop features and frameworks. From that we built a six month roadmap, and broke it into two week sprints. (Yeah, that stuff is all pretty standard.)</p>
<p>How do we deviate? If engineering wants to build a feature, they just build it. Product provides as much or as little direction as the engineer who is working on the feature needs. Same with design. Engineering becomes the leaders in product development. Product and Design are supportive.</p>
<p>What was the outcome? Well, there are features in the product I would have never thought of, and they are better than I would have ever come up with. There is certainly a bit more protective activity around key features and functions by the engineering team, but I’m ok with that. Design is able to work on future products and features, and Product (me) gets to be much more collaborative than I have ever been. </p>
<p>And, I don’t write PRDs (thank god). But, our engineers are evil overlords who force me to prove that a customer or potential customer wants the feature before they will add it to the roadmap. Damn them for making me do my job.</p>
<p>In today’s world, the products we build are organic. They cannot be built in silos, regardless of scale. </p>
<p>We must all be able to make product decisions that are substantial in order to build something significant.</p>
tag:learntoduck.net,2014:Post/what-makes-a-good-vc2013-10-09T14:01:27-07:002013-10-09T14:01:27-07:00What Makes a Great VC<p>Every year as the Newly Minted VCs begin to settle in and blog/tweet, there is a bevy of posts about how venture capital as it stands today is broken, and they, with their new insights and operational histories are going to fix it.</p>
<p>Of course, most of them become what they rail against over the course of the next few years. </p>
<p>As I have started to think more and more about jumping the fence full force into the investing side of the entrepreneurial equation I keep asking myself two questions:</p>
<blockquote class="short">
<p>What makes up the perfect VC, and can I be that.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>For many, it seems that for founder/CEOs the answer has been distilled into three key components:</p>
<ol>
<li>Keep money in the bank.</li>
<li>Recruit amazing talent.</li>
<li>Articulate the vision. </li>
</ol>
<p>These three things are codependent. You can’t have one. You have to have all three. And each one requires the other two to exist. </p>
<ul>
<li>If you can’t keep money in the bank then you have not recruited the right people, or articulated the right vision.</li>
<li>If you can’t articulate your vision, you can’t recruit or generate financial opportunities</li>
<li>If you can’t recruit, then you haven’t articulated a compelling vision and most likely can’t get money in the bank.</li>
</ul>
<p>There is no option that allows for one to drive to success. You must do all three.</p>
<p>Is there a similar list for VCs?</p>
<p>And while I asked many of my founder friends, I couldn’t seem to get a good answer.</p>
<p>Return phone calls; operational experience; network and rolodex. These seemed to be the most common. But these aren’t required traits. Very successful VCs tend to be horrible at returning phone calls. Mike Moritz and others have zero operational experience. And newer VCs, who might be great at helping you understand how to run your business, may have a limited rolodex.</p>
<p>More interestingly, the Newly Minted VC doesn’t hit on any of these as traits for how they are going to fix venture.</p>
<p>It’s usually:</p>
<ul>
<li>Rapid Feedback</li>
<li>Resource Access</li>
<li>Greater Expenditure of Time</li>
</ul>
<p>Yet these are about how the VC is going to work with the founder, not how the VC will help the founder reduce his chance for failure. It still puts that responsibility directly on the shoulders of the entrepreneur, which in a portfolio strategy is where it should be…right?</p>
<p>When I think about the type of VC I would be, it matches closely to the type of investor/advisor I am. One of my heroes is Bill Walsh, the former coach of the San Francisco 49ers. At one point something like a 1/3 of all coaches in the NFL had coached under him. His legacy wasn’t the Super Bowl championships that he won with the 49ers, but the dozens and dozens of coaches that he imbued with a love for the game and the desire to succeed. I am not into investing/advising because of the short-term potential. I am in it to cultivate entrepreneurs that love their part in the ecosystem and see their contribution as larger than just the company that they are building.</p>
