I Want To Be An Advertising Cop When I Grow Up

I often wish that I had the time to conduct grand sweeps of broadcast and print media searching for and exposing preposterous and misleading advertising statements.  Perhaps this is something that I’ll do in my retirement, although I hope that I'll have better things to do with my time.  Clearly, the FTC, FDA, collective States Attorneys General and other official agencies don’t have the time to catch it all. 

It seems that for every deceptive advertising practice stamped out, another five or so are newly concocted; many companies just let it fly until they are stopped, and then set up the same practice under a different name.  I have to hand it to the advertisers for innovation and imagination, as much as I think that the people who engage in such practices are a lower life form than I’d like to associate myself with.  I save my greatest disdain for those who market deceptively to children and the elderly, two groups who can be excused for not being able to tell the difference between truth and a version of truth so stretched out of recognition that it is, in fact, a bald lie.  They prey on two of our most human traits: fear and greed.

I’m not referring to email spam.  This is in a category all by itself, since most of it goes way beyond misleading advertising and into outright criminality.  My attention is more focused on other mass media and in particular the use of language to mislead the listener or reader into thinking that they will get something that they simply will not.

When I was young, a classic and not-so-harmful example of this was the advertisements in Boys’ Life and other such publications for the Holy Grail of young boys: x-ray glasses.  How I wanted to have x-ray vision!  These ads (one of which appears below) featured the x-ray spectacle wearer seeing the bones in his hand.  You’ll note he’s also impressing (or… perhaps… seeing through?) a woman.  This was powerful stuff; eight year old boys could easily look beyond the word “illusion” in the ad copy.  Of course it was illusion, we thought; that’s what eyesight is, right?  In the same magazines, you could also find ads for the secret of invisibility (combined with x-ray specs that would be pretty amazing, as long as the x-ray specs were also invisible!) and the amazing “hypno-coin” which would hypnotize your friends in seconds.  For a few dollars plus shipping and handling, one could be a superhero.

Something in our guts told us that we couldn’t see through objects, make ourselves invisible, or bend people to our will with a spiral-printed disc.  But the promise of such wonders, and the low price ($1 plus shipping and handling was the usual) tugged us hard in the other direction.  The promise of youth, money and removal of fear does the same.

As a response to the outrageous claims of “patent medicines”, the US Food and Drug Administration has regulated what sellers can claim about the things we ingest, inject, and apply to our skin.  Simply put, the FDA says that you cannot make a claim for any real physiological change from a product unless you file and sell it as a drug.  That takes clinical data, proof of efficacy and safety, and quality assurance and control.  Does this stop misleading (and dangerous) advertising?  Hardly.

On the radio today, I heard an extended advertisement for an “anti-wrinkle pill”.  It skated about and beyond the boundaries of silly claims, misleading statements and outright violation of FDA regulations.  This miracle pill was “patented” and claimed to reduce wrinkles, acting at a “cellular” level to do so.  It also “protects your mitochondria” to increase your energy.  And the proof? They cite “studies which prove the value of our patents”.  Please pause and reread that phrase a few times.  You may now become ill.

This is outrageously deceptive, but it is likely to sell a lot of this useless crap to people who are impressed or intimidated by polysyllables and are wrinkled and/or tired.  I meet the latter two of the criteria but I’m much too cynical for the first.  No government agency has the time to chase all of this down, and media outlets often just hold their collective noses and accept this trash.

The final category that gets me worked up is quickie investments.  Here, marketers know few bounds or shame.  During a recession, these firms crawl out of the boiler rooms and onto the airwaves to hawk foreign currency trading, buying and selling gold, and other get-rich-quick schemes to the unsophisticated – and profit mightily on the margins with tactics that I consider criminal. 

One company pays “top dollar” for gold – just send in your unwanted gold in their postage-paid envelope and they will pay you, um, what they think it’s worth (top dollar, of course, right?).  Someone must be doing this since they keep spending money to advertise it.   

