A game of inches

When you treat life as a game of inches, you’re going to lose by miles.

Take my morning commute.  In the midst of morning rush hour traffic, one driver always tries to get that extra inch ahead — swerving between lanes, cutting off others — in the hopes of getting to work that much earlier.*

What are you going to do with that extra minute once you get to the office?  Or if you get home one minute sooner?

If that driver was really eager to get started with work, he could take the commuter train and work on the way.  Or he could work from home.

Or he could take a helicopter to the office.

When everyone is playing the game in the same way (driving to work), the only reliable way to beat everyone is to find a new way to play (flying to work).

Take the newspaper industry.  They treated the internet as a game of inches; they found incremental ways to incorporate digital into their plans.  They moved at the speed of paper.

Meanwhile, the Internet moved at the speed of light.  News business models came and went several times over while the newspapers were looking for the forest where the digital trees grow.

(because you need digital trees to print a newspaper online, right?)

In life, business, driving to work — you can’t treat these things as games of inches; something new and unexpected will come along to blow you away while you’re still stuck in traffic.

Whether you’re a company or individual, here are a few good questions to see if you’re playing the game by inches or miles:

  • What was the last change I made that sent out shockwaves to everyone?
  • If I didn’t exist, how would people get by without me?
  • What would I do differently if I was brought in to replace myself?
  • Am I incorporating the newest and best practices in my work?
  • Is everything around me thriving while I’m floundering?

If you’re playing by miles, these should be trivially easy to answer.  If you’re not, you probably struggled with this.

Admittedly, they’re pretty tough questions.  Thinking about what you would do if you were replacing yourself takes some gray matter power to think through.

Take a minute to look around you.  Are those things are moving by inches (the auto industry) or by miles (foreclosed homeowners)?

Which are moving the ocean and which are just moving with the tide?

Which one are you?

 

*Yeah, maybe one of those asshole drivers has a legitimate excuse like an emergency, but most are just assholes.

Why do people suck at saying what they want?

I can’t believe the crazytown that’s erupted over Facebook and their attitude towards the people who want Facebook to kick more ass.  Doesn’t Facebook understand that it takes a special person to talk to people and distill their real needs?

I’ve covered "users" and usability before and I hate being forced to cover it again.  However, I hate it even more when stupid people dismiss peoples’ feedback because they’re "stupid".

People are horrible at articulating their wants. It’s the lunch problem. You’ve been through this scene before:

You: Where should we go to lunch today?
Me: I don’t know…
You: How about Thai?
Me: No, I had Thai yesterday.  How about pizza?
You: I’m having Italian tonight, so I’d rather not.  What about a sandwich?
[and so on for 5 minutes]

By the time you’ve decided, you’re frustrated with the other person’s ability to decide on a place to eat.  It turns a harmless scene into unnecessary hatred.

So why do people suck at saying what they want?

Here are a few reasons why we’re so poor at explaining our wants:

Frames of reference
Most of the time, the people you’re talking to are from a different world than yours.  You may both speak English, but you use different words to explain the same thing (the vocabulary problem).  So when you try to explain something to the other person, he can’t understand you (the conduit problem).

Learn his vocabulary and speak to him in it.

Asking for solutions
Sometimes interviews go ok, but people offer solutions in your frame of reference like, "when I click it, it should do this." Likewise, bad interviewers solicit those solutions — "what should it do when you click it?"  That’s like asking a gardener’s advice on bridge building.

Avoid asking for solutions; always revert to the interviewee’s frame of reference.

Conditioning
We call asking for wants "whining." Most people have been successfully conditioned not to whine by the time they’re adults.  Getting people to break that training is difficult.

Save the hard questions until after they’ve warmed up to you and the fact that you’re listening to their desires.

"Users are stupid"
Because of the reasons above, many people are biased against talking to people altogether; they dismiss feedback as "stupid."  People are actually pretty smart.  But if you read my explanations, you’d understand the reasons behind the bias.

It’s your fault for not understanding them, not their fault for saying something you don’t understand.

How to correct your stupidity (and learn from people using your product)

Here’s what people are really good at telling you (and what you should have asked in the first place):

What their problem is
Everyone wants to tell their side of the story; that’s why we have lawsuits and psychiatrists.  If you’re willing to dig in, most folks are willing to explain their problems in gory detail.  You’ll need to filter it down to a digestible level to find the gold in the rubble.