<p>Not surprisingly, the VCs that hold a similar belief are some of the most successful. Even those with huge followings and brand recognition lose the long-term game, when that brand outpaces the importance of growing the ecosystem.</p>
<p>Given that venture capital is a highly competitive profession that requires a high level of cooperation for success it creates the unique dynamic that the best VCs give before they take. And, most of the time, the people getting don’t realize it because its natural and organic.</p>
<p>so it seems that are a couple of clear components to a successful VC.</p>
<ul>
<li><p>Recognize that an ecosystem exists, and they look to improve that ecosystem through coaching, education and support. By backing the best and expecting nothing less from those around them.</p></li>
<li><p>Give more than they take. Know that getting is just a byproduct of success, not the root cause.</p></li>
</ul>
<p>And while that might seem a lot to ask of a busy VC, there is a final component that probably matters most. </p>
<p>Empathy.</p>
<p>In a world dominated by numbers and math….By charts and graphs….By acronyms and short hand…we forget that it is run by people. Of often those people are young and inexperienced. We like to invest in the young because the possibility of them having multiple successes is higher than investing in an older entrepreneur. </p>
<p>But regardless of age, being an entrepreneur is a tough job. It grates on your emotions in a way that no other job does. And the best investors are the ones that stop, if even for just a moment, and ask their founders how they are doing. That reach out just to say hi. That empathize with the difficult road chosen by that (often unprepared) founder.</p>
<p>This is the one trait that so many VCs lack. Perhaps its the profession. Perhaps its the money. Perhaps its watching so many founders fail. I dunno.</p>
<p>But it’s a clear difference between the great and the good.</p>
<p>As I get closer to jumping the fence to the investor side of our world I think a lot about the challenges I would face to be great. And for me, I focus on three key things:</p>
<ul>
<li><p><em>Be part of the ecosystem.</em> <br>
I exist because of it, not the other way around. Which means I must do my best to help it grow.</p></li>
<li><p><em>Give more than I take.</em> <br>
And do it both publicly and privately. But give because it is the right thing to do, not because I benefit from it.</p></li>
<li><p><em>Be empathic.</em> <br>
Be proactive with the happiness of the entrepreneurs I work with. Understand that startups are driven first by people; and people are driven first by how they feel.</p></li>
</ul>
<p><em>NOTE:</em> I should say that I am not minimizing the key skill sets of a great VC: ability to spot talent early, understand financial models, see a clear path to the future, negotiate deals effectively, etc.</p>
tag:learntoduck.net,2014:Post/getting-back-on-the-field2013-09-19T09:47:49-07:002013-09-19T09:47:49-07:00Getting Back on the Field<p>One thing that people don’t know about me is that I played lacrosse for 18 years, and coached for 15 of them. Coached all kinds of players from 3rd grade to college; even spent a year coaching women (which is an unsurprisingly unique experience).</p>
<p>As I started companies, it was easy to believe that as CEO, I would be something of a “player-coach.” I would get my hands dirty when needed, but mostly would run the team and be a leader for the players.</p>
<p>Turns out, being CEO is none of that.</p>
<p>Over the past three years or so, I have been CEO of Graphicly. Until a few months ago when I walked into our Board meeting and informed the board that it was time for me to step down.</p>
<p>It was time for me to remove the “CEO” part of “player-CEO.”</p>
<p>Why? The simple, truthful answer is that it was the right thing for the company and, frankly, the right thing for me.</p>
<p>If you read all the blogs of the smart people, they say that a CEO’s job consists of three primary activities:</p>
<ol>
<li>Keep money in the bank.</li>
<li>Recruit amazing people.</li>
<li>Articulate the vision.</li>
</ol>
<p>Which is cool. But what happens when the vision of the company no longer fits your skill set? It happens often. A company grows, it pivots and the product becomes something that is different — sometimes vastly different.</p>
<p>“Micah, there are so many ways to monetize our SaaS tool.”</p>
<p>“Micah, we need to drive sales. We need to understand pricing and build infrastructure and processes.”</p>
<p>“Micah, don’t you think it’s time to stop focusing on product and start focusing on scaling?”</p>
<p>Every athlete when faced with an unknown situation always falls back on their default strength. For some, that’s speed. For others, that’s brawn.</p>
