Building a good website, cutting good hair
When I take on a new project, I tend to take the tack of "I'm going to give you a good website, whether you like it or not." This usually happens when the client can't really articulate his needs anyway, and my team is pretty much expected to take control and make everything look good. (Ok, it's probably also symptomatic of the journalist in me for whom "client" is still a nasty word.)
However, a recent trip to a new hair stylist has had me evaluating client relationships and questioning my methodology. On a friend's recommendation, I landed at the mercy of Sally*, who explained to me that her job was to give me the best haircut for my face, but she wanted to hear my perspective first. Here’s a sampling of our exchange:
Despite my feeble protests, Sally gave me the haircut that she wanted. I admit that it looks good, but it looks anchorwoman good; I can see that it's flattering, but it's not a reflection of my personality. Plus, I feel bullied into acquiescing to her scissors. I vacillate between complacency and tears, and I feel that there's no way that I can return to Sally's salon.
I'm left to marvel at Sally's client relationship techniques. She's willing to bank on her results speaking for themselves, which is not so different from my approach to Web strategy. Still, the key is how you get there. Genuinely hearing out other ideas and taking the time to work out mutually agreeable solutions can do wonders for a client's ultimate satisfaction, and the final result will certainly be more Frédéric Fekkai than Supercuts.
*name changed.
However, a recent trip to a new hair stylist has had me evaluating client relationships and questioning my methodology. On a friend's recommendation, I landed at the mercy of Sally*, who explained to me that her job was to give me the best haircut for my face, but she wanted to hear my perspective first. Here’s a sampling of our exchange:
Me: I really love having bangs and a middle part; I never gotten so many compliments. This is the haircut I want.
Sally: That's gonna draw attention right to the center of your face. You have a big nose.
Despite my feeble protests, Sally gave me the haircut that she wanted. I admit that it looks good, but it looks anchorwoman good; I can see that it's flattering, but it's not a reflection of my personality. Plus, I feel bullied into acquiescing to her scissors. I vacillate between complacency and tears, and I feel that there's no way that I can return to Sally's salon.
I'm left to marvel at Sally's client relationship techniques. She's willing to bank on her results speaking for themselves, which is not so different from my approach to Web strategy. Still, the key is how you get there. Genuinely hearing out other ideas and taking the time to work out mutually agreeable solutions can do wonders for a client's ultimate satisfaction, and the final result will certainly be more Frédéric Fekkai than Supercuts.
*name changed.
Venn Diagram Friday: karaoke edition
Religious profiling on facebook?
On no part of my facebook profile do I specify religion. Yet, this ad greeted me this morning when I logged on:
How does this happen? Are the ads targeting specific last names? Did they somehow trace my lone attempt at a viral video? I'm half-expecting to get suggestions to call my mother on my next sign-in.
How does this happen? Are the ads targeting specific last names? Did they somehow trace my lone attempt at a viral video? I'm half-expecting to get suggestions to call my mother on my next sign-in.
I am, like, so not buying that
Retailer Urban Outfitters has made the Facebook Like button central to the way the company is marketing its products online. Visitors to the Urban Outfitters web site are now greeting [sic] by a large thumbs up asking them to "See our most Liked items."-- "Urban Outfitters Makes Facebook Likes Featured Items"
No word yet on whether Urban Outfitters will also group likes by location. I mean, if I see that 50 people in my 4-block radius "like" the same slouchy cardigan, I'm sure as hell not buying it. The horror!
Venn Diagram Friday: Taking stock on Twitter
Getting a do-over
At some point after our stunning Chicago architectural river tour, LBC and I were marveling at the sheer number of gorgeous buildings that lined the river and well-planned grid of streets and squares.
We learned that after the Chicago fire, the world’s best architects flocked to the windy city to rebuild it, literally from the ashes. "Basically," LBC remarked, "they got a do-over."
By chance, I checked the Boston Public Library's flickr stream today, and they have just uploaded a set from the Great Fire of 1872, which similarly devastated blocks of city buildings.
Essentially, Boston got a "do-over" as well, but apparently we decided to just rebuild the chaos on cow paths, as it was before.
