M-dashed-O: a theory in markets.

Thoughts into where the pressure of society meets actual Products sold, ignites both curiosity and regurgitation of having no real standard of quality and understanding where time can actually take you, your brand and products further than a mere “me-too”. Maybe it’s a taste perception, or depending exactly on what people are accustomed to, the general economy, and what people are used to and would put up with. The service of what is, is not dependent on what’s out there but on what should.

Lest I digress further, the Product perceived is exactly the kind of marketing that includes place, (where it is located), price (how much you ask people to spare another purchase in their day), position (where it is in everyone’s attention grid), purpose (this one is by me – along the way you need to be rooted where it matters). So however illusory these concepts are, it is what makes up the conversion and retention that classically occurs in the increasing whimsy of each person that is presented with more options in each passing of time. The more meaning a product has, the less time it takes to make a decision for purchase (and exchange, in the reverse process).

I’m sitting in a cafe and I just had bad coffee. Thought about the five dollars I splurged on it, and if I should have just had something else. Do I now put it off to tomorrow, walk out and put a slip in the complaint jar or get like the locals and remain half-pleased? After all, the croissant wasn’t that bad.

This occurring on a daily basis could probably feed or house a small family in Africa – the usual adage of regret (regression) economics, but I won’t modelise this one into a general corner just yet. The good that comes of time, and observation puts forth a whole host of where things have been and where it can still go – if you want. If you choose. If you say no.

What saved the day was a midway-walkout chat to Jerome, who gave me a reminisce of the startup team that was – and show we used to be working as a better-than-most structure of a social network platform at MyCube. Now it makes me think very faintly of the Ocean, and the lingering sounds of rapid prototyping, klinked flutes to glasses, and the echo of the vast vacant spot where the busy students-in-residence of the Digital Life Academy programme had left, and were no more.

The product was not as up to snuff as some of the American counterparts – but certainly the team was elegantly assembled to accommodate the risks and repel the subjection to mediocrity.
I joined another startup team in the
same position as MyCube and Rocket-funded and fuelled. In 3 months, the smaller, hotel-encased teams was able to achieve what the bigger, more well-funded team had managed to overspend and not quite do. It was a real case study in both times, runway and energy spent highly on whether workplaces are dependent on luck, team, capital or the synergy of will and force of gravity that wants it to happen.

Was it an illusion of the antitrust that happens when a complex high-level circle of people are gathered or was it an exercise in managing them, it made for an interesting time that made up for missed goals and overall objectives – where I’ve learned the painful lesson that execution, on my grid, was overrated.


The evening post.

The Monocle Weekly – Edition 251 by M24: The Monocle Weekly on Mixcloud

Sometime ago, there’d be a ritual of reading papers in the morning with coffee, write a menu for lunch, and planning / cooking a dinner for the evening. When all that’s been reduced by a stroke of fire, or technology replaces the paper with tablets, and the menu recipe book with a blog, the evening empties into a listening to a podcast or a video of sorts – where we get tuned in and streamed into a play of occupation and standby-fixed interactions with your deejays or podcast-jocks to understate the back and frothing of discussion and opinions. Like a tennis match for your ears, only the love scores, and stays in-bound.

Insomnia not cool, nor funny

Trying to sleep in the dark of my room. Lights dimmed, my screen softly aglow. Hearing the sleeping noise around me does not help me any. Getting pressured to sleep is never conducive for actual slumber. Pressure is never sweet, not for anything you have to or must do. The want, the longing, still must reign over, or at the very least, align itself conveniently.

I think i need practice. I will turn my thoughts to read that book, at last. I am a serial book-starter, yet never finish. Lately the Harry Potter one got lucky. But, consistently, i buy what is interesting at the moment, start but not end. Speaks volumes about my disposition. A dead giveaway of where i’m at. Speaking of health, i better get some shuteye, before i get another attack of asthma from my too turned-sensitive-in-adulthood nose. People think it’s stress-related. What isn’t nowadays?

Off to work. Commercial writing vs. my private world of blogs, is ironic. Being able to summon the creative flow at will is another professional handy trick i will never master. I just need to muster the minimum amount per day. Maybe passion has subsided, maybe i have grown old and mossy, maybe i have moved on.

Wink, wink, sneeze, and hope finally, sleep.