<p>In terms of startups; I’m a maker. I build shit that sells. Graphicly is doing millions in revenue; our team is at 25. We have more than 7,000 customers.</p>
<p>But, if I just pushed through the pain, then Graphicly would not continue to grow as fast. My default is not scaling; my default is making.</p>
<p>And, in the world of entrepreneurship it is not if you can run fast; but how you can help your team run the fastest.</p>
<p>So I stepped down.</p>
<p>Ben Horowitz has a great post called <a href="http://bhorowitz.com/2013/08/12/why-founders-fail-the-product-ceo-paradox/">Why Founder’s Fail: The Product CEO Paradox</a>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Then, as the company continued to scale, things started to degenerate. He went from being the visionary product founder who kept cohesion and context across and increasingly complex product line to the seemingly arbitrary decision maker and product bottleneck. This frustrated employees and slowed development. In reaction to that problem and to help the company scale, he backed off and started delegating all the major product decisions and direction to the team.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>It was like Ben was writing about me. I was our biggest roadblock. The lack of production and delivery wasn’t because our engineering team wasn’t focused properly or our sales guys weren’t selling, but because I became an “arbitrary decision maker and product roadblock.”</p>
<p>So I stepped down. But not out. I just stepped from the sideline onto the field.</p>
<p>After an exhaustive (at least I was exhausted!) search, we found a guy that was everything I am not. He wears shoes, and a sports coat now and again. He has an MBA and lives in Woodside. He believes in and executes on process and communication infrastructure.</p>
<p>And, David Fox, the guy we brought on, is everything that I believe makes a great CEO. He is a leader. A serial entrepreneur. Three exits. His focus is on scaling the company. Our investors (both current and future) love him; he talks their language. And the team is at an all-time high emotionally and productively; he makes them happy.</p>
<p>We now have a vision that is awesome in its size. It is clear that we have stumbled upon an enormous opportunity that has been articulated by our customers and the marketplace. We have lots to share. Soon! (I promise).</p>
<p>For this to work, I have to take a major step back at <a href="http://graphicly.com">Graphicly</a>. I am no longer CEO. It is not my company to run. My job is to support David and his decisions. Yes, I am on the board, and yes, I am a large shareholder, and a contributor, which means I am deeply involved, but business decisions are no longer mine to make. It is David’s company.</p>
<p>But I am playing again. I am picking up the proverbial lacrosse stick and running; seeing the entire field and finding innovative ways for us to win decisively.</p>
<p>And, man, I couldn’t be happier.</p>
tag:learntoduck.net,2014:Post/founders-anonymous2013-08-23T14:07:02-07:002013-08-23T14:07:02-07:00Founder's Anonymous<p>I haven’t written much lately. Not sure why, there are lots of ideas in my head. It could be the travel (65 out of 90 days!), or maybe what is happening at Graphicly (change for lack of a better word, is good). Or maybe I’m hitting a down cycle and just want to live (bipolar is awesome!).</p>
<p>In the past couple of days, I have spoken with a friend that left the country in part to just disconnect, another friend that has a budding romance and an app that is soon to launch, and a third friend that is using some crazy computer chips and eInk to take over the world. The commonality among them?</p>
<p>Donuts.</p>
<p>About a year and a half ago, I was in the midst of doing Four Hour Body. One aspect of 4HB is the cheat day, which turns out to be the only part of the diet that I was amazing at accomplishing perfectly. </p>
<p>Near my house in San Mateo, I found a donut shop. It’s old school. No wifi. Cash only. Seats maybe 20. High School girl behind the counter still months away from graduation. And at the corner table, a group of about 6 elderly men and women that clearly have been showing up every Saturday for years.</p>
<p>This was my cheat place. A place that every Saturday I could disappear for a couple of hours and leave all the energy of startup life behind. And their apple fritters are fucking amazing.</p>
<p>Over the course of the next few months, I started to invite friends to join me on Saturday. The rules? Had to be a founder or VC, and couldn’t live in SF or Palo Alto (they have enough meetups). And in a nod to Francisco Dao and 50Kings - no pitching, no selling and no dicks.</p>