We learned that after the Chicago fire, the world’s best architects flocked to the windy city to rebuild it, literally from the ashes. "Basically," LBC remarked, "they got a do-over."
By chance, I checked the Boston Public Library's flickr stream today, and they have just uploaded a set from the Great Fire of 1872, which similarly devastated blocks of city buildings.
Essentially, Boston got a "do-over" as well, but apparently we decided to just rebuild the chaos on cow paths, as it was before.
Video: farmer's market redux
With a belly full of tomatoes, watermelon, basil, eggplant, cucumber, chocolate, blueberries, and peaches, I present part two of my contribution to Loving Local's MA farmer's market blogathon. Find donation links on their site, or join me on my quest for the urban edible bounty that ends only when the frost comes and there's nothing left to eat.
Music by Sara Shansky.
Music by Sara Shansky.
Evolution of a content strategist
Fifth grade: For the first time, I answer "writer" when asked what I want to be when I grow up. My best narratives include hot dogs.
High school sophomore: I sign my parents up for AOL and get my first email address.
High school junior: I am a JERE (Junior English Review Exercises) master, which is a good thing, because my teacher rarely grades a paper above a B+.
High school senior: I read Hamlet. I score a 5 on the AP English exam. Iwoo sit next to boys in the library while using Netscape.
College freshman: I join the daily newspaper and the school's telnet.
College sophomore: I take Computing on the Internet and build my first webpage via the my free student access. My content is 95% devoted to my time on the Florida Panthers rat patrol.
College junior: My Writer's London instructor is appalled to hear that I'm a psych major. I switch to English when I return from abroad.
First job: I push content from a weekly newspaper to its website. I surf the Web, start a blog, and join Friendster. I master the peculiarities of a new CMS. I publish my first story and email the online version to my parents.
Second job: I help build websites to accompany long-form news documentaries, learn volumes about storytelling and current events while embracing impeccable standards, and contribute promotional ideas that stick. I know the AP stylebook cover to cover, but I remain loyal to the Oxford comma in my personal life.
Third job: I provide editorial oversight for the website of an educational institution. I exercise diplomacy in office politics and preach about the good of the whole. Not just writing and editing, I weigh in on design and information architecture decisions. I attend An Event Apart 2009 and hear Kristina Halvorson speak. She shows the diagram of all of the jobs that touch on content strategy, and I think, "Holy crap, that’s me!"
High school sophomore: I sign my parents up for AOL and get my first email address.
High school junior: I am a JERE (Junior English Review Exercises) master, which is a good thing, because my teacher rarely grades a paper above a B+.
High school senior: I read Hamlet. I score a 5 on the AP English exam. I
College freshman: I join the daily newspaper and the school's telnet.
College sophomore: I take Computing on the Internet and build my first webpage via the my free student access. My content is 95% devoted to my time on the Florida Panthers rat patrol.
College junior: My Writer's London instructor is appalled to hear that I'm a psych major. I switch to English when I return from abroad.
First job: I push content from a weekly newspaper to its website. I surf the Web, start a blog, and join Friendster. I master the peculiarities of a new CMS. I publish my first story and email the online version to my parents.
Second job: I help build websites to accompany long-form news documentaries, learn volumes about storytelling and current events while embracing impeccable standards, and contribute promotional ideas that stick. I know the AP stylebook cover to cover, but I remain loyal to the Oxford comma in my personal life.
Third job: I provide editorial oversight for the website of an educational institution. I exercise diplomacy in office politics and preach about the good of the whole. Not just writing and editing, I weigh in on design and information architecture decisions. I attend An Event Apart 2009 and hear Kristina Halvorson speak. She shows the diagram of all of the jobs that touch on content strategy, and I think, "Holy crap, that’s me!"
farmer's market surprise
Oh baby watermelon, at $0.80 / lb, you fit the limitations of both my purse and my shopping bag. Little did I know that underneath your perfect, zebra-striped skin, you were hiding yellow flesh speckled with the familiar dark seeds. This farmer's market find has me Loving Local all over again.
Venn Diagram Friday: People I hide from my Facebook feed