Another allows you to buy “leveraged gold for only $400 per ounce”.  With gold trading at around $1,600 per ounce today, that sounds like a great deal unless you know what leverage really means in this case.  The company is charging you a commission on the purchase – not just on your $400, but on the entire amount.  Then they are charging you interest on what you’ve borrowed from them.  Then they add some “transaction fees”.  These practices (one financial blogger indicates that the total can be up to 47% of your investment) make your chance of profit minimal.  But the best part (for them, not you) is that if the price of gold drops, they will come back and demand more cash from you in a margin call.  If you can’t put up the money, they sell off your gold at a loss (yours).  But they always make money on the transactions.  Trading in foreign currency fluctuations (known popularly as forex) is treated the same.  For the companies that facilitate this, it’s all upside.  For an unsophisticated investor infected with dreams of easy money? Not so much.

There are legitimate creams and ointments that are super moisturizers and can (at least temporarily) reduce the appearance of your wrinkles.  And there are plenty of great investment opportunities, including gold and forex, with legitimate brokers and advisers for those who can understand and assume the risk.  As long as a marketer’s work stands on the value of their offering, and not on deception, I have a lot of respect for them.  I’m not immune myself to a good pitch and I’d be the first to admit that a good marketing campaign can add that elusive element, perceived value, to what I seek to purchase.  To those selling empty dreams with lies?  Be advised: I will retire some day, and I may just decide to come after you.

Please feel free to share other examples.  And if you fall into the category of the deceptive advertisers above -- I’d love to hear from you, but I suspect I won’t.

Stealing Hope

I think one of the most positive trends in the US economy today is the return to small-scale production and customization.  Over the past ten years, I’ve seen a trend towards more craftsmanship and customization that brings us better and more suitable products and creates good jobs for craftsmen and artists.  We have more opportunities now than we have in many decades to purchase goods that are unique or customized to our specifications.

Technology has played a great part in this trend.  The internet allows us to discover new products and shop from the individuals and companies that make the things that we want.  We are no longer limited to what the buyer at the department store has decided; our selection is much broader now.  Technology has also brought the speed and cost of short-run manufacturing down to the extent that customization is much more feasible; where products once had a minimum order quantity of hundreds, in many cases an individualized product now has a minimum run of one without adding a lot of cost.

The happiest development, in my opinion, is that new markets have opened up for the craftsperson and artist.  Many consumers are embracing the opportunity to purchase unique and custom crafted products where they may in the past have bought a similar item that was mass-produced.  Ebay, Etsy and similar online marketplaces are thriving with artisans, as are numerous craft and art fairs that can be found all over the country.  Many artisans are willing to customize a piece of jewelry, an object of art, a toy or a piece of furniture to your desire – often not much more expensively than a similar (and oft-times lower quality) item from a big factory. 

 

I’ve nothing against big factories; they are, in fact, my business and they help raise our standard of living.  But there is a beauty in a handcrafted or short-run item.  This beauty goes beyond the physical item itself; it encompasses the artistry that created it and the knowledge that a real person created it just for you, and in the process is making an honest and honorable living by doing so.  Given the global economic trend to outsource manufacturing to places with the lowest labor cost, and the continuing Walmartification and Disnefication of our consumer goods (with prominent “Made in China” labels), this is a shining spot of hope for the US economy.

So, why do some people insist on stealing from our artisans?  And why can’t they see that it is, indeed, theft?

I’m not talking about burglarizing a workshop, although the net effect is the same.  I’m talking about the theft of intellectual property, which disrespects the artisan and makes it much more difficult for them to make a living.  I can explain further, but I will let a friend do so much better in this example, from a series of postings on Twitter during Baltimore’s Artscape festival:

I understand that you "aren't going to make a living selling coffee cozies". The fact remains that those are my design and photographing them in my booth while discussing how you're going to make them is rude and inappropriate, especially in front of your kids, and that is why I asked you not to. We are artists and had to figure things out on our own. Also, this is my livelihood and how I feed my baby. Thanks.

If you can’t see why this behavior is completely wrong, think of it in this way: do you mind me photographing you while you work the combination to your safe, so I can help myself later to something that you’ve worked hard to create?  What if I snap a photo of your child, so I can feature them in an ad for my product, without attribution or compensation? I didn’t think so; hang on, my camera is right here. 