<p>What happened was amazing. All pretense disappeared. People began to talk about the best and worst of being a founder. It has become, in the words of one attendee, Founder’s Anonymous.</p>
<p>And now, a year or so later, 10 or 12 people come every Saturday and hangout at this little donut shop with really shitty coffee (but amazing apple fritters) for hours. Like 3 or 4 hours. </p>
<p>Why?</p>
<p>Because in order for founders to exist, we need pals. </p>
<p>Peers that are our equals. Not cofounders that are selected based on skill set (which happens way too often), but people who will stand with us in the dark times and we will stand with them under their clouds.</p>
<p>We need to understand that we are not alone. Not because we are “all in this together,” but because the difficulties and successes we face are not unique. We are, after all, members of a local and global startup ecosystem where the interaction between the members of that ecosystem are more important than the actions of the individuals. Yes, we are the sum of our parts.</p>
<p>It has become clear that our donuts meeting, our Founder’s Anonymous needs to scale. That for startup communities where a similar gathering exists, the general happiness factor within that community is higher. </p>
<p>Imagine scaling donuts to each community? How much value would that bring? Knowing that every week you had a place to go where everyone knew your name and nobody cared about your level of success? That sharing a donut would drive the ability to get invaluable advice that was virtually impossible to access anywhere else?</p>
<p>Communities need places like Pilgrim Kitchen. They need places that are so stripped bare that the people who come equally strip their pretense and focus on the betterment of each other.</p>
<p>If you happen to be in the neighborhood and want some good donuts and conversion, swing by. But more importantly, find your own donut place and invite some founders. You might be surprised at the power of shitty coffee.</p>
tag:learntoduck.net,2014:Post/im-the-juggernaut-bitch2013-06-27T23:45:41-07:002013-06-27T23:45:41-07:00I'm the Juggernaut, Bitch<p><a href="https://svbtleusercontent.com/micah_24703233072372.jpg"><img src="https://svbtleusercontent.com/micah_24703233072372_small.jpg" alt="I_m_the_Juggernaut_bitch_.jpg"></a></p>
<p>A few weeks ago while in the midst of a silent Bikram class, the instructor, who clearly didn’t understand the true meaning of silence said:</p>
<blockquote class="short">
<p>Success is found in stillness.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And while I dismissed the statement, as I did for the vast majority of the touchy-feely things yoga instructors say, that simple statement found a spot in my brain and just stuck.</p>
<p>One of tenets of being a founder is to keep moving. To do more faster. There is a reason accelerators are not called meanderers. And, after all, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSuvOVH0aSQ">we are the Juggernauts, bitch.</a></p>
<blockquote class="short">
<p>Sharks die if they stop swimming.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>I was chatting with a founder today, and he talked about how the common trait of founders was that they worked in a direction until they meet a wall, then adjust and move in a new direction. That decisions are made on the move, that the past is forgotten and the focus is only on the future.</p>
<blockquote class="short">
<p>There is no present in building a startup.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Perhaps the lie we have been told — that hard work = success — isn’t the only lie. What if in order to move forward, you had to also stand still?</p>
<p>After that class, I started to try and be still. I noticed that it was nearly impossible. I fidget. I am in a constant state of motion. I don’t stop; won’t stop. Even my brain never shuts the fuck up.</p>
<p>So I forced it. I started by keeping my hands still. Then my shoulders. I started to feel my shoulders relax. I focused on a single point in the mirror. And my brain slowed down.</p>
<p>And for a brief moment, I was perfectly still.</p>
<p>Then I lost it.</p>
<p>Over the past couple of weeks, I have worked on being still. Interestingly, the more still I became, the better the following pose became. I strained less. I was in better control of my breathing. I enjoyed it more.</p>
<p>I suppose it’s easy to understand why. Being perfectly still allowed me to think about what was next and my focus cleared. But it was more than that.</p>
<p>I did something I never thought I could. In fact, I did something that I was taught was a detriment to my ability as an entrepreneur. As a entrepreneur, I moved fast. I never stopped. Still? Stillness was death.</p>
