In the last few weeks, I've found myself in the middle of several very complex negotiations. Getting something done in any negotiation requires leverage. But leverage is tricky. You need to have it to drive an outcome in your direction, but you want to be careful using it.
In the last few weeks, I've found myself in the middle of several very complex negotiations. Getting something done in any negotiation requires leverage. But leverage is tricky. You need to have it to drive an outcome in your direction, but you want to be careful using it.
Brazenly using leverage can be effective, but it's somewhat distasteful, and can create bad blood / tarnish relationships. Leverage is also slippery and elusive. It may be that you have it, but sometimes it's not necessarily 100% clear, and things can change quickly.
Taking these two things together, I always find that it's wisest to try and understand what your leverage is, but also avoid wielding it too openly. Both because you may not actually have as much as you think, and if it turns out that you don't, you end up exposed as someone who's not afraid to use it.
But all that said: navigating real-time contentious situations is a good reminder that leverage is best built up over time, and planned ahead for as much as possible. That way, when it comes time you use it, you can a) be sure you actually have it and b) use what you have as modestly and comfortably as possible.
Our life is increasingly dominated by screens. Giant screens in public spaces; TVs everywhere in bars and restaurants; everyone standing around and walking around with their faces in their phones; watches, glasses and goggles with screens built-in, etc. "Screen time" is a thing.
Screens are amazing: full of information and entertainment. But they are also exhausting and over-stimulating.
It feels to me that, one way or another, we're poised to experience some amount of cultural backlash against so many screens. I can already start to sense it, as I spend time with my teenage kids -- while they are certainly on screens quite a bit, I can tell that they realize that it's a lot, and they seem to actively seek out escapes from the screen (as much as they understand that the screen can be an attractive escape from the real world).
In particular, I'm curious about digital interfaces that manage to capture the value & utility of being connected, but strike a different tone in terms of experience.
For example, I've been experimenting with the Meta Ray-Ban glasses for a while now, and while they aren't perfect, the experience of taking a photo or video without sticking my face in my phone is refreshing. That said, smart glasses are also clearly a step towards a more immersive, rather than less immersive tech experience, which has other potential drawbacks.
In terms of more visually interactive devices, the Kindle is probably the most successful example of this kind of "low-fi" computing. While it's also not perfect, and I still personally prefer to read a paper book, it doesn't scream "I AM A COMPUTER" quite the way other tablets do, and there's just something about the posture of reading on a Kindle (compared to a phone, for sure) that just feels more healthy and natural.
I am curious to see whether such an approach could work for other kinds of products that come closer to the experience of phones and tablets. I was surprised to learn recently that the
It's such a cliche to say that "less is more" but it's so often the case.
We often advise companies we're talking to to raise less money than they otherwise might. Raising less now typically means less dilution. It can also mean more focus. Often times, raising too much means spending too much, or growing the team faster than makes sense, ultimately slowing things down.
Often times doing less means accomplishing more. What I mean by this is: doing something "perfectly" or "bigly" or whatever, often adds pressure, which can often lead to accomplishing less. This is the "perfect as the enemy of good" version of more. I most often see this expressed in forms like, we are encouraging our analysts at USV to write blog posts or develop internal decks/memos more quickly with less pressure, to get them out in the world and get feedback. My partner Jared encapsulates this well in Shitty First Drafts. This is also the theory behind Minimum Viable Products (MVPs). Often times, waiting to do more results in accomplishing less (and feeling worse along the way).
Doing less has the important result of keeping things moving. Doing less more often is better than doing more less often, because it generates momentum. For example, for the past week, I've been picking up acorns in my back yard, in 3 minute bursts when I have a moment. I've collected hundreds of acorns, and it has felt like basically no work.
More stuff also means more responsibility. More pressure, more weight, more cost, etc etc. I'm definitely not a Marie Kondo minimalist, but I do understand this point of view. While I love stuff, I also like to pack light.
I'm writing this now mostly as a reminder to myself about how much I value this overall approach.
