What Does Exceptional Look Like?

I got a new journal this week. I filled my last one up. Yep, I've had that many ideas. Ok, I admit there are more than a few doodles and couple dozen to-do lists in there, too. But there really are a handful of ideas that I'm glad I captured.

Before I place a filled-up journal on the shelf, I carefully go back through each page. It's like panning for gold. When I find a good idea, I'm tempted to shout "EUREKA!" I usually don't, though, because it scares the bejeezus out of my dogs. Every once in awhile a page reveals a flash of inspiration that I had completely forgotten about. Take my entry on 2/5/10 for example:

I asked myself the question: "What do we do?"

My answer: "We provide exceptional spaces for people to meet, work, and learn."

I remember the word exceptional jumping out at me, which lead me to ask the question: "What does exceptional look like?"

This may be the best question you ask yourself all year:

What does exceptional look like for us? 

More specifically:


What does exceptional service look like for us?
What do exceptional products look like for us?
What does exceptional teamwork look like for us?
What do exceptional employees look like for us?
What does an exceptional leader look like for us?
What does an exceptional business look like for us?

Maybe now is a good time to ask yourself, what would an exceptional 2010 look like for us?

I tagged each question with "for us" on purpose. You've got to answer these questions in your own context. What's exceptional for your company or your industry may be completely different from mine.

Here's my answer to "What do exceptional people look like (for sparkspace)?" This is straight out of my journal, by the way:

• exceptionally friendly
• exceptionally caring
• exceptionally hard-working
• exceptionally positive
• exceptionally into learning
• exceptionally generous
• exceptionally smart
• exceptionally aware
• exceptionally willing
• exceptionally confident
• exceptionally humble
• exceptionally good at their role

I've hired a few people since I wrote this in my journal. As I think about it, they fit this description exceptionally (sorry, couldn't stop myself) well. Writing down what I consider to be exceptional helped me realize the qualities I'm really looking for, which made finding those people a whole lot easier.

I'm sure you can see how this could be a phenomenal activity to do with your team. What if you asked yourself these questions instead of using a complicated three-day-long strategic planning process? Isn't this what goal setting should really be about -- how to make yourself as exceptional as possible?

By the way, if you're not trying to be exceptional, I'd really like you to unsubscribe from this newsletter. I've decided the only readers I want are exceptional ones.

Still here? Good. That makes me exceptionally happy.

Consistency, Consistency, Cansastancy

Yes, the title is correct.

I'm writing this at a top secret location. It's a hotel somewhere outside of Ohio, that's all I can tell you. Mostly because I don't really want to bash this particular hotel. It's nice. Very nice. The service has been really, really good. The staff is extra friendly (in a truly genuine way). The bed has amazingly nice sheets and pillows with just the right fluff.

It's strange how the little things stand out, though, especially when they're not consistent with the rest of your experience.

This hotel is listed with SLH - Small Luxury Hotels. Some of the nicest, coolest hotels I've ever seen or stayed at are listed in this directory. Their standards are very high. This hotel deserves to be there.

But the self-serve coffee pots in the lobby suck. Don't get me wrong, the coffee is fine. It's the pump pots that suck. I had to push and push and push and push and push to fill up half of my cup. My right arm actually got a bit of a workout, which maybe I should consider a good thing because otherwise I didn't get any exercise today.

I'm picky. I know that. If I was at a motor hotel off the freeway, I would expect a coffee pot to suck (if they even had one). But I'm at a hotel that's listed with SLH. The inconsistency is noticeable. It's a little thing, but so is a fire ant at a picnic. The little things can make, break, or - at the very least - tarnish your entire experience, can't they?

So, the big (or little) question I have for you is what is your coffee pot? In other words, when you examine your business, brand, or service experience, what are the little things that just don't live up?

What's nice about the little things is that they're often easy, quick, and inexpensive to fix.

Is Your Work Chute Clogged?

This is my third article lately relating laundry to work. Not sure why I'm so laundry obsessed these days. I take my writing inspiration where I can get it. Lately, my laundry has been rather inspiring. Next week, it might be a manhole cover or a dream about angry penguins that leads to my next observation. In any case, I'm glad you read them all, even if you don't like laundry, manhole covers, or penguins.

I think laundry chutes are cool. Always have. When I was a kid, I think I tried to squeeze myself into one so I could magically transport myself to the basement. It's a foggy memory, so it may or may not be real. Or maybe I went head first.

Why laundry chutes are cool:

1. They save many, many trips up and down the stairs.

2. They instantly and happily swallow work you'd rather not do right now.

3. They funnel dirty clothes into a convenient pile, which in my house has reached heights of nearly 6 feet - a true wonder to behold.

If laundry shoots have a flaw it's that they're always a little smaller than I'd like them to be. I'm sure this is to keep kids like me from shooting themselves face first into the concrete floor of the basement. 