 

Still not convinced?  If you’ve ever wondered why there are so many “no photography” signs at craft shows, or why you can’t just videotape a theatrical production, the answer is simple. It’s not yours to capture.  And doing so is stealing, just the same as me sticking my hand into your safe.  Someone has created something of value, and someone else has decided to take it without compensation, respect, or a second thought.  Plagiarism is another example.  So is ripping off music and video.  These are all forms of intellectual rape, and this is not hurting some nameless corporate entity – it hurts artists, who choose (often at very low wages considering the time, training and talent that they put in) to create things of beauty and lasting value.

To those who may argue that “information wants to be free”, I submit that information is one of the last things we create of value in this country.  And we deserve to be compensated – and celebrated - for creating it.

These people are the hope of our economy.  If we steal from them, we steal hope.  Please support our artisans, especially those local to you.  Give them their due, and their living.  If you want to make your own coffee cozy, good for you – just come up with your own design.

If you are interested in supporting a few very deserving artisans and rewarding yourself with cool stuff, here’s a few Baltimore-based artists who are very dear to me.  They get my business because they create wonderful things that warm my heart.  They thank me for my patronage and create smiles (and I get nothing for mentioning them here).

Green Star Studio: Soft sculpture artist, teacher, illustrator, muralist and all around fabulous person.  One-of-a-kind toys, jewelry and other neat stuff from recycled materials.

The Broken Plate: Crafter, Mom, breaker of plates.  Stunning and unique jewelry made from broken china plates.

Studio 722: One of a kind beaded jewelry designs in beaded necklaces, bracelets, earrings, custom bridal jewelry made with spectacular gemstones, crystals, glass beads, pearls and sterling silver.

Feel free to share your own favorites in comments here.

What I Learned From Wireforms

I had my first manufacturing job when I was about 11 or 12 years old.  No, it wasn’t in a Far East sweat shop, nor were any child labor laws broken.  More on that later.

My father and a partner started a company when we were young that developed and sold electronic pianos.  The Novaline Electronic Piano was a pretty cool device; it was designed for professional musicians that wanted portability (it folded up into an elongated suitcase) and sounded very much like a real, live piano through the magic of analog electronics (digital sampling was still in the future).

The company was the very definition of “cottage industry”.  The initial manufacturing sites were the basement and kitchen table of our house, and the garage of Dad’s partner Dave.  We were primarily in charge of the guts – the circuitry and sub-assemblies.  Dave’s family was responsible for cases and final assembly.

Over time, I had a few different tasks in piano manufacturing, but the one I best remember was creating a small thingy made out of about 3” of stiff steel wire.  A wire thingy hung off of the end of each piano key, and when the key was depressed and let go, it moved a small flexible spring between two electrical contacts.

So we needed one wire thingy for every key, and each piano had either 64 or 88 keys.  That was a lot of thingies, and since saying “thingy” was unbecoming of cool manufacturers like us, they were known officially as “wireforms”.

A wireform was a pretty simple thing but had a distinctive shape and had to be bent from wire in two axes.  To give you an idea of my wireform expertise and the role they played in my life, I can still draw a fair representation after 40 years:

I had other siblings that did other piano construction steps (as did Dave’s kids).  But this wasn’t illegal child labor - we were independent contractors.  I was an 11 year old wireform-producing sole proprietorship.  I had to invoice the company for the work I did, and as such I was paid not by the hour, but by the piece.  The company provided the raw materials as well as the machines I used to make wire into wireforms. And by machines, I mean: 

• A small jig made out of wood with a small pair of wire cutters, which cut the wire to the perfect length.
• The bending jig.  This had two functions – one bent the wire into a one-dimensional flat shape in a couple of manual motions.  The form was then removed and put into another area in the jig that bent it properly in the other axis with another hand motion.  This jig was made entirely of cut-up pieces of copper-clad printed circuit board, soldered together.  All credit to Dad.

I had a process. I unspooled some wire, then cut a bunch into the proper length, and then did a kind of insert-bend-remove-insert-bend-remove-repeat process with the jig.  I usually did this for an hour or two at a time; we weren’t making millions of pianos.  But I got good enough at it that I could make about $4/hour based on the piece rate.  That was some serious coin for a kid at that time – equivalent to about $20/hour today.