<p>As I started to get better at being still, I started to notice how much my friends were not still. Ever. Phones, cigarettes, keys, pens, tapping feet, people walking by, email, tweets, and all the other standard and unique distractions that we gravate to like cats after shiny objects. And it’s not just motion, but noise and lights. Things blinking and beeping. Even in my house, with everything off there was a constant sound. I finally walked over to the fuze box, and turned the main power off.</p>
<p>And then the sound stood still.</p>
<p>It is clear that we live lives of distraction and constant motion, and while everything is moving at the speed of life, we are required to make important decisions about ourselves and our companies.</p>
<p>The more I felt the power of being still, the more I no longer wanted to make decisions on the move. As the next decision loomed, I stopped.</p>
<p>As the voice in the back of my head increased in volume at my apparent indecision, I sat still. As the eyes of my coworkers began to burn with the need for a decision, I closed mine.</p>
<p>After about 30 seconds of thought, I opened my mouth.</p>
<p>And a question popped out.</p>
<blockquote class="short">
<p>Not a decision, but a question.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>My entire life when asked to make a decision, I have done just that. In fact, most founders when asked to make a decision, so just that. But we do it because that is what is expected of us. That is just what we do.</p>
<p>It is not true that hard work always leads to sucess. In fact, working less is a much more likely path to success. Focusing on you versus your company drives you to do better, and therefore see your company grow faster and smarter.</p>
<p>But stillness? How can doing absolutely nothing help you succeed?</p>
<p>Because it’s a choice. Because it’s the ultimate control. Because, just once, you aren’t doing for the sake of moving; you are stopping for the sake of progress.</p>
<p>Stillness is where success begins.</p>
tag:learntoduck.net,2014:Post/yoga-is-fucking-judgemental2013-05-30T12:13:35-07:002013-05-30T12:13:35-07:00Yoga is Fucking Judgmental<p>The next person that tells me that they are impressed that I made it through yoga will get punched in the face.</p>
<p>About a month ago, my friend Aaron Batalion decided to take a much deserved vacation from his startup and get himself into shape.</p>
<p>“Hot yoga, Micah. It’s fun, you should come.”</p>
<p>I had done Bikram yoga in the past, and enjoyed it, so I came along to a class. It was hard. It was fun. And I became obsessed. Now, a month later, I have taken classes in five cities, four states and from countless teachers, and in 30 days, I have missed only 3 days (2 because of travel).</p>
<p>A couple of quick points about Bikram Yoga. It’s in a room heated to 105 degrees. There are 26 poses, which were designed by this guy Bikram after a back injury, so they are focused on strengthening the core, and stretching the back. Which means, no Downward Dogs or other yoga moves than include jumping around. Oh, and there is farting. Which is always funny.</p>
<p>After each class, I would complain about the teacher to Aaron. </p>
<p>“Dude, why are the teachers so judgmental? Why are they so mean? I thought yoga was all about meditation and getting zen and shit.”</p>
<p>As I finished my tenth class, I finally realized why I had such a bad reaction to the teachers.</p>
<blockquote class="short">
<p>I hate being taught, but I love to learn.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>To truly understand something, I just have to do it. Just jump of the proverbial cliff and figure it out on the way down. Being taught doesn’t allow for interpretation or freedom of expression. It requires that something is known and that knowledge is being shared. That exploration is dead.</p>
<p>But that isn’t all that yoga has taught me.</p>
<blockquote class="short">
<p>Yoga is judgmental</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The next time someone says to me “Don’t worry it gets easier,” or am asked to not be in the front row, I am going to punch them in the face. They call yoga a practice, which by definition means that not only will I not be perfect, but that I will also improve over time. </p>
<p>As an entrepreneur, this is a powerful concept. It’s not about perfection, but about the pursuit of perfection. Startups are our practice. We never are able to create the perfect startup, but we can improve them over time.</p>
<blockquote class="short">
