When you only have one shot (or two, or three) to make a great impression.
More amazing tales from the front.
“How much bandwidth do you have?”
I had just entered the conference room. He barely said hello, and didn’t wait for me to sit down or unload my laptop from my shoulder. Hardly glanced at my accompanying Sales Rep either. No nonsense, little acknowledgment. Right to the point. He insisted:
“How much bandwidth do you have?”
I replied, inquisitorially, “How much bandwidth do you need?”
Diligence can pay off. (Sometimes.)
The call punctuated one otherwise listless afternoon.
“Can you come over for a meeting?”
She never wants to order anything from us. She claims her process is perfect, hence no need for testing. She calls only when she wants to vent her spleen or get some free advice. She thinks our on-demand, zero-notice consultation time is limitless. No statute of limitations. She also really likes the value-added component of free advice, which she can mark up and pass along. That advice also tends to make her process more perfect than it already is. Imagine that: perfecting perfection. Did I mention that enabling wisdom was free?
Answers to problems abound, but the questions are elusive.
High-tech companies pride themselves on their ability to deliver solutions. Firms feel useful – and justified – by doing so, thereby serving humanity. They want you to know that. The effort, or the splashy publicity emanating therefrom, ennobles them, so they think. This satisfies a certain insecure technocentric mindset, needing frequent validation. Touting solutions drives tech companies’ marketing; it trumpets, for all to hear, their reason for being. Quite an impressive spectrum, those solutions. Just sample the advertising. The magic word isn’t hard to find; in fact, it can be overwhelming in its ubiquity, in multiple languages: “Offering cost-effective solutions to the EMS industry since 1984.” “Your solution partner.” “Complete inspection solution.” “Produktloesungen.” “Innovative solutions at your fingertips.” “Soluciones Integradas.” “Creating solutions.” “Cleanroom and containment solutions.” “X-ray inspection solutions.” “Optimale systemloesungen.” “Advanced switching solutions.” “Bespoke solutions.” “Providing today’s solutions for tomorrow’s products.” “Custom NDT solutions.” “Your partner in embedded solution.” “Reliable climate solutions.” “Network connectivity solutions.” “Integrated boundary scan test solution.” “The solution to America’s problems is a big, beautiful wall.” “Customized solutions.” “Integrated test solutions.” That last one’s catchy. Bottle it.
It’s nice to be wanted, but on what terms?
I get 100 fresh emails on a slow day. On a busy day, 200-250. The curse of “reply all.” I’m also preternaturally neat, which means they can’t just sit there occupying disk space; they must be filed away or destroyed. So my brainless morning ritual, punctuated by sips of black coffee, is to delete the overnight solicitations from Emily and her compatriots at Red Star Long March Little Red Book Printed Circuit Boardland in Shenzhen. (“Hello, Dear. We give you good board not costly and never tarnish reputation so rather very much like other detestable board fabricator. Have nice day!”) Emily also wants to connect with me on LinkedIn, and helpfully sends the weather report from Shenzhen (Sunny! Always sunny!) and is curious to know what I’m doing this weekend (writing this column).