Seth Godin's Blog, page 13

Truth in bots

All day we interact with others.

And sometimes, they’re bots.

Perhaps you’re in a chat room, and after a few Eliza-quality backs and forths, you realize that this helpful voice isn’t actually a voice at all, it’s simply a bot, here to interface with a tech support database.

Or you’re talking to a next-generation bot on the phone, and it’s only a minute or two into the interaction that you realize you’re being fooled by an AI, not a caring human.

Wouldn’t it be more efficient (and reassuring) to know this in advance?

But we can take this further. If you’re on the phone with American Express and the person you’re talking with has no agency, no ability to change anything and no incentive to care, wouldn’t it be helpful to know that before you had the conversation?

Or what about the publicist or direct marketer, sending you an email that purports to be personal but is in fact only personalized? Spam decorated as human interaction is still spam.

The problem with not labeling bots is that soon, we come to expect that every interaction is going to be with a bot, and we fail to invest emotional energy in the conversations we could have with actual people. I feel bad for all the actual customer service professionals (doctors, bureaucrats and others who help) who have to deal with impersonal interactions simply because their customers have been fooled one too many times.

The bots should announce, “I’m not a person, or if I am, I’m not allowed to act like one.”

Or, if there’s no room or time for that sentence, perhaps a simple *bot* at the top of the conversation. That way, we can save our human emotions for the humans who will appreciate them.

            

To vs reply vs bcc

How much of your inbox activity is initiated by you? What percentage of your email threads started with an email you wrote?

And how much is spent replying to others?

And finally, how often are you bccing or being bcced?

I hope we can agree that the percentage for the third category should be close to zero.

But for the first two, the simplest way to change your day is to dramatically alter the percentage of the first two categories so that you’re adding way more value for others. In whatever way works best.

            

“I don’t like your work”

That doesn’t mean I don’t like you.

The difference is critical. It’s impossible to be a productive professional if you insist on conjoining them.

Here are two useful things to consider:

There is plenty of disliked work from people (and things) where I don’t even know the creator. I don’t like John Adam’s operas, and I’ve never even met him. If it’s possible to dislike something without knowing the person behind it, I hope we can embrace the fact that they’re unrelated.
If we need everyone to like our work in order to feel grounded, it means that we’ll sacrifice the best of what we could create in order to dumb it down for whatever masses happen to be speaking up. Which will make it more average (aka mediocre) and thus eliminate any magic we had hoped to create.

If someone cares enough to dislike our work, the best response is, “thank you.”

Thank you for taking the time to consider it, thank you for caring enough to let me know…

You can choose to listen (or not) to the rest of the feedback, but all you’ll learn is how one person reacted to something you built.

            

On feeling incompetent

At some point, grown ups get tired of the feeling that accompanies growth and learning.

We start calling that feeling, “incompetence.”

We’re not good at the new software, we resist a brainstorming session for a new way to solve a problem, we never did bother to learn to juggle…

Not because we don’t want the outcomes, but because the journey promises to be difficult. Difficult in the sense that we’ll feel incompetent.

Which accompanies all growth.

First we realize something can be done.

Then we realize we can’t do it.

And finally, we get better at it.

It’s the second step that messes with us.

If you care enough to make a difference, if you care enough to get better–you should care enough to experience incompetence again.

            

Choice and obligation

If it’s an obligation, then you don’t have a choice.

Pretending you do is simply a way to create frustration. Free yourself to simply do what you have to do.

On the other hand, if you do have a choice (and you probably do) then it doesn’t make sense to treat it as an obligation. Own the choice.

            

The first piece of tape

I’m sitting on a black couch in the lobby of a nice theater. The couch is cracked and peeling, with seven strips of black gaffer’s tape holding it together. And you don’t have to be an interior geologist to see that it has developed this patina over time, bit by bit.

The question is: Who was the first person who decided to fix the couch with tape?

The third or fifth person did a natural thing–here’s a ratty couch, let’s keep it the best we can.

But the first taper?

The first taper decided that it was okay for this theater to have a taped couch. The first taper didn’t make the effort to alert the authorities, to insist on getting the couch repaired properly.

The first taper decided, “this is good enough for now.”

This is how we find ourselves on the road to decay.

 

Here’s a new video the team just put together for the altMBA. I hope it resonates with you…

PS The early decision deadline for the altMBA is March 1st.

            

Lessons for telling time

For something as dominant as the four digits that we use to tell time, it’s disappointing that there’s no manual, and not surprising that we do it wrong so often.

I’m not talking about the big hand/little hand part of announcing what time it is. I’m focused on how we use our awareness of time to screw up our narrative about life.

Here are some examples:

We focus on the days, making short-term decisions, instead of being cognizant of the years. We ignore the benefits that short-term pain can have in earning us long-term satisfaction. Which means that we often fail to invest, embracing a shortcut instead.

We rehearse the past, obsessing about sunk costs, instead of freeing ourselves up to make new decisions based on new information.

We put a stopwatch on our best experiences, ticktocking the moments instead of living in them.

But we fail to be honest about the time when we’re in a dip, or unhappy, imagining instead that it is lasting forever.

We confuse the thrill of fast-paced media with the magic of doing work that matters, even though they each take just as long.

We might have a fancy watch, but that doesn’t mean we’re good at telling time.

            

Five reasons you might want to start a podcast

You’ll meet some amazing people. Most podcasts are based on interviews, and having a podcast is a fabulous excuse to interview fascinating people.
It will help clarify your thinking. You might hesitate to write, but most people don’t hesitate to speak their thoughts. Spending twenty minutes or more to explain something is a great way to understand it.
You will earn credibility. Our culture gives extra credit to people who are thoughtful, generous and well-spoken.
It’s a productive habit that gets both easier and more useful as you stick with it.
It creates an asset, one that people can engage with for years to come.
(not a reason) To make a fortune. You won’t. But 1 through 5 are a bargain, because you don’t need a permit, a license or a budget. You can simply begin.

Today’s the best day to sign up to join Alex DiPalma and me in the Podcast Fellowship.

We’ve run it twice before, and it works better than anyone expected. We’re assembling a cohort of terrific people all on the same journey–to share their ideas and make a ruckus.

Alex is a significant force in the world of podcasting, with experience at NPR and Midroll, and you couldn’t ask for a more insightful and committed guide. She and I have worked together on the Akimbo podcast for more than a year.

Lessons start this week, so today’s the day. It’s easy to sign up.

Podcasting is a way to find your voice and we’d love to have you join us.

            

Experience and variation

The only way to learn from experience is to have different experiences.

The very nature of an experiment is that there’s a chance you’re doing it wrong, or at least less ‘right’ than the way you usually do it. Which leads to the trap of no new experiences.

The only alternative is to eagerly engage with the possible.

If you follow the recipe the same way every time, you’ll get the same results every time.

            

Fish in a barrel

There’s some confusion here.

Of course it’s easy to shoot fish in a barrel.

The difficult part, the part no one talks about, is getting the fish into the barrel in the first place.