The money was important to me.  But the financial reward was a fleeting benefit (any cash is fleeting when you’re 11).  The lasting benefit was what I learned beyond the actual procedure.  These are some of the ideals that I retain today from my experience so long ago with the lowly wireform:

• When you have a meaningful reward tied to results, you will figure out how do a better job.  Novaline didn’t pay for badly made wireforms that didn’t meet specifications.  I perfected a technique, carefully rejected incorrect pieces, and adjusted my process to improve quality and yields.  This is the essence of continuous improvement, and I did it without Quality Circles, Six Sigma or any consultants at all.
• When you are part of a team, you can’t leave the others waiting.  We couldn’t make pianos without wireforms.  So I made them even on sunny days when I would have rather been outside playing kickball, or getting injured in the innumerable ways that kids do.  When we needed wireforms, I was making them.  That sense of responsibility to my colleagues has never left me.
• Machines have limitations; humans have to accommodate that.  Our bending jig was not indestructible; on at least one occasion, I broke the thing and production was interrupted while it was repaired.  After that, I adjusted my technique to avoid stressing it in a way that would break it again.  Today, I do my best to take care of tools.  I have an inordinate love of tools, so I have a lot of them to take care of.
• Sometimes outsourcing is smart, but keeping it in the family often has value beyond the initial cost.  I think Novaline probably could have saved a few bucks by contracting this to "Acme Wireforms" or their ilk.  But there were benefits to keeping it in-house; they could monitor and control the supply better and develop their workforce.  I still consider this when making a make-or-buy decision.
• Even when you are making something small, if it contributes to something big, you are making something big.  I didn’t make wireforms; I made pianos.  That was incredibly cool.  Today I’m part of many teams and although I don’t do nearly everything, I always know that what I do is an essential part of what we are producing.  Make sure everyone on your team understands the bigger picture of what their smaller piece contributes to.

Although the Novaline has passed into history, there are still some in existence that carry the wireforms that I created.  The pianos, memories and lessons (and the music!) remain in myself and my family.  Are you giving your children the opportunity to produce, to learn, to take pride in creation?  How about your employees?  I hope so.  Even if you don’t turn your kitchen into a factory, there are other ways in which you can instill the same lessons and responsibility in your charges, yourself and our society.

Risking It All

Everything in our human experience involves risk. 

 

We all make thousands of risk-based decisions per day, whether we are thinking about it or not. Literally every movement and decision we make carries an element of risk – some so routine that we don’t even consider them as a risk, and some so important that we may agonize over them for days, weeks, or months before acting.  Leaving the relative safety of our house at all is a big risk – it’s a big, unpredictable world out there, after all.

A risk is defined by the Project Management Institute® (“PMI”) as “an uncertain event or condition that, if it occurs, has an effect on at least one objective”.  The effect or impact can be either positive or negative.  Most people think of risk as exclusively negative, and that’s what I’ll discuss here to keep it familiar.  The objective can be almost anything you wish to happen: completing a project on time, saving or making money, staying uninjured or alive, making a quality product or getting the cute woman from accounting to go to dinner with you.  Impact and risk are also often confused; think of risk as root cause.  When you break it down, the risk isn’t that the woman will turn you down; that’s the impact.  The risk is that she may be a vegan activist (when you were thinking of offering to take her to Ruth’s Chris).  If you’ve already offered and she’s already turned you down, or you find out she is a vegan before you invite her, it’s no longer a risk – it’s a certainty.  Risk is something that hasn’t happened yet.  These definitions become important when you want to actively manage risk.

Managing risk, whether conscious or not, involves consideration of risk, reward, and tolerance.  Reward is the happy sibling of risk; we are all aware of the truism “nothing ventured, nothing gained”.  Unlike many truisms, this one is actually true.  If you eliminate all risk in your life or business (a fallacy at best), you virtually eliminate any possibility of profit, achievement or happiness.  Your tolerance for risk governs how you will make risk-based decisions based on the information you possess.  My mother is fond of saying “I raised three daredevils and three scaredy-cats”, referring to myself and my five siblings.  I was clearly in the “daredevil” category, although I don’t consider myself a risk-taker to any extreme.  While Mom’s characterizations are a bit dramatic, what she was describing fairly accurately was our relative tolerance to risk.  If we think of the risk-reward equation as having two ends, our tolerance (a continuum, rather than Mom’s binary description) is what pushes the balance point towards one end or the other:

Faced with the exact same decision under the same circumstances, the risk-averse individual may make a completely different decision than his or her risk-tolerant counterpart.  If different decisions are made by the two, with equal information and consideration, they may still be considered proper risk-based decisions based on their tolerance for risk.  The same applies to organizations.  A single individual or organization may also have different tolerances for risks involving cost, schedule, convenience, health, money, and quality.  I work in pharmaceutical manufacturing, considered one of the most risk-averse industries; but our risk aversion is primarily in regards to the quality of our product.  We are very risk-tolerant in regards to convenience and other factors when viewed in comparison.

When we deal with risk, we employ risk management strategies (whether we know it or not).  In my company, we have a fairly formalized risk management process that examines probabilities, impacts and available strategies to deal with all kinds of risk.  Generally, we follow the process prescribed by PMI, which results in a “risk register” in which project and operational risks are listed, examined and qualitatively ranked.  For risks of significant probability and impact (again, considering our risk tolerance) strategies are formulated and assigned to individuals for execution.

I don’t use a risk register in my personal life, and I don’t suggest you do either.  It’s a great tool for business but keeping one on your refrigerator is likely to result in strange looks from your friends, family and neighbors, and people will avoid you at cocktail parties (because they’ve considered the risk of doing otherwise).

Risk management strategies can be broken down into generic categories (again I use the terminology of PMI since I use it and teach it).  For negative risk, these generic strategies are Avoid, Mitigate, Transfer and Accept.  For positive risk, the corresponding strategies are Exploit, Enhance, Share and Accept.

A good example for employing risk strategies, and one close to my experience, is flying on commercial aircraft (I happen to be on one at this writing).  I have logged close to two million miles in the air over the course of my career and personal life; in the first half of this year alone I flew over 75,000 miles, the equivalent of three times around the equator.  The major risk inherent in flying is pretty simple; the plane could go down, resulting in my violent death.  The risk is a crash; the impact is my untimely exit from this world.  There is a statistical probability of this happening.  Every time I board an aircraft I'm making this important risk decision. 

So -- what are the available strategies for managing this risk?

Avoidance - Don’t fly at all. Avoidance strategies are very straightforward; you remove any possibility that the risk can happen.  But avoidance strategies have a downside – they almost always result in significant consequences, which may actually increase your risk.  If I’m not flying, the avoidance strategy may require me to change jobs, or even occupations.  This is a significant consequence of avoiding flying.  I may also decide that instead of flying, I will drive to my destination.  This costs me in time and perhaps money, but even more importantly, statistics show that it increases my risk of violent death (indeed, the most dangerous part of my air travel remains my one hour drive to the airport).  I could also do a teleconference or video conference in lieu of a face-to-face business meeting.  Certainly, while this is an effective avoidance strategy, there is still some value lost.  For leisure travel, a phone call to Jamaica to ask how the beach is looking doesn’t really meet my requirements, and a boat ride there is slow and expensive.  All in all, avoidance should generally not be the first strategy you explore, unless there was little reward compared to the risk in the first place.

Mitigation - Mitigation involves taking measures to reduce either the probability of a risk occurring or the negative impact should it occur.  In our airplane example, we’re going to assume there is little you can do to significantly increase your chances of surviving a crash.  I know some claim that statistics show that crash survivors tend to be located in a specific area of an aircraft.  The sad fact is that if your plane goes down, you have little chance of survival and I don’t think that choosing a particular location on the plane is an effective mitigation strategy.  But there are ways to mitigate the probability that I’ll be involved in a crash in the first place.  I can certainly choose to fly carriers with a better safety record; within the US on US-based carriers this is probably not terribly significant, but in some places overseas when there is a choice there are some clear winners and losers.  I can also reduce the number of stops that it takes to reach my destination; most aircraft incidents are closely associated with takeoffs and landings.  Finally, I could choose larger aircraft, which are generally flown by the most experienced crews.  I won't crunch the numbers here, but there are mitigation strategies that could be statistically appealing.  Again, I need to balance the benefit of the strategy with any consequences in monetary, time and convenience cost.