Ask them to explain the problem’s they’re having, and they’ll be your BFF by the time you’re done.

What they don’t like
Just like the lunch example above, people are great at saying, "no." The bad news is that a "no" isn’t very helpful in deciding on where to go for lunch; the good news is that a "no" narrows the options by telling you what to avoid.

Even a "no" is a good answer; collapse the realm of possibilities whenever possible.

What they love
I’m talkin’ about passion here.  It comes out as something like, "there’s this great new restaurant you should check out."  When you love something, you want everyone to know about it.  It’s a great way to warm up an interviewee.

Believe in their passion as much as you believe in yours.

What they want to do
Call this the magic wand theory of desire.  "If you could wave a magic wand, what kind of food would you have?"  That question keeps people focused on their goals and away from the mechanics of how it’s done.

People have strong imaginations; activate it by invoking their desires (while avoiding the details).

Design versus people skills

The value you assign to user feedback is highly dependent on the quality of the people collecting your feedback. You wouldn’t use a lawyer to design your website. That’s why we have fields like information architecture, interaction design, and usability testing.*

So why would you send a designer to interview people? That’s why we have fields like anthropology, psychology, and sociology.

Don’t send a designer to do an interviewer’s job; an interviewer will do much better. If you send the wrong person, you’ll get answers as bad as sending a lawyer to design a web site.  And bad answers reinforce the opinion that "users are stupid."  It’s a downward spiral.

Users are not stupid.  You’re stupid for thinking they are.  Instead, hire someone with good people skills.

Maybe Facebook could have avoided this redesign debacle if they had spent more time trying to understand how people on their site are trying to be awesome instead of getting in their way.

*Sadly, people still hire marketers and graphic designers to design online interactions. Would you hire an interaction designer to do your marketing or graphic design? Then why would you hire a marketer or graphic designer to do your interaction design?

The Death of Physical

Nothing new here… just my observations on why so many brick-and-mortar stores are dying a slow death.

I went to the closings of nearby Circuit City and Tower Superstore stores recently.  Even with the 20% off "We’re Closing" discount, their copy of the Wall-E three disc special edition was $10 more than Amazon’s everyday price.

And the DVDs that usually go for $15 each — Amazon is still $2 cheaper on all of ’em after Tower’s Final Sale price.

No wonder they’re closing.

This reminded me of some very important reasons why physical is dying.  First, digitally you can almost always find it cheaper somewhere else, especially if you have your internet-enabled phone in your pocket.

Second, no brick-and-mortar store will undersell every internet store.  Amazon can sell any DVD they want cheaper than any four-walled retailer and still pay 2 to 15% per item in their affiliate program.

Third, physical will be dead soon enough.  Steam, Valve’s digital game publishing platform, noted that every decrease in price created a huge increase in sales.  No physical store could match digital’s everyday price much less that price cut.

After the revolution, you’ll be able to count the industries that require "physical" on your hands:

  • clothes
  • food
  • transportation
  • housing
  • utilities

Ok, you can count ’em on one hand, leaving your other hand free to… surf the web.

Circuit City closed 567 stores, putting 34,000 out of work.  Tower closed 6 stores with 1,000 employees.  Blockbuster is trading for less than $1.

Amazon made $1.3 billion in profit last quarter.  Netflix made $126 million.

Who will you bet on?

In Quotes — An Umbrella

I like quotes. There always seems to be a good one that fits any situation.

Take this website. Recently, I thought about changing the tagline for my site from:

An umbrella in the desert

to something a bit more digestible:

Life absurd

but then I remembered I’m a rather absurd person, so why should I draw a straight line for people to follow?

Speaking of which, let me tell you about that umbrella line. People ask, "what does it mean? It doesn’t rain in the desert."

Those people are thinking in a straight line. Why draw a straight line when curves and jagged lines are so much more fun?

If you ask,

What’s an umbrella in the desert?

then the tagline makes sense…

It’s the only shade for miles.

In Plain English, or Lawyer Job Security

If you didn’t write the contract, you’re the one getting screwed.*

Put another way, contracts and legalese obfuscate the truth.  But plain English contracts wouldn’t do much to help, if that ever happened.

If it isn’t obvious, this Facebook Terms of Service debacle has been weighing on my mind.  How many times have you ever read the TOS before signing up for a site?

Did you read the Facebook TOS when you signed up? I’m guessing, "no."

And even for those who did read the legalese, how many of them understand what it means?** A 13-year-old can’t possibly understand those legal terms.  Hell, I barely do.