<p>The most perfect you are is right now</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Being present is a concept that is often thrown around as a practice of focus on what you are doing, and worrying less about what came before or after. For me, the idea that I am doing the absolute best I can in that moment, that regardless of my previous success or perceived future success, I am accomplishing everything I can in that moment, blows me away. Imagine the stress relief I gain through that realization.</p>
<p>This ties into my lack of financial motivation. Every six months or so, my board offers to set up a bonus program for me. I always respond the same way, “I appreciate the offer, but it is impossible for me to work harder. I will achieve whatever is the maximum possibility, and a bonus can’t drive me any harder.”</p>
<blockquote class="short">
<p>Less is more</p>
</blockquote>
<p>We hear this a lot, and always pass it off as contrite. But in yoga, it’s true. As a swimmer, football and lacrosse player, it was all about working as hard as possible with the physical manifestation of that effort being hard breathing, sore muscles, etc. If you worked so hard that you couldn’t move, then you clearly left something on the field. In yoga, its about pushing yourself just far enough. Imagine having the fortitude to stop. Can we be as successful in our startups if we stop working (or worked less) so that we could sustain our effectiveness over time rather than in bursts? I say we can.</p>
<blockquote class="short">
<p>Have a soft face</p>
</blockquote>
<p>One of the teachers says this about ten million times a class. The day before last, I tweaked my back a bit, making me have a harder time holding poses. So last night, I decided to focus on having a soft face.</p>
<p>We often say “don’t let them see you sweat,” in an attempt to say that a leader that seems to be constantly under control, is a stronger leader. Last night, as I struggled to not grimace to furrow my brow, I noticed that when my face was relaxed, the rest of my body was relaxed. I didn’t hold my breath as much. I stopped scrunching my shoulders. I could feel each part of my body and make micro-adjustments to improve my pose. And at the end of the workout, I was exhausted. More exhausted than I had been in at least a week. Forcing myself to relax let me understand more of what was going on around me. Amazing.</p>
<blockquote class="short">
<p>Namaste, Motherfucker</p>
</blockquote>
<p>At the end of each class, the teacher says “Namaste” and we all repeat it. Then, usually instead of laying there and resting for a couple of minutes, most folks grab their stuff and escape out of there rapidly. I assume it partly has to do with the heat of the room (105 - 120 degrees) that we have endured for 90 minutes. I always try and hang out for at least a minute or two. Mostly because I want to remind myself that being done, doesn’t mean that I am finished. Running a startup is a series of short bursts surrounded by minute rests that hopefully lead to a “namaste moment.” But, for most of us, the namaste moment isn’t an exit, but just an indication that the current effort is done, and a new day starts tomorrow. It’s important to reflect on what you accomplished every day in the context of that day.</p>
<p>We all make mistakes, do somethings awesome, and live our lives in the hope of building one amazing thing. For me, the 90 minutes I spend at yoga lets me focus on me and only me. All the concerns I have exit my brain. And all I think about is the cold water I am going to drink when yoga is done.</p>
<p>Yoga is fucking judgmental. I don’t care what all the hippies say. Yet, it has also provided an opportunity for me to learn new ways that help me live my Startup Life. And for that, a couple of farts, 90 minutes of painful heat, and an old dude in desperate need of a haircut calling me “Big Guy,” is worth it.</p>
tag:learntoduck.net,2014:Post/scars2013-04-18T13:03:03-07:002013-04-18T13:03:03-07:00The Scars of the Past<p>Earlier this week, I wrote about 500 or so words on my practice of focusing on the moments in our days as a way to create energy, ideas and pleasure. But, I accidentally deleted it. Yes, in a moment, it was gone.</p>
<p>Dammit.</p>
<p>Over the past several years I have spent a lot of time researching and exploring failure. You could say that I was employing an experiential style of research on failure for most of my life.</p>
<p>In fact, my oldest scar, which sits on the pad of the index finger of my left hand was my first data point.</p>