Brazenly using leverage can be effective, but it's somewhat distasteful, and can create bad blood / tarnish relationships. Leverage is also slippery and elusive. It may be that you have it, but sometimes it's not necessarily 100% clear, and things can change quickly.
Taking these two things together, I always find that it's wisest to try and understand what your leverage is, but also avoid wielding it too openly. Both because you may not actually have as much as you think, and if it turns out that you don't, you end up exposed as someone who's not afraid to use it.
But all that said: navigating real-time contentious situations is a good reminder that leverage is best built up over time, and planned ahead for as much as possible. That way, when it comes time you use it, you can a) be sure you actually have it and b) use what you have as modestly and comfortably as possible.
Our life is increasingly dominated by screens. Giant screens in public spaces; TVs everywhere in bars and restaurants; everyone standing around and walking around with their faces in their phones; watches, glasses and goggles with screens built-in, etc. "Screen time" is a thing.
Screens are amazing: full of information and entertainment. But they are also exhausting and over-stimulating.
It feels to me that, one way or another, we're poised to experience some amount of cultural backlash against so many screens. I can already start to sense it, as I spend time with my teenage kids -- while they are certainly on screens quite a bit, I can tell that they realize that it's a lot, and they seem to actively seek out escapes from the screen (as much as they understand that the screen can be an attractive escape from the real world).
In particular, I'm curious about digital interfaces that manage to capture the value & utility of being connected, but strike a different tone in terms of experience.
For example, I've been experimenting with the Meta Ray-Ban glasses for a while now, and while they aren't perfect, the experience of taking a photo or video without sticking my face in my phone is refreshing. That said, smart glasses are also clearly a step towards a more immersive, rather than less immersive tech experience, which has other potential drawbacks.
In terms of more visually interactive devices, the Kindle is probably the most successful example of this kind of "low-fi" computing. While it's also not perfect, and I still personally prefer to read a paper book, it doesn't scream "I AM A COMPUTER" quite the way other tablets do, and there's just something about the posture of reading on a Kindle (compared to a phone, for sure) that just feels more healthy and natural.
I am curious to see whether such an approach could work for other kinds of products that come closer to the experience of phones and tablets. I was surprised to learn recently that the
It's such a cliche to say that "less is more" but it's so often the case.
We often advise companies we're talking to to raise less money than they otherwise might. Raising less now typically means less dilution. It can also mean more focus. Often times, raising too much means spending too much, or growing the team faster than makes sense, ultimately slowing things down.
Often times doing less means accomplishing more. What I mean by this is: doing something "perfectly" or "bigly" or whatever, often adds pressure, which can often lead to accomplishing less. This is the "perfect as the enemy of good" version of more. I most often see this expressed in forms like, we are encouraging our analysts at USV to write blog posts or develop internal decks/memos more quickly with less pressure, to get them out in the world and get feedback. My partner Jared encapsulates this well in Shitty First Drafts. This is also the theory behind Minimum Viable Products (MVPs). Often times, waiting to do more results in accomplishing less (and feeling worse along the way).
Doing less has the important result of keeping things moving. Doing less more often is better than doing more less often, because it generates momentum. For example, for the past week, I've been picking up acorns in my back yard, in 3 minute bursts when I have a moment. I've collected hundreds of acorns, and it has felt like basically no work.
More stuff also means more responsibility. More pressure, more weight, more cost, etc etc. I'm definitely not a Marie Kondo minimalist, but I do understand this point of view. While I love stuff, I also like to pack light.
I'm writing this now mostly as a reminder to myself about how much I value this overall approach.
I'm excited to see more experiments in low-fi computing, and am very curious to see which form factors and user experiences prove to be appealing to mass audiences.
Photo: Stanley Kubrick. Life and Love on the New York City Subway. Passengers reading in a subway car. 1946. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.10292.30D (link)
I'm excited to see more experiments in low-fi computing, and am very curious to see which form factors and user experiences prove to be appealing to mass audiences.
Photo: Stanley Kubrick. Life and Love on the New York City Subway. Passengers reading in a subway car. 1946. Museum of the City of New York. X2011.4.10292.30D (link)
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