Let’s say for a second that it’s a worthy endeavor to make these terms of service readable by anyone 13 and older.

One way would be to include a plain English interpretation of the contract with the legalese. For example, this copyright agreement is much easier to understand than Facebook’s garbled mess:

By signing up, you give Facebook permission to redistribute any content you add to Facebook forever without compensation.

It’s not so simple

But making contracts easy to understand will never happen for a few reasons.

One, it would put lawyers out of work, and they need the business because they write the contracts (so only other lawyers can understand them) and interpret them (because only lawyers can understand them).  It’s called "job security." Well played, legal profession. Well played.

Two, legal holes.  No organization would willingly paint themselves in a corner by issuing a legal opinion before it’s needed. They want the maximum flexibility in interpretation when the time comes.

Three, people wouldn’t use the internet if they understood what the TOS meant. "In perpetuity" is to "forever" as "malignant" is to "you have cancer;" it sounds less scary when you hide it behind jargon or confusing terms.

The marketing team would put the kibosh on it if the legal team didn’t.

And it’s even less simple than that

Let’s say I got inspired one night and built a website called "Contracts in Plain English." On the site, people take contracts and turn them into text you can trivially understand, Wikipedia style. Not only would it inform you about what you’re agreeing to, it might even make you mad enough to do something about it.

But someone would follow the advice and sue me because of a legal mess they got into when interpretation was off or because they interpreted the interpretation incorrectly. The original contract authors would sue me for copyright infringement. Web activity would crawl to a halt as people realize how awful the terms of services are.

Fine, so web activity wouldn’t crawl to a halt.  But how many 13-year-olds would stop and read the English-ized TOS over the legalese?  None. And even if they did understand it, they’re not old enough to understand that "in perpetuity" is a long time, especially for a 13-year-old.

And more important, would you sign up for a site that all your friends use even if the terms of service were less-than-agreeable? Yes you would, and you still wouldn’t read the TOS in the first place.

That’s why plain English terms of service might make you feel better, but they wouldn’t do much to improve anything.

But as long as contracts are written to prevent people from understanding them, this Facebook debacle will not be the last incident caused by legal obfuscation.

Is there a better way that Facebook and others can communicate their legal terms without hiring lawyers or causing more confusion?

*By reading this, you agree to buy me a drink the next time you see me, in perpetuity, without compensation.

**And really, how much should anyone have to know about the law? If the RIAA had it their way, copyright would be a part of everyone’s education.  I say that’s fine as long as it’s taught side-by-side with details of the music industry’s business model.

An open letter to Facebook

Dear Facebook,

We own you.

You’d be nothing without us. But my friends and I have come down on the side that we’d rather have you despite our disagreement about how you handled the change to your terms of service.

In your defense, I understand that you needed to cover your ass. I must give you permission to publish and distribute content I added to Facebook; copyright laws are a fickle bitch.

But how hard is it for you to delete everything related to me from your app if I ask? I bet you left no traces of the Fake Prince of Morocco who landed on Facebook.

I deserve as much as the Prince if I ask to delete my own profile from Facebook; I am me, after all. And I own you, not the other way ’round.

And so I ask you to do two things.

First, notify me when you change your terms of service. Make me agree to the changes when I log in. Or email, IM, or message me. Poke me fer fuck’s sake. I’ll even accept carrier pigeon messages.

Second, give me the ability to backup and delete my Facebook profile. If I don’t like your changes, I want my info off your fuckin’ site forever, ASAP, at the push of a button. Ok, two buttons — don’t want to do that accidentally.

Do those two things, and I’ll give you permission to keep my information, likeness, and digital detritus "in perpetuity" yadda yadda yadda.

Don’t do those things, and you’ll set yourself up for the class action lawsuit of a lifetime. There’s even case law backing me up in your home jurisdiction of the Ninth Federal Court Circuit.

Oh, and if you’re thinking of one more change to make to your terms, bump up the maximum liability for damages from $100. I’ll take equity if you don’t have the cash.

After the privacy debacle (times two), the redesign debacle, and now this, you’ve revealed your fatal flaw — horrible communication. Only if you secretly replaced your PR and legal teams with a pet rock could you be capable of such mind-numbing communication incompetence.

Learn your fucking lesson.

Sincerely,

me, part owner of Facebook

Discovery

Too many tech companies put their efforts into search and queries but not enough time in evaluation and discovery.