<p>I had just learned to walk and was stumbling around our small house in Fort Collins, Colorado. My mom, an unabashed hippie, had probably just finished making my macrobiotic lunch and had started to sew some (very hip, I’m sure) baby overalls. This being before lasers and Walmart, she was using a Singer sowing machine with a foot pedal and belt on the outside of the machine. Think Little House on the Praire style. (To make this hippie hick story even worse, at the time my father had a job miking and delivering goat’s milk. Yes. Capital H hippies.)</p>
<p>As the story goes, I wandered over to see what my mom was doing, and with quizzical eyes reached up and touched the moving belt.</p>
<p>Pretty sure my mom screamed before I did. And as blood exploded out of my fingertip I can remember my mom freaking out, snatching me up and running to the bathroom to run my finger under some water stopping the bleeding. </p>
<p>(Yes, I was less than two years old, so I am making up most of these memories, but I do know that my mom has special mom powers which have been in full glory for years.)</p>
<p>Years later, now living in Mountain View, California, I was thirteen or fourteen and a pretty good soccer goalie (and defender). It was during a season that my father coached us, and we were doing alright.</p>
<p>On this particular day, I was watching the burners on the top of the stove turn from hot red to complete black with a simple turn of a dial. Red. Black. Red. Black. Red. Black.</p>
<p>I remember thinking to myself, I wonder if the burner is cold to the touch by the time it gets black. So I turned the burner on full Red.</p>
<p>And then turned it off. and waited. Black.</p>
<p>In retrospect, I would have probably tried to use a paper towel or something, but at the time, my hand was the only testing implement I had available. Black. Hand on burner. Seconds passed. Strange smell started to come from my hand. I believe it was the smell of burning flesh.</p>
<p>Oh shit, that really hurt. And, for the record, Recently Black on the burner is not cold to the touch. Just in case you were wondering.</p>
<p>I still carry a scar from that third degree burn on my left wrist, now situated between two tattoos.</p>
<p>How do these stories of self-mutilation matter?</p>
<p>Because failure cannot be understood if you don’t experience it. And not in a “shoot, I got an A-” kinda way, but in a “I will carry the scar forever” kinda way.</p>
<p>What I have learned over the years both experiencing and researching failure is that the <em>act of failure</em> has no consequence, its the <em>reaction to failure</em> that has real weight.</p>
<p>I will never again touch a moving belt or a semi-hot burner, but the lesson that I survived the pain or the embarrassment. Just like shutting the doors on my first company or losing an investment has not scared me away from startup land.</p>
<p>We pay a real disservice to each other by dealing and discussing failure so flippantly. Failure has real gravitas, it can change how someone lives their life drastically. Yet, we love the rags to riches story. The Hollywood comeback. </p>
<p>We talk about supporting founders who are struggling and, perhaps, headed towards failure, but in truth, we prop up the apparent winners and let the losers slink out to the forest and die. </p>
<p>Failure isn’t the end. It’s a painful, shitty process, but its just that. A step.</p>
<p>When I got sober, a friend of mine said to me that the hardest part of sobriety wasn’t being around alcohol and drugs, but forgetting the bad times. For that which we forget, we are doomed to repeat.</p>
<p>Every day, I look at my left hand with its jagged scar on the index finger and burn mark on my left wrist sitting between two tattoos, and smile.</p>
tag:learntoduck.net,2014:Post/rule-of-awesome2013-04-05T11:56:04-07:002013-04-05T11:56:04-07:00The Rule of Awesome<p>For years I have struggled with the concept of “hiring only A players.”</p>
<p>After all, what the fuck is an “A player?” Is there a test? Is there a list of characteristics that outlines the specific nature of an A player?</p>
<p>On top of that, the concept of an “A player” extends beyond just the skill set into the ability of that employee to engage and comfortably integrate into a set company culture.</p>
<p>The famed Facebook and Google interviews don’t always expose top notch employees. It certainly is a process that scares off a fair number of folks, but it doesn’t guarantee that the new employee is that unique combination of skills, personality, drive and compassionate intelligence necessary for the perfect fit within your organization.</p>
<p>About eight months ago I started to recognize a commonality among the employees at my startup and others that clearing indicated “A player”-ness.</p>
<blockquote class="short">