Transference - Transference of risk involves moving the risk to another party.  The classic business examples of transference are insurance and contracting.  One can insure against most monetary risks; insurance companies are quite creative in this respect.  In our air travel example, insurance doesn’t make me any less deceased, but it can protect my survivors against the monetary risk of my death, providing funds to them that I might have had I continued living.  Another way to transfer risk is to simply have someone else make the trip.  If this is a business trip, I could assign or ask a colleague to make the trip.  Again, consequences loom – that person may not be as effective, may get credit that I wanted, or may disappoint a customer that was expecting me.  Your designee will also get the frequent flyer miles.  If this is a leisure trip, I could send someone else on the vacation; they might like that, but it would be wholly unsatisfactory for me.

Acceptance - This is the easy and cheap strategy, and the one that does nothing to reduce or eliminate risk.  Just suck it up, get on the airplane, and hope for the best.  This is generally the strategy that I choose when I fly, although I have from time to time employed some of the mitigation strategies I mention above. On occasion I’ve decided to avoid a flight by using video or teleconference.  But truthfully those decisions have been driven primarily by time, convenience or cost rather than managing the negative risk of flying.

The Risk Management Decision - My risk management strategy of acceptance is clearly driven by my own risk tolerance applied to the risk-reward equation.  I don’t like having to fly so much and to do so I must accept the risk that one of these days I may not make it to my destination in one piece.  But given the consequences of avoidance, mitigation, and transference, that is my management strategy.  I retain my job and occupation, get to where I need to be (mostly) quickly and efficiently, and take vacations in nice spots without the constraint of other forms of transportation.  These benefits, balanced against the very small risk of a crash, make for an easy decision on my part.

As I indicate above, your tolerance for risk may drive you to another decision – as may the myriad other risks (fear, discomfort, illness, lost luggage, profit, bad food, poor service, etc.) and rewards (thrill, travel experience, profits, speed, convenience, etc.) inherent to your own experience with modern air travel.  It is very difficult to quantify many of these and you will rarely, if ever, make any risk decision with only a calculator to guide you.  But you may find that breaking down the risk equation and examining the strategies – if only qualitatively – will give you more confidence in your decision-making.  It may also get you out of the house and on a date with the cute woman from accounting.

Your comments and criticisms are appreciated! Only abusive, off-topic and spam comments will be deleted.  

Specialization Is For Insects.

In honor of Robert Heinlein, the “dean of science fiction writers” who was born 104 years ago today, the title of this entry is from one of his books, Time Enough For Love, and was spoken by the book’s protagonist, Lazarus Long.  Expanded to its full glory:

“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly.  Specialization is for insects.”

Long (and Heinlein, I trust – Long has the flavor of an alter ego) believed that anyone who could not master the items on this list is essentially less than a fully functional human. 

 

Truth be told, I haven’t yet butchered a hog, nor do I relish the thought.  Nor, happily, have I died gallantly.  And my sonnets leave something to be desired.  But Heinlein clearly has a point.  Although my personal list may be different than his, (and the “ship” he refers to is a starship, this being science fiction), I’ve long been a believer in self-sufficiency and in the versatility that is our race’s strength and birthright.

Specialization is mostly a good thing. It promotes efficient use of resources, targets tasks to those best qualified to carry them out, and in general fosters excellence in many things.  Coordinating specialists to complete tasks is one of the things that we do best in the US, and a certain driver of our economy and our standard of living.

Over-reliance on specialization, however, is something to be avoided.  I believe that in these United States - and to a lesser extent elsewhere in the world - we have come to devalue the generalist, the broadly talented and skilled individual who is pretty darn good at a lot of things, but perhaps not supremely excellent at one.  Instead, we celebrate the specialist; the person who has, sometimes at the exclusion of all else, become the absolute best they can be at something.  You all probably know at least one PhD who can’t change a flat tire.  What’s more, that person may be proud of the fact.  It’s fashionable and self-affirming today to claim that you don’t bother with the mundane.  Someone else pitches your manure, while you focus on the one thing that you do so well, generating your income, status, and (may we all hope) glory.  Our schools are hell-bent on preparing us for secondary education as lawyers, accountants and engineers and no longer devote much attention to what they quaintly refer to as “life skills”. 