This is one of those topics that has weighed on my mind a lot, brought to the front by what I wrote last time. I claim that search has four main parts:

  1. Discover
  2. Query
  3. Execute
  4. Evaluate

To run through the steps in order, first you have to discover the thing you want to search for.  More on this further down.

Next, you have to formulate that discovery into a query. With that query, you can execute your search in any way you see fit — asking friends, using search engines, flipping through magazines, sending messages by carrier pigeons, and so on.

After you’re done executing the search, you can evaluate the search results to see if they match your need. If so, great — you’re all done.  If not, hop back a few steps and try again.

My rant on Yelp was mostly about evaluation; Yelp’s results did not match my query. And really, Yelp never will be able to answer my query because it’s not built to answer that kind of query.

My concern is that most companies don’t put effort into Discovery and Evaluation. Most companies focus on the Query and Execute parts of the search process. Let’s face it — technology lends itself best to those steps.

Evaluation is key; its the sin qua non of what a search engine produces.  Bad search results mean nobody will use your product. We humans are the true judges of the effectiveness of a search.

But how many of those companies check if their search produces great results? For example, I know that Google hires people to evaluate search results and make sure they’re sane to humans. Based on my results, I doubt Yelp does the same (or maybe Yelp does it very badly — hard to tell).

Get on with it

If Execute and Query are industries and Evaluation is languishing, then Discovery is on the back of the milk carton.  Think about Discovery like this:

How did I first discover X and decide that I wanted learn more about it?

You’re exposed to many facts and tidbits throughout a day that you mostly forget or discard. Just a few items stick around in your brain, like that song you heard while watching TV and you know you heard it before but you don’t know the name… What is that song?

Maybe you remember one line of the lyrics —

If a girl has a pierced tongue, she’ll probably suck your dick

So you punch it in to a search engine and start your search, quickly adding quotes after you get too many porn sites back.

"No Sex in the Champagne Room" by Chris Rock.  And elation — you solved the mystery, all triggered by your discovery of the song and remembering one lewd lyric. Then you went and downloaded the MP3 of the song. QED.

Paths to Discovery

Discovery comes in many forms. Some are pretty square — education, reading Ain’t It Cool News, walking down the street on a windy night when a gust blows a newspaper right into your face open to an article about a kickin’ rock show happening tomorrow night…

Here are a few of my favorites:

Recommendations

Sometimes discoveries come to you. For instance, my friends and family often tell me about restaurants I need to try. Sometimes, I even go to them.

Recommendations are powerful constructs as I previously attested. The only missing bit from last time is that they often induce you to start a search process.

Seeking Out

Sometimes you’ll go out of your way to find information. For example, I actively look for news on The Cinematic Orchestra — tours, new albums, bootlegs. I love the band.

You might also call this one "fandom" or "love." It’s so powerful that it will drive an individual to seek out that information all by himself. This is the most powerful discovery mechanism — self-motivated, active searching — compared to other methods that are more passive or induced externally.

Stumble Upon

No, not the website. This is a catch-all for the methods of discovery like hearing a catchy song in a bar and wanting to learn what it is. Or maybe you saw an ad for an upcoming movie while watching a TV show and want to see who’s in it.

The key to stumbling upon something is that it comes in unexpected times and ways. This is the realm of marketing and advertising — filling in the gaps of time and space with information that you’ll follow up on. Often, their goal is to influence a decision like the billboard that unconsciously determined your laundry detergent purchase.

Sometimes you’ll be motivated to do more with something you stumble upon  — like hearing a song at a pool hall in St. Louis which led me to buy my first Bela Fleck album, or hearing a song on the radio which led me to buy my first Cinematic Orchestra album.

Good things come in unexpected ways.

Search to Discovery

Sometimes your searches will lead you to new paths of discovery. I’m reminded of Last.fm and Pandora that fancy themselves "discovery engines." They work on the premise that they’ll find music you’ll like based on music you already like.

But really, these sites are big search engines using criteria like other people’s music preferences (Last.fm) or an expert opinion (Pandora) to help you discover new music.

All the same, I’ve certainly found good music through those services.  Or maybe you watched a YouTube video then clicked on one of the recommended videos after the video was over. Or maybe you bought the thing that Amazon said other people purchased when they bought the first item. Your search led you to a new discovery.

Lessons from Discovery

There’s good news and bad news.