<p>The CEO/Founder, with pride, showcased something awesome that the employee did.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Simple, right?</p>
<p>Not really. What is awesome? How is it defined? </p>
<blockquote class="short">
<p>It’s like porn. You know it when you see it.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>For me, awesome is when I see or find out about something the employee did, and I say to myself, “man, that’s awesome!”</p>
<p>I realized that the employees that I found myself saying that about where the ones that I was excited about. And the ones that I wasn’t, well, my excitement waned. </p>
<p>So we instituted a new rule:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>If we are hiring you because you are awesome, then you have 30 days to do something awesome. And awesome is simply defined as me (or your supervisor) thinking to him/herself, “man, that’s awesome!” just once.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>It has a real clarifying effect on our personnel and hiring discussions. We are clear when we hire folks that they have 30 days to do something awesome. </p>
<p>Now it’s clear that our team is full of “A Players,” and we can easily define what our needs are and if our team is properly filling those needs.</p>
<p>Is it harder than a Google interview? Who knows. It certainly isn’t easy. But The Rule of Awesome is clear and honest, and for most people that is more important.</p>
tag:learntoduck.net,2014:Post/curse-of-tomorrow2013-04-01T11:23:24-07:002013-04-01T11:23:24-07:00The Curse of Tomorrow<p>While April 1 is the day that the tech world fills the world with jokes, it was the day that I stopped being one.</p>
<p>Back in 2006, on the March 31, I was sitting in my living room in Denver, Colorado. My living room didn’t have much life in it. The blinds were closed, the tv always on. The trash was rarely emptied, and I rarely showered. </p>
<p>I was skinny (well as skinny as a fat man can be), and I had a pronounced limp. It was that limp that kept me on my couch for most of the day.</p>
<p>Well, maybe not the limp. It was more likely the piles of drugs and alcohol that covered my glass top coffee table. </p>
<p>I think about that day a lot because it was the day I decided to become normal. To be sober. It was the day that I broke the Curse that had chased me for most of my life. The Curse of Tomorrow.</p>
<p>And, on April 1, 2006, I chose life.</p>
<p>It was a conscious decision and not a forgone conclusion. But, I woke up on April 1, 2006 and realized that I wasn’t ready to be finished. That today had become more important than tomorrow.</p>
<p>As an entrepreneur, I love being consumed by the vision of what the future holds. I thrive on my ability to see how things should work and my drive to make it reality. But, that constant belief that tomorrow will be better than today doesn’t create the appropriate balance between our mental selves and our emotional selves.</p>
<p>We have short memories – the failures of yesterday fuel the successes of tomorrow. We have powerful drives – tomorrow must be better than yesterday. We have incredible fortitude – you may believe that what we are doing yesterday is adequate, but what you are doing tomorrow will amaze.</p>
<p>But we fear today.</p>
<p>For if today is ok, if today is full of magic, then there is no need for the dreamer. If today is fulfilling, there is no need for entrepreneurs.</p>
<p>So we fight against today. We look at it in disgust. We talk only about tomorrow. We dream only about tomorrow. We live in the future.</p>
<p>And by being under that curse, we break away from what is most important. Ourselves. We forget that we have the distinct need to just be; to just be in the world that surrounds us and helps us and supports us and lets us understand….us.</p>
<p>I understand that believing in tomorrow is easy for entrepreneurs. It’s like our brains are set a day, a week, a year in advance and we struggle to engage with the world around us, with “normals,” with our friends and families that just don’t understand our ways of thought. We default every conversation to our vision of the technology future by reductive discussion of the pedantic efforts of today.</p>
<p>It is no surprise that startups are full of hipsters riding the cutting edge.</p>
<p>Yet, in the midst of that mindset driven by the Curse of Tomorrow lives the beauty of today. Of the enormous force of taking a moment to look around and engage. To the simple pleasure of just sitting and absorbing the lights and sounds of today.</p>
<p>April First is a special day for me. It was the day that I learned that wanting to live–to live in the now–was the secret to making tomorrow perfect.</p>