• by Kendall Allen , December 7, 2009

In two very different settings, two comments were made over the past week that have stuck with me. Both resonate within a shared context, and are wise in their simplicity.

During a chat with my friend who is a Buddhist, a teacher, and involved in martial arts, I asked how he works with his students. He described the frequent scenario in which a particular breed of student, when practicing meditations or movements, will continually ask, "Am I doing this correctly? Is this right?" His answer is sometimes verbal and sometimes a guiding hand. But his imperative always is, "It's not what is right relative to the person next to you. It's how well you practice. Keep practicing."

A week later, I'm here at a large gathering of digital agency executives  -- a place where we talk about standards, business models, unleashing innovation and certainly, best practices. A dear and business-seasoned friend said something like this at the end of a session: "Best practices, best practices. That concept doesn't really mean much. Hell, you just need to establish practices. Period." As someone who tends to react strongly to business speak -- including my own, when I hear myself out loud -- I thought this was great as a stand-alone remark. Funny, even. But, I instantly recalled my Buddhist friend. And the remarks tied together.

In a business world where we look to the market, our peers and our tea leaves to validate, or show us an outright new path, it's easy to get caught up in what's proven, case-studie-fied, or the popular choice. And, there's value in that. But it's amazing how long businesspeople will study and ponder instead of firmly planting their own stake and adopting a practice that feels right, no matter how wild.

Amid the sometimes-agitated buzz about achieving parity in your peer set, it's interesting to consider the really brave stuff that goes on. After all, not all players are the same ilk on our field of play. The same formula does not fit all business scenarios and origins. So the practices have to be right for you. I was thinking recently about brave industry friends.

Passing on a Segment. It's OK.
When an agency looks at their client list, sometimes they wonder how they got there. There was a sales and business development plan, but the roster of brands can feel like a result of responding to opportunity, reacting one's way into a client base.

An agency friend of mine recently took a hard look in the mirror and decided that from now on his team would completely avoid two or three  segments -- ones normally regarded as  digital darlings. These segments -- one of them was e-commerce -- were just not a fit for his team, tools set and agency muscle. He realized by no stretch was his agency going to thrive in these arenas -- so there was no corporate benefit  in doing so. Thus, that segment was pulled out of the cross-hairs. Even as opportunities continued to pop up, he said no and focused on deepening the business in the segments where he knew his business could flourish.

Peer Pressure and Performance Models. Just Say No.
I recently overheard a conversation between two friends pulling back on aggressive media performance pricing models. During dire economic times over the past year, they had gone 100% performance on their more down-and-dirty direct-response work. Yet, as they looked at how resources deployed against the business, they realized they must more logically address real fixed costs. It wasn't quite right. So the art became finding the elegant way to pull back and reset the pricing model without upsetting the engagement. Under the pressure to illustrate their skin in the game, they'd well, skinned themselves.

It's easy to spot bravado in the renegade deal maker, the serial entrepreneur, or the industry lightning rod. But, on a quieter, gentler plane, there is fundamental bravery at play every day -- practiced by people who stop, question and carve their own path.

Amid the pressure of peers and under the watchful eye of the market, going your own way might feel uncomfortably bold. Still, there's a beauty in owning that approach. Rock on, braveheart.

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