The good news is that technology is catching on to discovery. I’m reminded of that iPhone app that can listen to a segment of a song then take you to the iTunes store to buy it. That answers the search need right at the time and place of discovery.

And like I said, Pandora, Last.fm, and their ilk help turn search into discovery. Or YouTube introducing you to related videos while you’re watching one.

The bad news is that there’s definitely room for improvement. Even those examples above are really search examples — searching for music like the band you like, or finding videos similar to the one you’re watching.

Is this the best way technology can facilitate discovery — through search? Have databases become so ubiquitous that technology will only be good for search and querying?

Netflix friends is on the right track, but it’s hard to motivate people to put in their recommendations, much less for everyone they know. Reviewing is not the answer; as I said before it leads to poor answers for useless questions. (Just look at the state of the Netflix recommendation project.) Anyone who can solve this recommendation conundrum — without resorting to search — is bound to make millions.

We could enable better stumble upon discovery if only car commercials put a blurb in the bottom corner of who wrote the damn song. I know lots of them are written just for the commercial, but at least give the artist props so I can seek them out.

But I digress.  Everyone is looking for something new — a new restaurant, a new band, a new movie, a new event — and the only answers that technology offers are directed search and recommendations pulled from the sky (which is really another form of search).

Get your search right and you might discover something interesting. Get it wrong, and we’re all gonna laugh at you.

Technology has few answers for the serendipitous discovery — the song in the TV ad or the friend who thinks you would love this movie. These are the kinds of discoveries that broaden our horizons. My life didn’t change that much when the latest Cinematic Orchestra album came out, but you should ask me about the first time I listened to The Cancer Conspiracy

Or maybe you met that special someone when you tagged along with a friend to a party and she also tagged along with a friend to that same party. These kinds of moments do not happen because of a great search engine. I’m sure eHarmony and others would like you to believe otherwise.

Is there a way that technology can facilitate those moments? I say yes, there is a way that technology can make this better, easier, faster than before. I’m just not sure what it is…

Yelp Wobegon, where every review is above average

A friend of mine once quipped that Yelp is useless because every review is either really high or really low. That’s close. Yelp’s reviews are inflated and, worse, don’t answer the most important question that you need to know when making a choice from their listings.

What’s in a review?

Yelp suffers from the "Lake Wobegon" effect. You know the line:

…where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average.

rating_dist_graphI spotted a graph of these ratings in the Yelp FAQ which I liberated for your reference at the right.

Do the math and you’ll see that the average rating of a Yelp review is 3.77 stars. If ratings were well distributed, the average would be 3 stars

On Yelp, most reviews are above average.  Even the FAQ says, "3 stars and up constitute 85% of all reviews." And by the math, two-thirds of the reviews are 4 and 5 stars.

Wow. I’ve seen many places that have 3 and 4 star reviews. Some are pretty awful. How bad does a place have to be to get 1 or 2 stars?

Here’s how Yelp describes the ratings. Besides proving that Yelp needs a new copywriter, these may help explain why the ratings are so skewed:

Stars Description
1 Eek! Methinks not.
2 Meh. I’ve experienced better.
3 A-OK.
4 Yay! I’m a fan.
5 Woohoo! As good as it gets!
Ratings and recommendations

Poor writing aside, there are two lessons here. First, don’t trust Yelp ratings. Using the star ratings from Yelp is as useful as getting spiritual advice from someone who wants to give you a stress test on the sidewalk. (Yes, that’s a Scientology reference.)

Second, you have to ask the right question to get the right answer. Asking for a rating will not give you the right answer. For example, I would give Slumdog Millionaire 2 out of 5 stars — a decent story with poor directing and acting.

But that’s not very useful if your goal is to decide whether to see that or The Spirit. Likewise, asking for a rating isn’t helpful when you’re using Yelp to find a restaurant for dinner tonight.

What you want is a recommendation, not a review. That’s why I would replace Yelp’s question with one of these two below. First:

Would you go back to this place again?

  • Never
  • Once in a blue moon
  • Sure
  • Regularly
  • They know me by name

If a place is worth a return visit, that’s a huge statement about how much you like it. This is a personal recommendation.

Here’s the other question:

Would you recommend this place to a friend?

  • Never
  • Only if I couldn’t think of anything else
  • Sure
  • Without fail
  • It’s the only place I’d recommend

When you tell a friend to check out a place, you’re putting your reputation on the line. If your friend likes it, that reflects positively on you. If your friend hates it, then they’re not going to ask you for recommendations any more. This is a social recommendation.