You see, I inevitably try to cram an armful of shirts, socks, and underwear into the shoot all at once. Sometimes I get lucky and the clothes slide down slowly together and complete the journey. Other times, it just completely clogs.

When a clog occurs, what do you have to do? Take the clothes out until the clog shrinks enough to send the clothes on their way. Then you send the remaining pieces one or two at a time until the entire pile has been successfully transferred.

My inbox at work has become a clogged laundry chute. I've got so many items in my inbox that I've become a bit paralyzed. I've been trying to attack several things at once and found (once again) that approach is really not effective. It's like shoving too many jeans into the laundry shoot all at once. 

So today, I'm pulling all the work out of my inbox, prioritizing it, and sending it through the shoot one or two at a time. And as time consuming as that sounds, I know that it will be much more efficient in the long run. It also means that some important stuff won't get done right away, because it's all important, right? When it's stuck in the shoot it's not getting done anyway.

I'm not clogged because I'm the worlds most unorganized person. I'm actually fairly organized. I tend to get clogged when I'm super busy. And I've been super busy lately. But being super busy makes it really, really hard to stop and unclog, doesn't it?

Stop and unclog anyway. 

Take an hour or two or ten to just process. Pile everything into your inbox and then prioritize and process each item. Organize your to-do list, delegate the stuff you should delegate, and trash the stuff that's not really important (amazing how much I find in this category when I unclog).

If you think your boss won't understand, explain it this way: "I could sit here for three weeks and do nothing because I'm paralyzed, or I could take a half-day to clean up my desk and get organized so I can totally rock my job on Monday."

I'm a boss. I'd buy that.

It's not that hard, it just takes time. If you really need help, David Allen's Getting Things Done is the book that might change your life. I recommend this as a last resort because, well, it puts two more items (buying the book and reading the book) on your pile. I know if I added two things to my pile right now, I might accidentally trigger a self-induced coma that only a six month vacation on St. Thomas could cure. Can't afford that yet, so I'm going to process my inbox instead.

Hold my calls. I'm diving down the shoot. See you next week.

Live Vicariously Through YOURSELF

Go to any park in the late afternoon. What do you see?


You see parents watching their kids playing sports. Softball, baseball, soccer, lacrosse, football, field hockey, needlepoint, etc. Ok, maybe not needlepoint. Many of these parents sit or stand for hours encouraging their kids to run hard, keep their eye on the ball, and always give it their best. And many of these parents never do these things themselves.


Do you run hard, keep your eye on the ball, and always give it your best? I hope you get that I'm not talking about sports here, I'm talking about life.


We watch our kids, sports heroes, celebrities, or world leaders, and cheer them on from the sidelines because that's easier than getting in the game ourselves. We live vicariously through them instead of living our own lives to the fullest. Vicarious means experienced in the imagination through the feelings or actions of another person. What a waste of imagination.

By all means, cheer these people on (especially your kids). They need it and deserve it. But do that in addition to, not instead of, giving life your best.


Get in the game. Live vicariously through your own life.

Surprise Them With Polite

Headed into Starbucks this morning, I was a few yards ahead of the woman behind me when I reached the door. So I did what my parents taught me to do: I held the door open for her.

Her reaction? Surprise. I'm still a little puzzled by that. Have we really degraded as a society to the point where holding a door open for someone is a surprising act?

Her next reaction? Embarrassment. She actually caught herself being surprised, then felt completely self-conscious and a little silly for the "you're kidding me, right?" look on her face just a moment before.

She honestly didn't know how to handle my act of politeness and great manners. That is SUCH good news for you and me. It reflects a common expectation/standard that we can easily and consistently exceed without much effort at all.

Great manners = great service. Wow, now that I've written that statement, I don't really have to write that book on customer service I was planning on writing. That's pretty much it in a nutshell, isn't it?

Great manners = great teamwork. Oops, there goes that book on teamwork.

Great manners = great business. Darn, I'm ruining my best-selling book writing career in a hurry.

The real key to surprising people with polite? Keeping your radar tuned a little broader than normal so you notice those extra opportunities to exhibit great manners. Here's a simple example:

Typical: Opening the door for someone arriving a millisecond after you.

Surprising: Opening and holding the door for someone five steps behind you.

Creepy: Holding the door for someone who is halfway across the parking lot. Don't do that.

Practicing the art of great manners is really the act of shifting your focus completely off of yourself for a moment and putting someone else's need ahead of your own. Good companies and good teams have good manners. Great companies and great teams have great manners. Those are the companies that surprise you with polite.

Yeah, this is warm and fuzzy stuff. Don't let anyone try to tell you the warm and fuzzy stuff doesn't matter. It does. And now more than ever, it will set you apart.

P.S. Thanks, mom, for teaching me great manners.