Much of our technological progress also seems geared towards enabling our increased specialization.  We now have technology to render unnecessary any skill in reading maps (GPS), spelling properly (spell check), keeping our calendars (Facebook and Google), balancing our checkbooks (on-line banking) and effecting quick road repairs (cell phone and AAA).  We even have a tech substitute for retaining general knowledge itself (Wikipedia).  Cheap transportation and containerized shipping from foreign producers has replaced making the items ourselves that were once too costly to purchase.  When faced with life’s challenges, we buy.  We hire.  We increasingly do not think things through and come up with our own solutions.

Here lies the very crux of the problem that Heinlein identified.  Outside of our increasingly narrow occupations, we have technology, shipping and purchasing power as a substitute for thinking, exploring, learning and doing new things.  Curiosity and craftsmanship can be replaced by a phone call or a quick purchase.  And it is just this kind of learning and doing new and interesting things that make us interesting and functional members of society – “human beings” in Heinlein’s jargon.

On a more practical note, technology and other modern fixes work well until you are in a pinch and need to change a tire, fix a broken drawer, stop a dripping faucet, diagnose an electrical problem, find your way home, or grow fresh herbs.  Sure, you can call someone.  But that takes money, eats time, and leaves you with less lasting benefit – and no pride in having mastered (or at least attempted) a skill.  When our support system of specialists is for some reason not available, or our technology fails us, life becomes considerably less happy – in a hurry.

I’m not advocating that everyone needs to become a polymath in order to be considered “functional”.  But I have the beginnings of a prescription for our society, lest we become as specialized as insects and as prone to disaster (or at least gross discomfort) if some small thing interrupts our carefully ordered system.  In line with my thesis, we need to do this as individuals and take responsibility for our development into the “human beings” that Lazarus Long would admire.  A few simple things to start:

• Default to doing it yourself.  This can’t be universal – there simply isn’t time for everything.  But start by taking on a few things that can free you from the grasp of specialization.  If you own a residence and don’t have a basic set of hand tools, you may want to consider making the small investment.
• Leverage technology for learning, rather than for quick answers and seeking out other specialists.  There is an enormous volume of knowledge on the web and social media on how to do stuff.  Tap into it.
• Practice life without technological crutches – even if just for fun.  Read a map.  Navigate by dead reckoning.  Change your own oil.  Grow tomatoes.  Write a love poem to your spouse. If you are really curious about something, read a book on it and not just Wikipedia.  Think about what you can do creatively during the next power outage.
• Reward craftspersons with your business.  If you have the choice of buying the cheap imported thing, or something made by a real person local to you, consider spending a few dollars more for the latter.  You and the craftsperson will both be rewarded; they with work and you with lasting value.  As a bonus, you might even get to talk with them about their craft.
• Teach something useful that you know.  There are numerous opportunities to do this for local organizations, trade groups, community colleges and the like.  Becoming a good teacher is also a great skill that will serve you all of your life.
• Cross-train within your organization – obsessively.  The smaller your organization is, the more important this becomes.  Many a small business collapses because of lack of generalization, contingency planning, or succession planning.  These are all closely interrelated.
• Above all, don’t be afraid to make mistakes.  In the future, you’ll most regret the things you haven’t tried, not the things you’ve done.  And you will find that a slightly flawed creation that is the product of your own hands, mind and heart has immensely more value than a perfect one stamped out in a factory in China.

My father, a contemporary of Heinlein, grew up in Oklahoma during the Great Depression.  In an environment characterized by resource scarcity, they did it themselves or they did without – so he learned a lot of life skills.  In my childhood, we learned from his experience and emulated his mind-set and did the same thing.  When something broke in our house, we didn’t call the repairman – we repaired.  When something needed building, we built.  What we didn’t know, we learned.  This may not sound very romantic, but some of my fondest boyhood memories revolve around broken washing machines and automobiles, and I learned skills that have served me well ever since.

I’m not sure if my Dad ever butchered a hog either; I’ll have to ask him.  But regardless, he’s a hell of an interesting person; Heinlein would call him a hell of a human being.

Your comments and criticisms are appreciated! Only abusive, off-topic and spam comments will be deleted.