johnmaconline

What’s the value of something? Is that the same as it’s worth? 

When I visited my grandfather as a kid, we’d spend some time with his stamp collection. I loved the smell, the shoeboxes full of colorful unsorted potential treasure, the neatly arranged books of post-sorted commemoratives, first-day covers, and plate blocks, the stories behind the images on the stamps, and being a voyeur to a person with a passion project. 

I had various jobs. One job was to slog through the shoeboxes full of loose stamps and sort what I found — US 1 centers in this pile, 1960s UK with Queen Elizabeth in another, etc. My other job was to take sorted piles and cross-reference them against the Scott Standard Postage Stamp Catalogue to generate an estimated value. To do so, I had to find the match in the catalog through its objective characteristics — US, green, 1 cent, Ben Franklin — and then make an assessment of its quality. 

Determining quality was a subjective exercise bounded by some pseudo-objective guidelines. Is it used? Is it postmarked? What is the condition of the perforations? How about the shade of the color and the crispness of the image? Is that a desirable and unique flaw, or just a pedestrian flaw?

I’d come up with a number and show it to my grandfather. 

“This pile here is worth about $24.50.”

He’d take a look and quickly assess my assessment for himself. 

“Eh, maybe I could get half of that.”
“But then why does the catalog say $24.50?”
“The catalog shows retail value. You can’t actually get retail value. You’ll only get what someone will be willing to pay.” 

Huh? Willing to pay? My ten years of experience with our transactional economy included, to this point, only price tags and cashiers. Here’s the listed price. I hand that much to the cashier and walk out with the thing. 

What does “willing to pay” mean?

One time, he rummaged through his cabinet, pulled out a unique, longish box, and handed it to me. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve assessed what this lot here is worth. Maybe you can take a stab at it.”

I opened it to reveal hundreds of first-day covers encased in cellophane wrappers. All from northeastern Pennsylvania. I grabbed the catalog and went to work. The problem I found was that the catalog was equal parts vague (ie, missing much of what I found in his collection) and ultra-specific (ie, the catalog showed only a particular cover with the stamp in question).

After an hour or so, I wasn’t making much progress.

“I don’t how to come up with a value.”
“Yeah, I figured as much. Here’s the next lesson…”

And he explained that this part of his collection was his personal favorite. He had spent a lot of time, effort, and money building it up to what it was. Our family has roots in NE PA and he found this intersection of philatelic history and personal history interesting and nostalgic. He just liked it. 

It had a lot of personal value to him but didn’t necessarily have much value to anybody else.

So what’s it worth? Only what someone else is willing to pay.

What’s your product or service’s value and worth? Find the people who value what you do. 

All three bring unique value to your new venture.

Need strategic direction, industry insight, or reaching into a network? Get yourself an advisor.
Need to learn, grow, or get better? Hire a coach.
Need financial support? Find an investor.

Each comes with a set of pros and cons.

Advisors provide wisdom, experience, perspective, and a network. But they’re not invested in your success in any material way. If you fail, oh well, that’s a shame.

Coaches help you identify and overcome your shortcomings, hold you accountable, and can provide tools and techniques. But they’re only invested in your success to the extent that they can use you as a testimonial. If you fail, you’re just an omission.

Investors provide the fuel (capital), likely strategy, and a network. They are deeply invested in your success, so they 100% want you to succeed. But that can lead to overbearing control of you and your venture. If you fail, you’re in trouble. If you succeed, you might still be in trouble.

You probably want one or more of these types of people along the way. Just remember, they don’t necessarily see what you see.

That’s all on you.

We just launched our company. 

To make it official with the government, the financial system, and customers, we needed a name. It doesn’t exist unless it has a name.

“What goes on the paperwork?” 
“Who do I make the check out to?”
“What do I say when I’m talking about us?”

So we went through that exercise. Even though the four of us have worked together for almost 10 years, we had to collaborate on ideas and in areas we’d never considered. Feelings, perspectives, and personal meaning were all on the table, in addition to practical considerations such as domain availability. It was bumpy, but we got there. Of course, we did; we always do. 

Then, we commissioned a logo. That went pretty darn smooth. We had the right partner on this one.

But now, what is our brand?

Because your brand is not your name or your logo. Once you’ve established your brand, then the logo or the name can invoke it. Not the other way around. You can’t establish your brand with a great name or a great logo. They’re just reminders. At launch, they don’t matter.

Brand, however, does matter. Immensely. In fact, at launch, it might be the most important thing.

So get clear on your brand.

“What do you do?”
“What do you stand for?”
“Who is it for?”
“What do you believe and what do they believe?”
“How do you help?”
“What tension do you relieve?”
“What will they say about you?”

Somedays, you wake up, and you’re energized and confident.

Some days, it’s the opposite. You’re drained and insecure. You’re in the swoon, and the swoon can derail you for a few hours, a few days, or your entire project.

First, acknowledge it. It’s here, and you’re in it. You’re not the first or the last. There’s nothing inherently wrong with you.

Second, remember this: Even though The World talks about launching your project, that’s not how it’s done. You don’t launch your company, book, or program.

You build it. Customer by customer. Paragraph by paragraph. Lesson by lesson.

Keep talking to people. Keep writing. Keep learning.

Hard times are undefeated.

Hard times can teach, hone, and elevate. Or they can overwhelm, crush, and cripple.

Hard times are coming. Not if. When.

How will you respond?

It’s easy and tempting to assume that others are out to get us.

But really they just don’t see what we see, and consequently, they don’t care.

If we want others to care about what we care about, we need to help them see what we see.

One perspective is that you do what you do for you.

Another is that you do what you do for someone else.

My guess is that, at its core, it’s both. In both cases, what you do is an opportunity to serve. The opportunity to serve is a privilege. It’s what transforms tasks into contributions.

You’ve seen great service. You’ve been on the receiving end. You know what it looks like and what it feels like.

Each time you pick up your drill, phone, or spreadsheet to do what you do, you have an opportunity to serve. What will it look like?