This rating versus recommendation thing gets to the core of Yelp’s main flaw. Yelp is a collection of ratings. It’s good at answering impractical questions such as, "show me restaurants in this neighborhood that people tend to like."

Yelp is not a collection of recommendations. It does a poor job of answering the very useful question, "which restaurant in this neighborhood should I go to tonight?" If Yelp (or some other startup) built a solution to answer that question, they’d have a formula for instant success.

It’s a lot like picking a doctor. You’d rather hear from a friend that his doctor is great and is taking new patients instead of sift through thousands of listings on your insurance company’s website. No wonder people hate insurance companies — such an awful user experience.

Anyway, Yelp isn’t useless. It’s just that a rating is hard to digest. I’ve found some good places through Yelp. However, I’d rather get an instant recommendation instead of sifting through dozens of masturbatory reviews, each with the obligatory be-as-cool-as-you-can-be 50-by-50 pixel images.

All I’m looking for is a good Italian restaurant for dinner, and Yelp’s reviews aren’t helping. Why can’t it be simpler?

Three Sins of Product Failure

The death of Twitter has been highly exaggerated… until now.

Products don’t spontaneously fail. They die because of repeated mismanagement, just like Friendster died in the U.S. and just like the major music labels will soon. I call these the Three Sins of Product Failure. They are:

  1. The Sin of Technological Hubris
  2. The Sin of Practice Indifference
  3. The Sin of Burying Your Head in the Sand

Let’s break it down using Friendster as an example.

The Sin of Technological Hubris

When your technology isn’t as good as it needs to be, you’re committing the sin of Technological Hubris. Friendster exploded onto the ‘net in 2005. However, the site couldn’t keep up with the load, and it crashed frequently. This pissed off the users, but not enough to make them run.

The Sin of Practice Indifference

You commit the sin of Practice Indifference when you ignore what people are really doing with your product. You make decisions to the detriment of how people use the product.

Friendster had no way of articulating fandom (ex, “I like Counting Crows”), so the community found a way around it. They created “Fakesters” — a fake user profile — to represent the bands, actors, and other pop media icons that they love. Friendster didn’t like Fakesters, and in an overnight purge Friendster deleted the Fakesters in an incident best called the “Fakester Genocide.” Following this act of complete indifference by Friendster towards their community, only one obstacle remained before the death of Friendster in the U.S.

The Sin of Burying Your Head in the Sand

If you don’t pay attention to what your competition is doing, you’re committing this sin. While Friendster was going through their troubles with technology and community, a new social network called MySpace was growing in popularity. Sick of waiting for Friendster to get their shit together, users flocked to MySpace who was more stable and more accommodating to the users than Friendster. This was the last domino to fall, causing Friendster to lose its status as the preeminent social network in the U.S.

You can commit some of these sins and not destroy your product. If you commit all of them, you’re certain to be on the wrong side of a revolution. Let’s do this again, but with the major music labels and film distributors:

  1. The Sin of Technological Hubris  — Major labels and film companies require DRM and other technological protections when distributing their content digitally.
  2. The Sin of Practice Indifference — The RIAA has sued thousands of people, sometimes wrongly, for distributing music online. Both music and movie companies have gotten and are seeking more changes to the law increasing penalties for copyright infringement.
  3. The Sin of Burying Your Head in the Sand — More and more artists are realizing that there is life without major labels, and that DRM-free and free (as in beer) downloads bring their own rewards.

So Twitter… With frequent crashes and reeling back features, they’re way beyond the Sin of Technological Hubris. They’re definitely burying their heads in the sand (*cough*). And they just committed the Sin of Practice Indifference — killing SMS support for users in the U.K.  Expect a plummet in U.K. Twitter usage, followed by some competitor reaping the spoils of Twitter’s ignorance.

And if they’re not careful, they’ll lose much more than those U.K. folks.  Such is the penalty for committing the Sins of Product Failure.

 

P.S. For all you people worried that ads will destroy Twitter… As long as they do that without breaking their users’ practices, Twitter has nothing to worry about.

Amazed Every Day

A brief post today… Be amazed every day. In the work context, I try to learn something amazing about my coworkers, the company, or, most interesting of all, the users.

But casual amazement is ok too. Did you know Christopher Walken loves to cook?

Ron Jeremy cooks too Amazing, isn’t it?

Need some sources for amazement? Try these…